The Banner of the Broken Orc: The Call of the Darkness Saga: Book One

by Aiden L Turner

  It lowered the Goblin to its open maw, mandibles snapping as it brought its prey towards its mouth.

  ‘Hold!’ A voice filled with authority bellowed as Talek’ken stepped into the clearing’s centre. The creature paid no heed, nor did its master upon its back. Talek’ken stepped forward, towering over all others, his body pulsing with bright red veins, the ever-present crown of gold dazzlingly bright.

  ‘I say hold!’ Talek’ken spoke again, his eyes fixed firmly upon Arachnithion as he spoke. His sword hilt glowed above his right shoulder, as if hungry for bloodletting.

  ‘You will release the Goblin.’ It was not a request.

  The spider made no movement, either to devour the Goblin or to release him from its grip. The master of the creature spoke. Its belief in its own superiority was clear in its tone. ‘You do not command me, Talek’ken, King of the Orc.’

  ‘Then you are mistaken’, Talek’ken said in a voice calm with authority, as he strode towards beast and master. ‘I rule all who dwell within the jungles. It is my charge, granted by the Lord of Darkness, Vor’rok.’

  At the sounding of the Dark Lord’s name, an icy wind blew through the clearing, the smell of decay rank upon the wind. Talek’ken inhaled deeply of the breeze, whilst all others, including the giant spider and Arachnithion, shrank from the wind that tasted of death. ‘My master calls to me!’ Talek’ken’s form took on a higher level of power, the wind filling him with unseen energy as he strode towards Arachnithion. Drawing his sword, he stopped before the giant spider. He reached out his left hand and stroked the creature with an unexpected tenderness.

  ‘You are magnificent’, Talek’ken said as he stroked the creature. He looked up at the spider’s rider and master. ‘Do you offer me your service or your life, Arachnoid rider?’ All the gentleness he had offered the spider vanished as he spoke to the spider’s master.

  ‘I came for the taste of Man flesh, and to do the Dark Lord’s will’, Arachnithion said sourly as he looked down.

  ‘Then you will swear allegiance to me and take my command!’ Talek’ken spoke with rising rage. ‘I am Talek’ken. Cloaked in the power of the Darkness. And crowned with the mantle of Vor’rok. You will serve me or die. Choose!’

  ‘You make many threats, but they worry me not, Orc.’ Arachnithion laughed, the sound like the howl of a monkey. Talek’ken’s gaze was drawn to the outskirts of the clearing. Shadows moved in the blackness. He followed Arachnithion’s gaze and saw lights in the shadows of the jungle canopy. Groups of lights, all looking down at Talek’ken. And Talek’ken realised he was surrounded. His eyes sought to separate shadow from the blackness of night under the roof of the trees, and forms took shape. Arachnoid riders. At least a dozen. Their mere presence and their position startled the gathered warriors who drew weapons whilst their eyes sought a place to escape.

  Talek’ken had stepped back as he calmly appraised the situation, but now Arachnithion followed. upon his terrifying creature. ‘I know what it is you plan. Talek’ken’, The leader of the Arachnoid riders said, his mandibles clacking together as he advanced. ‘And it is the time to bring the humans to destruction. But it cannot be that a mere Orc reigns high.’ He spat the word Orc with obvious hatred, and his mandibles snapped closed once more. ‘It should be I, the one who took the name Arachnithion when I bent these creatures to my will. I, who am the dread of your kind.’

  Arachnithion drew a weapon from a sling across his back, something akin to an axe, only instead of an axe head the weapon held a large, blue, glowing stone, about the size of Talek’ken’s fist. The strange stone crackled and popped, as if it contained lightning, as Arachnithion levelled the weapon at the King of the Orcs.

  ‘I, grand shaman, ancient as the ground upon your feet, will lead this invasion. Do you deny me, Orc?’

  Talek’ken laughed, a sound that boomed round the clearing, and added confusion to the already on edge warriors.

  ‘You dare challenge my God-given power? Fool!’ Talek’ken roared before striking the spider with his sword hilt, with strength enough to split rock or fell a tree. The creature slumped into unconsciousness, its eight legs folding in on itself, as it curled itself into a protective ball. The creature’s fellows stopped their advance, shocked into stillness by the greatest of their kind being bested so easily.

