Fate of the Empires

I hate carriages. I hate roads. I hate Athusia and all of its technological luxuries. I miss the lush jungles of Orrock. I miss my village in the forest of Ollehll. I miss my mate, Sharlleana, and our two offspring. I’m proud to say they are both males of our species! They are still young, but I can tell they will make fine warriors. I do miss them, but Orrocks, as we are called by the humans, do not shed tears for those we miss and wish to remember. We instead shed blood. Our own. The day I left Orrock I cut three gashes into my chest so that the scars would remind me of those I left behind. The blade was dipped in a special poison made from the rare xellios plant, native only to my old home. The poison counters an Orrock’s ability to regenerate so that a scar may form. The marks of my family will be with me until the day I die in battle.

I’m annoyed that I’ve had to share a small wooden box on wheels with three humans for the past two days. Taking in their human stink. Having to wrap my tail around my waist like a belt so that I can sit like one of them. Wondering if I should eat the mage and say he just wandered off somewhere. He is a brave one, but his overconfidence will be his undoing. The female is a holy warrior of some kind and has my undying respect, but I think I still make her uncomfortable. I’m used to that. It is both a gift and a burden.

The one I have the most in common with is the half-breed. I had only been in Athusia for a couple of human-months when I was recruited by Ethan, but the fact that this spy has Densetsun blood makes him more a foreigner in this war than even myself. Even though he has grown up in this land he does not seem fit to be called an Athusian. Maybe that’s a good thing.

We are almost to the port of Lindara. I have spent most of the journey looking out the carriage windows at the vast stretches of untouched, uncorrupted land that lie between enormous cities where humans abuse the resources that nature has given them. I can see the stone walls of Lindara in the distance and it is no exception. Beyond the walls an enormous statue of the goddess Lindara can be seen for miles. The statue faces the sea so that Lindara may keep watch over those that journey out upon the water. Surrounding the goddess I see the tops of large buildings, probably of a central market place. It is a shame to see the goddess’ image enclosed by such confining monstrosities. I don’t think Lindara would approve.

“Finally, civilization again,” Magnus says as he looks towards the approaching city, “Not that it hasn’t been fun sharing the silence for the past couple of days, but I am looking forward to a hot meal and something sweet to drink.”

The break in the quiet is startling. I’m not sure if it’s more shocking that someone finally spoke or that the person to do so was the mage. Leaia and Jun look from face to face, seeming almost confused. “I could use a hot meal as well,” Jun finally speaks up, “I can never get used to dried rations.”

Leaia smiles at Jun’s words. “You should have said something,” she says with a smirk, “I could’ve conjured up something more palatable.”

“I wouldn’t want to you to use your magic on my account,” Jun replies, “I’ve had worse than dehydrated meats and stale bread.”

“I always thought the life of a spy was spent in the lap of luxury pretending to be other people,” the mage chimes in with his sarcastic wit.

“I wish that were so,” Jun stares off outside the carriage, “I’ve heard stories of life at Draz’zt Tharr and believe me when I say I’ve seen hells that make your tower look like a pleasure palace.”

Such darkness. There is a sadness that lingers with this half-breed. Rarely does he smile or laugh like the other humans and when he does there is something artificial about it as though he’s just doing it to fit in. He keeps his pain bottled inside, but I can see through his relaxed demeanor. I carry enough of my own pain to recognize it in another. What secret haunts this silent warrior?

“My sincerest apologies,” Magnus surprises the rest of us, “I had no idea about the trials of your trade. I judged you too quickly. I’m sorry.”

Have I judged this cocky magic-user too quickly? His words seem honest enough. Maybe a little too honest. Humans usually have tells that give away when they’re lying. Pauses in their speech. Avoiding eye contact. A rise in their heart rate or breathing. I can’t sense anything with Magnus. If he is false he is very good. I will give this mystic the benefit of the doubt for now, but I know he has been plotting since I first smelled him.

“It’s alright,” Jun breaks his distant gaze, “I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about what I do. I have lost many brothers-in-arms gathering information for the crown. It is a thankless job with little reward.”

“Then why do it?” I ask.

“Ethan is like a father to me,” Jun shifts in his seat, “And I will do anything to honor him.”

“Your sense of honor must come from Densetsu,” my words anger the mage.

“What is that supposed to mean, lizard?!” Magnus practically jumps out of the carriage.

“Athusians do not hold honor in high regard,” I growl.

“I honor my masters every day!”

“You obey them, there is a difference,” Leaia throws herself in the line of fire.

“What is the difference then, oh wise one?” Magnus faces Leaia.

