The Survivors Part 1: The Masacre

by Brian McGoldrick

  When we Dvergar do not pursue the orcs, the pyromaniacs above let their spells end. Beyond the blackened stones and sand, shimmering from the rising heat waves, the rest of the orc horde is lined in ramshackle ranks. At their head, a huge orc glowers toward the wall. It's a monster with bulging muscles and jet black skin and fur. The vicious intelligence in its yellow eyes leaves a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “That black fucker has to be eight feet tall, if it's an inch.”

  “If it wasn't so ugly, I'd swear it was an ogre and not an orc.”

  “Black Orcs. They're like the royalty among the orcs. They can be born to any kind of orc, and the status, strength, power, and skin color of the parents seem immaterial.” Danleib almost sound like a lecturer talking to students. Before he became a counselor, he was a college professor, but he was terminated for having the wrong political views.

  “Looks like the orcs' god of fuck had to make them perfect.” Cwichelm's comment is delivered in complete deadpan.

  “Oh, it's Black Power time.” Wihtred's smirk makes it clear he's digging for a reaction.

  “Don't associate me with those racists fucks just because I'm Black.”

  Wihtred tilts his back, with his eye opened in an exaggeratedly wide manner, and carefully examines Cwichelm. “You're looking mighty white to me. Just like the rest of us.”

  “Fuck off!”

  Wihtred cackles like a madman.

  Danleib ignores the byplay. “We're really fucked no matter how you look at it. That's an orc with a Black Orc for a horde leader.”

  Grim expressions settle on all our faces. Most of the players won't understand just how bad the situation is. Black Orcs are something almost never seen inside the Labyrinth. If it weren't for our Dvergar memories, we wouldn't know how fucked we are either.

  A dimension gate opens behind us, and one of the Casters looks out. “You guys coming or what?”

  As we step through the gate, I feel the Black Orcs hate-filled stare boring into my back. Even so, it doesn't attack or move. It just watches us pass through the gate. That could be because of the scorching hot ground where the walls of fire were, but I doubt it. Unlike normal orcs, Black Orcs are said to be exceptionally intelligent, considerably above the average level of human intelligence.

  From the inside, I see how thin the wall is. Despite its height, it is barely more than six or seven feet thick. Even with the perpendicular ramps running from the ground to the top of the wall roughly every fifty feet, it will never hold against the assault of the orcs. They wouldn't even need siege engines to break this wall.

  *Connor, we need to make this wall thicker. It won't take that horde more more than a few hours to bring it down.*

  Connor looks down at me from the top of the wall. *There's nothing we can do about it . The geomancers are on the verge of Mana Depletion. It'll be five or six hours at least before they can strengthen this wall. All but a few of our pyromaniacs are in the same boat.*

  *Get as much firepower as you can on that wall. These orcs are nothing like what we faced inside the Labyrinth, and that Black Orc is a monster that will make your worst nightmares seem like sweet dreams.*

  Connor just stares at me for a few moments. He's not much younger than I am. After being wounded in Desert Storm, I was forcibly given a medical discharge from the Corp. After becoming a computer engineer, I became a civilian IT contractor with the Corp. That is when we first met. He knows I've been keeping secrets from him about the what's going on, and he must be feeling somewhat betrayed.

  Connor isn't the only one staring down from the wall. More than a thousand players are on top of that wall along with him, and most of them are staring down at us. Unlike Connor, the majority of the other players are looking at us with a mixture of trepidation and distrust. Human nature is to fear that which is stronger than itself and that which it does not understand.

  Danleib rests his hand on my shoulder. *Relax, Thorrin. Our strength, our level of Power, our skills and techniques, all of them are far above theirs. We already knew it would be like this, but at least for now, they're still alive. If you want them to stay that way, you can't hold back. You have to use the Power contained in your body to its fullest. I don't understand why you fear your own Power, but if you let that fear rule, the people you want to save will all be lost.*

  The skin of my face feels itchy. Even rubbing my calloused palm over my cheeks and nose does nothing to dispel the feeling. I've never feared power in the hands of another, but ever since Desert Storm, I've been afraid of having power myself. The logic defying nature of the Power I control now only makes that fear worse.

