Even when the other riders went to their families, most of the clan was still covered in frightened whispers. Some of them even flew off again, few to the boiling edge in the north, others to the valley just below the mountain. Since Aru’Gal’s riders were made mostly of old friends from when he was a boy, only very few had their families outside of the mountain and the Darkling was one of them.

He had grown up down in the snowy valley, being the guardian for a young sister first, and then absent father for his own daughter, later. Now, while the others went to see their loved ones, there was no one left for him. The woman he loved, mother of his daughter, had died seven years ago in one of the coldest winters yet. The beast his father had become was killed by him even further back, just before Kara was born.

And then there was his sister. Even though she was still alive, he knew that would change. Had to change. And he knew to make sure it was done with honour it had to be him. He would make it quick. That would have been what father had wanted. And only then he could bring his daughter back to the safety of the mountain. Only then things could be right again. For all that truly mattered was her. Kara. To make sure she could come back home, grow up in the valley and to make sure she could choose whatever path she deemed right. Even if his sister had to die for this to happen.

So he told himself as he stood in front of Great Khan Ara’Gash’s grave down at the steep valley that lay east of the mountain. Hundreds of graves, most made up of simple round rocks placed on top of each other, painted the steep cold valley here. Often enough made to be tiny dolmen that had chimes hanging in their centre, while few belongings of the dead were gathered around, if they weren't already taken by time.

On the stones the stories of the dead were written. Carved in by a shaman as a memory to the life that had been. Yet still no one was buried here. It was all just monuments to the dead whose ashes had been released from the great wind hall, to find their way to the Bladespire Wastes and become one with their ancestors in the last of all battles. The chimes were meant as a guide, so their souls would remember the mountain even when they moved on. So one day the ashes of the dead could come back and conquer the valley, and the fill hollowed mountain with their ash in one final song.

As great Khan his fathers dolmen was of proper height, big enough to walk through, were it not for all the chimes and trophies dangling there from ropes that made a web between the stones. The story on those old stones spoke of his grand battles against the south, of his many wives, and finally his two children.

The darkling grunted at the cold breeze as he desperately tried to think what his father would have done. How he would have made sure the clan was carrying one voice again. Even though it was not on him to have those thoughts. He was no Khan, not even a rider or proper clan member until he would retake his name, yet still he felt the burden of time and the need to act.

Before his mind could take him further back a shadow arrived over the mountains in the west. A single rider, who carried a grey scale cloak and whose wyvern was one of the few that wasn’t from the ashen plains. Aru’gal.

The darkling smiled when he saw him rush for the mountain. His beast carried dark green scales and even darker cyan wings. Its Neck was far longer than other wyverns while its whole body seemed much sleeker. The scales around its head made it look more like a snake from the twisted south, while instead of one it had two tails that mirrored its twisted tongue. Like its tongue, both ended with a spike and despite its sleek and ugly nature, it was said to be the most dangerous beast a rider called his own in generations.

The darkling saw the important Orcs, Watcher Ur’gak, Chieftain Nar’ruuk and Seer Cra’gal all rush to the edge of the plattform to greet their Khan. Other riders did as well, even very few members of the clan, despite the unrest among them. Though even from down here the Darkling saw that the clan members were not in joy of the return of their Khan, but followed Chieftain Nar’Ruuk, ready for a battle that no one dared to start.

Yet instead of making his way to the riders platform Aru’gal made his twisted Wyvern turn and rushed down to the graves and the darkling. Surprised but happy he took a few steps closer to his fathers grave, to make room for Aru’gal to land. Only seconds after, with twisting winds as the wyverns cyan wings flapped he landed. Before Aru’gal spoke to the darkling he pressed his fist against his chest as if he would greet the dolmen “Honour, my Khan.” he said and then turned his gaze down at the Darkling “Asking the old man for aid?” he asked and pressed his fist against his chest as a greeting yet again.

A grin followed the darkling as he mirrored the same greeting before he turned back to his fathers big dolmen. “Sometimes I simply wonder what he would have done. How he would have handled his daughter and grandchild..maybe even the entire clan..” he said and returned his eyes to Aru’Gal who needed a moment of thought before he spoke again “No one can answer for the dead.” he said and looked back up the plattform full of disappointed orcs before he returned his eyes to his friend yet again “but he left words for the Khans after him…” he said making the Darklings face peak up with excitement, maybe even hope “As it happens, I will explain his words to the clan..” he made a very bitter smile once he spotted his own father up at the Plattform “Things are about to change my friend..” he nodded again, more to himself before now his fiery gaze returned to the Darkling, who raised a brow in return. “You come with plans, my Khan?”

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A grin was Aru’Gals first answer before he nodded “Things are in motion and I will need all the brothers I have up there.”

“My Axe is always yours.” the darkling answered with pride.

