Inferno

by Paul J Bennett

  "I can not forget what the Humans have done to us," he swore.

  "And yet it was Humans who saved us," Shaluhk reminded him. "Were it not for our friends, we would all have suffered the same fate."

  His shoulders slumped. "It is true," he admitted, "but should I ever find those responsible for this atrocity, they will pay with their lives."

  "As they should," added Shaluhk.

  * * *

  Laruhk stomped his foot in a vain attempt to dislodge the accumulated snow. They were high up in the mountains, with a sheer precipice before them.

  "And you brought me all the way here to show me this?" asked Kargen.

  "Look beyond the gorge, Kargen. Do you not see it?"

  The chieftain shielded his eyes from the brightness of the snow-capped peaks. "I see it. A path leading up into the hills, but what good is it to us with this in the way?"

  "If we can descend the cliff, we can make our way up that distant path. It looks like it reaches all the way to the peak."

  Kargen mulled over the situation. He approached the gorge, crouching to peer down. "The drop is great, but we have rope."

  "Can it be done?"

  The chieftain turned back to his friend. "We must try, for all other options have failed us. Our food dwindles by the day. If we do not cross soon, we shall have to seek game to the south, and that will lead us back into the Human lands, where only sorrow awaits."

  "Durgash and I will make the attempt," said Laruhk. "If we can not reach that path by the end of this day, we shall return."

  "Bring six hunters to this spot," said Kargen. "They will anchor your line and watch for your signal. If you locate the base of the path, then send forth a flaming arrow."

  "And how will I light such a flame? All around us is snow and ice."

  "A valid point." He stood, his hand instinctively reaching for his chin. "I have an idea. Come with me."

  They made their way back to camp, seeking out Shaluhk. Kargen hugged her, then began rummaging through her wicker basket.

  "What are you doing, bondmate?" she asked.

  "Looking for something."

  "If you would tell me what it is you seek, I might be of assistance."

  "Athgar left behind his flint and steel, did he not?"

  "Of course," said Shaluhk. "They wished to travel lightly over the mountains, and what need did a Fire Mage have for such tools? Why do you seek it? You know how to make fire already."

  "I do," he said, "but where we are going, wood is scarce. Such tools would be beneficial."

  "I don't understand."

  "I do, Sister," explained Laruhk. "Durgash and I will seek out a path and then signal with a fire. We must take sticks with us for such a task."

  "Then why not rub them together to make fire?" asked Shaluhk.

  "The wood in these parts is sparse, and what little there is, is covered in snow, making it far too damp," her brother replied. "With Athgar's tools, I think we could make it work."

  "Here it is," declared Kargen, lifting the metal ring from the pack. "You strike the flint with it."

  "I know how it works," said Laruhk. "I have seen him use it often enough as have you."

  "Then gather your kindling, mighty hunter. There is much work to be done."

  Laruhk grinned. "Yes, my chieftain."

  * * *

  Kargen stood at the precipice, his eyes gazing north.

  "It is getting late," said Shaluhk.

  "So it is," he admitted, "and yet there is still much work to be done. If Laruhk is successful, it means we will be crossing the mountain passes for the next few days. It will be hard going, for we will not be able to stop and make fire."

  "And once we are through?"

  "Hopefully, we will see a hidden wilderness teeming with game."

  "And if not?"

  "Then we shall go hungry longer. There is no way to tell how far these mountains go. We may be amongst them for some time. Perhaps we should turn back?"

  "And return to the Human lands?" said Shaluhk. "You know we can not do that. It would be the end of us all."

  "Then our choice is made for us. We must continue."

  "Yes, and it is all in the hands of my brother. Do not worry. If there is a way through, he and Durgash will find it."

  The sun cast its red rays across the western peaks as it approached the horizon.

  "Where is he," said Shaluhk, "and why does he not signal?"

  Kargen stared off into the distance. "Wait for the darkness," he said. "He has limited fuel and knows the fire is best seen at night. Stay strong. They will be successful. I know it in my heart."

