by Edward Brody
I turned to head upstairs and after taking a few steps, saw the chubby, bald-headed man with the red belt coming down. I did my best to act normal as his eyes stayed glued to me as we passed each other. I was pretty certain he had no idea I was coming from the Omnicron room, but knowing that he was involved with the Sparrows only made me more anxious.
After passing him, I hurried further up the stairs, scurried into the study room, shut the door, and started pacing around. No one was inside, and the quill and book were still on the desk—the ink now dry.
I tapped my fingers together, trying to think of what I would say if I was caught with the item. If it were Darion who caught me, I figured I’d just admit the truth—that I needed to ‘borrow’ the stone to take care of an important task, but if it were anyone else, I’d lie. Maybe I’d just deny it unless they searched me, and if they found it on me, I’d say I was studying it. Or maybe I’d call out the Sparrows and say I took it to avoid the infiltrators from stealing it. I wasn’t sure…. Everything I was coming up with sounded unbelievable.
I heard a little bit of shuffling and talking a few floors down, then someone shouted something that I couldn’t make out.
Shit, shit, shit, I thought.
Not wanting to be spotted, I walked around the study desk and crouched behind it so that I wouldn’t immediately be spotted if anyone entered the room.
I pulled out the rune for Morgsgorg Mages Hall and tried to cast Recall again.
You must be in a peaceful state to Recall. You cannot recall immediately after stealing an item.
Then I tried to Recall Home to Edgewood.
You must be in a peaceful state to Recall. You cannot recall immediately after stealing an item.
I wasn’t sure how long I would have to wait, but I was beginning to sweat with fear. I was taking a big risk, and now that it was underway, I was beginning to feel the full weight of how damaging it could be to me. There I was, risking my standing with the Mages Guild to help the Scourge of all people. At least that’s what it would seem if I admitted what the item was for. It might be hard for me to convince NPCs that I was actually trying to help them, to help Highcastle, the Freelands, the Wastelands, the Mages Guild, and Edgewood at all the same time—to help everyone at once by getting the Scourge to backoff.
Click-clack.
I heard the door opening and clenched my teeth before shrinking down even further behind the desk.
I focused on the rune again.
You must be in a peaceful state to Recall. You cannot recall immediately after stealing an item.
I heard footsteps—very light, slow footsteps as if someone were sneaking in quietly. I kneeled as far down under the desk as possible so that I could peek through the small opening underneath to see who it was, but I saw nothing at all. I assumed they were hiding around the corner where I couldn’t see.
I sat there quietly for several more seconds but heard nothing more—no footsteps and no sound of the door opening or closing again. I peeked underneath the desk again but still saw nothing.
I grabbed the runestone and tried again, focusing on trying to recall to Morgsgorg. This time, the rune on the stone began to glow, and in a second, I was spirited away from my impending peril.
Chapter Forty-Eight
2/23/0001
“There he is!” Rithnar said as soon as I appeared.
“I told you, he’d come back,” Mordok said with a smile. “We were good to trust him.”
I was still in a crouching position when I found myself in the Mage’s Hall in Morgsgorg and slowly rose to my feet. My heart was pounding, and I couldn’t help but wonder who it was that had sneaked into the study room. Had it been one of the bald men?
“Is something wrong?” Mordok asked.
I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “No, I just…” I shook my head, stood up and slid my hand into my bag. I pulled out the infinite mana shard and held it out in front of me. “We can do things the right way.”
“What…?” Rithnar questioned, his eyes wide as he stared at the stone shard in my hand.
Mordok shook his head as he arched his neck closer to the shard to get a better look. “Is this… How did you get this?!”
I took another deep breath and was about to explain before Mordok creased his brow and grabbed my arm. He pulled my hand closer and eyed the item in my palm.
“Stolen?” he asked.
I nodded.
“You must have stolen it from the…” He trailed off before finishing his sentence.