  Arachnithion stepped nimbly from off his mount’s back and stood before Talek’ken. Only half the physical form of the King of the Orc, he nonetheless stood with a stance of power and authority.

  ‘So, you have strength of arm, Orc. Well, that is to be expected, but do you have true power?’ Arachnithion spoke quietly at first, as if he pondered such things, then at the words ‘true power’ he brought his staff to bear, blue lightening exploding from the stone, jagged and blindingly bright it ran forth, crackling with the heat of a thousand furnaces.

  Talek’ken stood calmly and raised his sword as if to parry the strike of energy. The lightning struck. It hit the centre of Talek’ken’s sword in a deafening cascade of noise and sparks. It should have vaporised the king, leaving nothing but smoking ruin upon the ground he stood, yet when the smoke cleared Talek’ken stood unharmed.

  ‘To contest me is to challenge the power of God!’ Talek’ken said, though his mouth did not move, the sound of his voice coming from all around the jungle. Both Arachnoid rider and Orc alike had retreated to the shadows, dwarfed by the powers that unfolded in the clearing.

  Arachnithion seemed unafraid but puzzled. He tilted his head to the side as if weighing a problem in his mind. ‘Hmm.’ He mumbled in the silence that followed the mammoth boom of the lightening being halted by Talek’ken’s power.

  Arachnithion ran forward and leapt into the air in front of Talek’ken, weapon raised high above his head. He brought it down as he too descended from his gargantuan jump.

  Talek’ken stood firm and raised his sword to meet the blow. The stone struck the blade and unleashed a storm of blue and purple sparks. Arachnithion wheeled round, swinging his magical weapon with great speed. He was once again blocked by an impassive Talek’ken.

  Talek’ken met every attack with contemptuous ease. Again and again, the blue stone struck the Orc’s blade to no effect other than a glorious display of colour. Then Talek’ken became impatient. He reached forth his left hand and unhurriedly seized his opponent, his huge hand gripping both throat and shoulder. He knocked the staff from Arachnithion’s hand, with the blade of his sword, with the ease one might take something from a youngling.

  Talek’ken brought the squirming shaman to his eye level, Arachnithion gasped for breath as he dangled a full two feet from the ground. ‘Do you not yet see the power I hold? I shall break you, body and spirit. See not what you face?’

  Talek’ken bore his gaze into the shaman’s eyes and revealed his true nature to the helpless creature.

  Arachnithion squirmed to avert the king’s eyes but was found to be helpless in the face of Talek’ken’s genuine power. Their eyes locked and the Arachnoid rider shuddered once before being dropped to the clearing floor.

  Arachnithion looked up from the ground as he struggled to control his breathing. ‘You are truly my master!’ he exclaimed. The powerful, age-old master of a feared race prostrated himself before Talek’ken and said in a loud clear voice, ‘You have full domain over me and all my kind, master. You, who wear the mantle of Darkness, command and I shall obey, even unto death.’

  ‘Then rise, Arachnithion, and be welcomed by your brethren’, Talek’ken said. He then turned towards his servant Hathios and commanded, ‘Bring forth the prisoners.’

  Within seconds, a score of human prisoners were dragged wailing into the centre of the clearing. ‘Come, Arachnoid riders, and feast upon our enemy’s flesh, blood and marrow.’

  The wailing turned to screams of pure terror, a sound horrific to a human’s ears but which only caused laughter from the gathered Orcs and Goblins. The giant spiders descended from the tree tops. The mood in the clearing became festive as an audie
nce of Orcs watched them slowly devour their prey.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  From the Deep

  Jacob stood at his now customary place on the foredeck, hands casually at his sides as he shifted his weight with the roll of the ship, as if he had been sailing since birth.

  ‘My prince’, the burley captain said, interrupting Jacob’s thoughts. ‘I’ve yet to see you sleep sire, even with this fair wind driving us forth. We shall be many days with nothing but the deep sea to clap your eyes on. We should all take what rest we can, sire.’

