Aru’gal, was small for an orc of his clan. Some said he wouldn’t even be a great fighter, others whispered that he wasn’t even that smart. Yet there he was. Standing at the top cave of the hollowed mountain. Right at the opening to the south, and looked down upon them all. It was too far to see what was happening down at the mines, but the small glints of campfires told him they were still digging. Above them the moon shone brightly, gazing its eager eyes over the lands of the east and turning the snow of the valley into a bright reflection. It was a cold night. Like many when the egg in the sky showed its full gaze at the Frostsong clan. When the sea of stars shoved its tide above the mountain, bringing fires of battles far beyond anybody's reach with it, those nights, the nights of distant fires, were the coldest.
Even further down the horizon, the seemingly endless pines went down more and more. All until they would reach the far distant southern shore. Hidden behind the traitorous woods of their enemy.
“It will all burn..” He thought to himself. “They will all burn…”. He sighed. Despite his ambition, the doubts still lingered inside him, yet he knew their time had to be over. He had to be sure of it all, no matter the price it would cost. In his mind he could see the scroll's many promises. Its signs like a whisper scratching into his mind. Dark and ancient they were, maybe older than the runes of druid and shaman. Yet the power they held was a curse. He knew that well. After he had studied it every night, he knew that all too well and he hated that he was doubting him even more now. Now that he knew that he himself would endure immense pain and unlike the brothers and sisters that would turn to his sacrifices, he would need to endure them for ages. But it would be worth it. Would it not?
After he had made his grand speech at Bruna’s renaming, he had started to believe his own words for a while. Maybe they could just conquer the south instead. And find a new home in a warmer land, once the winters would become too cold for the mountain.
The thought alone made him shiver in the singing winds. Chimes and cave always gave it a voice in the mountain, that was even louder up at the windhall.
He shook his head to himself, for he knew it was more than the cold. If the dragon was about to die, sooner or later their enemies, both the current and the forgotten, would use that as a weakness. Sooner or later the fires of Karn’Arak would not just vanish from their land and sea but also themselves and their wyverns. The battles would become greater and they would fall to well deserved vengeance. Every other orc might have said “Let them try!” or spitted at the thought that their mighty clan could fall, but he knew reality was born from axe and sword, not screams and roars. Of course they were a mighty clan, but how many battles would have been lost if not for the riders? How many of them would have fallen prey to the werebeasts if not for the strength of wyvern instead of orc. And how many deaths had been avoided just by fear alone?
The shamans had taught them that it was the dragon's fire they had to thank for their strength. It was the Dragons fire that lingered in their eyes for his very burning heart was beating in every orc of the north. A fury that was ready to burn all that dared to deny their victory.
His own father had told that story, and he had listened in awe and fear, like all young orcs of the north. The scroll was a solution. A promise. A path, yet it was the last he should choose.
Anger filled him at his own weakness, for he felt the weight of his choice weighing down his darkened heart. It shouldn’t be a choice for only one orc to make, yet telling anybody would danger it all and remove the choice altogether.
He thought of those close to him. Of Bruna, Sha’Raph and maybe even Gor’Mash in a way. Yet he knew, he was alone.
“Son?...” His fathers voice caught him off guard and he turned to face the old man and his blind fold.
“You are not here as Seer?” Aru’gal asked with far more desperation in his voice than he himself realised.
“No..” the old man answered and shook his head. Slowly he came closer, leaning much on his metal staff to walk. “No I am not..” he repeated himself as he stood next to him. His blind gaze facing the moon for a few moments before it turned back to the shadows.
Aru’gal stayed silent for a while. It was weird, for they haven't spoken as father and son in such a long time. Yet the anger for his demeanour against him as Khan still remained. A fury that was burning constantly, but before he could speak Cra’Gal took word of his own again.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“It was a night like this, do you remember?”
Aru’Gal sighed and nodded. “I know..” he said close to a whisper.
His father took a moment until he stepped closer and laid a hand on his son's shoulder. “They would never dare to admit it..” he started with a voice of honesty “But I believe they look up to you..” His words wore an honest smile yet his son's face made one of bitterness.
