Coda: In Which the Call is Heard

Coda: In Which the Call is Heard

The miracle stone was visible for limns in every direction, its incredible height rising as it did from nearly the center of the Bronze Reaches. The savanna had only occasional outcroppings of rock and small stands of stunted khora, nothing that would impede the view; the stone could be seen from nearly every part of the Reaches, even from the surrounding mountains if one had a decent spyglass. Razik had tested that himself. Even without one, the glowing crescent moon symbol of Virya marking its peak had become a landmark that could not be missed at night.

Now, most of a month after its appearance, the Moot sprawling around the base of the miracle stone had become nearly as impressive in size. It had been many years, close to a lifetime, since the tribes of the Bronze Reaches had drawn together like this, and their numbers had only swelled since the last Moot.

The Raptor Ridge tribe had come from one of the longest distances away, barely making it by the appointed day for the Chiefmoot; between that and their relatively small size, they had had to settle for a camp on the farthest outskirts of the Moot. While some tribes would have chafed at the lack of prestige, Razik and his people were pragmatists. The inconvenience of having to walk so far into the trading spaces was minor, and heavily outweighed by the advantages of being able to swiftly depart should this turn out as ugly as large gatherings of orcs tended to.

Its calm, though, Draghan commented, peering around as they walked. Razik grunted in agreement. Norr just stomped along in silence on his other side, never one to talk without good and specific reason.

Its calm! Akk squawked, leaning over to affectionately nip at Raziks ear. On his other shoulder, Ikk let out a set of cheerful whistles and nibbled at him from the left. Draghan gave the two parrots a long-suffering look, but said nothing. Hed long since given up fussing about his chieftains dignity.

In fact, their immediate surroundings were so tumultuous that Draghans soft words were barely audible, and even the piercing sound of Ikks whistling wouldnt travel far. They were walking past a fighting ring at that moment, clamoring with shouts, cheers, grunting, and the thud of fists against flesh. On their other side, a vendor at a meat stall was engaged in a shouting match with three potential customers who had firm opinions about his prices. Orcs stomped through the open spaces between tents and stalls that made impromptu streets, cursing and snarling or laughing and boasting. It was noise and chaos everywhere.

And nobody within the range of Raziks senses was bringing out a weapon, or going at anyone else hard enough to draw blood. For such a huge gathering of orcs, that was pretty calm. For such a mixture of orcs of every breed and tribe in the Bronze reaches, the sheer tranquility was incredible.

Greenskins intermixed with brownskins, a sea of flesh through which the towering gray bulk of ogres plodded here and there. Few of them, of course. Seeing them like this, so uncommon compared to their smaller brethren even over a century later, hammered home the scale of Satoshi Harascursed be his filthy soulgenocide. It was one thing to know ogres were rare, another to look at the contrast in numbers firsthand. All the tusked folk were here in numbers, even the pink skins and hairy pelts of those who were still excluded from some orcish gatherings and tribes. Despite Dark Lord Kroshkranths proclamation and the subsequent centuries of successful interbreeding, there were some interpretations of the Old Paths which stubbornly insisted that the pig and boar beastmen where not true orcs.

Yet here they all were, blending together. Not just every kind of orc, but every style of dress and body art, many decked out in full ceremonial regalia as this was the best chance in a generation for them to parade their glory. All mingling togetherwatching each other warily, of course, baring tusks and not infrequently exchanging blows. But it never escalated. They were, if not peaceful, at leastwaiting. A month ago, Razik would never have believed that such a thing could come to be in the Bronze Reaches.

That was before the miracle stone, of course.

Nearly as stable as our own camp, he grunted. Its good to see. Andimportant to know.

Draghan nodded, saying nothing. On Raziks right shoulder, Akk ruffled his feathers and croaked softly, but also kept his peace.

The three of them were examined in turn as they passed through the crowds. Fortunately they made an imposing enough trio that others made room without protest; the bulk of the credit for that, of course, went to Norr, who was huge even by the standards of ogres. That, and he was carrying the banner of the Raptor Ridge tribe, signifying a chieftains escort. Doubtless most assumed the banner to refer to Draghan, for all that Razik walked in the center of their little formation. The old shamans bare arms were no less muscled for his advanced age, and the traditional tattoos that marked him Blessed with Magic showed off the considerable number of spells he possessed. He could be a chieftain in most tribes, if he wanted.

