by Sam Ferguson
“Wait, what? Me?” Torgath put up his hands to brush away the notion, but before he could say another word, she had clasped onto his forearm and was rubbing one of the red seeds into the flesh on the underside of his arm. Before he could properly take in what she was doing, she had skipped over to where the Kuscans were being held, and did the same to each of them with the remaining seeds.
He began to feel light headed, and from the looks of the two Kuscans they were feeling the same way. With a snap of Teolang’s fingers, the roots began to unfurl from around the mouths and limbs of the two prisoners and retreat back into the wall of the cave. The Kuscans slumped to the ground and each held their head. Torgath too found it necessary to sit on the ground to keep from toppling over, and blinked repeatedly to try and clear his vision.
“Here’s the way I see it,” Teolang knelt next to him with a hand on his shoulder. “You are likely not so much the thing you fear you are, and they are likely not so little the thing they wish they could be. But what you all need, is to seek the path of honor. More of the powers that be in this world recognize and reward an honorable deed than what you might think given your past experiences. Seek to continue what you have started, and you will find what you seek – acceptance in this plane and the one which awaits you.”
She rose and moved to place a hand on each of the Kuscans’ shoulders, “You two will follow your new employer. You are to be his loyal, hired swords, and obey what he says. When you have discovered the path of honor, you may be free from his service. Until the day these marks are removed from you however,” she held each of their forearms up for them to view, and as Torgath examined his own, he found a red symbol had seeped into his skin in the place she had rubbed the juice from the red seed, “you will face death from Mother Terramyr herself if you break your contract.”
Overcome by the effects of the strange seed she had administered to them, Torgath could keep his eyes open no longer, and fell into a fitful sleep.
Chapter 4
Torgath opened his eyes in the dream world, staring out at his village. He drew his sword, as he had in every nightmare previous to this one, and charged toward the homes as an army of elves swept in from the north. A dragon’s shadow glided over the land just before fireballs rained down, pummeling a score of orcs, showering their limbs and weapons outward as great hunks of scorched earth exploded upward. Arrows streaked through the smoke and flames.
An elf, riding a great elk, came near to Torgath with his bow aimed at the orc. Torgath lashed out with his sword and took down the elf, but not before the arrow flew and struck Torgath in the left shoulder. The elk, in an attempt to avenge its fallen rider, turned back on Torgath and lowered its head. The pointed antlers came in close as they had so many times before. Torgath deftly knelt below the sharp rack and angled his sword upward, catching the beast in the neck as it ran toward him. The elk stumbled, clipping Torgath in the right shoulder as its momentum drove it forward into the ground, ripping the sword free from the orc’s hands.
A heavy thud shook the ground as the dragon Glimwyrm landed nearby. The dragon’s great wings folded in and onto its back protectively as a group of orcs ran toward the beast. Glimwyrm turned his breath to a steady stream of fire, melting the orcs’ flesh from their bones and turning the warriors to ash in a matter of seconds. Their screams pained Torgath’s soul.
He retrieved his sword and rushed the dragon himself, as he had in every nightmare before this one.
The dragon turned its silver head to Torgath and smiled, curling the leathery lips back to reveal pointed fangs gleaming and hungry for Torgath’s blood. An orange spark grew behind those fangs until a torrent of flame flew out for Torgath, but the orc didn’t turn away. Impossibly, he held the flames back with his sword, willing the deadly heat to split before him.
Through the flames he could see that the tumultuous fighting around him had stopped. Elves and orcs alike turned to watch him. He pushed on through the flames, hardly noticing the heat as he neared his opponent.
The dragon laughed and then there was a silvery flash.
Torgath felt as though a tree had swung into him. His head rang and his vision went dark. He could no longer feel the ground beneath his feet. A few moments later he landed on the ground and bounced to a stop. He could hear bones snapping, but after his spine broke he couldn’t feel anything below his stomach. His muscles refused to obey him when he tried to push up from the dirt. Blood pooled in his mouth and spilled from his nose and forehead.
Something hard slipped under his chest and flipped him onto his back, flinging his broken arms out to the side.
Glimwyrm stood over him, His sulfuric breath poured over him while a single talon poked into Torgath’s chest.
“I know what you are,” Glimwyrm said. “And now, everyone in your village knows what you are too.”
The dragon’s words sank deep into Torgath’s soul, giving birth to a dread the orc had never known before. A deathly cold washed over him and he felt himself sinking, as if drowning into the very earth beneath him, but his body wasn’t moving. Instead, the dragon retreated a few steps, entirely disappearing from Torgath’s view. Footsteps drummed their way closer to Torgath, as shouts and curses in both orcish and elvish reached his ears.
Tears welled in his eyes.
The orc willed himself to wake, but his body would not respond.
Soon the group of orcs and elves gathered around him. They raised their swords and began piercing him. Over and over their blades punctured holes in his flesh and organs, but he would not die. His body refused to give up the ghost, subjecting him instead to the endless pain until finally, there came a call from beneath him.
