[story] Darkness

[Okiba]

”Chaos is not the opposite of order, only the absence of it.”

Darkness: Chapter 21 â€" Chaos

Mala’kal didn’t walk. Nor did he jog. He ran down the corridor, two of his own grunts right behind him. The pace was swift despite having to duck under various parts of the ceiling, they had to make haste.

Echoes bounced down the length of the tunnel, a scream, a wail, and a crunch. The alarm had been raised and even now he could hear the ring of steel and the clash of battle.

How could someone have infiltrated this place? Impossible!

He and Brusk closed and opened the rock face entrance with their throttle hold over the spirits. Nobody could see the way in, let alone break in. It was inconceivable that anyone could force entry. Impossible.

We shall cut them down all the same!

His feet hammered the hard floor until they came to the tunnels end, rounding the final corner and stormed into the chamber, he with his chained totem in hand and the grunts with axes drawn. What he saw before him made his heart race.

impossible...

Two of the three braziers were unlit, rendering the whole room dark to the eyes. The prison entrance was open, the boulder strewn aside and the dark below revealed. Around the room were five bodies, Brusk, Vorg, two other grunts he did not recall that lacked arms and Teshka, her head some distance from her lifeless body. The blood surged in his chest, molten and hot with rage as his eyes landed on the one that had done this, the thing that had escaped.

It stepped out of a shadow on one side of the chamber, all dark and shrouded in its shape. The smell of death was in the air as it set its eyes on him, green and full of intent. In its hand it held a sword, a familiar sword.

that sword...

He growled, as realisation hit him like a thunderbolt to the mind. The Blademaster had escaped, and reclaimed what was his. But it would not avail him, oh no.

”Burn!” He roared, whirling one hand before directing the other in the direction of the Blademaster. The spirits screamed as he took a grasp on them, bending them to his will, forcing fire to form and throw itself from the totem as a bolt of molten magma. It propelled itself through the air, its intended target in its sights... only for that shadow to melt into its surroundings followed by an explosion of flame and rock on the far wall.

”Get him!” Mala’kal commanded, the two Kor’kron charged, their axes in hand ready to strike.

Just keep him still long enough...

The dark shaman changed his focus. His minds eyes moved it gaze, releasing the aspect of fire and taking air by the scruff of the neck. Lightning, yes. The two grunts confronted a shadow at the far side of the cave, swinging their axes, blows being parried to the ring of steel as they danced with a shadow.

Expendable.

He focused, rotated the totem in his hand and thrust out the other. To the crack of thunder a silver beam of lightning burst forth and lashed toward the trio, the air hummed and vibrated with static as all was illuminated in blinding light.

It struck! Lashing the grunt on the left, he curled his hand to whip it right and catch the other two. Like an explosion of light it blasted the second grunt as the first hit the ground smoulder, dead.

”b-bu...” The last grunt fell over, the smell of burnt flesh was heavy in the air. But the third body was nowhere to be seen. He had not struck his intended target.

Coward!

Marching to the centre of the room he bent all his will to the suppression of the elements, tightening his grip under their squirming, screaming protest. When he was satisfied they were in his control he raised both hands and commanded without mercy...

”Burn him! Strike him down until nothing but ash is left!” Lightning struck outward from his hands, bolts of flame and frost burst forth in all directions. The earth shuddered in anger and fear. The chamber became a light show of power as explosions and juts of earth rose then fell.

”Mala’kal...” Echoed a voice around him, shadows running and spinning across the walls. He was everywhere, anywhere at once. One moment he spotted his shape, the next it was gone no sooner than he could deliver a strike of elemental fury.

”...Mala’kal” it taunted again. Close this time, so he rounded and fired off beams of lightning at the far wall.

”Stay still dam you! Coward! I will kill you! just like I did those trolls!” he roared, his temper long lost as he ruthlessly pummelled the elements into doing his bidding, each blow harder than the last.

The taunting was infuriating, each time he thought he had him he disappeared in a dance of shadows, the air filled with static and heat. His brow soaked with sweat, turning and twisting this way and that, hoping to strike a blow. He listened between bolts, between thunder and explosions.

Is he there, is he there... there!

”Fath-...”

He rounded, lightning leaving his shaking fingers before he could even register what his target was. Shards and veins of lightning surged and danced, striking flesh and bowling the victim to the hard stone wall, back first. As the lightning ended, and the body slumped, sliding down, he realised...

Varanak.

The young Orc had been struck in the side, it was not a killing blow, but certainly mortal. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air as smoke rose from his charred body, blood seeped from the wound as he lay gasping for air.

”S-son...?”

[Okiba]

”All wars have their unfortunate victims, nobody comes away unscathed from conflict.”