  I nod my head. Whether I'm acknowledging Danleib's words or my own though, I can't even tell myself. Not looking away from the fearful gazes of the players on the wall, I head up the nearest ramp. The rest of the Dvergar follow me in a loose group.

  When we reach the top of the wall, the Black Orc is still staring from the far side of the scorched strip along the shingle. A few orc that appear to be tribal shamans are fawning over him from behind, while he ignores them.

  Connor is giving orders to the human players. The firebugs are retreating from the walls along with the players who were fighting below the walls. The players coming up are mostly archers and Casters specializing in long range assault spells.

  “Danleib, send up your birds again. See if you can find a route we can use to escape. This is all well and good for a temporary stand, but we can't stay forever.

  Danleib nods and pulls out two clockwork birds in the shape of hawks or eagles. From top to bottom, they are completely lacquered black. Every single feather has been carefully painted so that its finish is smooth as glass. With an expression that says butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, he holds up the black birds in front of Wihtred.

  “These are my perfect eagles.”

  With a huge smirk, Wihtred holds up a single fist.

  “Soul!” Cwichelm stares at the two of them, while he rubs the corner of his eye with just his middle finger, before turning his back to them.

  The never ending antics continue. Even facing hundreds of thousands of orcs, the rest of the Dvergar are still their usual selves. I seem to be the only one getting bent out of shape. I stare at the orc horde, without really thinking about anything.

  The Second Day

  The Great Fuck Over Day 4,182

  It's been almost eight hours since the end of the battle below the wall, but the orcs still have not attacked. The sun is a fiery red ball, midway up the northeastern sky, but heavy cloud cover is moving in from the west. It's mid-fall in this part of Taereun, so we don't exactly have a lot of time before the harsh winter weather sets in. For us Dvergar, it won't be much of an issue, but for too many of the humans, it could prove lethal if we don't find a base to operate out of that will provide some real shelter from the elements. Of course, that assumes we survive the orc facing us to the east.

  Right now, those orcs are stacking up logs for bonfires and building some rough frames. I try not to think about what's going to be coming.

  Besides the other Dvergar and Connor, there are more than thirty guild leaders gathered atop a stone staging area at the back of the wall. The geomancers have recovered enough to raise three staging areas where we can gather our people and are working on thickening the wall itself.

  Danleib is using one his constructs to display a topographical map of the area. Staring at the map, everyone her has a grim expression on his or her face. Our situation couldn't be much worse.

  Assuming the orcs don't scale the cliffs on the far side of the ridge, the valley runs toward the northwest for about eighty miles, before connecting with another valley that runs straight back to the shore. About a hundred miles from here, the terrain gets extremely rugged, where some true mountains rise from the water running in a more or less northerly direction. There is no place to run, where we can escape from the orcs. We should be safe from any attack on our rear for two days, but that's the best
we can hope for.

  “Despite the bad news, we're truly fortunate that we have Danleib's long range scouting abilities to rely on. Seeing how bad the situation is, we really should set up a proper chain of command. If we don't have competent leadership, we're not gonna stand a chance. I'd be willing to take on the responsibility.” Dark Guardian's southern drawl somehow comes through even in the Slave Tongue.

  He's the only guild leader that brought an entourage with him. One man and two women are standing behind him, all of them healers or sorts. Dark Guardian is so fixated on being a “tank” that he's driven all the other heavy armor warrior types out of his guild, Silver Horn. Rumor has it, that it takes all three of them to keep him alive in battles.

  *Of all the guilds that made it here, why are we stuck with Silver Horn?* Wihtred's sneering tone carries clearly in our party channel.

  *I would've settle for almost any other guild, as long it wasn't part of Thug Horde's coalition.* Cwichelm's annoyed. He doesn't like Dark Guardian.

  *He's an incompetent prima donna, but we need the bodies. Paragon at least has ridiculous skills at keeping people alive with those wards he uses. He may be the best warder I've ever encountered.* Connor is in our party channel this time.

