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His feet aching as he stumbled from through snow, Drakas tried to think, tried to clear his mind, but all he could think about was that his homeland was lost. The dark ones had taken everything away from him, and all he could feel was a cold burning rage. Why could they not leave his people alone? Why must it always be them?
These questions and more piled up inside of his mind as he trudged east along the face of the mountain, listening to the voice guide him, his body drained beyond exhaustion as he pushed himself onward, his teeth gritted in a snarl. Forced himself to take each step through the flurries of white frost that cut through to the bone. Even the toughened skin of his ancestors was no protection from icy gales that blew across the tundra. His tears frozen to his cheek as he saw Rayela captured, beaten, and thrown to the demons for their amusement.
It seemed that wherever he looked, all he could see was her and Shureen screaming, both of them hurting, and him unable to do nothing. Lost in a wilderness of emptiness with nothing but piles of snow, dead animal carcasses, and birds that soared through the skies. Only these were not the kind of birds that anyone would ever wish to see. Big, heavily muscled creatures with wing spans that reminded him of dragons, they soared through the open skies, their huge talons ready to descend in an instant, but Drakas had not the energy to care.
His eyes glued to his feet, he did his best to keep moving, and did not see the creatures that glided across the snow all around him, their white fur blending in with the mounds, their tongues drooling, and ears pinned back in silent snarls.
Breath misting before him, all he wanted to do was scream, “that it was supposed to be over. That he was home now.” But it did not feel like home to him, and despite how he might wish it, he knew the voice was right. He could not give up, he had to fight, and yet he could not trust the demon. It made him wonder too much if this was how Barkan first became a slave? First offering help, then losing his soul bit by bit.
Paws splashing through the snow, he had a bare instant to see the muzzle of a monstrous wolf leap for his throat out of the white mist, when he thrust his arm into its way, felt it’s jaws dig into his skin, and clubbed it in the head with his free fist. But that it seems was not enough as blood pooled down his arm and it wouldn’t let go, dragging him down. The howl of more wolves closeby.
His arm on fire, he gouged his fingers into its eye, and ripped out an eyeball. It’s yelp of pain as it fell away from him warming his bloodlust as he drew his mace, and crushed its skull as it lay there whimpering on the bloodstained snow. Blood and bone splattered everywhere.
Breathing heavily, he turned his gaze upon the pack of huge white wolves that stalked the grounds around him, and let out an almighty roar, eager, and ready for blood. He was Drakas! And he would not be stopped!
He then roared and charged, the snow no longer slowing him down, his heart pumping furiously as he swung his mace again, and again. The wolves with gleaming yellow eyes dodged and weaved around him as he pressed his attack, and wounded several more. Still, he was hit with claws that ripped through his back, when he heard a loud shriek and looked up to see a descending pale eagle, her talons outstretched before her, and fell to his knees.
Shivering in the cold and snow, he could feel the strength leaking out of his body, and looked up to see the bird flying away with three wolves in its mighty hooks, and almost cried in relief as the wolves broke and fled away.
But still Drakas knew his chances for survival were small, and so he pushed himself up, his body leaving a trail of blood behind him. The thought of rest, hanging heavy in his mind as he groaned and pushed himself forward, when he saw it. Smoke drifting up into the sky, the kind of smoke that came from fires.
Hope flooding his chest, he all but crawled on his hands and knees, his skin covered in ice, cheeks frozen solid, and eyes unable to blink without pain, when he came upon it. An encampment nestled into the side of a mountain where ogrekans worked to build stone walls, fortifications, and a place of shelter from the frost storms in underground caves. And felt his heart almost leap out of his chest as he recognized Wudon, a great bear of an ogrekan that had carried him on his shoulders as a child, Tershan, his son. Who would be the same age as Drakas, and many more faces he never thought he would ever see again.
Blinking back tears that tried to crack through his skin, he stumbled on, hoping to see Rayela, hoping to see her one last time, when blackness consumed him…Oh Rayela, it has been far too long, but he was home…
~*~
Quickly returning back the way he had come, Kirgin began to mull over what he had seen. He had always thought Wargrim to be a knuckle-headed fool, but it seems that he had been wrong about the giant. He may have his ears clogged with muck, but at least the giant understood that they needed each other to survive. The world was changing, old allegiances were breaking apart, and as he gazed up into the smoke filled the skyline, he began to fear what awaited them out here. More so for Shureen’s sake who had yet to discover any of her people alive, despite the dozens of scouts she had sent out into the freezing wilderness.
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Crossing through the fringes of the forest that was now coated in a thick layer of white, he began to see the first real signs of life return to the world. Baby round-faced hobs waddled in through the thick underbrush in a rush, while wild boars trampled through the thick vegetation, and released a heavy sigh of relief. He supposed he had not realized how worrying it was to have the silence all around him with not a single bird in the sky, but it seems everything had returned to normal with beautiful flocks of mellow-hearts flying through puffy white clouds on wings that were the colour of rainbows. With herds of majestic wingdarts charging across the snow drifts. Their glossy black manes flowing in the breeze behind them as he made his way out of the woods and into a wide open valley. The fortress as he had left it, set on a high crag that overlooked a sparkling frozen lake right below, while the four suns burned in the skies above them providing a touch of warmth to his frozen bones.
