After their encounter with the perilous Nu’uuk Sam and his party travelled in the company of the orcs until they reached the great citadel. The central part of the city was protected by a large canyon that encircled in, meaning that the only way to enter was across long wooden bridges. Most surprisingly, when Sam stared down into the dark abyss below he saw hundreds of wooden structures clinging to the walls of the canyon. There was a city beneath them as well.
They passed through a gate made from the bones of great animals – it was more of a scare tactic than anything else – and found themselves immersed in a city more civilised than expected; there were streets with roads and fences, shops, gardens, a town square, everything! The place emitted an earthly smell coupled with the heat of a nearby blacksmith or the savoury aroma of meat being cooked. “Absolutely spectacular!” Bayne cried. “Do the gods deceive me? I never thought I would find myself in Rrak Mel! There are so many secrets here that we humans have only ever scratched the surface.” He turned to Sam. “Sir, permission to travel freely. The orc’s unique methods of horticulture, medicine and all the like are invaluable!”
Sam denied him. “We have all been summoned by the king of all orcs – someone I don’t intend on pissing off – so we will see him first before roaming freely about his city, we are guests here, after all.”
The orc who had invited and escorted them to the city was named Ti’igren and was playfully considered the weaker warrior among the hunting parties due an incident that occurred over a century ago; one that he refused to discuss among his comrades. “We hunters have a rule,” Ti’igren explained. “Any creature that can surpass Sayetha is to be treated with respect and taken to King Bya’llegad.”
Sam had smiled at that. “Orcish names are always so creative,” he commended. “But, Sayetha?”
Ti’igren seemed concerned. “She did not tell you her name? She guards the outer walls and deters all with foul intentions. This is why you have our trust.”
“Excuse me,” Ashley asked, “but was Sayetha the giant tree spirit?” When Ti’igren nodded, they became remorseful. They had to explain to the orcs how Petra had burned Sayetha, and then how the waning spirit had granted them access in order to find and stop Petra before she reached the inner sanctum.
“This is ill news,” said Ti’igren to Sam. “The great hall is not far away. You must speak to King Bya’llegad at once.”
They travelled up the main street, gradually ascending stone steps as they approached the higher eastern end of the city. Every orc who laid eyes on them stopped what they were doing and stared in wonder. “Most of my people have not seen a human in over a century,” Ti’igren explained.
“Who was the last human to come here,” Ashley asked.
The orc lowered his voice. “An adventurer by the name of Donellan Baffie. He was a fine fellow and a good friend, though fortune did not favour him here, it’s something not to be spoken of in public.”
The king’s ‘palace’ – for lack of a better word – was a rather bland fortress of stone. It was expected that the king of the orcs would not be a colourful being however there lacked any sign of decoration or wealth at all; it was an empty room with a throne. King Bya’llegad’s explanation was that he rarely used his throne room, he did not like it, for he and his people were one. Ti’igren said to Sam, “He will want to speak to you and I alone. The others should wait outside. Bya’llegad is an understanding king however it would make a good impression if you understood our customs before meeting him. We don’t have much time so…”
“Just act tough,” Sam followed. “A friend of mine once told me that he gained the respect of an orc tribe by shooting a skull from the chief’s throne.”
Ti’igren laughed and heartily capped Sam on the shoulder. “Exactly! Perhaps we have the wrong impression of your people.”
Sam disagreed. Within the great stone chamber were three figures: King Bya’llegad, and two aged but elite orcish guards. The king was not what Sam expected. He wore no kingly garb nor a crown of any sort, he was shirtless and the skin of his muscly back was pale brown, thick as leather and riddled with scars. As he turned around his wooden leg clacked against the stone floor, as did his walking cane. The king’s face was battle-worn, a scar had closed his left eye, his silver hair fell in locks over his great shoulders, and his lips were full but always frowning. Sam – a little anxious – maintained eye-contact as the king spoke, “So you are the human that I have heard about. I figured one of you would stumble into my hall sooner or later. Tell me, ever since I sent my warriors into that desert to fend off those demons I have lost contact with all sources of information on the west, so what news is there?”
Sam was forced then to recall every detail regarding the war between Taelliwey and Surra, and how it was connected to Grey Skull and his mission of pursuing Petra Underbridge.
“This witch, Petra,” the king bellowed, “you say she is responsible for wounding Sayetha?” He paced heavily in front of his throne. “This is an act of war, boy, and it was committed by a human! If there were not already dire repercussions I would be readying my warriors in the name of vengeance!”
“Forgive my ignorance,” Sam said, quite sternly despite the fear that crawled down his spine, “but why is Sayetha so important?”
