The Kuscan Demon

by Sam Ferguson

  Just as the recorders relaxed, Glimwyrm’s voice tore through the sky with a ferocious roar. Tree limbs and trunks shattered as the dragon crashed to the ground. The recorders each let out cowardly screams moments before the dragon tore them apart with his teeth and claws.

  Torgath jumped up, his first reflex to fight, but then he noticed that Glimwyrm’s tail was just a foot to the right, gently tapping the ground as if to calm Torgath. The orc patted Glimwyrm’s tail, and the dragon stopped tapping the ground.

  “Is Torgath dead?” the chief asked, apparently unbothered by what had just happened.

  Torgath watched the coward from the bushes, wondering what had just transpired.

  “As agreed,” Glimwyrm said with a throaty growl. “Torgath will no longer bother your people, or your family.”

  The chief nodded. “Good, and good that you left me some pieces of the recorders. I will take their severed limbs back with their journal.” The chief moved toward a gushing piece of the recorder’s leg and wiped the journal in it. “Now it will seem that they watched the whole ordeal, and you chased them down.”

  Glimwyrm nodded. “Thus preserving your honor.”

  The chief held up a finger. “Oh no, not just preserving, but deepening it.” The chief pointed to the dragon. “The rest of our deal included a piece of dragon flesh.”

  The dragon snarled. “If any of your orcs ever return to my home, they will see through your deception.”

  The chief shrugged. “I will move the tribe far to the west of here, leaving behind the land of sorrows where my son and nephew both gave their lives.”

  “And only the mighty chief will be capable of finding a blessed land, is that it?”

  The chief nodded. “A piece of flesh, if you please.”

  Glimwyrm stood on his hind legs and reached up to his left shoulder joint with a claw. One quick slice tore off a jagged scale with bits of soft tissue still clinging to it. It looked small falling from Glimwyrm, but when it hit the ground Torgath could see that it was probably three times the size of a dinner plate. Dragon blood covered the underside, but the wound on Glimwyrm’s shoulder closed quickly and stopped bleeding within seconds.

  “Our bargain is now complete,” the dragon said. “I will keep the sword given to your first chief, and you will keep all orcs away from my home.”

  The chief nodded. “I will tell my people there was no sword, but in fact it was a myth.”

  Torgath started to stand again, but Glimwyrm gently slid his tail in front of the orc and stopped him from moving closer.

  “It seems an odd game to play,” Glimwyrm said. “Torgath would have served well as chief, and brought honor to your family.”

  The chief spat on the ground. “Torgath was never going to be chief. He isn’t even an orc.”

  Torgath’s mouth fell open. What did his uncle just say? How could this be? Torgath had supped with him since his mother’s death, gone hunting with him, and fought alongside his cousin on countless missions. In fact, there had been no pain in Torgath’s life greater than losing his cousin. That was, until this moment.

  “With the legends that will spring from this, I will easily find four or five new wives eager to bear me more heirs.” The chief shook his head and held up the bloody journal. “Today is the start of a new life. A new tribe. A new home!”

  “Then best be going,” Glimwyrm said. “We may have had an understanding, but that is only because I owed your first chief a final wish. Now that you have called that marker, I owe no allegiance to your tribe, and none to you.” Glimwyrm clawed deep gouges into the earth as he leaned down to rest upon all fours once more. “Be gone before I decide to change the outcome of this meeting.”

  The chief’s smile disappeared. “Very well, beast. You have served your purpose, and we shall not meet again. The horses I brought for the recorder are yours.”

  Torgath watched as his chief mounted his horse and rode away. Only after the chief had disappeared did Torgath realize he was pushing against Glimwyrm’s tail, his anger subconsciously compelling him to attack the chief and strike the coward down.

  “It is safe to emerge now,” Glimwyrm said after a while. The dragon moved his tail and let Torgath come into the small clearing.

  “You should have killed him,” Torgath said.

  Glimwyrm shook his head. “A dragon’s oath is unbreakable.”