  They stood in the darkness as the daylight fled. The moon soon made its appearance, illuminating the white of the snowy peaks.

  "There!" said Kargen, pointing. "Do you see it?"

  Shaluhk stared, breaking out in a grin. "I do," she announced. "They have made it! They have found the path!"

  "Yes," he agreed. "Now all we have to do is get everyone down this cliff."

  * * *

  Getting the hunters down the steep precipice was easy, but the elderly and young gave them no end of trouble. They finally settled on using a basket for the young, lowering them down one at a time at the end of a rope, then hauling it back up for the next. While this approach proved useful for the wee ones, the elderly were too big to fit. They had to come up with a different solution, so they settled on each elderly Orc being tethered to a hunter. As the hunter descended, their partner would dangle beneath them, watching the cliff wall to avoid hurting themselves.

  It was painstaking work, yet by day's end, the entire tribe had made the descent. Laruhk and Durgash returned to lead the way onward, but Kargen insisted they wait until everyone was past this hurdle. Splitting the tribe, he insisted, was not the Orcish way.

  That evening they sat around the last of their fires, huddling for warmth. When night fell, they would sleep peacefully beneath the precipice, for once shielded from the harsh mountain winds.

  "This is the last of our wood," said Kargen. "Starting tomorrow, we must continue without fire." He turned to Laruhk. "Tell me of the way ahead."

  "There are large drifts of snow that will impede us," the hunter replied. "And we would do well to mark the path for those that follow."

  Kargen nodded. "Let each hunter unstring his bow. We will then plant them in the snow at regular intervals to mark the path."

  "They will be hard to see," noted Shaluhk.

  "Then let us tie a cloth to their tops to make them more visible."

  "I have a red blanket that might suffice," she offered.

  "Excellent, then we shall cut it up and distribute the pieces. As the last of us takes the path, they will collect them for use farther up."

  "It will likely ruin the bows," warned Laruhk.

  "Better a ruined bow than to die of the cold. If it will lead us all through this, so much the better."

  * * *

  When they began their ascent the very next day, the Ancestors smiled upon them, gracing them with mild weather. The winds died down, allowing them to make satisfactory progress, but on the second day, the mountains decided to impede their progress, sending snow to blind them.

  By the third day, bereft of fire, the tribe was struggling. Already there were signs of trouble, with two of the elderly falling into the snow. Kargen had the hunters spread a blanket across two bows, allowing them to carry the frail members of his tribe, but the cold soon claimed them. With no other choice, they were forced to leave the bodies in the frigid mountain air, stopping only to recognize their contributions to the tribe.

  More than once, Kargen wished for the presence of Artoch. The fallen master of flame could have saved them, but then the chieftain rebuked himself, lamenting that he should have done more to save them.

  Shaluhk comforted him as best she could, telling him such losses were inevitable. "You have done well to save so many," she said, "but you can not save them all."

  For two more days th
ey struggled, and then when they crested yet another ridge, Kargen ambled to the front, no longer strong enough to run. He stood beside Laruhk, the two of them staring to the north where the lush green of a distant forest beckoned them.

  "We are almost there," said Laruhk through cracked lips and a dry throat.

  "And just in time," croaked out Kargen. "For our food is gone, and water scarce. Spread the word. This news shall hearten our people."

  King of the Therengians

  Summer 1104 SR

  * * *

  "Are you sure?" asked Athgar

  Skora kept looking at Natalia. "I have helped in the birthing of many babes. Trust me, I know the signs. Tell me, dear, have you any signs of discomfort?"

  "My back has been sore," Natalia replied, "but I thought that was from sleeping on the ground."

  "Any dizziness?"

  She hesitated. "Yes."

  "There, you see? Old Skora is not as useless as she looks."

  Natalia looked at Athgar, worry in her eyes, but all she saw was love. "This can't be happening," she said, "not now."

  "Children will come when they want," said Skora. "Parents have little choice in the matter."