  “Shut your bung hole already! No one of note is going to follow an idiot like you!” Ahlred's vicious snarl cuts off Dark Guardian's monologue.

  The naked fear is easy to see in Dark Guardian's eyes as he stares at Ahlred. There aren't many people that have the balls to stand up to Ahlred when he's really pissed. The problem is telling whether he's really pissed or just annoyed.

  *Is this going to be the usual, Connor? You're the Light Colonel. Are you willing to try and coordinate this cluster fuck too?*

  Connor looks at me, his expression unreadable. *Who is going to step up that knows his ass from a hole in the ground, if I don't?*

  “Dark, to put it bluntly, you're incompetent. Unless someone else has any objections, I think Connor is the best choice.” As I deliver my statement, I keep my voice monotone.

  “Dark Guardian is the best! You should be begging him to lead you!” Eternity, the blond healer, interjects in a shrill voice. Despite the cold weather, she's wearing blue leather pants and a halter top.

  “Yeah, he's way better than that loser Connor!” Forever, the brunette, jumps in right on Eternity's heels. Like Eternity, she's wearing leather pants and a halter top, except hers are red.

  With a smirk on his face, Dark Guardian puts arms around the girls shoulders and slips a hand in each one's halter top.

  “I think there are a...”

  Clank! Clank!

  Ahlred takes two step in the Silver Horns direction. “Shut the fuck up! Your two slitches aren't guild leaders! Take your fucking hands off their tits and stuff them in their mouths so they don't piss me off!”

  Dark Guardian takes several steps backward, pulling the girls in front of him, like a couple of living shields.

  *Ah, Ahlred. He's always the diplomat.*

  *You can fuck off too.*

  Wihtred cackles like a lunatic, with a smirk big enough to land a 747 on.

  “I think Connor commanding is the best option. When we don't have Thug Horde around to fuck up our plans, he always does a good job.” Bastion speaking up is unusual. If he wasn't more than seven feet tall, he would be one of the most forgettable people I ever met. Outside of a battle, he's so innocuous that he passes for scenery. His entire guild is made up of such ridiculously low key people that I always have to resist the urge to check their pulses to see if they're still alive.

  *You all really have a talent for bullying the weak.* Connor's tone of voice is a pure deadpan.

  Ahlred snorts. *It's their own fault for being weak. This isn't Earth. We're on Taereun proper now, and it's even more dangerous than the Labyrinth.*

  Connor's head snaps around to stare at Ahlred for a few moments before he turns his gaze to me.

  I sigh. “It's true. We're on Taereun.”

  I point to the massive spined construct in the water. “That thing is the Labyrinth of Yggr.”

  Most everyone on the platform starts murmuring and whispering among themselves.

  Along with the rest of them, Connor turns to look at the Labyrinth. “Then, if we want to find Haven, we need to get back inside.”

  “Haven's not in there; it's out here.” Ahlred's annoyed growl cuts of any comments from anyone else.

  “Bullshit!”

  “How do you know that?”

  “That Nameless God said it was in the Labyrinth.”

  “If you knew about this, why didn't you say something sooner?”

  “We all had a right to know about this! Why are you keeping secrets?”

  The shouts of the guild leaders are instantly filled with blatant accusation, and their faces display naked hostility.

  “SHUT THE FUCK UP! You're nothing but pissant humans, and we're Dvergar. You have a right? What fucking right? If you had a right, you would have been given Dvergar bodies too. You can shove your self-entitled crap up your asses; we're not on Earth anymore.” There's no question that this time Ahlred is really pissed.

  Danleib wordlessly puts his hand on Ahlred's shoulder. Even though Ahlred glares at Danleib, he doesn't say or do anything else.

  The humans are staring at us, and theirs are filled with a mixture of fear, resentment, and hostility. No one deals well with being insulted to their face, and Ahlred doesn't care who he insults. He really hates almost everyone, on top of having no respect for anyone who isn't from a military background.