  Torgath jabbed his finger in the direction the chief had gone. “No oath is unbreakable when dealing with a coward! He’s a traitor! A cur!”

  “A dragon’s oath is unbreakable,” Glimwyrm repeated calmly. The dragon then lowered himself to lie on his stomach, curling his tail up around his body and tucking his wings after shaking the last of the leaves from them.

  “I have heard that dragons are masters of deception,” Torgath commented.

  Glimwyrm grinned. “Deceptive? Yes. Oath breakers? No.”

  Torgath kicked at the dirt. “I should kill him.” He glanced to the two horses and thought about chasing after his uncle. Even unarmed, Torgath was more than a match for the old orc.

  “Let him go,” Glimwyrm said.

  Torgath narrowed his eyes. “But my people, they deserve better.”

  “The recorders were your people,” Glimwyrm said. “They have even fought alongside you in times past, but once they learned your secret, they conspired to murder you. The rest of your tribe would do the same, and you know it.” The dragon puffed a plume of black smoke and rested his head across his forelegs. “They are not your people, and you are not part of them. They deserve your chief, and he will lead them only to their doom. In the end, all will be made right, and justice will visit them harshly for their treachery.”

  Torgath scrunched up his brow. “Do you speak of visions, or are you intending to slay them?”

  Glimwyrm smiled wider. “Neither. I do not need prophetic visions to know what will happen under your uncle’s leadership, and now that his legend will be solidified it will only sharpen his foolishness and arrogance thus bringing about the tribe’s end. There will be survivors, as there usually are in such things, but I have lived long enough to recognize a dead tribe when I see one. I give them a decade or two at the most. None of your uncle’s heirs will ever reach maturity.”

  Torgath took comfort in that thought, even if it was only a fantasy. “So, you promised to slay me?” Torgath asked, suddenly aware of what the dragon had said about oaths. “So either you are an oath breaker, or I am to die by your hands. Which is it, and answer me plainly.”

  Glimwyrm let out a gravelly laugh. “Torgath, if I were a younger dragon I would kill you for insulting my honor the same way your heart burned when I called you a half-orc. But, fortunately for you I am tempered by maturity.”

  “So what is the answer?” Torgath pressed.

  “The chief erred when making the bargain with me,” Glimwyrm said. “He said I was to slay any surviving recorders, and let him take credit for killing me. I was to give him a torn scale as proof he had defeated me, and I would get to keep the blessed sword your first chief wielded, without worry of any future claim by your tribe. As for you...” Glimwyrm snaked his head around so that he was only two feet from Torgath. “The chief asked me to ensure you would never return to the tribe, and that is all I agreed to.”

  Torgath smiled as it dawned on him. “Deceptive,” the orc said.

  “But not an oath breaker,” Glimwyrm said with a nod. “Now, I am full. I will sleep here until tomorrow, then we shall return to my home and you will begin training the likes of which no orc has ever undergone before. When I am finished with you, you will be ready to hunt demons for your god and prove your honor. After all, if your chief can get into Hammenfein, then how delicious would it be for him to meet you there as his king in the afterlife?”

  Chapter 11

  Without really knowing how he had gotten there, Torgath found himself sitting in a quaint room listening to Tui and Kiuwa jabber on about the warlord they had so effectively escaped from w
hile playing a game of dice.

  His mind was still ruminating on the events that had transpired with Glimwyrm all those years ago. Even still, his anger pulsed through him when he thought of his uncle. The years had done little to quell that flame, nor the ache in the orc’s heart that came at the thought of his lost tribe. Often times he had wondered whether ending his life would be the best course of action. If his soul was truly cursed from the beginning, then why not just open the wrists and set the life force free to water the grasses of the fields? None of his people would miss him. There was no family left to mourn him either.

  There had been several reasons to keep him going in times past. Revenge had been the biggest motivator. Somehow finding his uncle and destroying him, but that gave way to fantasies of earning more glory than any orc warrior that had come before him. Those fantasies were simplistic, he knew, childish even. Glory was only one part honor. The rest was fame, and there were no orcs on the world that would ever trumpet his legend.

