by Adam Roberts
20 Nor ork with aught but ork, nor ort with aught but ort, but that’s a different matter.
21 She wasn’t laughing. This was a sort of cough that afflicted her, ‘cak! cak! cak!’.
22 The Ork army operated on the following structural principle: the basic soldier was the individual Ork; above that was the pairing of ork soldiers, the ‘co-ork’; above that the band of one or two dozens Orks, the ‘cohort’; and finally the mass, or ‘cohorde’. Occasionally Orks were sent into battle without the backup of a cohorde, which is to say ‘cohordless’.
23 Which is to say, a chain made from a special form of metallic gold that looks black – not a chain made from oil. That would be a pretty ridiculous object. You wouldn’t be able to hang anything on it, for one thing.
Of Sharon’s Dream
Now Sharon was piqued to have lost the Sellmi. I mean, really, very, very annoyed indeed. You can understand his position, I’m sure, losing the most powerful magical artefact in creation and everything; it’s bound to tick you off. He raged hard. He raged himself ragged. He railed at his Orks, slaying many. Then he raged again, or re-raged. And, having worn himself out with so much raging, and feeling weak, he reined in his rage, or de-reraged, and then he slept, for he had exhausted himself. And he slept for twenty months long, because the loss of the Sellmi had worn him out so utterly.
As he slept he dreamt, and he saw a great shape filling the whole sky, black and purple and swirling like a stormcloud. And as he looked more closely he saw that it was a Sky Boa, a serpent of untold length and girthed with black muscles, tight to crush and destroy, and it writhed through the air like an evertwisting band of darkness.
Now Sharon had never dreamt before, and he was terrified by the apparition. But after a little time he realised that the wraith could not harm him, and he grew bolder. ‘Creature!’ he called. But even though his was the voice of a valpac, yet it was barely a squeak in the howling gale of his dream.
‘Sharon,’ called the beast, and its voice was the shattering of worlds and the growl of icebergs chewing at the land. And Sharon quailed, and thought to himself, ‘It is the spirit of Moregothic, slain in this world and refused entrance to the next, and so it inhabits the space between the earth and the sky in sorrow and rage.’
‘Master?’ said Sharon; and this was a word he had not framed in speech for an age and an age.
‘Sharon,’ called the apparition. And now it seemed to have a head, and its head was like a black bull except that its mouth contained sharp viper teeth of bright red; and below its neck were two strong arms, like the arms of a man, except that they ended in great talons instead of fingers; and its body tapered away over many leagues into a long tail like a huge eel. And as Sharon looked, the beast’s claws were clasping its own tail, and feeding it into its own maw, and it was devouring itself. And with each bite of its colossal mouth, lightning sparked and branched away with a brightness that seared the eyes. But as Sharon gazed, this sudden brightness did not illuminate the dark, which grew more involved, minute by minute.
‘Master,’ called Sharon, in his dream. ‘Why do you visit me in this form?’
‘To warn you,’ said the serpent, ‘beware the promises of Dragons.’
‘The promises of Dragons were your undoing, Master,’ cried Sharon, full of sorrow.
‘The Dragons give, but they also take. They always give as they always take. You must be ready. You must be clear before you treat with them what their price is, and you must be prepared to pay it.’
‘Death was the price you paid,’ cried Sharon.
‘Ensure that the charm they weave you is watertight,’ howled the serpent. ‘Leave no chink in the magic. Leave no gap through which destructive fate may assail you!’
‘Master!’ called Sharon, in an agony of sorrow and despair and fear. And he awoke.
Never before had Sharon’s servants seen his eyeball coated in the clear salty liquid in which he found himself on awakening. Nor could anybody say whence these gallons of tears had come, for though he was an eyeball, yet Sharon lacked the ducts through which tears wash the eye in other beings. Nor could any say how he had dreamt, for he had never experienced a dream before, and the valpac do not dream.
Sharon contemplated the dream for a long time, and resolved to follow the advice he decided was contained within it. He could summon the Dragons, and make a binding deal with them; and he bent his cunning to the task of forming a charm that allowed no loopholes. But there was also the matter of the price to be paid, and he pondered this for a long time.
