by Alexey Pehov
“I knew they were sadists, but to do … that … with monkeys…” Olag didn’t even bother to say it in orcish.
“All right, bring it back. I have a few more questions for it,” Shokren snapped.
Realizing that the hanging was postponed for the time being, I cheered up a bit. The “few questions” went on for a good hour, but in all fairness, I must say that I never got confused even once, although the shaman was pushing me really hard. Eventually he got up and said, “Take it away, I’ve found out all I wanted to know.”
So saying, the orc set off toward the obelisk, and I was led back to Mis and Glo-Glo, who were at the other side of the clearing. Halfway across Fagred decided he wanted to play games—he started jerking on the rope and chuckling, and asking me if I wanted to play doggy.
“Come on, now, moth, say ‘woof’! That’s not too hard for you, is it? Oh, come on! Say ‘woof’!”
Every phrase was accompanied by a tug on the rope. I maintained a stoic silence.
“Bad dog! Bad dog! Say ‘woof’!”
“That’s enough, Fagred,” his comrade warned him. “This one might still be useful.”
“Shokren found out everything he wanted from him. Say ‘woof,’ moth, or I’ll have to punish you!”
“And when the time comes, who are you going to bet on?” Olag suddenly asked. “A greeny or a wounded monkey?”
Fagred frowned, thought for a while, and then nodded.
“Okay, you’re right, Olag. You don’t have to bark right now, moth. But your time will come soon. Ah, the eternal forest! That’s Bagard calling. Keep an eye on the monkey, I’ll be back in a moment.”
Fagred handed the rope to Olag and trudged off toward the commander of the orcs.
“Sit down,” Olag ordered, and set me an example by sitting on the yellow leaves that covered the ground.
I had to sit down. In theory, at this point I might have been able to handle the orc, one to one, but two things stopped me—the dagger that Olag took out as soon as his partner left, and the fact that we were in open view. They’d simply stick me full of arrows while I was running for the trees. So I had to sit beside the Firstborn and wait for Fagred to come back.
“You’re a silly little monkey,” Olag said unexpectedly. “Why couldn’t you have just played along with Fagred?”
“I don’t think of myself as a silly little monkey and I don’t want to amuse your friend.”
When I was talking to Olag I could get away with things I would never have said when I was talking to Fagred.
“Not a monkey?” the orc said, and a faint spark of curiosity lit up in his eyes. “Then who are you?”
“Me? Certainly not a monkey.”
“All men are monkeys!” Olag declared. “You’re worse than animals, you’re inferior beings, you’re a mistake of the gods, like the elves who appeared straight after us. This world should belong to us! We were its only masters until the inferior beings appeared. Yes, you can talk, but give me two months, and I’ll teach a raven to talk. Just because you can talk, it doesn’t mean you can think! All of you who have appeared on our land, you, who fell our forests and keep us out of our own land, you’re no better than stinking monkeys who’ve learned to talk and make weapons! A herd of crude beasts! If you weren’t here, Siala would be a much better place. We orcs are the first children of the gods. The superior race! Why should we share Siala with elves, who came to Zagraba when all the work had already been done, when we’d already run the last ogres out of here, losing thousands of orcs in the process? That was very convenient for the elves, wasn’t it? They’re cruel and cunning, they’ve made my brothers’ lives a misery, but sooner or later we’ll crush them. And as for men … You were the very last to appear; even the Doralissians, those brainless oafs with goats for mothers, arrived before you did! You appeared in our world, and we didn’t realize what a threat you were. We were fools. While we were fighting the elves and trying to drive the dwarves and the gnomes out of the accursed mountains, you spread all round the world, and then it was too late. All you can do is kill and destroy everything beautiful that there is in our world! Men are stupid little monkeys, and you won’t stop until you tear Siala into a thousand pieces, you’ll never have enough blood and wine to satisfy you!”
He paused for breath.