  After sweeping his gaze across the humans, Danleib takes a half step forwards, putting Ahlred slightly behind him. “Ahlred tends to be an overly blunt individual. Like you, we are in possession of the memories of those whose bodies we now possess. Which of you has told everyone here everything you know from your current body? Is there even a single person?”

  Danleib pauses for a few moment, but there are no responses. “If you haven't shared all that you know, why are you demanding the same of us? Why are you ridiculing us for not telling you everything in our bodies memories? Before we exited the Labyrinth, how were we know what was true from false about the Labyrinth, Taereun, and Haven?”

  Again, Danleib pause, and again, no one responds. “We were waiting for Thorrin to wrap up matters that occupied him after we left the Labyrinth. You might not have noticed, but Thorrin, our fried, was busy burying his friend Talon. The orcs' attack derailed our plans to pass on what we know and surmise, and now you are acting like this toward us. What kind of response did you expect from Ahlred?”

  Bastion stepping forward from that general pack is a bit surprising. “You're nothing but humans, just like us. If we had those bodies, we'd be just as powerful are you are. What gives you the right to take that attitude? Is it because you lucked into getting superior bodies and knowledge? You're nothing special because of those bodies. You were born on Earth, the same as us. You played Taereun, the same as us. You were caught up in The Great Fuck Over, the same as us. So, why are you acting so high and mighty?”

  I'm disappointed in Bastion. I would never have expected that he would have such a typical modern American attitude. He always struck as being someone more like the older generations of Americans, but I guess you really never can tell how a person will jump when push comes to shove.

  Zardoc, Another guild leader steps up. “You're hoarding your knowledge and power when it should be used for the betterment of everyone. From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs...”

  “FUCK OFF!” Ahlred's bellow cuts Zardoc off mid-sentence.

  The Power contained in Ahlred's body is visible in a distortion effect like heat shimmer surrounding his body. The hate and rage boiling inside of him are actually causing his eyes to glow faintly with bloody light. While that bloody glare may not be able to kill them, a few of the assembled guild leaders look like they're on the verge of incontinence.

  “You can stick
that Marxist shit up your ass. Weak, cowardly, user fuckwads, that's all that you pieces of shit are. I spent my best years in the Teams, fighting for you cocksucker's freedom to malign me, and when my squad carried out a mission with civilian casualties that embarrassed the political pieces of shit who had the operation initiated, we were court-martialed, jailed and dishonorably discharged. I'm done with that bullshit. You want something here, then earn it with your own strength. I'm not giving you jack shit because you think it's owed to you.”

  Several moments of silence settle on the staging platform, as the guild leaders mostly shuffle around like children. Looking at the guild leaders surrounding him, one that calls himself Pancho sneers and crosses the gap between the rest of the guild leaders and ourselves.

  “Semper fi!” Pancho's back is ramrod straight, but he doesn't salute.

  Ahlred stares Pancho for a moment, before nodding his head. “Welcome, Brother. Even if you are a jarhead.”

  “Sounds like jealousy to me, since you're just a squid. My guild is mostly ex-service and their family members.” Pancho takes up a position next to Ahlred, while he's talking.

  After glancing at one another, the rest of us Dvergar and Connor form ranks with them. We're nine facing off against more than thirty, but there is no question of where the power lies.

  I don't like doing things this way. Might does not make right. Once you know what is right, you should use might to protect and nurture it, but the world does not necessarily give the option to always do what is right. Even if I intend to save as many of these people as I can, I will not do it on their terms.

  “So, how do you want to do this? We can fight amongst ourselves and be fodder for the orcs, or we band together and maybe survive. It's your choice.” Connor's tone is neutral. If it wasn't for two groups of armed people facing off, he could easily be talking about the weather.

  The assembled guild leaders looking around and whispering together among allied guild leaders. Even though I cannot hear what they're saying, I was part of the group that designed the original whisper charms, and we Dvergar modified those charms to create the more powerful ones in certain trusted people's hands. There are a few tricks you can use to spot the usage of whisper charms, if you know what energy forms you need to watch and can see into the Astral Realm, the realm of Mind.