I nodded again, knowing that he knew the only other place I could’ve gotten one so quickly.
Mordok released my arm, looked down, and shook his head as he started pacing away from me. “Why? I don’t understand. Why?”
“To stop the war is why,” I said.
“You take such risk to help orcs?” Mordok questioned.
“To help everyone,” I said. “For the greater good of Eden’s Gate.”
Mordok paused and nodded. “It is for the greater good, isn’t it?”
“Forget why!” Rithnar cried. “If the human helps, he helps. We have another stone now! We must act!”
Mordok swung his head around and nodded. “Yes, we must.” He turned around and homed in on me. “You know, you could be expelled from the Mages Guild for this, right?”
“I assumed so,” I said, “but no one saw me. There’s no reason for anyone to believe I took it.”
Mordok’s eyelids lowered. “Thank you. Thank you for helping us.”
“Yes, thank you,” Rithnar concurred. “If this works, I owe you even more. I don’t know what I can offer you, but as a human, you’ve done more than—”
“It’s okay,” I interrupted. “I want to get your child back to you, but if Ergoth pulls back on this war, it will help me as well.”
“There’s no guarantee Ergoth will agree, even if these stones work to calm the Gilgaroth,” Mordok said, “though our chances of success are much greater than if Rithnar tries to stop him by force.”
Rithnar took a deep breath and raised his chin at the comment, but he didn’t say anything.
“If it doesn’t work, I’ll return the shard to the Mages Guild,” I said. “No harm, no foul, I hope.”
Mordok nodded. “Very well. While you were gone, I scouted for Ergoth. He’s still in Morgsgorg waiting as Prince Azhug rallies orcs from across the Wastelands. The catapult is finished and loaded. The second round is nearly prepared to be loaded as well.”
“It’s loaded?” I asked.
Mordok nodded. “All that’s left is to haul a second boulder a few more meters. If we hurry to the Cataclysm now, we may have time to approach Ergoth before he marches to Forth Destrog and launches his attack.”
“Let’s go,” I said as I pulled my hood over my head.
“You won’t need to hide yourself this time,” Mordok said. “We’ll travel over Morgsgorg, so no orcs will see you.”
“Over?” I questioned.
“Come,” Mordok said, turning away from me.
“Wait,” Rithnar said. He reached into his bag and handed me a sack of gold. “This is yours.”
You’ve received: 13,000 Gold Pieces
I followed Mordok and Rithnar to the stairs, and we climbed until we reached the high floor of the tower where the outer wall had been demolished. The ruined floor was empty aside from a few loose metal rods and broken stones scattered on the ground. There was a large, empty compartment on one of the walls, similar to one in the Omnicron room in Highcastle. A strong wind carried itself inside, causing my hair to blow against my face.
Mordok marched to the outer edge of the room until he couldn’t take another step without falling off. He looked out from the tower and slammed his palm against the side of the wall. “Moraga!”
After four or five seconds, the sound of rapid flapping could be heard from somewhere, and a large blur of a creature flew by the opening of the tower and buzzed as it passed. Seconds later, the creature flew by
again, skirted in a circle away from us, then turned back until it flew straight into the opening where we were standing.
The creature’s thin, light brown wings flapped rapidly as it landed beside Mordok, and the two short antennae rising from its head twitched up and down. Its eyes were huge matte black globes, and its face was expressionless. Two tiny, furry, fanglike appendages hung below its empty face, but they were so odd that I wasn’t sure if that was its mouth or some other insect apparatus. Its brown, scaly back was long and tubelike, and six thin, pointy legs jutted out from its sides. Atop its flat back was a saddle which had been carved into the shape of two flat human-like skulls. Bones rose from the top of the foreheads of each skull, giving riders something to grab onto.
“Nice to see you again, Moraga,” Mordok said. “How’ve you been?”
The moth sat motionless and expressionless.