“Do they?” he asked with an annoyed echo of desperation before he faced his fathers blind gaze. “Do they sing my name when I force them to dig? Do they praise me when I force them to war? Or do they~” he realised his voice echoing through the mountain and calmed himself again. While shaking his head he continued more silently “No, father. They do not look up to me. To them I am the same snake I was years ago, and nothing…” he stumbled over his words and turned from his fathers gaze back to the moon. “Nothing will change that.”
A deep low grunt escaped Cra’Gal and he took yet another step closer, now standing next to his son at the edge of the hall. “If you even believe yourself to be such, how could they ever think differently?” his voice was far more harsh now. “Why call yourself that too?”
“Because I am!” Aru’Gal replied, his voice now again echoing through the hall and down below. “Because you made me!”
“Because I made you…” Cra’Gal repeated and shook his head. “I taught you that a boy build as weak as you needs skill and mind. That doesn’t mean he needs poison too.”
“And yet you can do nothing but spew it every day!” Aru’gal now aggressively pointed at his blind father and forced the blind man to walk backwards a few steps. “You are the one that rallies them against me! You ar~”
“Rally against you?” Cra’Gal angrily asked back “You do that all by yourself! What else do you expect when you tell them that their dragon dies and they need to leave their homes!”
Fury burned in Aru’Gal’s eyes and was echoed in his voice “Yet it was your apprentice who collapsed the mine was it not?!” As he talked Aru’Gal had shoved the old man more and more back until he fell down. A short hint of guilt rested on the Khan's face and he was about to aid him up, yet his father denied and shoved his hand away. Slowly he stood up with but the aid of his metal staff. “No…” he almost whispered once his face was at Aru’Gals again. “You truly think a mere apprentice could collapse our entire mine?”
All the guilt that had been there for a mere second now made place for nothing but pure anger in Aru’Gals face “You…” he realised with deep anger in his voice before he demanded to know “Why?..”
“To save my son from a mistake.” Cra’Gal now answered more softly, almost a plea in his voice.
Aru’Gal laid a hand on his fathers shoulder, a mix of anger and desperation in his eyes. “I can’t make mistakes father…not anymore..”
His father shook his head and laid an arm on the one that rested on his shoulder. “You can and you will..” he started as felt the tight grip and almost could feel his son's agony. A single tear fell down the Khan's face and Cra’Gal tried to reach him one last time. “Mistakes are what's making us~”
“Mortal.” his son answered and drew a tomahawk with his free hand, to quickly bring it down into the old man's neck. A gasp was the seers answer while his hidden eyes glared in panic. After Aru’gal pulled the tomahawk out blood sprayed from the wound and the old Seer stumbled back holding it. Unbelieve and pain far deeper than the wound was born on his face. Yet he couldn’t speak, couldn’t spill his poison any longer, only gurgle while blood ran down from his neck. Aru’Gal hated to see him like this, hated what he did and had to do. He felt the drums and fury inside his heart that slowly drummed tears to his eyes.
The fire inside was too much to contain any longer and he followed the stumbling old bleeding man. With a final roar he kicked him into the pit that went down the mountain. A blood gurgling scream echoed from the dead man until he reached the lowest dark and soon the echoes of his final pain drew silent once more.
Aru’Gal was shaking. His vision blurred from tears that were born from his burning eyes. He removed them quickly as he heard steps.
Before he could do more, Gor'Mash and some other riders had rushed up to the windhall. They saw their Khan and the bloodied Tomahawk, and they saw the lone staff the seer had left behind in a puddle of blood.
“What happened?” Gor’Mash asked. For the first time in his life Aru’Gal heard genuine fear in the old rider's voice.
“Justice..” He replied and took a few heavy breaths in an attempt to calm himself.
Gor'Mash struggled for words yet before he could speak Aru’Gal stared back at him and the riders. “Rile them up!” the Khan ordered.
“But my Khan it's almost midnight…”
“All of them!” he continued and now screamed. “I want all of them, the mountaineers, the herders, the fishermen, ALL of them at the mine tomorrow morning!” His voice echoed through the mountain and whispers echoed back. They made him angry and he faced the dark pit. “Do you hear that?!” the whispers grew silent. “I want all of you to be ready!” His screams echoed down to all the living caves and some even further and into the valley and to the boiling sea in the north. “The time of arguing is over!” he breathed a few times and nothing but unleashed fury screamed further. “The age of fire has come and you may prey to your ancestors that you not burn alongside them!!”