The Eighth God (The Orcslayers Book 1)

by Paul S. Lavender

  Grash watched his son leave through slitted eyes, ‘I am going to have to watch that one very carefully, he thought, but my son doesn’t know everything, and if he’s lucky he may find some of it out before he dies.’

  2: The Chief of Lies

  Grash-Kul sat on his throne staring at the place that his son Bazak had been standing. After a long pause, he sighed and rubbed at one of his eyes. Why, he thought, did everything have to be so complicated?

  When he had started out on the road to power, he had been a young orc with skin the green of emeralds, now he looked the colour of old, dried out moss. The largest problem with power, he soon realised, was not that it corrupted but that it corrupted those around you.

  As his star had begun to rise, it was like he was chosen by Shatak himself to lead the Kul clan to greatness. Those who would stand before him would fall in a skirmish over territory with rival orcs, or one of their sex slaves would manage to slit his rivals throat, or they would fall off a cliff while out hunting.

  He had fucked his sex slaves every chance he got, and now he had an army of bastards, and everyone of them wanted to be where he was now, sitting on a cold throne made of creaking, yellowing bone.

  ‘If the orc who had designed this monstrosity was still alive I’d have him killed’, he thought.

  And then came that fateful day with a victory over the Shik orcs. When his blood was pumping loudly in his ears, and power was coursing through his veins.

  Helokose beckoned to him, it was only a few miles away, and he had a war band with him, what could possibly go wrong.

  What a fool he had been.

  He had taken his men to Helokose, he had gone up to the stout wooden gate and banged on the gate. He had shouted his demand to be let in, for Helekose to surrender its riches.

  Fool.

  The city of Helokose did not give of its self willingly, and every item that leaves its walls is never the same prize as it was within them.

  And when the gates slowly began to open he held his arms out as victor and saviour, and then They had stepped out of the shadows, and within an hour he found himself standing alone, still with his arms outstretched, surrounded by a dead war band and with tears rolling down his face.

  King of fools.

  They had let him live, he still didn’t know why, but they had made him swear to serve them, to do what they said. If he would do this one small thing they would give him back his war band, but he must help them and tell them to leave the environs of Helokose.

  And Grash had agreed, for a dead orc has no power, none at all. They had made him swear a blood oath, and as he cut his hand and swore on Shatak’s name, and oh how they laughed on hearing it, they brought outlines of ragged looking humans and elves. Adventurers he guessed, people who had come looking for treasure but had found captivity.

  The seven figures began taking one of the prisoners at a time from the manacles which held them in line, and as they approached the decimated war band, they forced the figure to kneel.

  As each prisoner was beheaded, one of the orcs would rise, and Bazak walked over to the newly risen orc and calmed the man, and sent him on his way back to the Shik fortress.

  Grash-Kul watched impassively as one after another adventurer was beheaded and one of his own men rose from the ground. Eventually, there were no more orcs to raise, and wordlessly the figures walked back towards the gates, and the remaining adventurers were pulled back in by some unseen force.

  And now he sat waiting for one of their representatives, to get his orders. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what was coming, but he was an orc chief, and he had sworn a blood oath.

  He snorted. He was no chief, not anymore. He was a puppet; he was chief of lies.

  3: Into the South

  Darkness was descending rapidly as the orc war band approached the pass overlooked by Knight’s Perch. Trush-Kul gave the order to halt, and the war band sat down to rest, groaning and muttering in low tones.

  Bazak moved up to his cousin and whispered to him ‘Grash, how will we get past the fortress, surely their guards will see us and awaken the Knight? And what are they doing here?’ Bazak motioned with his head toward two hulking figures sitting slightly apart from the orcs around them.

  Trush looked at Bazak with open distaste, ‘Listen carefully you ugly bastard, if your father had wanted you to know how we’re going to get past, he would have told you. All you need to know is we wait, and once through the pass, you are on your own. I have my own orders to follow. Now fuck off and leave me be.’

