Gulgarin would be remembered as the orc who took back their home. He would be the orc who rid the land of the infestation known as humans. None of them would stand before him. “Even the dwarves will have no choice but to run and hide in their holes,” Gulgarin told himself. He would take back what the dragons had stolen and then given to the humans.
The muscular orc exited the room and made his way across the large chamber to the exit. His steps echoed off the walls. He moved with purpose, and confidence. His cousin, Gersimon, stood at the door beaming from ear to ear. Gulgarin nodded to him and Gersimon opened the door.
Gulgarin passed out into the sun and was greeted by a sea of fully armored orcs. There was no cheering, no fanfare, only silence as they watched him ascend the platform and then turn to address them.
“Maernok has given me command of the field,” Gulgarin stated. He held up the parchment and the ring. “He has decided to hunt the wizard known as Gilifan, to exact revenge for his family.”
The orcs from Maernok’s tribe cheered and shouted their approval.
Gulgarin nodded and smiled. “Yes, it is a worthy cause, but we have not come this far to turn back now,” he went on. “Glory awaits us in the north!” A cheer went up from all the officers then. “Maernok has faith in me to lead all of the tribes, united as one, to take back our home. We are not marching to Pinkt’Hu, or to any other single settlement. Our ancestors were driven south because they were not united. They were not strong enough to answer the humans blow for blow, but we are!” Gulgarin pounded his chest. “We will drive them into the seas and put them into graves. We will burn their houses and their storehouses. We will lay waste to their forts and destroy their beloved castle. We will exterminate them, and cleanse our ancestral homeland of the filth that has perverted it since the dragons came here and established Roegudok Hall. Then, when we are done, we will fill in the dwarves’ hole and let them suffocate beneath the dirt under our feet!”
A great cheer went up that lasted for several minutes. Officers drew weapons and clapped them together. Those along the walls stomped their feet and waved their spears and axes. Gulgarin smiled. He could smell the victory even now. The imagined scent of human blood flared his nostrils and he looked out over the army before him.
A melody rose up above the din. It was soft at first, almost unrecognizable, but as it grew, more orcs ceased shouting and took up the chorus.
Long ago, in days of old,
Legends born, and stories told.
Alone he stood,
Fearless and bold.
His breastplate dented, the shine grown dim,
His sword he wielded, protecting kin.
Elshuapa, his might alone,
Vanquished evil, and built our home.
Our lands were taken, our heritage lost.
We take them back now, though high the cost.
Oh Elshuapa, march with us now.
As we pay homage, and keep our vow.
Off to battle, your sons are bold.
Off to recapture, those days of old.
The orcs repeated the song, the chorus growing as more and more took up the song. Gulgarin turned, seeing Gersimon climbing the platform.
“Isn’t it glorious, cousin? This is what we have worked for.”
Gersimon nodded. Then he pointed behind Gulgarin. Gulgarin turned to look and saw a great, thick wall of smoke rising to the north.
“They set the forest on fire,” Gersimon said.
Gulgarin shrugged it off. “Let the trees burn. Soon their whole kingdom shall burn. Go tell the officers that they are to prepare the army. When the fire is done, we march north. Have them gather food and make wagons. The seasons will change soon, and the harvest will already be upon us by the time we reach the first settlement.”
“By your command, King Gulgarin,” Gersimon said.
Gulgarin’s smile faded. He turned back to his cousin and then glanced out at the thousands of orcs still singing their battle hymn. His smile returned. “King Gulgarin, I like that.”
“It has a good sound,” Gersimon said.
“Go, make the necessary preparations.” Gulgarin turned back to the orcs below and joined in the singing.
CHAPTER FIVE
Erik sat cross-legged in a small room of glass. The walls were so thick that they appeared green. The golden chandelier above shone brightly with magical crystals that bathed the room in warm light. He sat on the floor, which was also made of glass, and waited for the Immortal Mystic.
