While many of the bladeland orcs cheered in the setting sun of the distant sea, others had to rest. Sha’Raph could see it in their tired faces. Days of nothing but battle and loss. They were tired, all of them. Behind a hill she could see pyres, made for those fallen who weren’t claimed by the sea. Both families and warriors were gathered around them and tired shamans spoke their last farewell in the oldest tongue.
“How long have you battled them?” she asked the Chieftain as she followed him and the old Woman through the warrior camp. While many of them put off their spiky armour of fishbones, those two, did not.
“A week..maybe a little more” He answered darkly but smiled at some of the warriors they passed. “Ever since that rotten thing has been stolen from their master..” He continued but was stopped by the old woman. She shook her head at him while her blind gaze still went to nothing “Not here…” she whispered.
Clearly he wasn’t happy yet they continued. The camp was mainly made of quickly built tents. Like their armour it was made with the aid of gigantic fishbones, one spikier than the other. Campfires were laid all around and lit the camp together with the pyres while the sun settled down further and further over the western sea. Down at it, the tide had risen high enough to leave no room for marching armies. Both the mudflats as well as the Ogre corpses were now taken by the greedy hands of the waves.
They reached the biggest tent around. Made from the most colourful dragon fish scales and the biggest fishbones. It was big and round and two big and adorned orcs stood at its entrance. One of them was leaning on his big pearlsword when they arrived. He straightened and together with the other placed his fist on his chest. “Hail, Chieftain.” One of them said which was answered by him with the same gesture. “Hail, brothers!” he said loudly and in an act of joy. “You should seek rest, I can protect my own tent now that the enemy is dead for tonight.” One of them grinned, the other nodded with a face of respect, before they went into the camp, to find grog, song and rest.
The Chieftain opened the tent and let both the old woman as well as Sha’Raph in first. Inside it was far more practical than one could have thought seeing it from the outset. Many many, small leather bags hung on the wall. Some filled with earth and plants, others full of tiny pearls, bones or just simply water. From the roof trinkets were hung. Most of them a circle of bones that were placed around one pearl in their centre. All while the ground was laid full with the biggest and most comfortable pelts one could hope for in these lands. It was quite dark until the old woman started to light a fire in its centre. Wood was already placed there and like most shamans she only needed one spark from the flintstone to light it.
“Sit down watcher…” He said and pointed down at a comfortable looking pelt. “I would much rather rest with my warriors but there is much to talk.”
“Much…” the old woman repeated darkly and set herself next to the fire. Her blind gaze went over it to stare directly at Sha’Raph with a face of mistrust, while the Chieftain sat down.
Noticing the blind woman's stare on her mask, Sha'Raph felt unease and spoke before either of them could. “I’d say I earned my right to know your names?” she said with an audible grin that was echoed in the Chieftains face.
“Ha! That much you have!” he started. Her words seemed to work on him, yet the old woman remained cold. “I’m Chieftain Lur’Dak and thats my mother~” “Seer.” she corrected him without letting her blind gaze escape Sha’Raph. With a sigh he continued “Our Seer…Mar’Dak.”
Sha’Raph pointed at herself “Sha’raph. Watcher of the Bladespire Wastes and the Ash Nomads.” She made the hint of a bow after, which was echoed by Chieftain Lur’Dak, but not by his mother.
“Far more word we gather from the wastes than from the Valley.” he said after his bow. “One of your clans sometimes visits the range south of here.”
“I know..” she answered and still tried to make her smile echo through her mask. “It’s not my own, but fish from your land has found its way deeper south through them.”
He grinned and looked at his mother “I think it’s uncle's clan down there isn’t it.”
She simply continued to stare at Sha’Raph. “Enough.” she stated and made both orcs grow silent. “We are not here for simple chatter but to see where the Khan’s loyalty lies.”
“The Khan’s loyalty?!” Sha’Raph asked in disbelief.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Mother Mar’Dak smiled darkly as if she had now found the true orc before her. “You have seen the battles, watcher. And you know what has caused them. Yet no one but you is here to aid us.”
Lur’Dak grunted darkly but remained silent as he looked back at Sha'Raph.
She sighed. “I do not know the Khan's plans with this scroll.”