“Honoring is out of respect,” Leaia doesn’t shy away the sorcerer’s menacing stare, “You obey out of fear.”

Magnus looks as though he is going to respond, but stops before his mouth opens. He is some how stunned by her statement. After a moment of silence Magnus turns away from everyone and looks out the carriage window. The others share in the awkwardness of the situation. Do they feel bad for the mage?

Empathy. Such a strange quality. Back home one does not show signs of weakness for it is not understood or shared by your fellow warriors. Humans, however, seem to care about the flaws of others. They even try to put themselves in the other person’s place in an effort to “know how they feel.” Humans are very funny creatures.

We pass through the gates of Lindara with little trouble. I say little because I catch some very uneasy looks from the city guards. Were I in different company I might be killed on the spot just for being who I am. It seems if you look like a giant lizard humans assume you’re going to bite their heads off. Literally.

Torches and lanterns are lit along the city streets as the sun will soon pass below the ocean’s horizon. The local businesses begin to close up shop and the taverns become overwhelmed by sailors and dockworkers. We pass by the more reputable part of the city to get to our lodgings located in the slums near some rundown docks. The mage has a look of disgust on his face as he eyes our dilapidated inn. I guess he didn’t know we were keeping such a low profile.

The second floor of the two-story inn doesn’t sit quite right. It looks straight if I tilt my head slightly to the left, but then the first floor and the ground beneath that is crooked. If we are upstairs and it collapses we could fall to our deaths. On the other hand, if we were downstairs we would be crushed. I don’t want to be the first Orrock to be killed by a building. There’s no sport in it. Maybe I’ll sleep outside.

It is well after dark by the time the others get settled in their rooms. I have set up bedding on the side of the building in some abandoned stables. It’s not that bad. The smell of the nearby sea on my tongue reminds me of home. A few small piles of hay will provide an adequate place to lay and most importantly…no humans.

Magnus is the first back out of the inn. He has changed his clothing. He wears a softer cloth and almost has the scent of a woman. I’ve never understood a human’s need to use perfumes and silks to attract the opposite of their species. On Orrock we choose a mate and battle them. If you defeat the one you choose she becomes your mate for life; if you lose you are humiliated. Choosing a mate is a long process back home. You want a good mate for strong offspring, but you don’t want her to be a better warrior than you are. Of course, if a strong female picks you out first, you might be in trouble.

“Good to be out of the carriage,” the mage stretches as he walks, “What do you say, Orrock?”

“I will not be welcome where you are going,” I express my concerns about going out to a tavern.

“Stay behind if you like,” the mage shoots me his overconfident smile.

Jun and Leaia both step out of the run down inn. They are both still in the same fashion as they were earlier. No fancy clothes or perfumes. “I’m not sure if this is a good idea,” Jun says.

“We have to eat, don’t we?” Magnus replies.

“I suppose,” Jun answers with a sigh.

“Then don’t worry so much,” the mage starts to walk away.

“Don’t forget we are on a mission,” Leaia scolds as she follows him.

Jun approaches me. “You don’t have to go with us, Draccus. I know how you feel about our society.”

“Is it your society or is it theirs?” I point to the cleric and the mage as they walk away.

Jun looks at them for a moment. Without a word he walks off after them. I think I hit a nerve. Not my intention, but then again I’ve never been good with humans. I should probably keep my eyes on these ones, whether I want to or not. I reluctantly grab my blade and follow them.

The sound of obnoxiously inebriated humans erupts from within the small one-story tavern. Some sort of wind instrument can be faintly heard over the revelry. The only thing to precede the noise is the smell of cheap ales being mixed with smoke from a variety of different pipe weeds. Lantern light pours out of the open doorway and dancing shadows can be seen through the windows.

Magnus grins widely. There is a slight bounce in his step as he saunters into the tavern. I fall in line behind Jun and Leaia hoping that the evening doesn’t end the way I expect it to. I don’t like to kill if I’m not in battle, but humans sometimes leave me no choice. Why does ale make a man think he can take on an Orrock twice his size? I will never understand human behavior.

The commotion dies and all eyes seem to fix on me as I step through the door. I knew this was a bad idea. A haze of smoke lingers in the musty air. The patrons of this establishment are a motley bunch made up mostly of lower-class dockworkers and whores. The minstrel in the corner practically chokes on his flute when he takes in our presence. The four of us do not belong here and it shows.

Without breaking stride Magnus walks right up to the bar. The portly barkeep spits into a wooden mug and wipes it out with his dingy apron. Sweat pours down the weathered face of the old tavern proprietor. He looks up at Magnus then to the rest of us paying special attention to me. The mage reaches into his robes. “I would like four plates of your best cuisine,” Magnus pulls out his closed purse.

