"True, and yet, like it or not, we have become essential to their defence."
"Come, my bondmate, such thoughts can only serve to weaken us. Let us not look to the past, but to the future."
Kargen nodded, then turned, releasing her hand to scoop up little Agar. The Orc youngling let out a roar of delight as he was hoisted onto his father's shoulders. His actions complete, he took her hand once more.
"Come, then," he said. "If Athgar and Nat-Alia can do this, so can we. We are a team, you and I, who lead with one heart. Let us guide our people to their destiny, whatever that might be."
The Black Axe
Summer 1104 SR
* * *
Athgar and Natalia arrived at Ord-Ghadrak well past midnight. The first sign of the village was when Athgar spotted the distant torches throwing their light off the pine trees. They soon entered the clearing, coming face to face with the large wooden palisade.
The walls were the height of three men, made of thick trunks of spruce roughly hewn and anchored into the soil. Unlike Ord-Kurgad, which had no permanent gate to speak of, here the gate consisted of a great double door of thick, solid planks. When it was thrown open upon their arrival, it revealed an interior much like that of any other tribe with a scattering of rough wooden structures spread around a large, central firepit.
Orcs gathered around as they made their way towards the largest building, a great hall with thick wooden walls and a roof to match. Athgar thought the great hall in Ord-Kurgad was impressive, but this structure dwarfed even that grand structure. It also looked ancient as if the wood itself had been carved from the living forest generations ago.
When the group halted, Orcs gathered around in fascination. Urughar prodded Athgar with his spear, forcing him forward as the other villagers watched.
Athgar could discern little beyond the fire, his night vision blinded by the light, but the murmuring quieted as someone made their way towards them.
The crowd parted to reveal an impressive figure, tall even by Orc standards, and fully a head taller than any man Athgar had ever seen. His dark green skin was marked by lighter scars that ran across his face as if he had been clawed by some great creature in years past. The chainmail shirt he wore reflected the light of the fire as he advanced to halt before them.
Athgar quickly glanced over his shoulder to see Natalia, held in place by the threat of a spear. The great Orc bent slightly, peering into Athgar's eyes.
"What have we here?" said the Orc, his voice low and menacing. "Is this a Torkul I see before me?"
"I'm a Therengian, if that's what you mean."
Athgar's reply elicited a cry of surprise from the crowd.
"How is it," the Orc chieftain continued, "you speak our language?"
"I claim kinship with the Orcs of the Red Hand."
"Ridiculous. No Human has ever earned that honour, let alone a Torkul."
"And yet you have allies who are Human."
"What nonsense is this?"
Athgar pressed his case. "It's true. I swear it. Consult with your shamans, and you will see. Ask them about your brethren in the Netherwood."
The great Orc turned, looking behind him, searching for a face in the crowd. "Mortag," he beckoned, "come here. I would seek your wisdom."
An Orc, bent with age, stepped forward. He cradled his left arm, which hung, withered and frail. "You called, mighty Kirak?"
"Tell us what you know of the Netherwood."
"It is a land far to the west," Mortag replied, "where dwell a tribe of our people. It is said a Human named Redblade came to their assistance in their time of need. If you wish to know more, you will have to consult with Laghul, for she is the mistress of the spirits, while I am merely a master of flame."
Kirak laughed, a deep rumbling sound that reminded Athgar of Kargen. "Hardly," the Orc continued. "You are the most powerful flame wielder this tribe has ever known."
The chieftain turned his attention back to Athgar once more. "It seems you speak the truth, Human. Tell me, what is your name?"
"I am Athgar of Athelwald, master of flame."
His statement brought another gasp from the crowd. Mortag moved closer, peering into his eyes. "I see no sign of deception. Can this be true?"
"Free my hands, and I will show you."
Kirak ignored the outburst, looking instead at Mortag. "Is this even possible? Do the Torkul have shamans of their own?"
"No, my chieftain, they do not, though it is said their Ancestors did many generations ago."
He looked at Urughar. "Release his bonds. Mortag, watch this Human closely. If he attempts to escape, burn him."
"Yes, mighty Kirak."
Athgar turned as Urughar pulled a wicked-looking knife. The Orc smiled, then began sawing away at the bindings.
Natalia struggled, but Ogda held her arms in an iron grip.
The Therengian rubbed his wrists, feeling the tingling sensation as the blood returned to his fingers. He slowly raised his hands to his neck and withdrew the torc.
"Here," he said. "This was a gift from Kargen of the Red Hand. Take it if you must."
Kirak leaned forward, taking the end of the torc in his massive hand. It was carved of gold made to look like rope, and the ends were capped with miniature Orc heads, red stones set in their mouths.
"Fine work," said the Orc chieftain, releasing the torc, "and obviously of Orcish origin. You must have been welcome indeed to receive such a gift. How is it one of your race came to live amongst our people?"
"I lived amongst my own people in the village of Athelwald, in a region to the south of the Grey Spire Mountains. I was a maker of bows and traded with your brethren in Ord-Kurgad. All of that changed when my village was destroyed, and I was left for dead. I was found by Kargen, an Orc hunter, and taken back to his village."