  Bazak slipped away thinking ‘Bastard, you’ll get yours when the time is right.’

  Finding somewhere away from the war band, he waited and watched. Suddenly a light shone from the battlements, for a moment he thought he had imagined it. No, there it was again. The wily old bastard had a man in the keep. The question was how he had done it?

  Trush stood up. ‘Alright everyone up. Double-time you lazy bastards. Move it! And make it quiet, we don’t want to wake any of the villagers up!’

  The war band leapt to their feet and started running.

  Bazak had no option but to follow.

  The sides of the pass were of steep, sharp-edged granite, here and there sat small patches of lichen; soon a Battle Mage would come and scour the lichen off with fire. Above the pass, the keep loomed large and forbidding. The War-Band seemed to sound like a herd of rutting mammoth, and yet no cry of alarm was sounded.

  At one point Bazak thought he saw the gleam of moonlight reflected off the emerald eyes of the giant statue of the Knight. His instincts made him recoil slightly, but then a cloud passed over the moon, and the gleam vanished.

  Shatak aid me, he thought more from habit than any sense of the divine.

  Soon the war band was through the pass, and onto open grassland.

  Trush-Kul appeared next to Bazak. Again, his face was one of distaste and disgust. ‘Here is your money,’ he said as he handed over a small chest. ‘Try not to get killed bastard, I know your father thinks you’re of use to us.’

  Suddenly he whipped a fist, hard and fast into Bazak’s stomach. ‘Always wanted to do that.’

  He watched Bazak as he went down on his knees, retching. ‘Get up you puling, weak maggot and get out of my fucking sight!’

  Trush spun around and marched off into the night.

  As Bazak sat on the ground, some of the war band couldn’t resist giving him a punch or a kick. Bazak let them get on with it, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t endured a hundred times before, and soon all the war band had passed by. One day, he thought, I will kill you all. Picking himself up, he dusted himself off and started the long walk to Ashen Falls

  4: Ashen Falls

  Ashen Falls sits on the north side of an ancient, extinct volcano near the southern marches. It is famous for two reasons; the first is the blue glass its many glass makers produce. Made using the ash from the volcano, it is sought after all over the world and can be seen on many a royal banqueting table.

  Its second claim to fame is that it is the headquarters of the Battle Mages. The battle mages help defend the northern empires from the advances of their orcish neighbours. At the height of their power they could field two divisions of mages on a field of battle. Now after five thousand years of peace with the orcs, the battle mages were a shadow of their former selves. Many standard military units had long since been disbanded, the only reminder left being old flags in various garrison towns scattered across the northern empires.

  Whole fleets had been pulled onto shore and had lain ever since to rot or become hideouts for pirates, bandits and thieves.

  Bazak smiled as he entered the city, he had had no problems getting to Ashen Falls. It had taken him two weeks of travel, but he had taken it slowly, enjoying the sunny weather.

  Farmers were bringing in crops, in some cases leaving wayward daughters unattended, and it seemed a waste to not grow a crop of his own. He couldn’t believe how weak they all were. They obviously thoug
ht that the orcs were defeated and trapped beyond the border fortresses.

  They were in for a shock. If one war band could get through, then so could others. He wondered where Trush was now, and he hoped the fucker wasn’t dead. He wanted that pleasure all for himself.

  There was no cry of alarm from the guards posted at the gateway, and why should there be he thought, he was better looking than most of the sour faced populace that he could see. Wanting to waste no time, he went off in search of somewhere he could call home, a base in which to begin his plan for vengeance against all those who had wronged him.

  It hadn’t taken him long to realise that the chest though small, seemed to contain an endless supply of money, money he would use to advance himself in society here in Ashen Falls. It also contained a small talk-stone, which he could use to send any reports back to his father.

  He followed the majority of people as they made their way up what was, as Bazak found out from a faded wooden sign on the first building, called Main Street. The buildings were made of stone on the ground level with the upper levels made of wood that had been painted black and white.