  For a time he appeased himself by setting the goal that at least he could earn his way back into Hammenfein, but even that seemed beyond his grasp. How would the gods allow a demon of the Abyss to exist with them?

  Cursed once by Icadion, cursed again by his demonic blood.

  I am damned. Torgath sighed and closed his eyes. He focused on the young porter he had recently avenged, and the pair of would-be rapists that he had slain before they could hurt another woman. He thought of all the souls he had crossed paths with along his journey. Then he thought of Kiuwa and Tui, a pair of men that had been captured and would have had their thick necks stretched on the gallows by a band of marauders that had managed to overtake them.

  My soul may not mean much when I die, but at least I have given my life meaning. Torgath nodded to himself, satisfied that whether his legend ever lived on, at least he would have made a tangible difference for others. His hand went up to the necklace filled with demon teeth. So many souls had been released from their doom.

  Ironic that one so cursed had affected so many blessings in Terramyr.

  Torgath shook his head and moved to join the game of dice, worried he would start to nurture pride if he thought on his successes too much. There was still much more to do, and the demon who sired him still breathed. No, Torgath’s work wasn’t done yet, but he hoped that somewhere, somehow, Glimwyrm was watching him and aware of his triumphs. Surely the dragon would think him honorable, if no other creature did. Perhaps that was enough.

  “Buy in?” Torgath asked as he sat next to Tui.

  “You have anything left?”

  Torgath smiled and pulled up his coin purse. “I have two gold, four silver, and a few coppers in here yet.”

  Kiuwa whistled through his teeth. “Well, since we are nearly done with our employment, perhaps we should see about winning some of that.”

  Torgath shrugged. “You can try.” The orc removed his facemask and set it aside. He took the dice and rolled them. “Eighteen,” he called out after they stopped moving.

  Tui set the jinner, a special die with particular symbols on it, next to Torgath and then he placed a pair of copper coins on the table. “Over,” he said.

  “Under, with a jinner drop,” Kiuwa called as he threw four coppers onto the table.

  Torgath met their bets with his own. “Over, with no jinner,” he said.

  Torgath rolled the jinner and watched as the octagonal die bounced half way to Kiuwa. A chevron symbol rested facing up. “Jinner bump,” Torgath called.

  Tui grunted and took the dice, casting the four of them and reading his numbers aloud. “Fourteen,” he hissed.

  Torgath smiled.

  Kiuwa took the dice and rolled his turn. “Twenty,” he said happily.

  “The result is over with a jinner bump. Half to Kiuwa, and half to the pot,” Torgath said.

  Kiuwa then took a turn casting the initial round while Torgath and Kiuwa placed their bets. After several rounds the pot in the middle grew substantially until Torgath won it in one fell swoop by calling and rolling a jinner bump over the initial roll.”

  “Well, now I have to go to the cursed lands with you,” Tui said. “You cleaned me out.”

  Kiuwa laughed. “Better your money than your life. You and I are stopping at the pass, and that’s the end of it.”

  Torgath shrugged and gathered all the coins into his purse, chuckling and watching Tui’s eyes follow the coins as they fell from the table and into the pouch. “Truth is, I can’t see needing the coins anymore.” Torgath tossed the purse onto the table. “The two of you have been honorable and true. You may as well put the money to good use.”

  Tui and Kiuwa both looked to him with mouths agape.

  “We can’t take that,” Kiuwa said.

  “We earn our pay,” Tui put in with an emphatic nod. He turned over his arm to display the red mark. “There is still more for us to do.”

  “You did,” Torgath said. “The first time I removed my mask, and every time after, you earned the extra coins.” He sighed and looked at the mark. “As for that, I imagine it will be gone when we reach the pass.”

  Kiuwa stood. “If you wish it, we will travel the pass with you.”

  Torgath arched a brow at the Kuscan and shook his head. “No, you will not risk your souls for me. This is my mission and mine alone. In fact, now that I have the map, and this is the last city between me and the pass, there is no need to accompany me further. You are released from further obligation.”