"An interesting tale," noted Mortag, "and yet it doesn't explain how you came to be a master of flame."
"I was taught by Artoch," explained Athgar. "He said I had the spark."
The shaman turned to his chieftain. "He speaks the truth, noble leader. I am familiar with Artoch, and I, too, see the spark within him."
"How can this be?" mused Kirak. "The Torkul here give us nothing but trouble. How can this individual be so different?"
"Can not the tribes of Orcs differ?" asked Athgar. "Humans are no different."
"You have given me much food for thought," the chieftain continued. "I must consult with my advisors before we take a vote. You will go with Mortag, Athgar of Athelwald, and he shall test the depths of your knowledge."
"And what of my companion?"
Kirak's gaze swivelled to Natalia. "She is of no consequence to us. She may accompany you."
Athgar was about to protest the Orc's callous disregard for her but thought better of it. Better to not let them know that possibly the most powerful Water Mage on the Continent was amongst them.
They were led to a hut where Urughar untied Natalia. He ordered them to remain, then left with a promise of food.
Athgar looked at Natalia, concern written on his features. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she replied. "I managed to pick up on a little of the conversation, but I'm afraid my Orcish is not very good."
"Their master of flame is going to test me, likely to see how powerful I am."
"And then what?"
"I'm not sure. I also thought it best to not reveal your magical abilities. I hope you don't mind?"
"Not at all, I think it wise. After all, we don't yet know if these Orcs are friend or foe."
"Yes, and they've been having trouble with Therengians, or Torkul, as they call us."
"Do you think they might be survivors from Athelwald?"
He gave it some thought. "Possibly, but my understanding was that only a handful escaped; the rest were sold off as slaves. I doubt a dozen Therengians would prove much of a threat to an entire tribe of Orcs."
"There's something else going on here," noted Natalia. "They are obviously
familiar with your people. Could there be another village around here somewhere?"
"I never thought of that, but it would make sense. Athelwald couldn't have been the only village left."
She reached out, touching his arm. "Do you realize the implications of this, Athgar? You may have found your people!"
He smiled at the thought. Ever since the loss of his village, he had searched for them. Now it seemed likely the search was coming to an end. Could they finally settle down and live in peace? He became aware of Natalia's gaze and was left feeling guilty. Was this what she wanted? He was suddenly struck with a sense of melancholy, a look not lost on his companion.
"What's wrong?" she said. "You should be happy."
"What of you?" he asked.
"What of me? Whatever do you mean?"
"What do you want? You were raised in the Volstrum. Would you ever consider settling down in a backwards village?"
"I am content when we are together," she said, "wherever that may take us. I think it is our destiny to live amongst your people. Maybe it's why the Ancestors sent us here."
He shook his head. "It would be nice, but I don't see it that way. Something is wrong here. There shouldn't be such animosity between the Orcs and the Therengians."
"Then perhaps THAT'S why we're here, to heal those wounds."
"Perhaps," he replied, though in his heart he knew it was unlikely.
Urughar soon returned, dropping two wooden bowls before them.
Natalia picked one up, breaking out into a big smile. "Orc porridge, one of my favourites. You know Shaluhk used to give it a hint of maple."
The Orc looked at her in surprise. "Shaluhk?"
"Yes, she was the Life Mage. Sorry, I meant Shamaness of the Red Hand. She's also my sister."
"What is she talking about," asked the Orc in his own tongue.
Athgar made the quick switch to Orcish. "She is a tribe sister to Shaluhk, who was trained by Uhdrig."
"Uhdrig," said the Orc. "Now, that is a name I am familiar with. You should talk to Laghul. She would be most interested in your tale."
"Could you arrange such a thing?"
Urughar broke out in a grin, showing his sharp ivory teeth, then he left the hut, leaving Athgar and Natalia alone once more.
"Did you understand any of that?" he asked.
"A little," she replied. "I take it he's going to bring the shamaness?"
"Yes. Hopefully, she can verify our story. The Orcs can communicate over long distances, can't they? Do you think she can contact Shaluhk?"
"I wouldn't count on it," said Natalia. "The tribe is likely on the move."
"That won't matter."
"It won't? Isn't a moving target harder to find?"
"No," said Athgar. "My understanding is that Spirit Magic works regardless of range or position. It has more to do with how familiar the caster is with the recipient."
"But how would this Laghul be familiar with Shaluhk if they've never met?"
"I have no idea, but they learned of things across the Sea of Storms, so they must have some way of doing it. Unless you're suggesting they can travel great distances by magic?"
"Don't be ridiculous," said Natalia. "You'd need a magic circle for that."
"A magic circle?"
"Yes, aren't you familiar with them as a Fire Mage?"
"I can't say I am. The Orcs don't use them as far as I'm aware."
"Not even circles of stone?"
The blank look on Athgar's face told her all she needed to know. "Never mind. Perhaps it's beyond their understanding."
"They are an intelligent race," said Athgar, growing defensive, "and they've used magic far longer than Humans."
"I meant no offence, but their history is an oral one, isn't it? I would imagine the complexities of using a magic circle would be hard to pass down in such a manner."
"Can you use such powers?"