The glass double doors opened on silent hinges.
The Immortal Mystic entered. He was tall, maybe close to seven feet. His frame was slim, but not frail despite the age that so obviously tugged at the lines on his face and caused the skin around his jaw to droop ever so slightly. The long, white beard was neatly braided into a single, thick plait that hung down over the Immortal Mystic’s chest. His eyes were a bright golden color, something that Erik found most intriguing. He had seen many different eye colors before. He had even seen Marlin’s gray eyes that no longer had any iris at all, but never had he seen eyes that seemed to be made of gold before. The Immortal Mystic tucked each hand into the opposite sleeve of a grand, silver robe that was so long it covered the man’s feet.
“Did you sleep well?” the Immortal Mystic asked.
“I did,” Erik said. “I feel as though I have slept for days.”
The Immortal Mystic smiled and nodded. “That is because you have,” he explained. “You slept for a couple of weeks, actually.”
Erik’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“Time has little meaning here,” the Immortal Mystic said. “It exists, but we flow through it at a different pace than everything else outside.” He held up a hand and moved in to sit upon his knees in front of Erik. “You needed your rest,” he said. “I wanted to make sure you were fully rejuvenated before we began our training. Now that I know you have rested, we can begin in more earnest. Do not fear. The time invested in your recovery will be returned to us tenfold.”
Erik nodded and let the matter drop. There wasn’t much he could do about it in any case. His stomach growled loudly enough that the Immortal Mystic could hear it. Erik blushed at first but the Immortal Mystic waved the matter off and smirked.
“Do not worry, that is normal after such a sleep. As for nourishment while you were resting. This palace is able to sustain a body with a special kind of magic. You will find that not only is your mind more prepared for the training, but your muscles are none the weaker despite your sedentary state.”
The glass doors opened and several men dressed in gray robes entered the room. They split into two lines, circling around either side of the room and silently turned to face Erik.
“Your training begins now,” the Immortal Mystic said.
Erik turned to look at the men in robes and then looked back to the slender man kneeling before him. He expected some form of instruction, but he only was given silence. “What would you have me do?” Erik asked at last.
The Immortal Mystic frowned. “Must you still be guided along?”
Erik bristled and leaned back as he repositioned himself on the floor. It had been months since he had been in Valtuu Temple with Marlin for training. He had always had clear instructions before, even when he was given reading assignments by Al. He looked around the room and tried to guess what his task might be.
He closed his eyes and called up his power. He could feel the energy roll through him and then out into the room around him. The men that had entered the room all disappeared. Only the Immortal Mystic remained. The man smiled and nodded with approval.
“Very well. Now let’s move to the next room.” The Immortal Mystic rose to his feet with grace and speed that eluded even Erik. It seemed as though the man lived up to his title, and was not subject to age and decay as the rest of the world was. The two of them exited the small room and walked through the hallway. They passed several rooms, all of which were empty except for the chandeliers.
There was no sign of anyone else in the palace.
A thought came to Erik then as he looked around. He hadn’t seen Jaleal yet. Before he could ask the whereabouts of his companion, the Immortal Mystic turned around with a faint smile on his face.
“Your friend is on the upper level of the palace. I have opened our library to him.”
Erik nodded. The Immortal Mystic turned around and continued leading them through the hallway.
Mention of the library brought Tatev to the forefront of Erik’s thoughts. The horrid sacrifice replayed in his mind and his heart fell heavy with sadness. He had managed before to hold the emotions at bay, except for the occasional sorrowful thought here and there, but not now. There was no longer any imminent danger nor treacherous road to travel and force his thoughts to focus. Now he walked in an empty glass palace, with only his thoughts as company. Tears filled his eyes. Waves of guilt washed over him.
He should have saved Tatev. Or maybe he should have encouraged the red haired librarian to teach him more, instead of cutting off his lectures whenever he could.