It was a low groan at first, hardly more than a rumbling. Gradually it grew with each successive wound Torgath suffered until at last the orc himself was howling as if the world was shouting through his mouth. A shadow issued from his open mouth, blinding his attackers and choking them.
As they choked, he gained strength.
Torgath’s body healed and he stood once more. His sword appeared in his right hand while a gnarled mace with jagged spikes materialized in his left.
“Kill them,” a voice called from the ground. “Kill them all, and send them to the void.”
Torgath let out a roar and turned upon the throng, slaying orc and elf alike. They fell in twos and threes before him. He broke through their weapons and shields and cleaved the helpless foes in twain as he marched back toward the dragon. Only this time, when he looked to Glimwyrm, the dragon somehow seemed to melt away, like water over glass. The dragon’s image faded, replaced by that of a shadowy figure approximating the shape of a humanoid.
“Come Torgath, come my servant, we shall rule them all.”
Torgath took the shadow’s hand and a great wall of fire went out from them both, consuming the rest of the elves and orcs. The fire raged on to ravage the village and forest beyond, leaving nothing but a scorched world around him.
“Well done, servant of the Void,” the shadowy figure said. “Well done.”
Only then, after the nightmare had completed itself did the orc regain control of his body. His eyes shot open and he sat upright, heart pounding and forehead covered in sweat.
“Slowly, slowly! Take it easy, young fellow. Those seeds pack a punch. Don’t try to stand or you’ll be back on your rump before you can say ‘pinswingl,’” Teolang thrust a cup full of water into his hand and slapped a damp rag onto his forehead, pushing him back into a reclining position on a root seat in the main cavern where they had eaten earlier in the evening. He couldn’t remember how he came to be there, and wondered how she had managed to move him.
He sipped the water slowly and mopped the cool rag across his face to remove the sweat which had gathered there. Teolang was quick to replace it with a fresh rag, which he eagerly swept across his neck and arms as well. He felt lightheaded and lead-footed, and his stomach churned strangely as he reminded himself that he was seated, and in full contact w
ith something solid.
“I see your dreams were frightful. The farsong seed has a tendency to cause some intense visions, often violent and strange.”
“No, this was one I have seen before. It has come to me nightly ever since…” he trailed off, uncertain he should share any details.
“Ever since you met that dragon I’d wager,” Teolang completed his sentence for him as she nodded her head knowingly. “I’ve said it before; you should be cautious of dealing with a dragon. Though the blessing of an Ancient would be a boon worth crossing the wide world for, the remainder are a varied lot. Their words can be deceptive, and their motives difficult to assess. Just a passing acquaintance with one touched by the void can leave a mark on your mind for some time.”
A groan to his left caught his attention and provided some relief from the unwavering gaze of this woman who seemed intent on peeling back the layers of his soul.
“Wo-wo-wo, now just rest your head back, Dearie,” she was speaking to the younger of the two, cupping his head in her hands and gently lowering it back against the tap root where the sandy-haired youth had been reclining. Without warning, the older of the two sprang to his feet, striking violently at the air repeatedly with a yell before crumpling into a heap on the ground.
“And that’s what I was talking about,” Teolang threw her hands out and let them slap back to her sides limply as she exhaled heavily. “Seems his dreams got the better of him.” She strode over to where he was rocking back and forth, holding his head between his hands in a defensive position. She crouched to the ground, tucked her hands under his armpits and, lifting with her legs, hauled the seven-foot Kuscan most of the way to his feet, pushing him forward the rest of the way, as her scarcely five-foot frame was no match for his height.
Torgath’s eyebrows shot up in surprise that she had been able to effect any change in position at all on the, likely, three hundred and fifty pound pirate. Taking him by the sides of his arms, she turned him around and backed him up until his heels hit the edge of the taproot and then gave him a gentle push in the chest to knock him back into a sitting position.
“Stay!” she commanded with her palm face out toward him and a no-nonsense look on her face.
He was holding his forehead with one palm and had the other splayed out to his side as though warding off the visions of his slumber. He didn’t respond with words but nodded his head obediently.
“As I was telling our orc friend over here, the effect of those seeds is potent. Dreams are often violent and intense, but the images will recede as you breathe deeply and focus on what is in front of you. Here, drink up.” She handed a cup of water to each of them and placed a wet cloth on each of their heads, and replaced Torgath’s as well. “Give me your name, Friend,” she asked of the younger, who seemed to be relatively calm, though his face betrayed a level of shock that was almost amusing.
“Tui. My name is Tui.”
“Good, and your brother there?”
“His name is Kiuwa.”
Kiuwa grunted as though he were rousing himself from a drunken stupor and barely flinched his face in the direction from which his name had been spoken. His eyes were still clenched tight as he massaged the sides of his face.
“Look at my face,” Teolang tapped the end of Tui’s nose and drew a line from his face to her eyes as though she could physically direct the angle of his gaze. He complied, making eye contact while still maintaining the stupefied expression on his face. “You are going to make it, I promise. What did you see? Family drowned? Friends taken by a monster? Your own gruesome death perhaps?”
“Yes!” Kiuwa called out from where he sat. He lifted the cup which sat at his feet to drink, his hands trembling.