“That kind ain’t allowed here,” the barkeep points at me.

Two large sailors start to stand up, but before they get very far two daggers fly through the air with blinding speed. The first dagger pins one sailor’s shirtsleeve to the table his arm was rested on while the other projectile strikes through his partner’s breeches pulling him back into his chair. Both men are shaken, but unharmed. Where did the knives come from? “There’s no need for that,” Jun pulls out a third dagger, “We just want to sit.”

“We don’t want over-sized lizards in here!” A dockworker shouts from one of the many crowded tables.

“Then we’ll just take our business elsewhere,” the mage pulls a gold coin out of his purse, “What a shame.”

Magnus flips the coin into the air. The barkeeps glare quickly shifts from me to the coin. He follows the gold with a lustful look in his eye and just as he is about to drool…the mage snatches the coin out of the air. “Well, we’d best be leaving your quaint little establishment,” Magnus puts the gold back into his purse.

“Wait!” the barkeep grabs the mage by the arm, “There’s uh…no need to be hasty. Stay as long as you like!”

“No, you were right,” Jun collects his daggers, “We should go. Our friend might eat some of your patrons and that wouldn’t be good for business.”

I can smell the fear in the room. They’re having fun with these drunkards. I don’t want to be left out. “I told you I wasn’t hungry,” I growl, “One will be sufficient.”

“Take one!” the barkeep really wants our gold, “Take two, just stay and eat ’till you’re full.”

“It is late and it has been a long ride,” Leaia joins in the fun.

“Yes, the lady knows what she’s talking about,” the barkeep pleads, “Stay! Eat! Drink!”

“What do you think, Draccus?” Jun turns towards me.

I am actually enjoying this. “We can stay,” I nod to Jun.

“Pay the man,” Jun looks to the mage.

Magnus tosses a gold coin to the old barkeep who practically shrieks with joy over it. He was willing to let me chew on his customers in order to get a single gold coin. Humans.

Jun and Leaia find an empty table in shaded corner of the room and sit. I follow them over keeping a close watch on the rest of the tavern. Magnus joins us at the table with a large mug of ale. “That went well, I think,” the mage grins.

I hate to admit that he’s right, but things could have gone much worse. We all played off each other and got what we wanted. Maybe this team of ours could work out after all.

Orrocks do not get to experience the euphoria that comes with drinking any concoction made from fermented barley. Our biology does not allow us to get sick, poisoned, or drunk by normal means. Only a few plants and herbs on Orrock can affect our immune systems. While I take great solace in this thought, I am still intrigued by the change that humans undergo from alcohol. Jun and Magnus, two men I could never see being friends, have formed a bond from drinking only a few pints. Even the priestess, who has had nothing, seems to take some delight in their drunken banter.

All three of them laugh and joke as they finish their meals of cooked chicken and boiled potatoes. I have not touched my plate. I take no delight in human food. There is, however, a common misconception about my kind. It is thought that we have a taste for human flesh. While this is great for intimidation it couldn’t be further from the truth. Back on Orrock our primary source of food are the kragglek. Kragglek are large winged insects capable of carrying off an Orrock in its third cycle of life. These gigantic pests are hunted down by groups of male warriors and cooked over a large pit fire. The taste is an acquired one that starts when you are in your first cycle, but by the time you are fully grown in the fourth cycle no other taste will do.

“Tell us more about Densetsu,” Leaia looks to Jun, “Have you ever actually been there?”

“Yes, I’ve been there,” Jun nods, “I’ve actually spent a great deal of time there. That’s how I’ve learned so much about its people and culture.”

“Is Densetsu really a country we should fear?” Magnus questions before downing his fourth mug of ale.

“In Densetsu war is not just a series of battles in pursuit of power and dominion,” Jun becomes very serious, “War is an art. It is a way of life. If there is a nation Athusia should fear, Densetsu is it.”

“What makes them so dangerous?” I ask.

“We are talking about a warrior people that spend their whole lives training to be the best. They are completely loyal to their lords. So much that if a lord ordered a soldier to take his own life it would be done without question. They hold honor in the highest regard, but they can be ruthless in battle. They do not attack randomly. If they strike there is a purpose behind it.”

“It sounds as though you think very highly of them,” Magnus says.

“You have to respect people that take such pride in every aspect of their lives,” Jun takes a drink from his mug.