  "It looks like we shall be spending some time here," said Athgar.

  "She's pregnant, not invalided," the old woman added. "It will be months before such is the case. There is no reason she cannot travel. Tell me, Athgar, what has befallen you since last we saw each other? I had thought you dead in Athelwald."

  "And I was left for such. If it hadn't been for the Orcs, I would have perished."

  "The Orcs?"

  "Yes, the Orcs of the Red Hand. You remember Kargen and Laruhk? It is they that found me, and their tribe that taught me the magic of fire."

  His statement brought the room to silence.

  "You mean to say you are also a mage?" asked Raleth.

  "Yes," said Athgar.

  "This is glorious news indeed."

  "Glorious? I thought you disliked mages?"

  "We do, at least those who are skrollings." Raleth cast a glance at Natalia. "Sorry."

  "This IS an interesting development," added Harwath, suddenly taking an interest in the conversation. "He must be seen by the king as soon as possible."

  "I'm afraid I don't understand," said Athgar.

  "It has been generations since there were Therengian mages. We thought all the lines died out decades ago. If you are as you say, then this is a monumental discovery."

  In answer, Athgar held out his hand, palm upward as he canted the magical words, calling on his inner spark to produce a small green flame.

  Raleth and Harwath both stared, awed by his display.

  "Well, mage or not," said Anweld, "he needs some food. Now stop gaping and pass out some of that stew."

  Harwath tore his eyes away, going to gather some bowls while his brother kept staring.

  "What else can you do?" asked Raleth.

  "Nothing without risking burning down your house," said Athgar, "but I can assure you I was taught well."

  "Yes," added Natalia, "he was taught by the master of flame."

  "Master of flame?"

  "Yes, Artoch, the Orc he was talking about earlier."

  Raleth's face grew troubled. "Are you saying the Orcs can use this type of magic?"

  "The Red Hand could," replied Athgar. "It's how they got their name."

  "We've had some problems with the Orcs in this region," Raleth continued. "Could they have the same ability?"

  Athgar took a moment to think about his response. It would do little good to admit he had spent time amongst the Black Axe tribe, so he gave a noncommittal answer. "Yes, it's possible."

  Raleth rose. "I must warn the king. I fear we may be heading into a conflict that could destroy us."

  "We shall be happy to meet him," said Athgar, "should he wish it, of course."

  "I'm sure he will," said Raleth. "In the meantime, I suggest you eat. You'll likely need your strength." He left the hut, leaving the rest to consider his words.

  "Tell me, Skora," asked Natalia, "what is King Eadred like?"

  The old woman sat in silence awhile, obviously struggling to answer. "He is a man dedicated to his role as king, but he lacks the decisiveness required of a leader. He is, however, exceptionally knowledgeable about the history of our people."

  "A history I'm very interested in learning," said Athgar.

  "Naturally," said Skora, "but you have yet to finish your tale. You talk of being saved by the Orcs yet have not told us how you met your wife."

  "We met in Draybourne," offered Natalia. "He was trying to save me."

  "Trying?"

  "I'm a full-fledged Water Mage and had the situation well in hand. Unfortunately, I took him for one of my attackers and injured him."

  "Once she realized her mistake," added Athgar, "she looked after me while I healed."

  "She sounds like a remarkable woman," said Skora. "And it's nice to see she's someone worthy of you."

  "I don't know about worthy," said Natalia.

  "Nonsense. It's plain to see you're meant for each other. A much better match than Melwyn."

  "We met her earlier," said Natalia. "What can you tell me about her?"

  "What's there to tell? We managed to escape the slavers, then wandered in the wilderness: her untrained in the hunt and me too weak from hunger to do anything. We were near death by the time we made it out of the mountains."

  "Melwyn was not untrained in the hunt," said Athgar. "She was blooded before I was."

  "Is that what her father told you?"

  "Are you saying it's not true?"

  Skora shook her head. "My dear boy, you were blinded by the passion of youth. Melwyn was no more successful than you were. The difference was that her father looked out for her. It was his spear that brought down the deer, not hers."