In contrast, the looks directly Raziks way were either scornful or confused, which was just how he liked it. His baggy pants and the crimson bandanna knotted around his neck didnt exactly fit the image of an orcish chieftain, much less the two noisy parrots riding on his shoulders. His only body adornment was the cap on his left tuskwhich was gold, not something respectable like akornin or iron.

At any rate, they werent slowed by the crowd, and in fairly short order emerged from the throng of tents, stands, and other hasty structures which made up the Moot, as well as the crowds filling it. A space had been left, of course; the Moot was set up near the base of the miracle stone, not around or too close to it. At the very foot would be the chiefmoot, and this close it was clear that the circle had been settled around the firepit and was nearly filled, with the hosting tribes chieftains quarters set up practically against the base of the stone itself.

Ballsy move, that. Razik approved.

There was a space between the trading area and the line of guards protecting the chiefmoot; he took the time as they strode across it to examine the miracle stone from so close.

The height and proportions of the thing made it look slender from a distance. From here, he could tell that just one side of the perfectly square obelisk was wider than the walls of some forts that had not proved strong enough to repel his raiders. He couldnt even make out the top from this angle, only the pale glow of Viryas symbol from somewhere high above, casting a moon-like illumination over their surroundings as the afternoon faded into dusk.

He really was pushing the timing; the chiefmoot was to commence at sunset. Razik had made all haste to get here, and even so had not been sure just a few hours ago that he would make it.

A trio of guards moved to intercept them as they reached the boundary line, and he stopped before them, Draghan and Norr doing likewise. Since the Burned Plains tribe had called this Moot, all three were pigfolk, complete with pink hides, flat noses and beady little eyes, and a thick build that ran to fat even over what he knew would be as solid a core of muscle as any other orc. It spoke to the rising power of Burned Plains that so many orcs of so many tribes would answer their chieftains summons.

Then again, maybe that helped explain some of the peace in the Moot. If the traditionalists who wouldnt accept pigmen as orcs hadnt deigned to show up, that took care of one source of trouble.

I am Razik. He pounded his fist once against his left shoulder in the traditional salute. The Raptor Ridge tribe answers the call of Burned Plains.

One of the guards wrinkled his muzzle, showing off tusks as he eyed Razik up and down. You are a chieftain?

Sounds the drums! Sound the drums! Ikk squealed, bobbing up and down on his shoulder. Little bastard had the absolute worst timing, as always. That was why Razik loved him.

Norr thumped the butt of his towering bannerstaff into the earth, the impact hard enough they could all feel the tremor through their feet. Funny how others tended not to notice that the staff flying the banner of Raptor Ridge was an enormous khorodect spine thicker at its base than some peoples legs. After all, what was the point of having the biggest ogre anyone had ever seen as your bannerman if you werent going to flex a bit?

You disrespect my chieftain? Norr growled, his voice resembling distant thunder as much as the sound of someone speaking.

Of course Razik hadnt taken offense; it he wanted to be taken seriously at first glance, it would be as simple as not dressing like this. The Burned Plains guards looked up at Norr with no sign of unease, obviously. They wouldnt have been made honor guards if they could be spooked by the prospect of a swift, messy death. Then both men studied Draghan, who as usual stood in silence with his arms folded.

One of them nodded, then saluted Razik in reply, thumping his shoulder twice. Such warriors would not follow an unworthy man. The Burned Plains sees the Raptor Ridge; honor repaid for honor given. Come as friends and go as you will, chieftain Razik.

Both honor guards stepped aside, and the third approached between them. She was in full regalia, the cowl and shawl of a Black Priestess dangling with trophies and trinkets of her tribal allegiance.

There is peace at the chiefmoot, as much as there is peace anywhere, she intoned, holding out her hands. I am Korag the Bluefoot, a Black Priestess of the Burned Plains tribe. By my name and honor, I will keep your weapons held in respect till the chiefmoot ends, and return them to you unmarred, chieftain of Raptor Ridge.