  Jacob stared out to sea, the sun high in the sky turning his skin a deeper brown in the six days they had been at sea. His shoulder length hair, bleached blonder by the sun, blew around his face. He turned briefly towards the captain before turning back towards the never-ending expanse of rolling waves. He was enthralled with the ocean, and the way the ship dared to meet the ocean’s raw power, rearing her prow to rise above the waves as the boat magically danced upon the water’s surface.

  The prince finally broke the silence. ‘I rarely feel the need to sleep’, he said wistfully. ‘For I feel invigorated.’ He closed his eyes as the wind blew his hair about his head and the boat once more reared her head high. ‘There is something you wish to ask me, captain, so ask’, the prince said, his tone revealing his desire to be left in solitude.

  ‘Assurance’, the captain said, causing Jacob to open his eyes and turn and face the fat merchant ship’s master.

  ‘You would ask your prince for assurance?’ the prince said harshly.

  ‘Yes’, replied the captain in an authoritative voice. He squared his shoulders and puffed out his barrel chest before continuing. ‘There are eleven sailors on this boat, including me. Eleven. And nigh on sixty slaves below.’

  ‘I am aware’, Jacob snapped, losing his temper along with the sense of peace he had found watching the sea roll by.

  The captain continued, ignoring the prince’s impatience, ‘The slaves watch my men, their eyes always upon us, as we do the king’s bidding.’ The captain put emphasis on the word king. ‘We thought ourselves to be safe, what with so many renowned warriors onboard, but your men seem more inclined towards the slaves than us honest men, if you catch my meaning, prince.’

  ‘You fear the slaves will rise up and you fear the warriors of the Brotherhood of Light will aid them, or at the least not put down the rebellion.’ It was not a question; Jacob stated the facts.

  ‘Yes’, the captain replied. Jacob looked at the captain long and hard and the captain did not see the young boy Jacob still thought himself to be, but rather a warrior, huge in stature and able to command with ease men who were twice his years.

  ‘The men-at-arms of the Brotherhood of Light will not allow the slaves to rebel, for I would not allow them to. But neither will they allow the slaves to suffer unnecessarily, any more than they already have. They are condemned men, to be sure, but that does not mean they are wicked men or even guilty men. I would wager you have men amongst your own number who are both wicked and guilty.’

  Jacob became quiet, and the captain broke the silence. ‘I just wanted to air my concerns, is all, my prince.’ The captain turned and walked away.

  ‘Hold!’ Jacob bellowed, causing every man on deck to turn and look. ‘I did not give you leave. And I do not give it now!’

  The captain turned a bright red and looked around at the faces of his sailors, who looked at him expectantly. ‘Begging your pardon, my prince’, the captain said in a loud and clear voice. ‘There is but one master aboard a ship and that would be the captain.’

  Jacob interrupted him by stepping down from the raised deck at the front of the vessel and coming to stand directly in front of the captain. ‘I care not for your rank or your traditions, captain.’ The prince looked past the silent captain, seeing something beyond, something other than the endless waves of a deep sea.

  ‘I command all men’, Jacob said quietly, though still audible in the silence the confrontation had brought. ‘I command all men’, he said again. Though he spoke only to the empty waves. He turned, gave the captain a look that dared him to challenge him again, then the prince of the kingdom of Man went back to his solitary vigil.

  The sun had left the sky and a bright full moon had risen, and again been replaced by the ever hotter sun, and Jacob had neither moved from his position at the front of the ship nor eaten.

  The great fleet had pulled closer during the night, as was the practice, using bells and lateen to keep a safe distance yet remain close enough that stragglers were not lost to the wastes of the great ocean. And now, with the precision of master seamen, the troop vessels were joining with the large provision ships. At first Jacob had been awed at the way these huge-bellied ships had slid effortlessly alongside their allotted troop ships. Gliding to a point where oars were shipped or sails reefed. The two ships were coming together, being tied, becoming as one, and the troop vessels could be restocked of the vitals, ale, fresh water and food. Now Jacob took little notice. He took little notice of anything. His mind seemed to be on a different level, as he looked out towards the nothingness of empty ocean.