“It’s our duty to do everything we possibly can to stop you, to wipe the human race off the face of Siala, so that there isn’t even a trace of you left behind! And when the last of your children drowns in the ocean, we’ll come back and settle our accounts with the elves, and all the others who are your friends. If we overthrow you, then we can crush the others, too! What we failed to achieve in the War of Shame, we shall achieve now. While I’m talking to you, little monkey, the Hand is leading my brothers in arms out of our cities and soon, very soon, we’ll march out of Zagraba and we’ll march as far as Avendoom and Shamar, and then it will be the turn of the other lairs of men. We won’t leave a single stone standing, because there’s no place in our world for anyone like you. And what you brought here will help us in the battle!”
I listened carefully without speaking. A heartfelt speech from a true fanatic, but then, they were all fanatics. The orc’s eyes blazed with golden fire and he kept clenching the dagger, clearly preparing to use it, if I raised any objections. The Firstborn, the Firstborn. I wondered what he’d say if he knew about the Fallen Ones.
“And you animals, who have no sense of honor, demand admiration from us, you demand an alliance! You say we have to give you our forest, which belongs by right to the Firstborn, the first to come to Siala! How can you demand anything at all from us? How are you any better than animals? How? The elves deserve to die, although at least they know the meaning of honor and pride, but cattle like you simply deserve to die. Even your king’s own eldest son is insane!”
“Leave him, Olag,” Fagred said in a surprisingly gentle voice. He’d walked up while I was listening. “He won’t understand anything anyway.”
“No, he won’t,” Olag sighed, and tucked the dagger behind his belt. “Get up, moth, and remember—if you dare to open your mouth again before we reach your pen, I’ll cut your tongue out.”
But I wasn’t thinking of making conversation. I was alarmed by the very bad news the orc had let slip while he was talking. I was afraid that this autumn the Firstborn had decided to feel out the boundaries of the kingdom and launch a new Spring War.
14
THE LABYRINTH
Glo-Glo was wrong—the detachment of orcs we had been waiting for all this time didn’t arrive on the sixth day, but on the seventh, and only when evening was already drawing in.
With nothing to do, I was quietly going out of my mind, and I tried either to sleep (until Fagred’s boot drove sleep away), or to watch what the orcs were doing and observe their habits, until some fang-mouthed brute advised me (in the most polite manner possible, I hasten to add) that it was time to sleep. I couldn’t get what Olag had said out of my head—that after all these centuries of peace the orcs had decided to tickle the bellies of Valiostr and the Border Kingdom.
Well, the Border Kingdom might hold up, but the southern borders of my native Valiostr (with its slack garrisons, where the men didn’t know how to properly hold a sword) would falter and break, and the Firstborn would drive our army all the way back to the Iselina. It would be at least a week before the armchair generals gathered their wits and moved forces down from the north and Miranueh, and that was enough time for the orcs to cause catastrophic damage. And would we hold out, even if the army did arrive in time? Our only hope were the barons, like Oro Gabsbarg—and the towns like Maiding and Moitsig, which lay right beside Zagraba. Their walls could hold back the army of orcs for a little while. At least, I hoped so, I really hoped so.…
I hadn’t forgotten about the little flinny, either: If he had carried out my assignment and found my group, then help should already be hurrying on its way. The question was—would they get here in time?
Most of the prisoners were elves, but there were also four men, and they were all Border Kingdom warriors. When Mis saw them, he started in surprise.
“I know them! They’re lads from the garrison at Drunken Brook. How did they manage to get here? Maybe you’re right, Harold, and these subhuman monsters are already on the march.”
“I don’t think so,” said Glo-Glo. “If they were, there would be a lot more prisoners. They probably came barging into the Golden Forest and ran into trouble, the same way you did.”
“I suppose that’s possible,” Mis sighed.
“Now it’ll start again.”
“What do you mean, Glo-Glo?”
“The usual thing, Harold. They’ll chop a few elves’ heads off!”