“Pah! So he doesn’t even tell his ow~”
“But.” she interrupted the old woman, earning herself a stare from both “But I know him better than most, and I know he would and will do everything to protect the north.” She believed her own words. From the deepest parts of her heart she believed in Aru’Gal. “And that includes your clans.” She finished.
Mar’Dak’s blind eyes went to nothing once more while her son looked at her for a moment longer. Before either could say a thing Sha’Raph continued. “So tell me. What happened to your watcher? Was it the Ogres?”
He shook his head slowly and stared into the flames for a moment. “He was…” he struggled for words before his mother instead answered. “When the Ogres started their Invasion. We quickly lost some of the most western Isles..”
Lur’Dak simply nodded to that, his burning eyes still in the flames. “Aye…” he added “The only chance they had was for a warrior's death..” His mother shook her head in clear sadness “Entire clans have ceased there…”
Anger started to be born in Lur’Daks eyes “They will be born again. Once the Isles are ours, some will take the chance and build a clan of their own.” He nodded a few times into the flames before his eyes shifted to his mother again. He brought a hand to her shoulder and leaned in as he spoke “Their tradition will be formed, but they will not be forgotten!” he stated in a way only a true Chieftain could. She smiled at him and sighed “Enough need to survive this war, for them to create clans of their own once more..”
He laughed “Ha! You know how the warriors are! Once these fat bastards are beaten they will make sure there are enough young orcs again!” he continued to laugh after his words, making his mother just sigh once more.
Sha’raph waited for them to finish until she asked again. “You haven’t answered, Chieftain. What happened to your Watcher..”
His smile vanished as he looked back at her. He looked at his mother for a moment before with a sigh he started to speak. “He sought the root of this…the reason why the Sorceress suddenly started to send her minions to our shores…”
Mar’Dak nodded while he spoke before she continued with her blind gaze staring into the flames. “He took his Wyvern, one of the shore, and flew across the angry sea.”
Her son grunted at her words, seemingly happy that she instead of him would tell the story. “Some of our ships accompanied him. Brave warriors, ready to give their life just for the sorceress’s head.” “Brave men and women…” Lur’Dak repeated before she continued. “They came to the Ogres rotten shores. A land of rotting flesh and darkening skies. Unnatural, vile and wrong…a shore that should not exist.”
Sha’Raph started to feel an unease at her words, reminded of the story she had heard just days ago.
“They fought against the endless horde, of not just Ogres, but darker beings as well. Those who fell rose again, denied their eternal battle in sea or ash, forced to continue their service with their rotting bodies.”
Lur’Dak shook his head and nervously shifted, seemingly feeling uneasy as well.
“Our watcher saw that there was no victory on enemy shores and took flight deeper into their land. To the very heart of its corruption.”
“And then he fought her?” Sha’Raph asked carefully but the old woman shook her head and the flames in their tent shifted without wind.
“Worse…” she answered “So much worse..” her whispers darkened the tent and both orcs eyes were set on the seer and her words. “He found the truth…he found the knowledge your Khan is seeking. The very power he tries to wield…”
The flame almost shortened to nothing but a flicker while the Egg started to shine through the fire hole in the roof. Almost as if it had waited for its moment.
“Once he told the few surviving men there was unrest between the warriors. Some saw it as treason, others as a chance for us to follow him and conquer.”
“Even now some are split because of that…” Lur’Dak added.
Sha’Raph raised a hidden brow as her coldness returned “So all of you here, know what it might do?..”
Lur’Dak starred darkly at Sha’Raph “Is that fear I hear, Watcher?” his words as dark as his mothers now “Does our Khan fear that some might know of his dark plans?”
“I told you that I know nothing about the scroll!” She answered fiercely. Every act of a smile was now gone. “Only that I trust him to my very core.”
Mar’Dak formed a dark bitter smile before she spoke “Maybe knowledge might change that..”
“Then tell me Seer!” she demanded, her voice down to a plea “Tell me his all so dark plans! Does he seek the power to wield the dead? Does he seek to twist the storms?!” she became louder and more desperate with every word “What sorcery is it, he seeks?!”
“Worse than the dead…” Mar’Dak calmly but darkly answered. “Far, far worse..”
“Then what is it?!” Sha’Raph demanded one last time while the fire went out completely and nothing but the moonlight remained when the old woman's voice reached her again. “Ascension…”