Darkness: Chapter 22 â€" Victim

He tip toed to the edge of the tunnel, the sounds of thunder and the roar of his father’s anger echoed out from the chamber beyond. He had felt the shake of the earth, heard the sound of the storm within. There was a battle, and he had to see.

Father will win. He always wins. He has to win. Whoever it is.

It was only his thirteenth year but he knew two things for certain. Dark shamans are powerful, and as long as he was with his father he would be safe.

Leaning forward he held his breath and peaked around the corner, the vivid dance of light and shadows was everywhere, especially so within.  And there he stood, his father, in all his glory. His heart swelled with pride seeing him unleash his full might.

He can never lose!

Lighting leapt from his fingers, fire spat from his palms. The earth at the edges of the chamber jutted and spiked as it tried to skewer a shadow that danced and ran across them, elusive and swift. He could not even begin to guess what it was, but it was certainly the focus of his wrath.

Get closer, maybe you can call to father, tell him where it is.

He crept forward, ducking behind a boulder near the entrance. Peeking over it he narrowed his eyes, trying to focus upon that shadowy devil. He could not see it, fathers lightning was keeping it at bay, running and moving. It would not sit still long enough for him to deliver a blow.

Shadows whirled, as light made them dance and whirl. A wave of frost wailed over his head, another moment a bolt of lightning. He was safe behind the rock, but father didn’t know he was there.

Then he heard it, the skitter and patter of bare feet running on stone. The whirl of air as a body ran past him, behind the boulder. It had given him no heed and ran on, past...

Tell him!

He leapt up, pointing in the direction from whence it came, a shadow the size of an Orc with its back turned was strafing away with a sword in hand.

”Fath-“ Then it struck him, like an earthquake. He flew backwards as his eyes were blinded with dazzling light, and his body overwhelmed with agony. His back propelled backwards his back struck the wall, but the pain of impact paled to that in his side, it burned as if a fire was within him, his muscles convulsing with energy.

Father?

”S-son...? came a whispered voice. His body limply slipped down the wall until it came to a halt, his body paralyzed. He could feel only agony, smell the burning of his own flesh and even see the smoke it created. His gaze shifted, he could see his father, totem in hand looking horror struck, overwhelmed by his misplaced attack.

”my son, m-my son... I-...” He stuttered, taking a step forward to come his aid but was cut short. A shadow came up to his back, and a limb struck down hard upon his neck. With a bewildered cough he stumbled while his totem fell from his limp hand, then fell forward on his chest, unconscious.

N-no... he can’t...

Pain jolted up his side, down his leg. The burns burned, the pain was intolerable, his lungs felt as if they flooded with blood. He began to cough crimson, averting his eyes from his father defeat.

Tears weld in his eyes. He didn’t have the warrior resolve of the others, he was just a child at heart still. He didn’t want to die, he didn’t want to see his father die. Ragged gasps of pain and sadness escaped him...

”what is your name, youngling?” whispered a voice. It was hoarse, as if dry, slow with exhaustion. But also sad with regret.

Varanak turned his gaze again, the pain almost forbidding him . Above him hovered that shadow, shrouded and grey. All but the eyes, they were green, narrowed but not in wrath.

please... please...

”Mercy... please... mercy...” he uttered, pleading.

The shadow tilted its head, looking him up and down, sniffing the air and its flesh charred scent. It nodded.

”Mercy.” it answered.

Before he could react or even consider, it whipped around his right hand and plunged a pointed edge downward. He gasped, all the air in his lungs froze as bone crunched around it. The shadow had slipped his sword clean through his chest. His heart pressed against the flat cold surface, its beats slowing to that final point...

Mercy...

[Okiba]

”Dawn heralds the birth of a new day, the return of An’she and the hope he brings.” â€" Sunwalker Redhorn

Darkness: Chapter 23 â€" Dawn

He dragged his left foot. It was twisted, only adrenaline had kept him running when he had fought, only sheer willpower. The tunnel had been long, winding for what felt like miles before it came to a mouth, and already the glow of light was hurting him. His eyes burned, throbbed with agony as they adjusted to the brightness of the braziers within, but this was a more deep seated pain.

Tolerate it, you are nearly there.

The smells and scents of still water, of tree’s and life wafted up the tunnel to his nostrils.  When at last he came to the end, his heart stopped. The way was blocked.

No...!

The end of the tunnel was wide, but a sheet of solid earth barred his way, all but for the small of holes, Likely for air. He staggered up, raised a hand and hammered upon it, pleading with it in silence, his teeth clenching in anger.

All this way for nothing...

The earth shuck, the grinding of sound heralded movement, the air whispered and the stone lowered. The elements had granted him this one gift as thanks, and he would not forget it.