How could he feel the way he does when one of them raped his mother and burned his village? On Orrock the grudges and loyalties of the parents are handed down to the offspring. If a tribe did wrong to your family centuries ago the hatred is just as strong in the present as it was the day it happened. Humans tend to think that life isn’t long enough to hold a grudge forever, but the lifespan of an Orrock is about three times that of any human and we never forget. I would question this half-breed about his loyalties, but since I have seemingly offended him once this evening I will hold my tongue.

“It doesn’t sound like it will be easy to walk amongst them,” Leaia breaks a small piece of bread off the small loaf on her plate.

“It won’t be,” Jun says, “Especially considering where we come from. Having Draccus with us will help, though.”

“Why is that?” that caught my attention.

“Orrocks are revered as the mightiest of warriors by the Densetsun people,” Jun replies, “Hundreds of years ago a great battle was fought between Emperor Yoshiro Jinsei and an Orrock called Drekkir. The legend says the two warriors battled for five straight days with neither one besting the other. In the end the Emperor and Drekkir called the battle a draw and parted as friends. Ever since that day the Orrocks have been held with high regard.”

That is interesting. I remember the tale about Drekkir. Sadly, our kind saw his battle as a complete failure. Drekkir did not win the fight nor did he die in battle. To walk away was seen as cowardice and his family name has been branded ever since. Funny how the same event can make someone a hero in one world and a coward in another.

“So then it wasn’t just luck that Draccus was hired for this job,” the mage says with a slight sarcastic tone.

“That’s correct,” Jun answers.

“Fascinating,” Magnus stands up, “Well, as interested as I am in all of this I think I need to find another form of entertainment for the night.”

The drunken mage looks around the room until he spots two of the servant girls scrubbing the floor near the bar. “They’ll do nicely,” Magnus cracks his knuckles.

Magnus mutters some words under his breath. From what I could make out the language is foreign to me. Upon closing his lips the two servant girls look up from their tasks. Their eyes are fixed on him with a fanciful lust. The girls ignore their duties and make their way towards the unrighteous sorcerer. Magnus wraps his arms around the two young ladies. “I shall see you all in the morning,” Magnus turns to leave, “And don’t worry, I won’t be late!”

Magnus hastily exits the tavern with a girl on each arm. He has that bounce in his step once again and now I know why. Leaia looks plenty disgusted, but when it comes to the mage that seems to be her usual expression. “He’s going to put us in danger some day,” Leaia scowls.

“He’ll be fine,” Jun defends Magnus, “The man’s been locked in a tower for years with nothing but his training. I suspect anyone from the Tower of Draz’zt Tharr would go a little overboard with their first taste of life.”

“I’ve never thought about it like that,” Leaia lightens her tone, “Arusian clerics are expected to conduct themselves with discipline in or out of the temple. I should’ve known the same rules would not apply to a member of the Black Flame.”

“Are you not allowed to mate with the males of your species?” Leaia’s eyes widen immensely at my question.

“What?!” Leaia jumps up.

“You implied that you cannot act as the mage does,” there seems no end to my unintentional insults, “And since he is going off to mate with the females I assumed that you-“

“Well don’t assume!” Leaia’s face is flushed.

Without any further word Leaia storms out of the tavern. What could I have said to infuriate her so? Jun chokes down a laugh. He drinks the last of his ale. “You have a lot to learn about human women,” Jun smirks.

“Apparently,” I sigh.

“Hey, listen,” Jun straitens up, “About earlier, I didn’t mean to walk away from you like that.”

“There is no apology necessary.”

“But there is. My past is…well, it’s complicated. I know things, a lot of things that I shouldn’t and you just caught me off guard.”

“You are loner, like me. Why?”

“In my line of work you can’t let your guard down and you can’t get too close to anyone because you never know when you may have to turn on them.”

“You would betray a comrade?”

“If I was ordered to, but don’t worry…if I ever have to stab you in the back I’ll do it to your face.”

I like this human. “You are too noble to be Athusian.”

Jun shrugs off my comment. “So why are you a loner, Draccus?”

“I am a stranger in a strange land. How else should I be?”

“I suppose you’re right. It must be hard to trust any humans even the ones that have been ordered to work with you.”

“So far I trust two and one is sitting at this table.”

“I’ll guess Magnus is not the other.”

“I will defend you and the priestess until I am dead or we complete our mission.”

“I’m grateful you are with us, Draccus.”

Jun stands. He tosses a couple of silver coins on the tabletop. “I think it’s time to get some rest,” Jun yawns.

“Let us go,” I stand.

The room is still full of patrons, but all has gone quiet. The minstrel has been unconscious in the corner for last hour and many others have fallen asleep at their tables. The ones that are awake cautiously watch me as I near the door. Jun turns and addresses the room. “You’re all lucky my friend here ate one of our horses on the way over,” fear rolls across the room once more, “See you folks tomorrow.”