  As he walked along he noted more wooden signs as he came to roads or alleys the bisected the main road. Strait Street, Priest’s Row and one interesting sign pointed towards The Vile and had a small picture of a skull and crossbones on it.

  He listened into conversations as he walked through the streets, he heard the names of a few inns seemed to fit his immediate needs of food and lodging. The Sooty Den, The Dove’s Head, The War Road and outside the city was the Four Quarters Inn. He chose the second one as The Sooty Den sounded more like a brothel and checked it out. The Dove’s Head was clean and tidy, and there were two large bouncers on the door both of whom glowered at any rough looking type that came near.

  Within two days, the bouncers were practically eating out of Bazak’s hands. Their names, he found out, were Pock - for all the pockmarks on his face, and Cock - for the chickens that he kept in their shack.

  Being bouncers, they received slightly more wages than the serving staff inside the inn, but it was still a pittance. Bazak paid them both a silver head a week to keep him up to date with any news that they thought might interest him. They told him as much about Ashen Falls and the battle mages as they knew, telling him who was who in the city

  Soon Bazak had attained enough knowledge and had found a middle-sized property for rent, so he moved out of the inn, giving both bouncers’ an extra silver head, to forget him.

  He learned that The Vile was the part of the city where the poorest in Ashen Falls lived, houses were small, often consisting of of just a couple of communal rooms. A wooden pail was used as a toilet and it’s contents taken to where the cities sewers emptied out.

  He also learned that the nearer you where to the fortress the richer the occupants of the house were. Bazak chose a house on Straight Street, in the part of the city that was mainly used by merchants. Ironically it was directly opposite The Vile with just a few rows of shops and larger houses separating them.

  Once ensconced in his new home, Bazak set about creating his persona of Master Ishara, merchant of high-class glassware. He opened an account with a nearby bank and started to buy the local glassware, he didn’t send it anywhere, just stored it in the cellar. Soon he had a reputation as a savvy buyer and seller of goods, and then one day there was a knock on the door.

  When he opened it, there stood a woman who introduced herself as Captain Ashalone. The Captain was looking for a merchant to provide equipment to the Battle Mage garrison. Among the things they wanted to buy was the glassware. Why they didn’t go to the glass makers direct, Bazak didn’t know. But it looked like Shatak had turned his gaze on Bazak once more.

  Within a week he was Ashalone’s lover. She was an enigma to him. So soft in all the right places, and yet as a soldier she had a lot of muscle, so she was lean and fit. Sometimes their lovemaking was intense, raw, total animal passion. More often it was a slow, painstaking lovemaking where they would pleasure each other with tongues before finally, he would penetrate her, to both shout out their orgasms.

  But either way, after, Bazak would begin to ask questions. He started to learn small snippets of information, nothing that was of any concern to his father, the Battle Mages certainly didn’t know that the orcs were starting to mobilise. And as their relationship lasted longer, he started to gain more and more information. Ashalone wasn’t a stupid woman, and yet here she was telling him secrets, of schemes and treaties. It was amazing to Bazak.

  Anything he thought his father would need to know, he would dutifully pass on through the talk-stone. Anything he thought might further his own advances he would either keep to himself or give a subtle twist when he passed the information on.

  PART TWO: ORCSLAYER

  5: Paying the Piper

  Shatak must be cursing my name, thought Grash-Kul as he sat on his throne. The torches on the walls flickered as if someone had opened a door and let the wind in.

  Only there was no wind in Grash’s throne room.

  Grash sat up straighter on his throne, and his fingers played on the hilt of his cutter, he knew what the guttering torches meant – one of their messengers had arrived. He jumped as a voice whispered in his ear.

  ‘Nervous, Grash?’

  Grash looked to where the voice had come from, ‘No and the names Chief Grash-Kul to you!’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry Chief, and here was me thinking we were friends.’ Came the voice from the other side of Grash.