His teeth gritted in a snarl as another cold gust of wind whipped through his furs, he made the slow trek upwards, his feet sinking into the white mush, and his mind still on Wargrim, when he noticed a patrol of demon blades. Their thick black armor covered in furs, they slogged through the snow when they stopped to point up at something in the ashen grey sky.
Hearing a thunderous roar from above him, his eyes shot up to see something huge take off from the peak of a mountain, it’s massive wings darkening the ground as it roared again, and caused the orcs to chuckle nervously. “Looks like Drakkarl is hungry.”
Flame coloured eyes anxiously watching the red dragon glide across the heavens, Kirgin couldn’t help but feel a touch of panic at the sight of the monstrous beast, and started to hurry for the fortress’ outer gate, when the orcs began to laugh. “Look at the cowardly dung eater run.” And felt his cheeks flush red with embarrassment as he realized his instincts had gotten the better of him this time, and that the dragon was many miles away. Still, he found himself unable to stop as he burst into the inner courtyard, breathless, where four ogres were supposed to stand guard, but now chatted beside the damaged gate.
Hands clutching warhammers in hand, they looked up at him in worry, then relaxed as they saw nothing behind him. “What is your hurry, greenskin? Did some baby hobs chase you out of the forest?”
But before he could answer, another shook his head, and grunted, “No, it’s probably some pixies that got him running,” their chuckles causing their big grey bellies to bounce up and down as Kirgin stormed off, a part of him reminded him yet again of his heritage, and the common hatred most races held for his people. Not that he considered himself to be a part of that race anymore.
Still, he would have liked nothing better than to turn around and confront them, when he saw Shureen. Her white robes stained with dirt and blood as she stood in the opening of a great pavilion that had been built beside the ruins of the inner keep, and where she tended to their wounded from their recent battle to hold the walls.
The small shelter she had created for herself, was made of furs, and warmed by bonfires as she glanced up at him, and smiled. Her expression filled with such warmth despite the underlying bags beneath her eyelids. “I was wondering where you had gotten off to? Have you found Drakas yet?”
Head already shaking as he ducked his head inside the tent flaps, he replied, “no. But we must speak.”
Hand waving him over to a secluded corner where an orc lay snoring on a wooden pallet covered in yellow straw, she let out a heavy sigh, and rubbed her forehead, “drat that, big headed oaf, you’d think he would have learned to not go off on his own like that, and now that we need him, he is nowhere to be found. I honestly think he does this on purpose just so I can get the headaches instead of him. So what is it? What have you learned of Wargrim? Is he planning a coup like you feared?”
Unable to hide a grin at her surly attitude, he replied, “No, although some of the blue skins have decided to abandon us. Wargrim, however, wishes to stay.”
Releasing another heavy sigh, she looked back out the way he had come. “Well, I suppose that is something. With so many leaving, I had thought all would be gone by now. With so many mouths to feed it would actually be one less headache to deal with. Which reminds me of another headache--”
Feeling a cold gust of wind behind him, Kirgin turned around to see the familiar form of Talak, the well built ogrekan, the unofficial spokesperson for the ogres in his Drakas absence as he stood to attention in the tent flap. “It has been several days, my lady, it is time that we leave. We have already spent too many days out here searching for him.”
Glowering with her hands on her hips, Shureen scowled back at him. “You would abandon the one who freed you?”
His huge square head formed into a grimace, he replied,“please, my lady, it grows unsafe the longer we delay here. We should be with our own kind, and not with these--” And he pointedly gazed in Kirgin’s direction, before he looked away. “Drakkarl has been seen in the sky not too far from here and once he discovers we are in his territory, he will attack us.”
But instead of listening to his request, Shureen folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Then go if that is what you desire. I shall not abandon him.”
Lips pulled back into a dark scowl, Kirgin thought if the ogrekan had the nerve to do it, he would force Shureen to come with him, before he stormed out, leaving the cold behind. Shureen her gaze still on the space where he had been, whispering, “he has asked for my hand in marriage the third time. Each time I reject him, he grows more adamant that he and I should be together. That the world does not have much time left before the end.”
And a part of Kirgin, could not help but fear that was true. Those cracks in the land, the black smoke in the sky, and the scent of sulfur in the air did not bode well for them. And yet what other choice did they have but to survive? “Perhaps we should leave.”
Her glare suddenly turned upon him, he raised his hands up defensively, and tried to explain, “It is what Drakas would have wanted for us. To be safe, and out of danger.”
But Shureen simply let out a bitter laugh, her shoulders suddenly slumped as she wiped something moist from her eyes. “And how shall we get them home, Kiri? The storms come one after the other, and despite what Talak might think we would not survive a day out there.”
“No, but we could find better shelter in the mountains.”