Turning her attention back to Tui, she snapped her fingers twice an inch in front of his face to regain his attention and drew the line back to her eyes. He snapped his eyes back to hers and she raised her eyebrows expectantly. He shook his head slowly and licked his lips.
“No, it was… worse. It was Peya. All she would do was laugh at me…”
“She? Wha..” Teolang looked genuinely shocked, and then threw her head back and burst into laughter. She laughed until tears came to her eyes. Tui was so startled, the stupor was swept away from him within moments. He looked surprised, then sheepish, and as Teolang’s laughter continued and a chuckle could be heard spilling across the lips of his older brother, irritated.
“Ah, Master Tui, you have a true heart to you. While others see death and destruction as the manifestation of their worst nightmares, you are visited by the apparition of a woman who has jilted you. As I said, you are going to make it.” She slapped his shoulder heartily. Even Torgath couldn’t resist the smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Teolang was wiping the last of the tears from her eyes and trying to slow her breathing as she walked over to the stone table where the Kuscan armor she had shown him was still lying in a heap. She tossed an item here and there to each of the brothers and then gathered up the remainder in her arms and walked back toward Torgath.
“Those items,” she nodded her head in the direction of the two brothers, “can be returned to them. They are generic enough to belong to any Kuscan clan who has had active use of them in the past month. These however,” she laid each item out in front of him so that he could see how the full set fit together, “are something else entirely.”
“Hey, those are…” Kiuwa began, but was immediately silenced by a glare and a single gesture from Teolang’s index finger.
“This is the armor of a Daevek, a warrior so feared among the people of the East, he is known as the Kuscan Demon. I can see why our two friends here went to such great lengths to retrieve it from the Marcovians. It would be a shame to have it fall into the hands of one who was unworthy. But for this reason I consider it unfit to be left with either of them.”
Anticipating the anger these words would bring, Teolang was on her feet in a flash. She moved with a speed and grace that Torgath had rarely seen in a warrior. It took only a few strikes to bring both of the large warriors to their knees, and a pair of daggers were retrieved from inside her robes and placed to each of their throats without her breathing even being disrupted. As though years had fallen from her in that moment, she stood with a majestic look about her, moving only her eyes to hold the gaze of each pirate to verify they understood the situation they were in.
“You will behave, or you will not leave here alive.” She spoke slowly, with weight applied to each word evenly. When she had received a nod of understanding from each, she stepped away, concealed the daggers once more in her robes, and gestured to the seats the two had vacated. When they were seated once more, Teolang returned with her previous hobble to Torgath’s side.
“You are in need of a better mask than this,” she reached over and unclasped the fabric mask from the edge of his cowl and hung it from two fingers in front of him for a moment before tossing it on the ground next to the ornately carved, black mask which lay at the head of the suit of lightweight, segmented armor. “One who hunts demons, and wins, has earned the honor of taking the title and the face of the Daevek. I am entrusting this armor, and its Kuscan escort, to you.”
Torgath wasn’t sure how to respond. The mask appeared to be an appropriate size, and given its fearsomely exaggerated proportions, would even accommodate his lower tusks. He glanced at the two Kuscans, curious to see their reactions. They both looked sullen, but seemed prepared to see how things played out. Teolang retrieved the mask and placed it in his hands.
“You continue to seek some notoriety for your ability to sweep demons from the face of Terramyr, do you not? To ensure that your name reverberates in the ears of Lord Hatmul, the ruler of Hammenfein?”
“I do,” he answered honestly.
“Then let me assist you in yet one more way.” She removed the demon tooth dagger from her robes and placed the flat of the blade across his forehead and spread her palm out flat against it. Her touch felt warm and
a sense of calm filled him. Immediately his mind’s eye was filled with vivid images of locations, faces of demons, the emotional agony of trapped souls and the items which contained them. Snippets of battles played out before him and he felt both an instant rush of adrenaline and the glory of victory that came with each demonic face that flashed through his brain.
The experience was exhilarating and exhausting all at once. As he began to feel his strength slip away from him, a final face burned through his mind. It carried a sense of aching familiarity with it - the same horror he had felt in his dream. Fleeting images of a fiery battle flew past his eyes, and as his breath came increasingly shallowly, he noted with dread the lack of victory glow that had accompanied the preceding visions.
Teolang removed her hand and slipped the dagger into a belt at her waist. As a brilliant light he hadn’t noticed during the experience slowly ebbed away from around her body, she seemed to shrink in size and increase in frailty. Torgath’s breath was coming heavily, and his head was spinning with the information it now contained.
“These are the lieutenants of the demon you seek most. Kill them before you confront him, and you will have eradicated a powerful faction that has plagued Terramyr for centuries. This, combined with facing and slaying the last demon, should help your personal quest. You should be able to recall the locations and details you were shown for many years to come. I would have sent you with the dagger itself to help you find the way, but I think this quest will take you a not an insignificant amount of time, and I wouldn’t want it getting lost. I’ve put quite a lot of effort into acquiring these little fellows, you know?” She fingered the demon teeth at her waist with a wry smile.