Twelve years passed after the Sellmi was stolen from his realm; and all that time Sharon mustered a new army, vast and hideous, and armed them, and prepared his way. And, from time to time, Sharon would hear stories of a monstrous pig living in the forest of Taur-ea-dorpants in the middle of Upper Middle Earth; and he said to himself, ‘That’s where the Pig went.’ So he resolved to steal back the Sellmi to himself, or at the least to discover its location, for here, he thought, was a price that would purchase the Dragons’ magic.
And so he marshalled a small band of his troops, and sent them north into Blearyland. His most trusted lieutenants he sent too, Bleary and Cük too. They built ships, for they were skilled in the crafts of boatbuilding, and crossed the flooded lands of the River Raver, and so they came to the north. They did not engage in open battle with Men or Elves, for that was not their instruction; but when they came upon small groups or travellers they slew them and word spread to all the towns of the north of their doing.
And they captured Men and Elves, and tortured them, and so learned the story of Queen Eve, and how her daughter was driven to madness and blankness of mind by her love for a mortal, for so the story went. And they learnt that a monstrous Pig of Doom haunted the Forest of Taur-ea-Dorpants, and so they made their way into the forest.
And on the seventh day of searching through the trees they found the Pig, rooting at the turf to uncover truffles.
And Bleary said to his second-in-command, ‘Look, there he is. You go and get him.’
And the Ork looked at the giant pig, and at his flesh-shredding teeth, and the strongly efficient action of his masticating jaws, and at the sheer size of the bugger, and did reply, ‘Fat chance.’
‘Look,’ said Bleary. ‘I’m giving you a direct order.’
‘And I’m giving you a direct not on your nelly.’
‘Do you want Sharon to be peeved?’ said Bleary. ‘Because, believe me, he will be peeved. He’ll be very peeved indeed.’
‘You want the pig,’ said the Ork, in effect resigning his commission with these words, ‘you go get him.’ And this Ork was not sorry to leave the Orkish armies, and he travelled far, eventually setting up a smallholding, farming lemmings and selling the pelts on the outskirts of Ill-bhavior. But his subsequent life is not the concern of the present tale.
Bleary ordered the rest of his men to charge the Pig, but they were swiftly disposed of by the monster, who bit some of them in half, and batted others away with powerful sideswipes of his head, and scared others away by snorting and grunting very loudly. And the Ork raiding party withdrew in disarray.
Bleary travelled south again with the survivors, and reported what he knew to Sharon. And, as Bleary had prophesied, Sharon was peeved; and vented his anger on a couple of Orks who happened to be digging a latrine trench not far from his tower, which was bad luck for them. But after that he calmed down, and thought to himself, ‘At least I know where the Pig of Doom has gone.’
Of Sharon’s Decision to End Things Once and for All and for All
After meditating on the situation for a long time, Sharon the Evil called Tuoni Bleary to his side, and he said to him: ‘Tuoni, I have been fighting this war against so-called Goodness for ages and ages. Moreover, where most people use that phrase to mean “for forty-five minutes” or “for three months”, I use it in a strictly literal sense: first age, upper second age, lower second age, third age – I’ve stuck it out. It’s enough t
o try the patience of an evil saint. Well, I’ve decided that enough is enough.’
‘Your tautologies are indeed glorious, O Evil One,’ said Bleary.
‘I’ve decided,’ said Sharon, ‘to end this war once and for all.’
And Bleary said, ‘Good idea, O Lord. So, when you say for once and for all, what do you mean by “all”? – Do you mean “for all people”?’
‘Yes,’ said Sharon. ‘End it for once and for all people. And, come to think of it, for all time.’
‘So you’re planning to end it once and for all and for all?’
‘Exactly,’ said Sharon. ‘Once and for all and for all. If one is, for instance, doing a crossword, then a temporary or partial solution is simply no good. The only solution that’s any use is a final one. Surely we can agree on that.’
And Bleary squirmed and smiled and said, ‘And how will you do this thing, O Darkling? I listen.’
‘To end it once and for all and for all,’ said Sharon, ‘I shall defeat all the forces of so-called Goodness in a mighty battle, slay their commanders and make prisoners of their followers. And I shall bind the world of Upper Middle Earth with a charm of such potency, a charm of such power-to-create, that it will hold the realm in my grasp for ever.’