The goblin was right, but not completely. They only executed two elves, and not in the clearing, they took them off into the forest. The others were led to the obelisk under double guard and Shokren’s wary eye and left there with the men until their time came.
“Maybe they won’t cut their heads off,” Glo-Glo said thoughtfully. “Maybe this time they’ve decided to make an exception and put the dark ones into the Labyrinth.”
“Can you see what badges they’re wearing?” I asked the goblin.
“The same as the others—Walkers Along the Stream. A middling sort of clan, not very strong.”
“No, that’s not what I meant! I was asking about the elves!”
“A-a-ah … I think it’s the House of Black Water. They’re really vicious, the Dark House closest to the Golden Forest, they make the orcs weep tears of blood, but it looks as if it’s the elves’ turn to cry now.”
That inseparable pair, Olag and Fagred, were heading toward us.
“Get ready, monkeys, we’re moving out in five minutes. I hope you haven’t got any ideas about escaping? If you have, just let us know. Better to lose your head straightaway than end up dangling from a tree, gutted like a fish.”
Naturally, none of us was planning to escape, or if anybody was, he certainly wasn’t thinking of letting the Firstborn know about it. Olag nodded contentedly, adjusted his yataghan, and tramped off toward the obelisk. Fagred was about to follow him, but he stopped, bared his teeth in a grin, grabbed hold of my hair, and whispered in my ear, “Yesterday a raven arrived for Shokren, moth. You’re not needed anymore, so get ready to run ’round the Labyrinth.”
Then, feeling very pleased with himself, he went hurrying after Olag.
“I’m sorry, my boy,” said Glo-Glo, giving me a comforting pat on the back.
“I’m not really all that upset,” I answered quite sincerely. “Sooner or later…”
“Ah, we’re not done with this fight yet!” the goblin told me with a cunning wink.
Well, naturally, I hoped that if we really did start fighting, the orcs would remember us for centuries to come, because where could you possibly find any finer warriors than a slightly crazy old shaman and a thief stupid enough to come calling on the Firstborn?
* * *
“That Olag was telling the truth,” said Glo-Glo, plumping up a genuine straw mattress. “The orcs have gone. All the villages are empty—nothing but women, children, and the minimum number of warriors. The Firstborn have moved their forces to the north. Oho, now there’ll be fun and games.”
“Isn’t that stupid?” asked Mis, who was lying with his hands behind his head, staring up at the low ceiling. “While they’re busy with us, the dark elves will take their homes.…”
“No, I don’t think so.… I’m sure they’ve moved large forces to the west as well, and now there’s a band of orc garrisons between the Golden and Black forests.”
Maybe the goblin was right, who could tell? In any case, during the five days we’d spent tramping through Zagraba, all the orcs had talked about was the great march. We had swerved farther and farther to the south, moving into the very heartland of the orcs’ forests. Along the way, every now and then we came across little villages. In fact, I’m not even sure I would call them villages. They were well fortified and camouflaged settlements. The forest itself protected their inhabitants against attack by enemies. There were just enough warriors in these fortresses to hold out against a sudden attack. The houses of the civilians looked substantial and prosperous, built of stone and wood, and there were also little houses with two, or even three stories in the trees.
Light, airy bridges had been stretched between the trees, making it possible to move quite freely from one tree to another—provided, of course, that you didn’t have any fear of great heights. These bridges and houses were ideal sites for archers if the enemy managed to break through the lines of defense and flood into the settlement. While the adversary was running around down below, the archers would make him pay a heavy price, and enemy warriors who tried to scale the massively thick trunks of the majestic trees would have no cover against the arrows and be killed in droves.
We’d spent the last two nights in villages like this. The three of us were kept separately from the other prisoners—Glo-Glo said we were Bagard’s property, we were his racehorses for the mid-autumn festival. We were fed, treated well, and given a place to sleep in some shack that even had straw mattresses. But we were guarded in grand style, too—as well as Shokren’s circle, there was a sentry posted at the door.