  Tui rose and stuck out his thick hand. “You have more honor and courage than any clan I have ever known, Kuscan or otherwise.”

  Torgath took the hand and gave it a hard shake.

  “But we will be accompanying you to the pass, and over it,” Tui added with a grin, squeezing Torgath’s hand.

  “You will not be rid of us just yet,” Kiuwa commented.

  “Very well,” the orc said. “Then I will turn in for the night and we’ll be on our way at first light.”

  Torgath went to bed while the Kuscan brothers stayed up a little longer and continued playing dice. However, he didn’t allow himself to sleep. He waited a few hours until the brothers had fallen into a deep sleep, and then he rose from his bed and prepared the provisions. He then rubbed the spot on his forearm where Teolang had rubbed the seed.

  If Terramyr is judging them by their honor, then their marks should be removed, for they are willing to go beyond what is required under our agreement, and I cannot risk letting their souls be captured by the Void.

  A faint impression came to his mind. It reminded him of the strange woman’s voice, but it wasn’t quite audible. Instead, it was like her laughter could fill his mind. His arm began to glow faintly. A moment later red lights shone from Tui and Kiuwa’s arms as well. Their marks disappeared, and the two Kuscans were released as he wished.

  A fine, honorable pair of men. Torgath smiled and gave them each a silent salute, then he gathered the supplies into a pair of backpacks and crept out the door. He made his way through the quiet inn, seeing only a few pockets of guards drinking the night away after their long shifts had apparently ended. He slipped out onto the street and headed for the gate.

  He hadn’t walked more than fifty feet when a man came out of the shadows and approached him. Torgath could see it was the captain that had met him at the gate.

  “A group of men is looking for you,” the captain said. “Six men of the Sarsalat Clan came to the gate asking questions. Beyond the walls there are fifty men camped and waiting for you.”

  Torgath cocked his head to the side. “Sarsalat Clan?” The orc guessed they were the followers of the warlord he had slain before, but thought it wise to gather any information he could from the captain.

  “I denied them entry, their kind is not welcome here, but they are set on waiting for you. I will not let them enter my city without a fight, but I also cannot ask my men to ride out and meet the Sarsalat Clan in open battle. We would win only to be surrounded by hundreds more afterw
ard. They have a code of honor that would require blood if we openly challenged them without cause, for in their mind you are responsible for killing their previous leader.”

  Torgath nodded. “I did exactly that,” he said.

  The captain removed his helmet, revealing a wide grin. “You certainly know how to pick your enemies.”

  Torgath smiled behind his mask. “It was self-defense.”

  The captain shrugged. “The Sarsalat are dogs. I don’t care who hunts them, I just can’t afford to get involved. Come with me, and I will show you a way out of the city that might allow you a chance to go undetected.”

  Torgath held up a hand. “I will meet them,” he said.

  The captain’s grin disappeared. There is a fine line between glory hounding and insanity. I think in this case you have crossed it. They are dogs, but they are not without skill. They will overpower you.”

  Torgath shook his head. “To the north of this town, about ten miles, there is a place where tunnels mar the sands and strange creatures devour the unwary, is this not so?”

  “You speak of the Gnarl,” the captain said with a nod. “There are things there that even my men cannot rid from the land.”

  “Grant me two horses, and open the gate. I will ride to the Gnarl. Then send a messenger to the clan and inform them where I have gone.”

  The captain shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying. The Gnarl isn’t simply a place of mystery, there are--”

  “I know what waits for me there. Trust me, I can handle them as well as the Sarsalat.”

  “Well then, I wish you the best of luck, for you will need it.” He reached out his hand. “I would ask a favor of the gods, but in this case...”

  Torgath smiled and took the proffered hand. “They would not listen,” he said for the captain.

  Chapter 12

  Torgath waited for the gate to open. He felt the reins in his hands, holding them steadily as his eyes remained glued to the gate. His ears twitched when the windlass popped and creaked. Chains sounded like thunder and the gate opened.