  ‘You can pack in your parlour tricks, I’m not in the mood.’

  A figure began to appear in front of Grash’s throne, vaguely human-sized, the creature had skin like a crocodile with the yellow eyes to match. Black elliptical pupils regarded Grash. The creature wore a loin cloth and didn’t seem to be carrying any weapons or equipment.

  ‘What do you want, Ekkanas?’

  ‘Why I don’t want anything my friend, but my masters, sorry our masters they want…things.’

  Grash frowned, ‘What things?’

  ‘Not so fast Chief. We must wait for another before my message can be relayed.’

  ‘Another? Who? I am the Chief here, and the Kul tribe do as I bid, not some OTHER!’

  The curtain covering the entrance to the throne room moved aside and inside stepped Grash’s Chief Shaman, Bleng. Bleng was, besides Grash’s Shaman also his brother. He had adopted the tribe name of Gra, as all orc shaman do.

  Grash looked confused for a moment, ‘What are you doing here?’

  Bleng had a small smile on his face, ‘Why, the same as you, my Chief. Awaiting orders from our masters.’

  It seemed to Grash that there was a bit of a smarmy attitude, and a lack of respect in the Shaman’s voice and brother or not he would have to deal with that sooner rather than later.

  Ekkanas looked from one orc to the other, ‘Good, now that the gangs all here I can give you your orders.’

  Grash bridled, ‘No-one gives Grash-Kul orders!’

  Ekkanas didn’t look the least bit afraid, ‘Oh, but they do, you chose your masters all those years ago, and now they want you to do a small job. Recompense if you will, for the death of the elf.’

  Grash was suspicious, ‘What kind of small job?’

  ‘Why, only the destruction of Knight’s Perch!’

  ‘What! I haven’t the men spare for such a task; we are barely holding our own against some of the other tribes. Even with the help of their spy neutralising the Knight, we’ll be lucky to win. Our shaman will help…’

  Grash trailed off as he was Ekkanas shaking his head, ‘No, no Shaman. You WILL attack Knight’s Perch without your shaman, but the good news is that the masters have decided to give you some of their pets to help you.’

  ‘Oh, this just keeps getting better and fucking better!’

  ‘I’m glad you think so.’ Ekkanas smirked

  Grash began to get up off his throne, ‘I’m going to fucking kill you.’

 
; ‘Tut-tut Chief. Just be at Knight's Perch in ten days and do your job. Now I must talk to your brother.’

  With a murmur, Ekkanas and his brother disappeared.

  6: Homecoming

  Saethryth looked at the archway over the entrance to the merchant quarter of Ashen Falls a mix of emotions warring on his face. The merchant who he had been travelling with harrumphed to get his attention

  ‘You might want to hide all them gems under your cloak, lad, unless you want all the thieves in Ashen Falls chasing after you.’

  ‘Is it that bad now? When I left Brash oversaw the guild.’

  ‘Brash! Brash is dead, has been for nigh on seven years. There’s a new one in charge, calls herself the Black Empress. Heard she’s ruthless, but then they said that about Brash.’

  The merchant held a small purse out to Saethryth, ‘Take care of yourself, lad.’

  ‘Do me a favour, when you’re ready to go, travel south, don’t go north. You and your two lads stay away, alright?’

  The merchant paused before nodding his agreement, and Saethryth knew that they wouldn’t be going south.

  Well you tried to tell him

  The voice came unbidden into his head, the sword strapped to his back spoke again.

  There is one here

  Saethryth didn’t need to ask one of what, he knew, he’d been killing them for years. There was an orc or half-orc in Ashen Falls, and he would root them out and kill them. It was, after all, what Orcslayers did.

  You are being followed

  I know, two humans, from the quick look I got off both I’d say they were lookouts for the local guild.

  Thieves. They wouldn’t dare take on an Orcslayer…