Aru’Gal nodded at the grave “You need more time? I will not take you from the dead.”

The darkling held his hand and gaze on the dolmen for but a moment longer before he nodded. “Won’t be long until the feast..the dead can wait” he said before he saddled behind Aru’Gal on his twisted wyvern.

While Aru’Gal made his wyvern take for the sky he spoke to the Darkling behind him “Gor’Mash flew back to me and told me about the spear.” he sighed “I am not happy that our clan might need the wip…” The Darkling could not help but form a dark grin at these words, for they carried the promise of violence. A promise all riders who still had family here would have dreaded, but he had nothing to lose anymore and was eager for battle.

After a grinning grunt he answered “Point my axe where you need it, my Chieftain.” Aru’gal formed a bitter but honest smile yet said nothing more before they arrived at the riders plattform and landed while the wyvern made a noise that was a mixture of a hiss and a bark.

Seer Cra’Gal’s blind gaze was the most easy to read. Disappointment and anger brewed in him while many others simply rushed to their Khan. Watcher Ur’Gak was the first to greet him with fist on his chest “Honour and glory my Chieftain.” Slowly Cra’Gal jumped down from his Wyvern and casually held onto its chains. “Honour, my watcher.” He answered without much voice as his gaze went to Chieftain Nar’Ruuk instead. Slowly the orcs realised the two Chieftains staring at each other and silence filled the plattform, the tunnel and then the entire mountain. Only the wind still howled through its hollowed halls. It took seconds that felt like an eternity until Aru’Gals Wyvern screeched, answered by other wyverns who were chained further down already. Nar’ruuk the Ire lost his face in melancholy for only a moment as he was reminded of the Wyverns, and then all so slightly bowed his head “Chieftain of Chieftains..” he said before he stood straight again to press a fist against his chest “The mountain greets you home.” The slightest hint of a smile was formed on Aru’gals face before he returned the fist on his chest “Nar’Ruuk..” he said with a wider and less honest smile as he walked towards him.

Every Orc around the two was silent, and most had their hands on their weapons. The simple clan men on their tomahawks and spears, and the riders on their big black Obsidian tools of war. All while the Darkling followed Aru’Gal like a big protecting shadow, towering over almost all of the gathered Orcs.

“I heard that my riders were greeted with a spear.” Aru’Gal stopped right before Nar’Ruuk who like most orcs was bigger than him, even more so with the Yak on his head.

The ire had his name written on his face but answered plain and honest “They are afraid.” he made a little pause “My chieftain..”.

“Why?” Aru’gal quickly responded with spite as all hints of a smile had left his face.

More and more the ire was painted on the chieftains face yet he remained calm in his voice. “The mines were holy once. Now they are closed. The winters were cold once, now they are freezing. We have not forgotten that you want to make us march the south and many, even if they seek honour in battle, fear that we might lose our way. And all that while a sister of the mountain is marked for death.” The Darkling flinched at his last words. Aru’Gal noticed but didn’t turn, only his eye shifted back to his friend for only a moment before he stared right into the Ire again. “I understand.” he said, making Nar’Ruuk lose the ire on his face and instead made room for a question in his eyes.

“You are all afraid.” Aru’Gal continued loud enough that his voice would echo into the tunnel. “So am I. Trust me brothers and sisters, so am I. But I shall explain once the feast commences.” He turned to the darkling and grabbed his arm for it to raise “And once your old watcher takes his name again!”. Both clanmen and riders cheered. All of them just glad that there was any reason for joy. “Grand me just this day for our brother to return to his clan. Tomorrow we can raise our fists again but tonight we sing! Tonight we feast!” More cheers answered the Khan, both from the plattform and the tunnel, few even echoed up from deeper down in the mountain.

Meanwhile, watcher Ur’Gak was lost in the crowd of cheers. His face covered in terror as he slowly realised what would happen once the darkling had his name again. He had taken the title of watcher as a chance to gain honour for his family, but now that the Darkling returned it could mean doom.

Cra’Gal’s raspy old voice took him out of his thoughts “You should ready yourself, Watcher..”. Ur’Gak nodded and tried to conquer his own face and emotions again “I do not need your farsight to know that, Seer..” “Cheat if you must.” the old man's whispers were lower yet again, almost completely drowned by cheers. As Ur’Gak looked at him with anger and unbelieve the old man spoke again “I do not care for anyone's honour, least of all yours, but the clan’s survival and this man..this fool.” He nodded towards the darkling as if he could see “He might have taken my son’s friendship but we need one who has the strength to speak against him. Not a mindless fool who does as he is commanded.”

“I do not like your words Seer”

“Yet you know them to be true..” Cra’Gal whispered louder as he meant to, yet it was still drowned in the clans cheers. “Just be ready..I fear it is your life the clan depends on.” He said and slowly walked to greet his son.