He nodded and thumped his shouldertwice, to the visible surprise of both guardsand handed her his scimitar and wristclaw without hesitation.

Honor to your service, Viryas daughter.

She accepted his arms, handling them as reverently as if they were holy relics, as per the strength of her oath. Then all three of the guarding party moved aside.

Try not to embarrass the tribe, boy, Draghan grumbled, punching Raziks shoulder. For once.

Grow a thicker skin, old man, Razik retorted, shoving him.

The chieftain of the Burned Plains tribe had brought a slave with him to the chiefmoot: a dark elf woman. That was taking a risk. What New Paths raiders were prone to do with slaves was a major sore point for those who valued tradition. He wasnt the only one immediately suspicious; Gadna growled to himself and Zhav bared her tusks fully in displeasure, muscles bulging as she tensed her whole body as if preparing to spring. Razik held his peace, for now. The elf was attired as a tribeswoman in a functional leather dress that even had the usual thickened patches stitched in for light armor, which boded well. Had she been in the skimpy rags New Paths orcs tended to put on slaves they were abusing, Razik would have stood and walked out without another wordas, he suspected, would quite a few of the assembled chieftains, including those to either side of him.

Subterfuge was one thing, and diplomacy another. There were some sins, though, that were not to be tolerated.

Akk pecked the side of his head urgently.

Shes Blessed with Wisdom, his familiar hissed, while the mundane parrot Ikk covered the sound with his cheerful whistles. Shell see us.

Razik made himself breathe slowly and evenly. Well, it had to happen eventually; a familiar would know a familiar on sight, and they could all identify Blessings just by looking. Hed always known his cover would be blown the first time he came face to face with another Blessed with Wisdom, and had laid plans in advance to deal with it. Still, prepared or not, it was a blow. He had hoped to unlock a Wisdom perk that would enable his familiar to hide from others before it happened. Razik didnt know for certain that such a perk existed, but suspected so just because there were Wisdom perks for every conceivable purpose and event. He had deliberately not asked Akk about it, fearing that even knowing of its existence would prevent him from unlocking it.

He studied the dark elf slave closely, ignoring the chieftain hosting them for now. She seemed healthy, not underfed and with no visible injuries, and wasnt tied. The heavy bracers marking her enslaved status had tribal decorations; Razik didnt know the Burned Plains customs exactly, but that was usually a mark of high favor. He saw nothing with her that looked like a familiar. Most interestingly, she wore a blindfold. It didnt seem to prevent her from moving about smoothly, though. The woman walked as confidently as anyone with no visible guidance from the orc she accompanied, keeping pace and in her position behind him, and stopping when he stopped in front of the fire, the pair of them the focus of the chiefmoot.

Chieftains of the Bronze Reaches, the huge pigman orc greeted them in a deep, ringing voice, pounding his shoulder once in salute. You give honor to the Burned Plains by answering my summons. Honor shall be given to you in full. I am Aruvogg, chieftain.

Youd better not have brought us here to show off your little pet, Aruvogg, said one of the chieftains Razik didnt recognize, earning mutters of agreement and a few chuckles.

Did you blind that girl yourself? demanded another.

Aruvogg reached one hand unerringly to his side and backward, laying it with surprising gentleness on the elfs shoulder. The gesture emphasized the difference in their sizes; he could have crushed her head with a good squeeze. Razik decided he was almost certainly not abusing the woman. Shed never survive it.

My Zyrphen sees more than any of you, Aruvogg growled. Hers is the Blessing of Wisdom.

And at that signal, her familiar appeared. It had been hiding behind her, or perhaps invisiblethere was probably a Wisdom perk that did that, too. Orcs muttered as the small creature, a flying serpent with a mane like a lions, swirled around Zyrphens head, the firelight flashing golden across its glittering scales. The thing wasnt much bigger than Akk, really, but it knew how to leverage its long body and iridescent hide for maximum dramatic effect.

In part, you are here because of her, Aruvogg continued, looking directly at the chieftain who had chastised him, then pointed one meaty finger back at the enormous miracle stone blotting out the evening sky. And because of that. I have called you here to tell you what I know, because all the tribes should know it, so we can decide what we shall do. Zyrphen serves among the Black Priestesses of my tribe, aiding and aided by their arts. The Wisdom perks she has unlocked pertain to the mysteries of Virya, and those who walk her path. The night the miracle stone appeared, other miracles occurred on other islands, all across Ephemera. Some of you will have heard word of these.

