Drums and throats filled the hollowed mountain with rhythm and song as the sun went down over the ashen west. The clan was gathered in the great wind hall at the very top. The crown of their frozen land. Those that called a cave inside the mountain their home had stayed there, but the fishermen from the last edge at the boiling sea in the north, and the Yak herders from the Frost Song valley just below, were all gathered up there. Yet it seemed even more filled than usual when things like this happened, for the whole clan felt that change was carried with the wind.
The darkling was sitting with crossed legs on the edge of the great bridge across the dark pit. His face spoke of determination and his hand rested on his father’s obsidian axe next to him. Three Shamans painted runes on him. An old master and two rather young apprentices, a boy and a girl. He did not know any of them, yet still they had to paint the story of his life, his ancestors and promises of his future on him. The paint carried a sweet scent, made from flowers and honey far down in the valley. With a calm and dark voice he told the shaman and his apprentices of his life, of his father, his sister and his daughter, and they painted.
“You know him..” he said about his father “He was a great Orc, and even greater Khan..a father to be proud of.” About his sister he spoke a little darker, and needed more time to find the right words “She carried his pride, and far more of his face than I do.” he paused “Now she betrayed the Mountain. And will die.” The shamans did not speak, and even the clan listened. “And Kara, my Daughter. Her path might be in vain…but I will take her home. If I dare ask the mountain's strength for anything it is that. The strength to return her home.” Some cheered and grunted to that, pressing their fist against their chests. A child of the mountain, would always come back home. The clan knew, the mountain knew, and the darkling hoped, with all his being. Still the shaman and his apprentices painted. They painted and painted until his whole body was covered in runes and pictures of red and blue.
Even if they did not know him, their runes would still carry the ancestors' attention to him, so his fathers spirit would watch, he knew that. Great Khan Ara’Gash would bear witness to whatever was to happen that day and maybe even in the days to come. His spirit would follow the wind to his mountain home.
While drums were already hit, songs from throats already echoed through the mountain, it was not the great ritual song yet. Just some that readied their throats for the moment to come.
In the most northern edge of the hall two big stone seats were carved into the mountain. Big enough that in the far west they would have been called thrones. Here they were just the seat of the Chieftains. Aru’Gal was sitting on the bigger one, waiting and smiling for he felt pride about his old friend and once watcher. Next to him on a slightly smaller yet more decorated stone throne, Chieftain Nar’Ruuk sat tall and proud with folded arms on a bunch of big white Yak pelts. Even though his throne was smaller, he and Aru’Gal were of the same height now.
In the centre of the big bridge at the great Gong, Seer Cra’Gal waited with his staff ready and a face that still spoke of disgust. That he dared to carry that face even now angered the darkling, yet he remained his calm and dark breathing.
Soon the shamans finished and he stood up. Tall and proud, he rested his hand on his gigantic black axe next to him and stared at Seer Cra’Gals blind hidden gaze. Both carried hatred in their eyes, hidden or not, yet before either of them could speak a word Aru’Gal stood up and took the clan's attention. “Frost Song! Are we ready to greet our brother back into the mountain! Back to the valley that gave him birth and to the edge that made him a man?!” A chorus of cheers, deep and high were the answer and made the darkling smile for a short moment. Aru’gal nodded with a grand smile of his own and continued while Chieftain Nar’Ruuk instead continued his ire pose. “Then let me start with words that were not meant for him.” He took a scroll from his belt, but both the Darkling and the Seer knew immediately it was not the one. “These words were left by his father, Great Khan Ara’Gash the mountain. He who fell in the south and returned as a beast, he who brought fear to the south and hope to the north.” Every other voice in the mountain had become silent again. Even the wind seemed to listen as nothing but a small breeze touched the torches of the hall. “He carried a warning to us. A dark promise he left deep inside of Karn’Arak for all the Khans after him. And it is that promise that makes me the Khan I am.”
The ire looked now up to him with a raised brow while Watcher Ur’Gak hidden in the crowd felt his fear rise and rise. The Seers' words still lingered in him, and despite his anger, he did know them to be true.