The weather had hardly changed at all while we were traveling. Every day was bright and sunny, although it was rather cool. There wasn’t even a hint of rain, although autumn was already almost half over.
“Tomorrow afternoon we’ll reach the Labyrinth,” Glo-Glo informed us casually.
I felt a nasty stabbing sensation in my belly.
“And the day after tomorrow is the orcs’ lousy festival, so get ready.”
The goblin started muttering to himself again, as if we weren’t even there. May the Nameless One take me—did all goblins like to ruin other people’s mood at bedtime? Or was it just my luck to meet the feeble-minded representatives of the green tribe?
The old goblin was right again! The next day we reached a low, half-ruined cliff, overgrown with a forest of fiery-red maples, and the Labyrinth was only a stone’s throw away. At least, that was what the goblin said. Speaking for myself, I couldn’t see any sign of a labyrinth. We were surrounded by forest, low cliffs that looked more like hills, and the silence of autumn. And then there was a little orc village without any sign of walls or fortifications.
“Is this the Labyrinth?” I asked. I’d never felt so disappointed in my life.
“Of course not,” the goblin said with a shrug. “The Labyrinth is farther on, Harold.”
“Shut up there, you lousy beasts!” an orc growled, waving his spear at us threateningly.
We had to postpone the conversation for a while. They put the three of us in a deep pit at the very edge of the village. And just to be on the safe side, they closed it off with a steel grille.
“Great,” Mis grunted. “We can’t reach it, even if we jump. If it rains, we’ll get soaked.”
“As long as we don’t drown—getting soaked’s not so terrible,” Glo-Glo replied. “Now, what was I saying? Ah! The Labyrinth! Right … It’s just beyond that spinney that we passed on our right. Ten minutes’ walk from here.”
“You mean there’s a city only ten minutes away from the village?”
“Who said that?” he asked, gaping at me in amazement.
“You did.”
“I didn’t say anything about a city,” the old shaman objected. “I was talking about the Labyrinth.”
“Well, isn’t the Labyrinth a city—something like the elve
s’ Greenwood?”
The shaman gave me a very leery kind of look, but when he saw I wasn’t joking, he snorted disdainfully.
“Greenwood and the Labyrinth are nothing like each other! Greenwood is the city of the Black Flame, the biggest city on Zagraba and, as it happens, the former capital of the elves, before the light ones and the dark ones fell out with each other. But as for the Labyrinth … Your “experts” have got something confused there. It’s not a city, it’s a structure. Just a labyrinth, in fact. The orcs don’t live there; the Firstborn come here once a year for the mid-autumn festival, to enjoy themselves and watch a few goblins run.”
“Ah, so that’s it…,” Mis drawled.
“Only don’t expect packed grandstands. This won’t be a good year for applause. The orcs are going to war, so I don’t think there’ll be many Firstborn here.”
“Never mind that.… But I thought Shokren was going to meet the Hand here and give him the Horn.”
“Oh no, Harold. The Horn’s not that urgent, the Hand doesn’t need it yet. What would he do with it? Until the Firstborn come face-to-face with the Nameless One, who they’ve nominally acknowledged as their lord, they have no use for the Horn. And unless I’m mistaken, Shokren won’t be able to monkey about with it on his own; that will take a powerful group of sorcerers. So first Shokren will enjoy himself watching the runners in the Labyrinth, before moving north with all the detachments. At least, that’s what I think.”
“Is he the only shaman here?”
“How would I know? I’m not a clairvoyant. I hope he’s the only one, and I really hope he’s not as strong as they think he is, otherwise my magic isn’t worth a copper coin.”
“Take your mittens off first, before you try working any magic,” Mis chuckled.
“We’ve got a hard day tomorrow,” said the goblin, avoiding an argument. “We’ll need all our strength, may the gods help us.”