”Thank you, spirits... He uttered, talking to nobody, himself and everything around. As the wall of stone finally ceased and the door was opened he was met with a cold rush of air, chilling him to the bone. What lay beyond felt to his eyes as daylight, but he knew it to be night.

Freedom.

Beyond was the croak and hum of a swamp, one he felt to be Dustwallow. To his back were the southern mountains that led to thousand needles.

So, they didn’t drag me far at all.

He grunted, taking tender steps forward to seat himself on a fallen log. His left ankle pained him, deeply. The surges of fiery hot agony bolted up his leg each time he placed his weight upon it.  The eventual journey to Mudsprocket would be fraught with problems. Taking a firm grip of his sword, now returned to his scabbard he made himself comfortable, running a hand around its hilt.

It had not hit him just how much he had missed it since it had all begun. He had become too reliant on a piece of metal to do his work for him, it had become everything. It was too much of a roll in his life for an inanimate object.

Ashlan would laugh at that. A Blademaster’s weakness being his sword...

Lifting his gaze to the east he narrowed his eyes. The colour of the horizon was changing, its hues shifting from black to a haze of deep then royal blue. Clouds revealed themselves, escaping from nights shadow. He knew what was coming, and how it was hurt him.

Dawn.

Despite his trepidation, he sat there unmoving. He would weather it come what may. The distance shimmered and changed, blue became light yellows as his eyes struggled to keep pace with the escalating assault upon them. The sky above was red as it retreated, fleeing from what was about to arrive.

The sun.

The first ray was agony, hitting his eyes like a bolt of fire to the mind. Then the tip of that circle peaked over the distant horizon, causing him to raise a weary arm to shield his view. Pain shot up his left shoulder as he struggled to keep balance upon his uneasy seat.

Though it intensified as that orbs light bounced from every surface, reflected upon the water and the glare increased, he withstood it. The heat on his skin was a burning caress that he let wash over him, embracing the pain. He had missed it, oh spirits how he had missed it.

Too long have I walked in the dark. Too long.

As the sun began its inevitable rise, now free of the tip of the world, he returned his gaze to the cave mouth he had emerged from, where it all had happened. He narrows those eyes, considering.

Wrongs must be righted...

And so he rose, limping back to the tunnel...

[Okiba]

”swallow your hate, revenge is not as fire, but cold and patient as ice.”

Darkness: Chapter 24 â€" Vindication

The heat was suffocating, stifling. His body beaded with sweat while he writhed in his iron bonds. The shackles chafed and ate at his ankles at his wrists. All he could do was suffer, and wail in maddening torment. The bag, this thick cloth sack he had been thrown into bounced and thrashed wildly. He had guessed his captor had thrown him over some mount. They were travelling, and somewhere hot.

”Let me-... let me out of here! Let me out!” Mala’kal roared, his voice hoarse from his continual ranting and commanding. But his words were always met with silence.

I will rip his heart from his chest! Flay the hide from his back

Though it would have to be only that. He no longer had his totem, the spirits he had once ensnared where silent to him, beyond his power. Brute force would have to suffice.

Despite his anger ruling his mind, he felt the bouncing stop, then heard the satisfied grunt of an Orc. A saddle shifted, someone dismounting, probably him.

We are here, at last...

He was grabbed in his sack firmly, dragged and dropped with unkind hands, though the earth was not solid, it felt loose and mouldable.

Just you wait you bast-...

A sword edge plunged through the sack, sliding past his eyes... then dragged its way down, opening the sack and allowing light to burst in, dazing him with its intense strength and heat. He thrashed, shaking himself loose to sit on his knees, perched upon sand. He was in the desert.

What is this dog up to!?

His threw his gaze around, to find the one who had subdued him, the one who had escaped. He was stood by a great blue raptor mount, sword in one hand, a skin of water in the other. Though the arm holding the skin was in a sling, he had no doubt that his enemy only needed one working arm to end him.

All around was sand, from one horizon to the next. No landmarks in sight, only sand and blue sky. He snarled...

”why have you brought me here dog... Why!?”

The Orc tilted its head. Where once there was a short trimmed beard and s shaved head, was long a dirty crazed bush of hairs from neck to scalp, drenched in gore and filth. Clad only in simple rags he narrowed his eyes, those had not changed. Emerald, piercing, full of defiance.

”you are here, to answer one last question...”

Mala’kal sneered, flashing his fangs. The Blademaster had already beaten him for information, demanding to know of other Kor’kron, other dark shaman, what the explosives were for...

”I already told you everything, everything you wanted to know!” He barked, spitting at the other Orcs bare feet. What more could he possibly want!?

”The one who gave you the Dynamite. The one who told you to imprison me. What was his name?” The Blademaster asked, almost politely but Mala’kal could feel the ice cold venom in the words.