  "How do you know?"

  She tapped her nose. "I know things, but in any event, it's of no consequence. You have found your true love. That is all that matters."

  "Skora," said Natalia, "if we are to stay here, will you help me with this child?"

  A smile broke out on the old woman's face. "I would be delighted to. I shall gladly become part of your household."

  "Household?" said Natalia. "We're not nobility."

  "It's a Therengian term," explained Athgar. "It's more of an informal family."

  "Like we are with the Orcs?"

  "Precisely."

  "Very well," Natalia replied, "welcome to the household, Skora of Athelwald."

  The old woman cackled. "It is not yet set in stone. I'm afraid the king may still have need of me."

  "Then we shall have to see if we can change his mind," the Water Mage insisted.

  Raleth opened the door.

  "Back already?" said Anweld.

  "The king wishes to see the newcomers," he said.

  "Excellent," said Harwath. "When?"

  "Immediately."

  The younger brother looked at their mother.

  "Well, don't just stand there," she said. "We mustn't keep the king waiting."

  They all made their way to the king's hall, which lay only an arrow's flight away. It was large by Athgar's standards, though not as grand as the great hall of the Orcs. Inside, they found quite a few villagers standing around their king, peppering him with questions.

  At their entrance, two guards moved to intercept them. The commotion drew everyone's attention. King Eadred took his seat upon a plain, high-backed chair covered in furs.

  "What have we here?" he asked.

  "This is Athgar of Athelwald, my king," said Raleth. "The man of whom I spoke earlier."

  The king lounged on his throne, scratching his light brown beard. His long hair hung to his shoulders, but he wore it in braids that framed his face. Athgar looked him in the eyes, meeting the man's penetrating stare with one of his own.

  Eadred turned his gaze on Natalia. "And who is this skrolling?"

  "Natalia Stormwind,"
she replied, her back straightening.

  "She is also a mage," added Raleth.

  "What's this now?" said the king. "You spoke of one mage, not two."

  "My apologies, my king."

  Eadred rose from his seat, moving closer to examine the newcomers. He was a tall man, easily a head taller than Athgar, and yet he didn't command the room the way Kargen did.

  "You," the king said at last, "are one of us"—he turned to Natalia—"but you are a filthy skrolling." He spat on her, causing her to flinch."

  "My lord," a voice spoke up.

  The king turned to see the source, a smile breaking across his face. "Lady Melwyn, you grace us with your presence."

  "This man, Athgar," she said, "we were, at one time, betrothed. I beg you let us return to that arrangement."

  The king turned his attention back to Athgar. "Is this true? Were you at one time promised to the daughter of a chieftain?"

  Athgar found himself at a loss for words. Melwyn's father was no chieftain, just another hunter in the village, no more a man of influence than his own father had been as a simple bowyer.

  "That was long ago," he finally managed to squeak out, "and I am now bonded to another."

  "Only in the custom of the Orcs," added Melwyn.

  "The Orcs?" roared the king. "What treachery is this?"

  Athgar had enough. He took a step back, calling forth his arcane power to conjure a flame in his hand. The green fire flickered, drawing everyone's attention, including Eadred, who drew back in fear.

  "Natalia is my wife," Athgar declared, "whether you accept her or not. And she carries my child."

  A hush fell over the room. Athgar struggled with what to say. He had acted impulsively, and now he regretted his actions. How was he to now end this without bloodshed?

  "Why do you hate the Orcs so much?" asked Natalia, finding her voice. "Surely they have done you no wrong?"

  "They deny us what is ours," said Eadred.

  "I think you'll find the land was theirs long before you arrived."

  "What would you know of such things? You are an outsider!"

  Natalia felt a rage building within her. "I am a Stormwind!" She let loose with her power, pointing at the firepit. It quickly frosted, extinguishing the flames, and plunging the hut into near darkness, leaving it illuminated by Athgar's flame alone.