Chapter 9

Song and Storm

Ogo

3 ships remained with the goblin fleet. The rest of us sailed north.

The wind was with us and it howled. The sea split at the bow of ships so dark that it seemed we were gliding shadows in the early evening. The sea roared as it beat against the hull. The rigging clanged and the masts snapped and rippled. But to discerning ears, the sloshing of hundreds of thousands of gallons of beer could be heard. There were so many barrels, we had to tie them down by the stack on deck. Some of my ships transported ethereal labels for barrels. And the colors that sparkled from those ships looked like shards of fallen stars.

Maybe fallen stars would fetch a fortune, but the beer beneath our feet was certain to fetch wealth. Wealth would bring more ships and more orcs. More ships and more orcs would bring wealth again! Nothing would stop me from establishing the Sea of Ogo!

Not even the leaden clouds that came at us from the northern horizon like a wall of war. Throughout the next two days, those clouds rumbled like drums. Lightning rattled like cracks on a snare. The storm galloped toward us with legs made of hot lightning.

Humidity hung over the sea, hot and salty, just before the storm trampled us. Every orc was on deck to watch the storm. Orc hands clutched rigging, clutched ropes, clutched taffrails, clutched cargo, and every secured thing. The wind whipped at us in punishing strikes that turned the faces of some orcs.

Above the din, my orcs sang! Our song dripped slow and deep like magma. Others joined in double canon like magma over magma. And every collective consonant boomed through the wood of the ship like the stomping of feet. Those in the crow’s nest made the center mast vibrate like the string of a giant instrument with the body of a volcanic cave.

I joined in the last canon of the song of our home. My tusks stayed still as only a skeleton could while my face, my gums, and my tongue vibrated like rippling water. My heart had been so thirsty for orc song. My soul had been so thirsty for storms at sea. My belly thirsted for beer.

As I came into the chorus of the song of orc General Uis the wurm slayer, I punched a hole through the stave of a barrel of spit beer. I pulled the barrel out from under straps of rope and hefted it onto one shoulder.

I climbed the stairs that led over the deck house over the stern. Lik’s hand clutched rigging and dripped sea water. Lightning cracked and met the sea port side with a hiss. Tankards were passed around. When one was pressed into Lik’s available hand, I tipped the barrel and poured him a slosh of spit beer.

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The song tumbled into an octave that shook my eyes in their sockets. Orcs with rings on their tusks held those rings in place. An old scar of mine itched.

I went around Lik and poured Fot a slosh of goblin spit beer. Foam ran like lava over his hand. The wind spit the foam away. Fot drank his beer like a toad filling his neck. And the next few orcs drank their ration of beer in the same manner.

I returned down to the deck and filled a party of tankards that were then hoisted by bucket to the crow’s nest. A splitting crack of lightning lit the sky and a rumble of thunder hushed the wind for the blink of an eye. As the bucket was hoisted, drops of foam splashed to the deck.

It rained and everything went gray in the torrent. Orc skin kept warm enough to make the rain evaporate off our shoulders. That’s how I located the rest of my orcs. I searched the gray for clouds of rising vapor. I sang while I poured each orc a share of beer.

I followed the sounds of hammers on wood as I made my way toward the prow. I punched another stave in and continued pouring more beer for my crew as I passed them. The storm raged madly and ripped the foam from every full tankard. The wind spit in my face. Lightning struck Utu’s ship and a roar of war rose from the orcs on that ship.

I came upon the orcs that hammered at a construction of wooden carts laid on their sides. The orcs hammered with the song and paused one by one for a fill of beer. The rain fell so hard and ran off the wood of the carts so fast that the wheels of the cart spun in place. The hammered grain of the wood came alive in streaks of rings that looked like shrieking lips inside of shrieking lips.

When I reached the prow, I hefted the barrel high above and dredged what was left. By then, other orcs had hefted punched barrels onto their shoulders to help refill tankards. The wind swept the foam from every tankard rim. It looked like my ship was a tankard itself with how much beer foam flew overboard.

We drank and we sang until it rained so hard that I couldn’t see my hands in front of my face. It was even darker below deck because the wind broke in and snuffed the lanterns. The sounds of the storms snuffed my dreams. Despite the chaos, I slept.

I woke early the next morning. The storm had calmed. Thunder rumbled in the distance as opposed to right overhead. Since it was still raining, I worked in the deckhouse at the table. I unfurled my sea map and weighed the corners with the hilts of daggers.

There were 6 civilizations in the 4 bays before the volcanic isles. The diminutive iceland tzards were the first civilization. They were half the size of goblins. Webbed fins lined their back and chins. Although skittish, they were friendly to nonhumans. Hell could they drink.

Miles north of them, on the long sandy shallows, were the slugs. That’s what Utu called them; that’s what I called them. Without arms and hands, they could still wrap around a good tankard of beer. Translating their tongue was off the table, and by rumor they weren’t interested in coin. Beer, however, was something they desired. Most orc beer went their way.

The scarpadae lived further inland than the slugs, but an inlet could be navigated by a clipper. We would find them growing ice reeds for sustenance, shelter, and armor. These were perhaps the most hostile and brainless of civilizations in the north. Trade might not work with them.

Each other bay, north of the first, hosted the snow cats, the tundra golems, and the greffles. Whatever we couldn’t sell to my kin in the volcanic isles, I would seek out those creatures on our way back south and barter with them.

Our wooden carts would be ready by then if we needed to go by land.