"No, I was never taught the spell of recall. They reserve those types of things for the more experienced mages in the family."
"I can see why," he mused.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Such a spell would be particularly powerful. It could be used to get into all sorts of mischief."
"We're talking about experienced mages here," she added, "not children."
"Is there a difference? We've both seen first-hand how power can corrupt people."
Natalia's features softened. "You're right, of course. Not everyone is capable of protecting such a secret, and it could wreak havoc on a country's ability to defend itself against a magical attack. They are probably better off without it."
"The Orcs have a unique perspective on magic. It is always used with the utmost care. Something most Humans don't seem to worry about."
"I'd have to agree with you there. All of my training taught me to unleash my full power whenever casting. It was only after meeting you that I learned proper control."
"Why do you think that is?" Athgar wondered. "Humans unleashing everything, I mean."
"Ego. It's well known most Fire Mages like to display their prowess. You're the only one I've ever met who controls his magic. It's what sets you apart." She smiled. "It's also one of the things I treasure about you."
"So what do I do when Mortag comes for me? Do I show him my full potential or hold back?"
"I can't make that decision for you. You know the Orcs better than I. Which approach do you think would be better?"
"I'm inclined towards control. It is, after all, their way."
"There, you see? You had the answer all along."
Now it was Athgar's turn to smile. "True, but it took your encouragement to help me see it."
"That's what I'm here for, amongst other things."
"Other things?"
A grin spread across Natalia's face. "Of course. We can't stay locked up as prisoners forever, can we? Do you think we could have a bath?"
He was about to agree when Mortag came through the door. The old Orc's withered left arm was in a sling, his right holding a gnarled staff.
"So," he began, "you claim to be a master of flame. Step outside, and let us see your craft."
"Do you speak the common tongue?" asked Athgar.
"The common tongue? What an insult to the elder races. Only Humans would refer to their own language as common."
"Call it what you like, but my companion speaks limited Orcish."
Mortag shrugged. "I must confess I know a little. It comes in handy when talking to prisoners such as yourself, but I am here today to test you, not her, and as you speak our tongue, I shall remain using it. Now, come outside, and bring your companion if you wish. No harm will befall either of you. I promise."
He rose, indicating for Natalia to do likewise. They followed the flame wielder outside to where a small crowd had gathered.
"This," began Mortag, "is where apprentices learn to cast their spells." He pointed at a stone obelisk that stood some fifty paces away. "Can you hit that?"
"Most certainly," he replied. "I assume you wish me to use a streak of fire?"
The old Orc nodded. "You may begin when ready."
Athgar stepped forward, clearing his mind and shaking his hands in an effort to relax. Next, he closed his eyes and began concentrating on his inner spark, letting it grow inside of him. Then his eyes opened, and he thrust his hands to the front, sending a streak of flame heading towards the target. It struck the rock dead centre, splashing fire to either side, then vanished, leaving behind a scorched smell.
Mortag nodded in appreciation. "Good, very good. I see you use our methods well. What else can you do?"
"I can start fires," Athgar replied.
The Orc waved his hand, brushing aside the claim. "That is easy, but can you produce flames on a weapon?"
"I can, on axes, swords, and even arrows."
"Smoke?"
"Yes." He wanted to add he'd even seen battle but thought better of it. Orcs were hunters not a warrior race despite their reputation for it.<
br />
"What else can you do?" the Orc enquired.
"I can cast warmth, a spell that served us well when we crossed the mountains."
"What of the phoenix?"
"I'm afraid it is beyond my training, though I have seen one in battle."
"You have fought other mages," Mortag declared.
"How did you know?"
"You show no fear in my presence, a most remarkable feat for a Human. Many would tremble at the thought of such power beneath the surface." He glanced at Natalia. "She, also, is unafraid. I sense you have both been through much since your village was destroyed."
Athgar stared back, unsure of how to answer.
"Now," the Orc continued, "we have seen the accuracy of your casting. Let us see you demonstrate your full power."
"Very well, what will you have me do?"
Mortag pointed to where a group of Orcs were stacking wood in preparation for a bonfire. "We will start with that. They are preparing a fire for the morning meal." He waved away the Orcs, then waited as they cleared the area, turning to face Athgar. "You may proceed when ready."
Athgar looked at Natalia, who merely nodded. He took a step forward, thrusting both hands out in a pushing motion. The air around them seemed to shake, and then a giant fire roared to life from beneath the logs, reaching up high into the night sky. The nearby Orcs were caught off guard and could do little but gape in wonder at the display.
Mortag turned to the Therengian, his features noticeably paler than they had been. "Most impressive," he said. "You have learned well from Master Artoch."
Athgar bowed his head. "Thank you. I strive to do him honour."
A smile broke out on the face of the master of flame. "Your coming is fortuitous. The Ancestors must have sent you to help us in our time of need."
"Why? What is it that ails you?"
"That," said Mortag, "is for Kirak to explain."
* * *
Urughar led them to the great hut. Though larger in size than that of Ord-Kurgad, it was similar in layout. One end consisted of the chieftain's private rooms, and it was here the Orc hunter led them.
Inferno Page 2