The Immortal Mystic turned around and placed both hands on Erik’s shoulders. He leaned down, bringing his fiery golden eyes lower to meet Erik’s gaze. “You must focus your energies, Erik,” he said. “If you cannot control your mind, then you powers are nothing.”
Erik nodded. “I…I…I lost a friend,” he stammered. Tears fell from his eyes despite his efforts to choke them back.
The Immortal Mystic sighed and shook his head disapprovingly. “You have a lot yet to learn,” he said. “Come, I will set a task before you here. Then you can rest for the day.”
“I don’t need to rest,” Erik interjected. “It would be better to have something to take my mind off of it.”
The Immortal Mystic shook his head. “No, it would be better for you to deal with it. For that, you will need silence and solitude.” The slender man opened the door to a room and showed Erik inside. There in the room stood thirty men in six rows. They stood silently, watching Erik as he entered the room.
Erik turned around and looked at the glass wall. It was thick, but not so thick that he shouldn’t have seen the men inside the room before the Immortal Mystic opened the door. Erik looked to the tall man, but the Immortal Mystic declined to offer any instruction. Erik nodded and called his power up. A few of the men disappeared, but to Erik’s surprise others appeared for a moment.
The sudden appearance of new people startled him and he lost his focus. Those who had appeared when he called up his power vanished again. Then, the remaining people in the room rushed toward him.
Erik remembered the trial where he had to ascertain which warriors would fight against him and called up his power again. In an instant he saw that not all who ran toward him had the intent to attack. Most were going to shield him, but three had other designs. Erik called them out, and immediately all the others formed a circle around him and kept the three would-be attackers at bay.
“Well done,” the Immortal Mystic said. “For the most part,” he added quickly.
Erik looked around the room and tried to focus his power again, but he never again saw the men who had appeared for a moment when he had first used his power. Perplexed, he turned to the Immortal Mystic for an explanation.
“When your mind is clear and focused, then so shall your power be,” the slender man said. He waved his hand and then all of the other men in the room disappeared.
Erik was astonished. “None of them were real?” he asked. “I used my power, how could they have remained if I had tried to dispel the images?”
“How indeed?” the Immortal Mystic echoed. “Perhaps you should return to the first room and meditate. Try to work through your feelings for your friend, and understand the true trajectory that all beings are on.”
Erik screwed his face and asked, “What does that mean?”
The Immortal Mystic wrinkled his nose. “If you are to take the place of the Champion of Truth, I cannot spoon feed you all of the answers.” The tall man turned and left the room, leaving Erik both insulted and confused.
“If I am to be the champion?” Erik repeated after he was sure the Immortal Mystic was gone. “Am I not already the champion?” He reflected back to the confusing conversation he had had with Allun Rha. He exhaled impatiently and left the room to retrace his steps back to the first, smaller room that had been given to him for training.
As his feet carried him through the sparkling halls his mind gave room for the doubts to grow. Had he lost his power, or was the Immortal Mystic simply that much stronger than Marlin that his illusions were harder to dispel?
He tried to tell himself that he had slain Tu’luh, and done many other great things that most men could never hope to achieve, but then he heard Salarion’s voice bringing him back down to reality. Erik had always had help. Dimwater and Lepkin had battled Tukai the warlock. Al had saved Erik from Janik, and had used a large portion of his life force to do so. When the dark wizard Erthor came to Valtuu Temple riding a twisted dragon, Lepkin and Dimwater led an assault to protect Nagar’s Secret from falling to the Blacktongues. Al had ventured with Erik and saved his life countless times as Blacktongues assailed him at every turn. An entire army had stood behind him at Lokton manor. He may have slain the warlock by his own sword, but none of that would have been possible without the countless warriors who fought and died to give him that chance. Jaleal and the other gnomes had saved him from the giant spiders in the forest. A host of dwarves had helped him and the others fight Tu’luh when Valtuu Temple was destroyed. Tillamon had tricked and killed the shadowfiend pretending to be Patrical. Erik had ventured to fight Tu’luh on his own, but even then he had Jaleal with him.