‘How will you frame such a spell?’ asked Bleary, afraid.
‘The Dragons will do it,’ said Sharon.
It was spring again, and the long winter had passed, and the peoples of Upper Middle Earth felt their hearts expand with hope as the season changed. The wheat grew green in the north, and red windflowers were dotted amongst the stalks of wheat. On the meadows and downs the grass was feathery, and young figs grew white and woolly on the trees. All the green land seemed refreshed under the blue sky, washed with hurrying bright showers, and sparkling after each with sunshine anew. Men forgot for a while that there was such a thing as evil in the world, and though Elves do not forget, yet even they delighted in the warmth in the air, and sang songs beneath the chalk moon and purple sky.
And it was at this time that Sharon had himself carried to the very top of the tower of Cirith Connoli, and placed there alone on his podium. It was sunset, the sky red-gold, with olive-coloured clouds lying in layers over the western horizon. And he had about him the ThingTM, in which still inhered much of the power of the Sellmi.
Using the power of the ThingTM, Sharon summoned the Dragon of the South.
And the Dragon answered his call, drawn by the ThingTM. He rode the air, and pressed down upon it with wings broad as clouds; yet he brought no tempest with him as he flew, but rather he poured fluidly through the air. His eyes were green as cypress leaves, and his skin glowed dark as wine.
He circled the tower at Cirith Connoli with immense slowness. And even Sharon was afraid, but he overcame his fear.
‘Dragon!’ he called. ‘You are the oldest and the most powerful of magic creatures in Upper Middle Earth. And yet there is an artefact older and more powerful than you – the Sellmi, for it was created by Emu.’
And the Dragon circled the tower in the air, slowly, slowly, and said, ‘I know it.’
‘You shall make me a spell,’ said Sharon, ‘and I shall tell you where you may find the Sellmi. None but you are mighty enough to take it from its present hiding place, and yet you do not know where it is hidden.’
And the Dragon circled the tower again in the air, and said, ‘I shall do it.’
‘So!’ cried Sharon. ‘But listen to me, Dragon. I know how you and your kind betrayed my master of old, Moregothic: for you gave him a charm of seeming strength yet at the last it betrayed him to death and extinction. This shall not be my fate. Do you hear?’
The Dragon said, ‘I hear.’
‘I must be lord over all Elves and Men, for as long as Elves and Men exist.’
The Dragon said, ‘It shall be.’
‘I must be invulnerable to harm.’
The Dragon said, ‘It shall be.’
‘I must be immortal.’
The Dragon said, ‘It shall be.’
‘I must be victorious in any battle.’
The Dragon said, ‘It shall be.’
And Sharon demanded these four things, for he knew there were four Dragons. And he thought that there was no loophole, or ambiguity, or weakness in this charm.
The Dragon of the South said, ‘These things shall come to pass when we have the Sellmi.’
And Sharon replied: ‘Agreed – all save this sliver, which I wear about me now. This I shall retain, and you will agree that my retention will not affect the spell.’ The Dragon of the South reared in the air, and spread his wings so wide that they blotted out the light from the setting sun. But Sharon was not afraid: ‘You shall not trick me,’ he called, ‘as you tricked Moregothic! Accept my terms, or get you gone.’
And the Dragon folded its wings, and flew slowly once around the tower.
‘It shall be,’ he said.
The land was silent, as dumb as death; no insect stirred and no wind moved. The skies were silently changing form, with the clouds forecasting nightstorm; a great cloud gathered in the west, breeding thunder and lightning in its body. For this was the mightiest spell that had yet been cast in Upper Middle Earth. The hollow hills trembled, and Orks fled whimpering to their bunkers and holes.
And Sharon gloried as the tempest broke around his tower, and the lightning revealed itself in a thousand burning shards, and blue rain fell through the dusk. Far away, Men and Elves saw the conflagration on the southern horizon and wondered at such sudden and malevolent weather.
The four Dragons flew together to the middle of the world, and the wood of Taur-ea-Dorpants. They had not been to this place, singly or together, since the creation of things; but they flew there now.