Mordok chuckled. “That’s good to hear. Oh really? Well, I’d love to chat, but we must leave quickly.” He grabbed the edge of the saddle, navigating in a way to avoid the beast’s wings, then pulled himself up, scooted forward, and grabbed the bone jutting from the front. “Moraga’s saddle only fits two. Gunnar, you’ll have to ride behind Rithnar and use him as your grip.”
I scratched the side of my head as I looked at the moth. It was the weirdest Great Beast I had seen thus far and the limited experience I had flying in Eden’s Gate had been more frightening than exciting. “Um… yeah, okay.”
“Yes, he’s a human,” Mordok said as he leaned forward and rubbed his hand against the moth’s body a couple times. “Don’t worry. Oddly enough, he’s on our side.” When he leaned back, he brushed off the brown dust that the moth’s body had left on his palms.
Rithnar followed Mordok’s motion and used the edge of the saddle to haul himself up before grabbing the bone in front of him. Once situated, he reached out and offered me his hand.
I navigated under the great moth’s wings, grabbed Rithnar’s hand, and used his arm to pull myself up behind him. The moth’s body was firm and felt a bit slippery, but I seemed to be able to grip it well enough with my knees. I held on to the sides of Rithnar and had to arch my pelvis away awkwardly as the back edge of his saddle rubbed uncomfortably into my crotch.
“Hold on!” Mordok said.
The moth’s expert flying skills allowed it to lift off instantly, and its wings flapped so rapidly that the strong current of air it generated made me wince. It flew backwards out of the tower, turned around with ease, and carried us over Morgsgorg.
I squinted the whole time from the forceful air blowing into eyes, and the light dust that seemed to be tossed up from Moraga’s wings, but I could see almost everything I had seen in Morgsgorg from the sky—Ergoth’s fortress, orc shophouses, vendors, and the countless tents that were sprawled out from the center of the city. It seemed like many more orcs were out at that time as the main walking road between the tents leading to the fortress was packed.
To the north and south, scattered bodies of orcs and goblins were all walking in the direction of Morgsgorg, so things were about to be even more crowded there.
We continued toward Mount Ardorflame, which was easily seen from the sky. The moth was fast—even faster than Eanos’ bird—but the ride was far less comfy than my previous flights. The rapid noise from its wings, the forceful air generated, and its abrupt movement patterns made the journey more stressful than the softer flight of Xandree.
“Down there is where we’ll land,” Mordok said, pointing to an area in front of the cataclysm and a few hundred meters south of and across from Mount Ardorflame.
“What’s that?” I yelled when I saw a group of thirty or forty orcs walking towards the cataclysm, seemingly right for the volcano.
Mordok placed his hand above his eyes and urged Moraga towards the group of travelers without answering my question.
Once we had a slightly closer view of the orcs, Mordok brought his Great Beast down to the ground, just out of sight of the group. The moth landed almost silently and perfectly, despite carrying our weight. It started walking closer to the group while still maintaining a good distance from them.
When the group of orcs reached the edge of the cataclysm, Mordok ordered Moraga behind a large, flat boulder that barely managed to conceal us.
The group of orcs formed a semicircle near the edge of the cataclysm, and a thick but nearly transparent beam of grayish blue light rose from the ground and into the sky.
“A shaman is with them,” Rithnar said. “They’re performing another sacrifice.”
“Indeed,” Mordok agreed. “We’ll need to be careful while they’re here. If they notice Gunnar, we will have problems.”
“Can’t we just fly down into the cataclysm?” I asked.
“It’s dangerous,” Mordok warned. “And the heat would be too much for Moraga’s wings. We can walk from here.”
“Fly us up to over there,” Rithnar said, pointing towards a nearby rock formation. “We should let Gunnar see firsthand why my wife fled the Wastelands, why all of our offspring are at risk.”
“We shouldn’t waste time,” Mordok argued.
“The sacrifices won’t last long,” Rithnar said. “And it’s too risky to enter the cataclysm until it’s over.”