Aru’gal continued as he folded the old paper in front of him “And I hope it will make you the warriors you will need to be.” The Darklings fiery eyes sparked up with excitement. If there were any words that could give him purpose it was those left by his father. So he not just told himself but believed to the core.
Slowly with all eyes and ears on him Aru’gal started to read the words he had read so many many times. “I do not count the days of our age, but I know the number is far closer to its end than where it began.” whispers were the answer, an unease that already settled among the listening orcs. “It angers me, that it will not be myself but those that I leave behind that will have to deal with the cold that befalls our master and his land.”
“What?!” Cra’gal interfered “Does…he cannot mean the Dragon?”
“He does, Seer.” Aru’Gal answered his father in a dark voice before he attempted to continue, yet the Seer spoke again “Are you sure this is made for everyone's ears, son?!” The fact that he called him son and not by his title showed everyone how desperate he was, yet Aru’Gals face answered with anger before his voice spoke the same “Unlike you, father, I rule with honour, not schemes.” The old seer was taken back by his son's words but could not answer before he spoke faster again “I am not the one that thinks a feast will fix any fears or that only ever whispers his truest words!” Cra’Gal took a deep embarrassed breath as he realised their fight echoed through the mountain for all of the clan to hear.
The darkling had a wicked grin on his face as he saw him being put into place by his Khan, even more so as his old voice spoke far more obedient and silent “You should continue…great Khan..” Aru’Gal made a last bitter smile at his fathers words before he did
“Only a question of time before it..he means the cold..befalls its orcs as well.” He stared at his father again before he continued with a dishonest smile “We were always able to fight against the cold, my own clan knows that better than any other” a proud and honest chuckle escaped the darkling and a few others at these words “but what when the summer never returns? I dare not to think if we would face such a time unprepared, and I am sure it will come to that. Be it that my children will have to fight through it, or their own when the time has come.” with that the darklings smile vanished again, yet his purpose grew. He did not need his fathers words, spoken by his Khan, to remind him that his daughter was his quest now. Yet still, to hear them it encouraged him that absolutely all that mattered was her. And be it so she could carry on whatever fight was given to them. She was the future, the warrior for the wars to come.
Aru’gal took a deep breath before he continued to read “To the Chieftain after me, and the ones after that. You must prepare to guide the North through a time of struggles, more than we who come before, more than me.” Nar’Ruuk grunted at these words and even Watcher Ur’gak seemed to find purpose in what was said. But neither did in the ways Aru’Gal had hoped.
“I will fight, and not just end my legacy as a man lurking in a tower he did not build writing on papers he despises” A deep chuckle escaped the darkling again, for even though he would never doubt Aru’gal, now he absolutely knew, those were words written by his father.
“but you will have to endure and learn what we left behind and I hope whoever will follow in my MASSIVE footsteps will have at least a grain of thought…well I try, my Khan” said Aru’gal made a few orcs chuckle just before he continued “Too many mistakes have happened to Orcs that became chieftains by Muscle alone, none of them survived for long. Every orc is strong, do not dare to think that will make you a difference. Only your head, and filling the emptiness that lurks inside it, will.” Words that cutted like a knife at the darklings pride. For he knew he was not a big thinker like Aru’Gal or the Seer, but big brainless muscle, an axe to be thrown at the enemy if he needed to die. Not a man of thought or strategy. At least, so he told himself and usually it was a pleasing thought.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“If our Dragon is truly to die in a cold”
“No..” Cra’gal said but was ignored by his son who continued “to leave his land frozen, then we must face the south.” Whispers filled the mountain again, fear and disbelief that someone would even suggest the dragon could die. Yet still Aru’gal simply continued with a raised voice to drown theirs again “Not in raids, not in skirmishes, but in war! Like the ancient times, like the stories have always told us and like the shamans always remind us.”
For a second Aru’Gal stared into his fathers blind hidden gaze with a hint of melancholy, for he remembered the old stories of war he was told by him. Yet he still continued on and on “Drums will echo through the valleys until they will be drowned by screams and blood.” The darklings' doubts vanished and he grunted with a wide wicked grin as he held his axe tighter. This was a quest for a none thinker like him.