And within the glades of this forest was the Pig of Doom. Tall as a house, keenly aware of its surroundings by scent and eye, this beast feared no hunter, acknowledged no predator. No forest lion or bear could dent its thick skin; no hunter’s spear could harm it. It roamed where it wished, and drank from forest streams, and grubbed truffles and tubers with its shovel-like snout.
Its life was good.
But the Dragons came. Though they were vast, yet they were nimble in the air, and they swirled low over the treetops. The shade cast by their wings made the bark of the trees blue and darkened the leaves. The Pig of Doom looked up.
Now, being alone in the woodland, there was nobody with whom to speak, yet nevertheless it spoke, and said: ‘Uh-oh.’
And the Dragons did gather in the sky above the Pig of Doom. And the Pig did take to its trotters in no uncertain manner, and, well, I was going to say scuttled away, but I’m not sure, on reflection, that it would be proper to describe a creature as large as a house running as fast as it can as scuttling. Galloping, I suppose, although that makes you think of horses, doesn’t it, rather than seventy tons of mobile pig. Well, it was moving rapidly, anyway, that’s what I mean to convey. Because the Pig of Doom knew that in the centre of the wide forest of Taur-ea-Dorpants was an outcrop of rock, overgrown with trees; and an opening in this led down to a deep cavern, for the world, breathed into being by the words of the Dragons, is hollow. And the Pig thought to itself, I’ll lie low, in a literal sense, ’til these Dragons buzz off. Sooner I get there, he thought, the better.
And the Dragons flew through the air over the trees following him.
The Pig of Doom looked up again and saw the shapes of the Dragons sweeping through the sky above the highest branches, and he quickened his stride. He, shall we say, lumbered through the trees I suppose, except that ‘lumbering’ implies a lumpish, ungainly, slow gait, and this pig moved with excessive rapidity. I’m beginning to think that there just isn’t a word in the language to describe the extremely rapid movement of a seventy-ton pig through a forest; a state of affairs which is, I’m sure you’ll agree with me, a shame. Anyway.
The Pig, casting nervous looks into the air to check on the progress of the Dragons, ran head first into a massi
ve elm. The tree shattered into many fragments, and the Pig of Doom hurtled rump over snout, crashing into further trees in the process until it lay, stunned, in a motionless heap.
The Dragons brought themselves together in the air above the supine pig.
‘Wait,’ called the Pig, in a woozy voice. ‘Ur, ooh, wait.’
‘Pig,’ called the Dragon of the South. ‘We must claim the Sellmi that is in your belly.’
‘Belly!’ said the Pig, struggling to get to its feet. Or to its trotters, rather. ‘Belly, pah. People are so rude to pigs. If I were an Elf, or a Man, you’d say intestine, or innards, or something.’
‘Nevertheless,’ called the Dragons. ‘The Sellmi must be ours.’
‘To be honest,’ said the Pig of Doom, ‘I’ll not be sorry to be shot of the thing. Terrible indigestion it has caused me. Terrible – sticks into my flesh something shocking.’
‘The Sellmi is too powerful for flesh to touch,’ said the Dragon of the West, ‘even flesh as tough as yours, O Pig. It has corroded your innards, melted itself into your very bones.’
‘Well,’ said the Pig of Doom, ‘that would explain the indigestion. And it would explain why I can’t seem to vomit the horrid thing up. Ah well,’ it said, resigning itself to its fate. ‘I’ve had a good run, for a pig. Ate one too many Orks, perhaps, but I’ve certainly enjoyed the last few years, with the truffles and all.’
And he presented himself to the Dragons; and they paid tribute to his bravery, and called him, ‘Some Pig’.
Then the Dragons reared in the sky and blew down with fire from all four mouths; and the Pig of Doom met his own Doom in the fiercest of conflagrations, blinded by the heat and light and breathed from existence in an instant.
The fire burnt through the Pig’s flesh, and it peeled back as a book peels its pages away in smoke when thrown onto a hearth fire. And the trees around burst to flame as brands, and a great tower of smoke rose to the air, and was bent by the wind and dispersed over the land of the east.
The Dragons stopped their fire; and below them was a great circle of black earth, smouldering and glowing in many places; and the edge of the circle was formed of flaming trees; and in the very centre of the circle was the Sellmi, unharmed by heat and unsullied by ash.