He pushed through the glass door and went to the middle of the room.
He sat on the uncomfortable glass floor.
Then he let himself lie down and he stared at the thick, greenish ceiling above him. He could see shadows and light piercing through and reflecting off the glass, but that was all. There didn’t appear to be any movement near him whatsoever. What had at first been breathtaking and beautiful was now cold, and hollow. He was alone is a gargantuan glass prison.
He was more frustrated now than ever he had been. Through every hardship before there had always been a shining hope to reach for. The promise of his power, or the strength of a dragon born warrior to lean upon had propelled him through it all in the beginning. Then, when those had seemed not enough, there was the Immortal Mystic. The one being in the realm who would know the answer to Tu’luh’s riddle and show Erik how to defeat the four fireballs that would come to devour his world. The Immortal Mystic was promised to show him the wisdom of fighting on, when Tu’luh had presented an equally viable plan.
Where was the hope now?
The Immortal Mystic proved more austere than Lepkin had ever been. Not only that, but there were no answers yet. Erik had been met only with tacit approval, or outright displeasure, and this was only the first day of training.
Erik then reflected on the fact that he had been allowed to sleep for weeks. What kind of nonsense was that? All this time he was rushed around, walking, working, and fighting himself to the bone just to reach the ultimate goal. Now, with Nagar’s Secret presumably in Salarion’s hands and Lepkin holding off an orcish invasion, Erik was placed under a magic spell and made to sleep for weeks. How was that going to help?
“You left me there,” a voice called out.
Erik jumped and propped himself up on his elbows. No one was there. He looked around and then shook his head. He closed his eyes, but quickly opened them when Tatev’s face appeared in his mind. Erik tried to fight it, but the guilt flooded back over him. Tatev’s screams filled the room and Erik placed his hands over his ears.
Those screams were joined by others. Scenes from the battle at Lokton manor came to Erik’s mind. He tried to shut them out. He conjured up the image of Nagar’s Secret, the book that promised to enslave all of the Middle Kingdom.
&n
bsp; “I am fighting to protect them,” Erik said aloud as he pressed his hands into his ears in an attempt to shut out the voices.
They would not be silenced.
Right or wrong, Erik’s war had brought death. The images and faces of those he had known assaulted his mind until he was lying on his side on the glass floor, crying and shouting for the images to go away and leave him alone.
“Erik, why are you crying?” a voice called out.
Erik barely heard it. The screams of horror and pain were so loud he could focus on nothing else.
“Erik, I am here,” a voice beckoned.
The voice was much louder this time, pushing the screams away. Erik turned and looked. He saw his father, Trenton Lokton, standing in the doorway. He was wearing his striped pajamas underneath his green and gold robe, and held a steaming mug in one hand and a pair of oranges nestled in his other palm. Erik wiped his eyes and blinked. The glass room melted away and in its place he saw his own room. He looked down and saw that he was on his bed, wearing pajamas and the sun was pouring in from his bedroom window.
“I thought you might want to follow me to the solarium,” Lord Lokton said as he tossed an orange to Erik. “Perhaps we can discuss what happened yesterday.”
Yesterday? Erik wondered to himself. He looked down and saw that his hands were bandaged. He flexed his fingers and felt the sting where the blisters and lesions had formed and then he remembered. The pull ups. Master Lepkin had ordered an impossible amount of pull ups to be done as punishment for breaking into Dimwater’s tower.
Dimwater’s tower! That was it. That was why Lord Lokton wanted to talk with him. Erik’s stomach turned. He knew this was not going to be a pleasant conversation to have.
Lord Lokton stopped in the doorway. He turned and the oranges fell from his hand as he clutched at his stomach.
Return of the Dragon (The Dragon's Champion Book 6) Page 6