“Their Arch Druid, the horned croak as they call him, has always planted the seed of hatred against us among his clans, so it will be time to finally hand them a reason!” More and more warriors followed the Darklings example while their Khan read those words, even more so as he raised his own voice too “We will burn every clan if we have to and rip out the croak's cracked spine!” “And burn every last beast that remains down there!” the darkling yelled as he raised his axe. Many riders answered his call and raised their weapons as well. Like they did back in the days when they followed him as their watcher.
Only very few, and all around Ur’Gak remained silent, far more uneasy than the others.
“So prepare the clans for it, my follower. I do what I can in my time. Weaken the south, strengthen the north. But I’m afraid I am one of the fools who got into this tower because I could fight, not because I could think. So be better than me, and prepare our people.
Let fire guide you through the cold mountains, and the age of ice that is upon us.
Great Khan Ara’Gash, known as the mountain”
Aru’gal folded the old paper again while the Darkling stood there painted with red and blue runes, ready to take his name and feeling the drums in his heart sparked again by the fury in his fathers words.
“This..” Aru’Gal continued and looked around the grand hall, seeking the Clans eyes one after the other “This is why I need you to be warriors. For I fear we have to leave the mountain.” The clan kept silent, some even birthed tears at the thought of leaving their and the possibility of the dragon's death. Chieftain Nar’Ruuk shook his head “No my Khan.” A stare was Aru’Gals answer but the Ire continued “I…and many here. Would rather live through a thousand winters, than to leave our ancestors home.” His voice echoed through the mountain and got answers from both the hall and the caves in the pit. Aru’Gal nodded, more to himself for he felt the same.
Despite all he had to tell his clan, he felt the same and all he did was to ensure they could stay. Yet they would not understand the sacrifices to be made. Even the Darkling would question him if he was to answer with honesty. Before he spoke he felt his fathers blind gaze on him and like a boy knew that the old man knew he was dishonest “Maybe you do, Chieftain. Maybe even your children and theirs do. But what comes after that? What will happen when even the Sea stops boiling? What will happen when the summer does not return?” He again looked around all of the clan before his gaze stopped at the Darkling “I think..no, I know. That the answer lies hidden deep in the south.” Nar’Ruuk shook his head vehemently yet Aru’Gal continued “You will, march the south. We will clean the mine again and take every vein our pickaxes can reach to clad every Orc and every Wyvern in armour.”
Ur’Gak sighed but walked up from the crowd and towards the Khan's throne. “My Chieftain..” he kneeled, uncommon for orcs unless they had to speak in the absolute greatest respect, “You cannot forge the clan into warriors. The mines are holy, and Yaks will provide us even in the harshest winters, and even if mountain and valley get frozen, we could still move north to the boiling edge. There is no need to fly for the south other than vengeance.”
The darkling barked and marched from the bridge through the crowd next to the Watcher “And what other reason do you need?!” He looked around “When did our clan become such cowards.”
Cra’Gal answered from the great Gong “When was it to you, to ask, exile?!”
“Enough!” Aru’Gal barked. “The choice is not my own any longer.” Many faces bore a question at his words before he could continue “Our master wants an army. And shall do all I can to grant him the greatest our kind has ever seen!”
“Now it is the Dragons choice…” Cra’Gal shook his head before the Darkling barked at him now “What are you saying, old man?!” The seer was about to spit his answer but Aru’Gal now louder than ever screamed again “ENOUGH!!” His voice echoed far and long, almost as loud as a wyverns screech “The Dragon will come here…” gasps and disbelief were the clan's answer, and even Nar’Ruuk lost the Ire. Slowly he stood up and almost whispered in disbelieve to his Khan “It..it will come to the mountain?”