Mordok growled, but after a few seconds of consideration he nodded and urged Moraga back to flight. We flew the short way until we were on the tall rock formation and navigated to an outcropping that gave us a distant but respectable view of what was going on below.
The orcs were standing two or three deep in their half circle, and at the center of them were two dark robed figures with skull-tipped staves, thick fur capes, and feather adornments. One of them had his arms crossed and his head down, and the other one was saying something and flailing his arms in the air. The one flailing his arms walked slowly around a thick, round, wooden pillar about four and a half feet tall. The pillar had engravings of alien-like faces, runic symbols, and animals carved all around it. The beam of light we had noticed earlier was rising from it.
“I’m sure they’re preaching their usual propaganda,” Rithnar said. “That there’s no greater honor than death and that their sacrifices are no different than dying on the battlefield.”
The previously motionless shaman relaxed his arms and walked to stand beside the beaming totem. He clapped his hands together once, knelt to one knee, and slammed a palm on the ground. Energy seemed to spill out from under his hand, and as he rose back to his feet, another pillar rose out of the ground with him, growing directly under his hand.
“What is that?” I asked.
“A totem,” Mordok said. “Shaman magic.”
“Why are they summoning them?” I asked.
“Totems are useful during battle, but now they’re just doing it for show,” he explained. “The shamans sometimes use their magic to awe other orcs and show their power. Adding spectacle can make unreasonable acts seem justified to some.”
The second totem only had runic symbols carved into it, and an orange aura spun around it slowly but didn’t beam into the air like the first one.
Each of the shamans paced around the area while one continued to talk. He paused, pointed his finger at one of the orcs in the crowd, and smirked. The targeted orc slumped his shoulders and looked down in defeat, and it was only then that I noticed several smaller orcs hidden amongst the larger ones. It was difficult to tell the ages of any orcs, but some of the gathered looked to be in their early teens, while others were very small children.
“See? They’re choosing already,” Rithnar said. “This will be over quickly.”
The selected orc stepped forward, and as he moved from the crowd, he pulled a child by the arm behind him—perhaps around age five based on his height and size, though I was judging by human averages. I had no idea how orcs aged.
The child jerked away, but the larger orc simply dragged him with his much greater strength as he walked closer to the totems. When he was almost in range, the orc
yanked the kid’s arm forward, causing it to stumble several steps and fall on its face.
The orc turned swiftly and stomped back to where he had been standing, leaving the child on the ground. His actions were cruel, but I could tell by his shifting jaw and somber eyes that he wasn’t pleased about what was going on.
The orc child cried as it picked itself off the ground and scrambled, but before it could get away, one of the shamans had already rounded the totems and grabbed it by its dirty leather vest. The shaman dragged the kicking and yelling kid to the edge of the Cataclysm and turned back towards the crowd. He raised a fist high in the air, and the surrounding crowd grabbed their weapons and hoisted them above their heads.
“For Ergoth!” could be heard even from the distance we were standing as they all shouted it at the same time.
The kid grabbed the Shaman’s robe and tried to pull away, but it was helpless. With one hand, the shaman tossed the kid at the edge of the Cataclysm. The kid stumbled and fell on its hands and knees before sliding the last inch and slipping over the edge, down to whatever was below.
After several seconds, a tall flame of fire shot up from the Cataclysm, and the orcs all thrust their weapons into the air again.
“For Ergoth!” they cheered, but I could see some followed sluggishly and were reluctant in their participation. The orc who had given away his child didn’t cheer at all but lowered his head and looked down to the ground in defeat.
One of the orcs in the circle—a female—turned and made a run for it with something in her arms, but as soon as the other orcs noticed, the circle parted, giving the shamans view of the run-away. One of the shamans conjured a glowing blue ball in his hand and thrust it at the running orc. When it struck, the female collapsed face forward, and an infant rolled out of her arms and onto the ground.