Two days later the Elysian army breaks through. The orcs had been putting up an aggressive defense but the sustained losses have finally taken their toll. Yet I am not surprised to hear the men chattering about what they discovered on the inside: the occupying force had been quite a bit smaller than the Elysians had though. I’d noticed that there had been no reinforcements or supply lines, which meant that the taking of Nodkis was either the result of a rogue army or meant as a diversionary tactic.
It takes a week to root out the last of the guerrillas in the woods surrounding Nodkis. Celebrations ensue.
I sit on the edges of this night’s revelry with a flagon of hot mead and a brooding demeanor. Reports are already coming in from the scouting platoons. The Orc Hordes have additional forces entrenched throughout the Buknar Valley and the mountain pass. They are being led by an Orc War Chief named Eygrik Grimjaw who has united the clans—something that only happens once a generation or two. When it does, it is only a matter of time before the Hordes move against a neighboring nation with intent to conquer. The triumph at Nodkis was not the end to the assault on Elysium—only the beginning. It is anyone’s guess to how long it will take to deliver a decisive blow to the orcs and then push out the remaining armies.
The idea of a protracted war is off-putting, to say the least. The factions involved further complicates my plan to relocate to the Orc Hordes and I am having to weigh other options. There is only one more country farther to the west before I will have lived in an unbroken chain of nations that stretches across the continent. Yet…
The west coast is home to Plor, a nation similar in size to Elysium but thousands of years older. It had been missionaries from Plor that had first come to these lands and discovered the Sacred Glen that is, today, at the heart of Ark Aegion and the Elysian pantheon.
The stories go that the pilgrims had set out to chart the world and spread their ways and beliefs to all its corners. Coming across the Sacred Glen, they marveled at its wonder and beauty. In their hubris they claimed the Glen and set to make it their own, yet it was not theirs to claim. A wrathful force, the aspect of Kurdu, swept down from the heavens and shredded the missionaries, save for one, leaving their bodies to feed the land they sought to conquer. A lone priestess was spared, having turned from her faith in the splendor of the Glen and now gave herself wholly to its purity. So overcome with rapture and conviction to this new essence, she was oblivious to the slaughter going on around her. Risha accepted the priestess into her substance and, with that blessing, an entity appeared before her. Ard Agdawn laid with her and she became the first High Priestess of Risha. She grew heavy with child and bore a son on the next full moon. By the following full moon, this son of Ard Agdawn grew to adulthood and reigned over the land. A god among men but a man among gods; divine but not immortal.
It is not merely a story as it is well-documented that, when mother or son perishes, a new High Priestess will bear Ard Agdawn’s seed again and a new son will rise.
Most gods don’t consort so closely with their followers and so demigods are exceptionally rare. The ruler of Elysium is, perhaps, the most well-known. Elysium makes no attempts to hide it. The current one, Non Agdawn, has been in power for twenty years, after the last High Priestess passed away. Ard Agdawn laid with a new priestess and Kurdu came for the previous son when Non became a man. Such was the law of the land.
Though I do not feel entirely welcome in Elysium, Plor is reported to be very unwelcoming to non-humans. Even though I am human, I do not hold any misgivings about how I will be viewed by such an orthodox people. I would be let in, at least, which is more than the Elves of Athvisvale would permit. Their forest nation borders both Elysium and Plor in the south. Though their culture espouses that Elvenkind spend a period of their long lives seeking wisdom throughout all the world, these wayfarers return to an insular society and closed borders.
While I consider my options, Ulsh wanders up and sits on the bench next to me. “I did not thank you yet.”
“Where will you go?” I ask. I am not truly curious, but his answers may reveal something of either his past or his character and I would like to know more of those things if I seek his aid to go to Kadraka.
He sighs a long, heavy sigh that is laden with unknown regrets. If such a mention of the future warrants this reaction, I can guess his thoughts have been similar to my own.
“I look like the enemy. Maybe here is not good anymore. The War Chief united the clans. All orcs will obey him. Can’t go there. Not sure. I like here, I guess. Did not like Kadraka. Always fighting there.”
It isn’t much, but his words paint the picture that he’d left the Hordelands of his own accord. He didn’t seem keen to return but, perhaps, he would feel better about it if it were the two of us together. In all of Nodkis, Ulsh is the person I dislike the least. Now he has given me the impression that he sees me as a friend of some sort. I do not have friends but it is good to know that I can exploit that feeling in him if I need to.
It is quiet between us for some time but it is inevitable that he reciprocate the question. I am prepared for it. “In the morning I will return to my shop and make my decision then.”
He nods and we share another long silence.
The Wordbearer Chronicles is a dark fantasy web series with new passages on Tuesdays.
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