Aru’Gal nodded and looked the other Chieftain in the eyes. “Times are changing, Chieftain.” He laid an arm on his shoulder and made dishonest pleading eyes “Our clan must too.” The ire breathed heavy but could not give himself a voice. Too much was going through his mind and before any thought took hold Aru’Gal returned to the crowd. “But we are not here for plans.” He pointed at the Darkling “We are here to greet our brother home. To grant him a name, and a place among my riders yet again.” The Darkling smiled, while Ur’Gak looked at the gazing blind Seer. Despite the old man's blindfold he could feel that they shared a look and both knew he had to prepare for a fight.
“Seer.” Aru’Gal turned to his father in the centre of the great bridge “Don’t you think it's time?” Cra’Gal’s face painted a picture of barely hidden disappointment yet he nodded “Of course..my Khan.” his words sounded like a man giving up. Yet he spread his arms and took a deep breath to finally start the ritual.
He let his staff ting against the bridge. It made a high metallic sound that echoed through the mountain and finally drew the clans attention to the bridge and ritual. “Come here Son of Ara’Gash the Mountain and Bru’Karesh the boiled.”
It had been long since the Darkling had heard his mothers name, even longer since someone dared to call her the boiled. Yet it was a name given to her, and he was not to argue. Not now, not anymore.
Slowly he walked onto the bridge and towards its centre, the Seer and the great Gong. As he stood right in front of Cra’Gal the Seer made his staff sing through the mountain again. Just after the long high sound of metal faded he filled the mountain with his own old raspy voice “Ancestors, far beyond in the Ashen Dunes.” The winds rose a little and howled through the mountain “Storm above and Mountain below..” Now the winds seemed to seek all the places that had chimes hanging on them as the howling started to be accompanied by all the chimes “Sea of the North, and flames of Karn’Arak.” The torches and braziers around the mountain lit up at the Seer’s words. They crackled and burned louder than before while snow filled the winds outside “Hear us, heed us, listen to us. For a son returns to his mountain home.” Followed by his words Cra’Gal let his staff sing two times again, answered by the clan. No word but deep voices, a tone deep from their throats roared through the mountain, from both hall and pit and to echo far and wide across their hollowed lands. “Now, tell us your name. Tell us the Family you got from your Father, and the Name that was chosen by your Mother!”
The Darkling took a deep breath while the clan’s voice still echoed deep through the mountain “Gash, is the name my father has left for me.” another deep breath for finally he could speak his own name again. “And Bruna is the name given by my mother.”
“Then speak your name child of the mountain! Your Fathers, your mothers, and what life has chosen for you!”
One last deep breath and the Darkling spoke his full name “I am Bruna’Gash, Son of Ara’Gash the mountain, father of Kara’Gash who will get her lifename once she returns home. And he, who they call the beast!”
Cra’Gal then hit the great gong with his staff making it ring through the mountain and giving the clan the sign to sing the spoken name. Deep from all their throats the orcs of the Frost Song sang the name Bruna’Gash in one long drawn melody, while Bruna spoke his lifename “I shall be called the beast, for they turned my father to one and sent him to destroy us. Now I shall be the beast that we send back! I shall be the north's vengeance for their Khan! I shall be the beast who slays even more!! The heir to the hatred they sowed in the north!”
Cra’Gal hit the gong again, and made the clan stop the long song of Bruna’Gash’s name before he started to sing himself deep from his throat and in the ancient tongue of the elements and the dragon. Wind and fire answered, and so did the clan whenever Bruna’s name was sung.
Far in the north the Sea answered as boiling salty waves clashed against the steaming shore to their song. The winds answered by storming and howling with their melody. The earth answered as stones fell and cracked far beyond the mountain to their rhythm. And behind the western mountains, deep inside the Ashen Plains, the fires of Karn’Arak roared at the clan’s fury.
Soon drums were hit louder and louder to the song and other Shamans answered the Seer to make a Choir in the ancient voice while the clan and riders sang whenever the name Bruna’Gash was spoken.
It was far from done, but at least a part of the damage he was told his sister had caused was cured. He carried their name again, and he would carry it south like their father did.
Bruna’Gash the beast would show the south that a true beast needed no fur and become the fire to spark the greatest war of orckind.