Vileclaw will destroy him...

”In return, before I abandon you here, I will give you a small mercy.” he continued, holding up the skin and shaking it. The sound of liquids washing about caught his ears.

Water...

“Vileclaw. His name is Vileclaw.” he answered, with no little degree of bile in his throat, contempt clear in his tone. But water was water, and here if he had any hope of surviving he’d need it.

The Blademaster scoffed, and threw the skin to his knees, sliding across the sand. Manically he grabbed it with both hands, grasping desperately to un-cork it with a pop. Throwing back his head he poured the contents into his mouth.

Sweet reliefâ€"what is this!?

He quickly found his tongue curling in revulsion, his cheeks burning with disgust and then he cough, spat and choked the liquid back out. Setting his eyes on the sand, his spittle was black, jet black, oil.

”Blah! What are you doing Orc, what kind of Mercy is this!?” He coughed, spitting the vile, wretch worthy substance out then dropping the skin so its black contents could seep into the sand.

The Blademaster snorted. Raising a hand to point behind Mala’kal. He turned, fixing his eyes on the distant horizon, to see a wall. Not a wall of stone, or iron, warriors or water, but of sand. From ground to vast heights it rose, a shivering, swirling wall from vast miles to the right to the great beyond on his left. A sand storm was building, but sitting still in place.

”Mercy from them. Dark shaman.” at last came the reply, Mala’kal let the air escape his mouth, but he could not speak, trying to take in the enormity of what was before him. A raging whirlwind spawned of earth and air. He shuddered.

”you see, in your lust for power you made enemies far more powerful than I. And without your totem, you are nothing to them. And they want revenge.” he continued, calmly but with a degree of satisfaction. Mala’kal sagged, horror struck that this thing was coming for him.

”When I leave, they will wash over you. The sand will rip the skin from your bone, blind your eyes and fill your lungs. You will die here, shredded by the elements that you once enslaved against their will.”.

No... no, no no...

The Blademaster turned, and remounted the raptor, pulling on the reigns so it circled around with a chirp and reptilian hiss.

”The oil, was for if you chose the coward’s way out and wanted to take your own life.”

“you can’t do this... you can’t! What about honour!? You’re a Blademaster! You have to show honour!” he begged, whirling on his knees as he dragged himself toward his foe on his hands on knees.

”Do not dare speak to me of honour, Mala’kal. I vowed I would kill you for what you did. But your judgement is not up to me. I sentence you to nothing, nothing but what you brought upon yourself. Reap what you have sewn dark shaman...” He whipped the reigns and spurred the raptor, its two powerful legs breaking into a rapid run so it darted across the sand and along the dunes.

Bastard, coward! Bastard! Please!

”you can’t! You Can’t do this to me! You can’t!” he roared, screaming until his voice was hoarse and throat sore, the Blademaster disappearing in the distance as his silhouette turned from a shape, to a dot, then nothing.

Mala’kal turned, his eyes running up and down the length of the vast wall of hate that was arrayed before him. With a gust of wind, it surged. It began to roll forward with frightening pace, an ear deafening rumble drowned out his thoughts. He could not out-run it, he could not hide from it. Fear washed over him until the only thing he felt was terror, binding him to the spot.

No...

Then his eyes moved, without him willing them to, settling upon that skin of oil that had half drowned the sand...

The End

[Groshnok]

An extremely satisfying ending to the best story I've ever read on this site.

[Nograx]

Sooo... woke up this morning, started to read from the start and I am now finished.

Only thing I can say is: Awesometesticulardelicious.

Enjoyed the read immensely. Especially the last parts, which where a lot faster paced, made for a great read.

[Sadok]

Simply awestruck. Amazing story in scope and execution.

[Therak]

That's alot of story written, I love it.
So now Krogon gets exiled for killing cubs?

[Gashuk]

Absolutely quality writing, enjoyed every chapter immensely.

[Rargnasha]

I may or may not have spent the entire night with this story. I will not apologise for anything done while I've read it.

Also, -damned- good read Krogs.

[Okiba]

aww, thank you all. Glad everyone has enjoyed it

[Okiba]

There was a chapter here, the epilogue. But it felt at odds with the rest of the story.

So I removed it, killed it, forgot it.

What ya gonna do?

[Rashka]

*Eyes is glued to the screen.* Great story.. *licks lips..* Want moooore!

[Okiba]

Although this story is a few months old now, I thought I'd drag it up one last time and thank everyone for the nice comments and feedback!

1700 reads is no small achievement and I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed frantically kicking out two dozen chapters...

...never again!

Anyway, new story's on the horizon! keep filling this forum Orcs!