David Dalglish - The Death of Promises

“No more need to die,” the half-orc shouted, even as another wave of orcs neared. “Orcs have fought orcs for long enough. Karak offers the greatest war imaginable. Will you serve him?”

He received his answer in the form of a communal roar. The half-orc latched his hands together and pushed. Two black orbs shot from his wrists, merged together, and then grew to the size of a boulder. It rolled through the air, its surface shimmering like a bubble. The first orc to touch it watched his entire arm dissolve into gray sand. The next hapless orc had his entire upper body broken to the tiniest of pieces which fell like dust atop his collapsed legs. Orcs dove out of its way, but three more found pieces of their body vanishing.

“Do you see his power?” Qurrah asked. “The power of Karak?”

Tessanna punctuated his comments with a shockwave of her own. She laughed, and that laughter shook the ground all the way to the towers. It was as if Dezrel laughed with her, sharing in its contempt for the gray-skinned creatures. All around the orcs fell to their knees, only Qurrah and Tessanna remained standing, like gods among them.

“Bow!” Qurrah shouted. “Bow to those who would slay you without thought, so you may slay thousands of others!”

“Shut your trap!” Trummug screamed, slamming his axe into the dirt and using it to pull himself to his feet. “We seen your kind before. You promise us stuff to fight. Gold. Land. But you never keep those promises. You want us to fight and die, and then you move on while we lick our wounds and lose half our numbers to the winter.”

“Fairly eloquent for an orc,” Qurrah muttered.

“He is correct,” Tessanna said. “You know he is.”

“I do not bring the promises of men,” Qurrah shouted. The rest of the orcs were getting to their feet, but they were not charging. They wanted nothing more than the two dead, but they would wait for their leader to give the order.

“What do you bring?” Trummug asked.

“The promises of Karak. The promises of a god. You are beloved in his eyes. He gave you strength and power. He saved you from extinction.”

“Prove it,” Trummug said. “Have him speak.”

The half-orc glanced to Tessanna. A bit of worry crossed his face.

“What is it, lover?” she asked him.

“I can give him his request,” he said. “I can, but…”

She understood. She put her hand on his lips and kissed his forehead.

“Do not fear him. Perhaps you needed this. You need to see what life you might lead.”

He nodded, then turned to Trummug. “Very well. Have your men lay down their arms. Do not harm me, and I will let you hear his words.”

The big orc gave the command. Qurrah walked the distance between them, feeling an ever-tightening knot in his stomach. He had never done this before, not once. He felt vulnerable, naked.

“Dark one,” he prayed as he walked. “Accept this as a step of faith. Do not betray me.”

Orcs grumbled and swore as the half-orc arrived. Trummug snorted.

“So, I’m not hearing anything.”

“Kneel,” Qurrah said. “Then you may hear.”

“You want to make me a fool?” the big orc snarled, barely containing his growing rage.

“Cut me in half if you hear nothing,” Qurrah said. “I will make no motion to stop you.”

“The girl?”

“She will not stop you.”

The anger had spread throughout all his body, but he held it in check. He slammed down his axe, then knelt as he gripped its handle. Before he could move, Qurrah thrust his hands against Trummug’s face and met him eye to eye.

Karak, god of Order, he silently commanded. Speak. Show him your paradise.

At first Trummug’s eyes widened, as if he suspected Qurrah of some sort of treachery, but then the glaze came over. A strong ringing filled both their ears. The sky went dark. The world was a haze. Qurrah had asked for communion, and his request was about to be answered.

J ust under a mile away, his orc rabble marching behind him, Velixar broke into hysterical laughter.

“He is learning!” he cried, an enormous smile on his face. “Give it to him, Karak, give him his desire!”

All around orcs shied away from his horrific laughter, laughter that shivered their spines and struck dead the few birds that flew overhead. Laughter of a dead man. Laughter of an insane man. And none there could describe the pleasure he took within it.

F rom the ringing came a soft blowing of wind past the entrance of a cave. Trummug and Qurrah were lost within the sound, as if all time were halted.

“What you do to me?” Trummug asked, though his lips never moved.

Qurrah had no chance to answer.

You sought my presence, said the voice of Karak. Their entire world shook. The darkness recoiled, and spikes of red and violet danced within. You wanted proof of my promise. You wanted my words, my voice. You are my children, cast away and given to me by the goddess. Accept my power, as you always have. Let the orcs become my banner carriers.

“We will obey,” Trummug said, still without moving his lips. Qurrah thought the darkness would end and the moment pass, but Karak’s presence remained, his message not yet done.

Forgive my prophet, child. Forgive the loss of your brother. I have not yet turned my back on him, though he has turned his back on me. Velixar loves you, as you once loved him. Trust. Respect. The time will come when your power will surpass even his, and that time is not far away.

“I want freedom from this,” Qurrah said. “I want a life with her, and nothing more.”

Your freedom comes with mine. But once you have tasted the fire I offer…will you be so ready to flee it?

Red lightning consumed the dark. The black grew ever distant, until Qurrah realized he stared into the eyes of Trummug. The giant orc stood, his entire body shaking.

“What he say, boss?” the orc to his right asked. Trummug did not respond. “So we get to kill them?” the same orc asked, drawing his sword and turning toward Qurrah. The half-orc did not move. Trummug reached out and crushed the life from the orc’s throat, all while still staring at Qurrah.

“Boys,” he shouted. His voice gained strength as he talked. “The Mugs got a god smiling at us. All us orcs do. We gonna leave the wedge, and we leave it forever! Get the war drums, prepare the horde. We march to war!”

Qurrah turned to Tessanna and nodded. The girl smiled, but it was a nervous smile. She didn’t like the way her lover looked. It was as if his face had darkened, a reverse glow that sucked in all light and denied it freedom. But he had his army, far larger than the one Velixar ruled. He walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I love you,” he said.

“What did you hear?” she asked him. He opened his mouth to answer, then paused.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Nothing matters but us. And we are one step closer to our freedom.”

She kissed his cheek. It was colder than ever. When he kissed her back, a shiver traveled up and down her back. As his arms closed about her, she felt the chill subside. Karak’s presence had faded. Qurrah’s heart and soul were hers once more.

V elixar and his orcs arrived at the camp expecting war, but instead they were greeted like long lost friends. The Mug orcs cheered and offered ale and food, to which the exhausted and starving orcs gladly accepted. Qurrah waited for Velixar by the gate, Tessanna next to him with dagger in hand.

“You spoke with him,” Velixar said when he arrived. “Not only that, you invoked his name. For the first time you put your trust in Karak. Do you see now that when faith is measured, the reward is greatest for those who believe without hesitation?”

“The orcs are yours,” Qurrah said. “And Trummug will unite all the other Mug camps we come across in his name. Only Lummug can overrule him. Once the Mug tribe is in our hands, the rest of the tribes will step in line. The question is, who will be their Hordemaster?”