  Something caught Jacob’s eye. Movement to the right. He sought the movement, but all he saw were waves. He began to think his eyes were playing tricks, too much sun, too little food or water. Then he saw it again. A fin broke the water, followed by another and then another. Then without warning creatures began diving out of the water, arching into the air as they came down to sink back beneath the waves. He saw a dozen, then twenty. Then he looked to the left and to the right, to the front and to the rear, and there were hundreds of the creatures swimming alongside the prince’s ship.

  The ships had space now in the great fleet, each vessel sailing beneath a strong northern wind, each with a hundred or more yards of ocean between them and the next ship, giving something the captain had called ‘sea room’. Jacob’s ship raced at the head of the great fleet. The Lord Beringer’s flagship sailed at the prince’s right, at a distance of around three hundred yards.

  ‘Captain?’ Jacob called. He made his way from his usual place towards the steering platform at the very rear of the ship. As he reached the captain who stood with a hand on the steering oar, he boomed cheerfully. ‘What do you call those things? They are unlike any fish I have ever seen, and there must be hundreds of them.’

  ‘They are dolphins, my prince, they are not really a true fish though I cannot tell you why. More learned men will know the answer for that.’ The captain looked around at the display of hundreds of dolphins breaching the water’s surface only to dive back again. ‘It is by far the largest shoal of them I’ve ever seen. They are normally curious creatures, swimming close to the ships, but these fellows seem in an awful hurry.’

  The captain stopped speaking and stared out towards a particular spot of sea. Learned out, one hand on the tiller. ‘By He who is Greatest of them all, and all His sons and daughters.’ The captain sketched the circle of God in the air as he spoke.

  ‘What do your eyes see, captain?’ Jacob asked, intrigued.

  The captain did not need to answer as it suddenly became apparent. A substantial form loomed in the water, just below the surface and around twenty yards from the right-hand side of the ship. A huge triangular fin broke the surface, and all could see the monster below it. Light grey in colour and almost the length of the ship. Men stared in amazement at the sea monster that kept speed with them, using only slight sweeps of its powerful tail to propel itself forward.

  Jacob stood on the raised platform of the steering deck and looked out over the captain. With a loud whistle of appreciation, he said, ‘And what would you call that beast, captain?’

  ‘Tis a Great White by the colour and shape, though it’s twice the size of any I’ve seen, my prince.’

  ‘White?’ Jacob asked. All tension between the two men vanished as they both looked upon the impossible monster.

  ‘Aye, if we were about the normal business, and it were of a nor
mal size, we’d spear the beast and take her onboard. We have fished a few of the greater beasts of the sea, when given the rare chance, my prince. Folk pay a fair amount of silver for teeth and what not. If you’d site the belly of that beast, you’d find it a stark white in colour, hence the name.’

  ‘It’s incredible’, Jacob announced before stopping suddenly and becoming very still. ‘Brondolf!’ Jacob called out to his first warrior, who came from his position midship. ‘Something is very wrong’, Jacob said. Worry lined his face.

  Brondolf looked around and saw the men-at-arms making a defensive perimeter around the ship. He snapped his head round at the sound of laughter and saw the captain pointing at the warriors and laughing a hearty chuckle.

  ‘I mean no offence, sirs’, the captain blurted out when he saw the look upon Brondolf’s face. ‘It’s just, well, there are no Orcs or Goblins out on these waters, I’m sure.’

  The wind suddenly sagged from the sail and it made a loud cracking sound as the strong northern wind died without warning. Grey clouds darkened the blue sky, and a wind blew from the north. A vile wind. And with it came a smell of decay, rancid even to sailors used to the smell of rotten fish. Doom and despair linger on the air as the captain ordered the sails furled.

  ‘Oars!’ the captain bellowed. ‘Set the bloody oars!’

  Sailors ran about their duties as the brothers scanned the waters. The creatures of the deep sea swam by in their thousands. The sky became a thing of grey anger as the wind roared mightily, threatening to blow them to the south. Sailors furled the sails and the oars bit into the now raging waters.

  ‘Captain!’ Jacob called over the wind and whip of the sea. ‘Get a man aloft, signal flag.’

  ‘Which signal?’ The captain called back, he now had both arms on the steering tiller and was aided by another.

  Jacob thrust a flag into the hands of the sailor waiting to climb the mast, to communicate to the fleet. Then Jacob went to the steering platform and stood with the captain.