I have, said Razik, echoed by agreement from a few other chieftains.

Aruvogg nodded his head once. The world is in a furor to discern the meaning of these eventsbut some are privileged to know. Certain Spirits who give answers. Certain Blessed with Wisdom who possess the proper, rare perks. On that night, my Zyrphen was granted a vision, and showed it to my tribe. Verified by my Black Priestesses and shamans. Be honored, chieftains. While the great nations of the archipelago scrabble for hints of the truth, our people alone shall know.

Enough suspense, growled the chieftain of the White Sands tribe, one of those Razik knew by sight. If we wanted to listen to a storyteller, there are better ones in the Moot. Out with it.

Rather than taking offense, Aruvogg grinned, baring his tusks in an expression of savage, triumphant vindication, and bellowed his answer.

The Dark Crusade has begun.

Everyone had more respect than to start yelling and carrying on in the middle of a chiefmoot, but the muttering at that was intense and came from nearly every orc present. Razik was one of the few who neither moved nor spoke. Zhav also refrained from grumbling, but she leaned forward, narrowing her eyes intently.

So you say, she interjected, her voice ringing over the rumbling and quelling it.

Aruvogg turned again, holding out one hand toward the slave, and spoke with surprising gentleness.

Come, girl, share the vision. As you did before.

Zyrphen stepped forward, approaching the bonfire, and only stopped when she was close enough that the heat of the flames would be uncomfortable even for an orc. Then, suddenly, she reached out and stuck her hand into the fire. Razik wasnt the only onlooker who reared back in surprise.

Shes fine, Akk muttered in his ear. This is a rare perk, but what shes showing us is legit.

The flames had changed shape when the dark elf touched them, rising upward in a spiraling column and then branching out, forming a picture in the air above the chiefmoot: a flickering sculpture of a vast khora forest, of the dense and healthy kind that was not found in the Bronze Reaches. Then, in a single great wash of fire, the illusory khora were wiped away.

The Dark Lord rises! Zyrphen cried, her voice projecting powerfully across the gathering. Razik noted its cadence, the intense delivery he had heard from shamans in the midst of deep trancesand charlatans whod learned how to mimic that. His rage burns an island from one coast to the next! His enemies are scoured away by cleansing fire! In Viryas name, he raises a banner of flame and perfidy against those who would rule him! War is declared upon Sanora and all her get! Behold his coming, and pay heed to his challenge!

The flames roared upward again, this time forming into the shape of a person. It was indistinct, being made of shifting fire; the face was too vague to be recognized, save that the figure was obviously human. The goddesses Champions were always human.

The burning man towering over them had his legs braced in a firm stance. He raised one hand to point at the distant horizon, and a voice deeper than thunder echoed over the entire Moot.

I AM BECOME DEATH, THE SHATTERER OF WORLDS.

Razik was, as he had boasted, not easily impressednor was he unfamiliar with trickery and the use of emotion to drive responses from an unwitting audience. Still, he felt it this time. The shiver that climbed up his spine was pure, ferocious euphoria, calling to the burning in every orcs blood.

Zyrphen staggered back from the fire, her familiar twining about her neck in sudden, desperate support. Aruvogg stepped in before she could collapse, catching her slender form in his enormous paws. The great chieftain picked up the slave as if she weighed nothing, stepped far enough from the bonfire that she would not be singed, and set her down upon the hardened earth with astonishing tenderness. The dark elf barely manage to sit upright once he withdrew his grasp, panting for breath.

Aruvogg released her and watched carefully, only stepping away once he was certain she was not about to pass out. Then he turned back to the assembled chieftains, again baring his tusks in a grin of orcish challenge.

And so you have heard it. The Dark Crusade comes again. Once more, the great game of the goddesses has begun. And once more, the age of the orcs will begin!

The Age of Destruction, Razik echoed, far more quietly.

Well, this was going to make a mess of all his plans. But on the upside, it definitely wouldnt be boring.