“Too bad we’re out of horses,” I add as I walk out the door.

It is either very late in the night or very early in the morning when the mage finally finishes torturing the servant girls he left the tavern with. I say torture because I could hear moans and screams all the way down in the stables. What do humans do when they mate?! The process is long, arduous, and painful from what I gather. These humans must have a higher pain tolerance than I thought. I prefer the Orrockian method of procreation, quick and violent.

The stench of human sweat from the inn mixes with the salty air of the ocean. Wait. There is another scent in the air. Finely sharpened steel. Recently polished. I grab my blade and look around. The scent is on the move!

I slowly circle around the inn taking in my surroundings as I move. The scent is above me. I look up at the backside of the inn. Nothing…no, wait. There is a slight shift in the shadows. Assassins. Killers without honor. They’ll slit your throat while you sleep so you never have a chance fight back. Not tonight!

I lock onto the scent and hurl my blade into the air. The satisfying sound of flesh being torn into is quickly followed by a short shriek of pain. The shadows on the building come alive as a body falls from the wall and two other darkly dressed figures leap at me. I see a glint of moonlight mirrored off of razor-sharp daggers as the two assassins dive towards me.

The two assassins hit the ground before their fallen comrade and strike at me with extreme precision. Two minor grazes. They’ll heal within minutes. I lash out with my tail and knock one of my attackers off his feet. I move for my blade, which is still stuck in the body of the third assassin. The other assassin’s attacks are quick, but predictable and I avoid him as I draw my sword from the corpse. I spin around to attack, but am met with a blade into my side as the assassin lands a successful blow. I push through and cleave the assassin’s arm off at the shoulder. Before he can let out any vocal response I separate his head from his shoulders. The masked head lands near the last assassin who is back on his feet. The assassin looks to his dead partners then to me. “Come on, coward,” I taunt, “Come to your doom!”

The assassin sheaths his blade and in the blink of an eye vanishes into the shadows. I pick no further trace of his scent, which leads me to believe he has gone, but why were they here in the first place?

I search the bodies in hopes of finding some clues; unfortunately besides their well-crafted knives there are no possessions. Each man has a tattoo on the left wrist. It is of two blades crossing. It is no doubt the mark of some guild. It may seem foolish to place a mark on an assassin, but many guilds do this to distinguish their members. Being part of a guild assures work, protection, and a number of services that might otherwise be unavailable.

Why would assassins be sent after us? There is very little chance that they had the wrong inn. Maybe the spy can shed some light on this. I grab one of the bodies with the intention of moving it to the stables. Something’s wrong. The body is warm. Too warm. I let go as the body begins to incinerate. The other body is aflame as well. Within seconds there is only ash and charred steel left of my evidence. “Djaresh!” I curse in my own tongue.

“What is going on down here?” a naked mage appears around the corner covering his nethers with his spellbook.

A fully clothed and armed Jun, rounds the corner right after Magnus. Jun scans the area. “We heard fighting,” Jun slowly approaches me.

“I interrupted the plans of some assassins,” I clean the blood off my blade.

Jun sifts through the ashes on the ground with one of his daggers. He looks troubled. “Something wrong?” I ask.

“No,” Jun examines the remnants of the assassins’ weapons.

“Did you kill them?” the mage directs his questions at me.

“I killed two, but there were three,” I reply.

“So where is the third?”

“He fled.”

“Well, you two seem to have everything under control,” Magnus stretches, “I’m going back to bed.”

Magnus rounds the corner to head back inside. “Where is the priestess?” I ask Jun as he stands.

“She turned back once she saw Magnus with no clothing.”

“Do you make anything of the ashes?”

“It’s standard for assassins to have an incantation put on them that destroys their body if they are killed.”

“Smart.”

“You said the third one fled?”

“It was like he just disappeared into the darkness.”

Jun’s troubled look deepens. He sheaths his blade. “We should get back inside,” Jun looks over his shoulder as though he were being watched.

“I will remain outside.”

“It will be safer indoors.”

“If I had not been out here in the first place we might all be dead now.”

“Fair enough, but if there is any more danger wake the rest of us.”

“If there is time I will.”

I escort Jun back to the front of the inn. He goes back inside and I make my way back to the stables. I believe Jun knows more about the assassins than he lets on. I don’t know why he would hide anything, especially if it could place us all in jeopardy. I will still follow him, but he’d better not give me further reason to doubt him. Tonight I will sleep with one eye open and my blade close by.