Ti’igren stepped forth. “If I may?” he asked, and the king nodded, so he went on. “Sayetha is a spirit who prevents invaders of all kinds from entering our great realm, and under normal circumstances this would only be common riff-raff from the west. Unfortunately, however, we currently have some problems…”
The king finished. “Did you really think that the decision to march our troops into your last war was unanimous? Many refused to fight, and now that the war is over they have taken up arms against the Bya’llegad clan. We are open to an attack and must muster our forces immediately.” He paused. “There are some who think you humans are responsible for wounding Sayetha; it would be wise if you left our city immediately. I give you Ti’igren – the weaker among my hunters – he will guide you to the inner sanctum. Kill the witch and return to me.”
On the steps outside the palace Sam was greeted by Ashley and the others. “That went better than I had expected,” he remarked.
Ti’igren placed his fingers of his mouth and was contemplating. “I agree. Something is wrong with Bya’llegad, he barely even threatened you.”
“I thought you said he was always like that,” said Sam.
The orc shook his head. “I didn’t want you to appear frightened when you approached him. I’ll have to speak to the others about this, but right now we have our orders. Follow me.”
Their hasty departure from the city left many uncertainties lingering in the minds of its inhabitants. Sam realised that the orcish people were frightened, and yet all the tales at home made them the fiercest and strongest monsters on earth. For two days Ti’igren led him on a clear path through the forest until the air became thicker and the ground damper. “There is a creature that lives on the edge of the swamp-lands, a fiend but a funny little thing, he will guide us to the inner sanctum. He is a simple creature but he’s lived a long time, and he knows the marshlands there better than most.”
Ashley was intrigued by the thought of the creature. Based on what she had seen in the forest she could not quite conjure an image of it in her head. “How do you know this creature?” she asked.
“We first met back when old Baffie was still around.”
“Donellan Baffie?”
“Yes. The old man was somewhat of a mentor of mine, he offered to teach me things and in return I agreed to assist him in his adventures further east, of course it did not go as we planned. Still, I accompanied him as far as the edge of the inner sanctum and that’s where I met Petyr the fiend.”
Bayne and Ti’igren prepared remedies to counteract any swamp-sickness as they neared the home of Petyr. The great orc prepared a mixture of mud and clay and rubbed it onto his skin. “The sun here can be daunting and the insects will suck you dry if you let them, so cover up.”
The group clung to the edge of the swamp, moving around the murky waters and doing their best to keep their feet dry. Eventually they found a large tree that stood on high roots that had formed into the shape of a dome, and someone or something had made it into a house. Turtle shells and catfish bones lay scattered around in the dirt near a large cooking pot, under which the coals were still smouldering. Ti’igren tapped against the wooden door of the tree-house and said, “Petyr, are you home?”
There came a stout reply, like that of a child. “No. Nobody is home. In fact, I just left, perhaps you will find me in some other part of the swamp. Now go away!”
“Come out, Petyr!” he persisted.
“If this is about that business with the chief’s daughter I say it was the Lurkers. The Lurkers, I tell you! I had nothing to do with it! I was…”
“Petyr,” he cut him off. “It’s Ti’igren. Come out, please!”
After a short pause the wooden door creaked open and two large beady eyes crawled out. Petyr was a little blue creature with large feet and long hands for such a small body, and he wore only a loin-cloth, but his grin was nervous and yet friendly, despite the fangs that protruded from his mouth.
“This is the fiend?” asked Sam. He was expecting something a little more threatening.
Petyr clearly took offense, and straightened his back and aimed his big eyes at Sam. “Fiend? Did you just call me a fiend? How dare you, sir! My name is Petyr the Imp and you, sir, are a funny-looking orc!” The imp inclined his head and murmured. “Though, you’re not quite orcs.” He stepped right up close to Sam – his stench was invasive – and he sniffed him and grabbed at his hands. “What are you, funny orc?”
Ti’igren placed a massive hand on the little one’s shoulder. “This is Sam and these are his companions. They are humans.”
“Humans?” said Petyr, turning away. “You mean those flimsy pale things, like Mr. Baffie’s folk?”
Ashley squinted at Sam. “Flimsy pale things?”
Sam shrugged in reply. He asked Petyr if he knew the way to the inner sanctum and the imp nodded and bobbed his large head. “The first time I found it by accident. I had gotten lost, you see, and I found myself close to being eaten by a big blue dragon! Instead of eating me she just asked me a question, and said that because I got it right she didn’t have to eat me at all. I was relieved and a little confused, but I was glad for both of us – Imps aren’t very good eating, we’re all bones we are.”
The pressed on through the swamp. Petyr talked noisily for days as he stamped through the swamp, occasionally stalking and pouncing on a water rat or a turtle, or excitedly devouring a flower that would send him into a jovial trance. Eventually the imp skipped his way into a patch of swamp that seemed no different to any other patch of swamp. He paused and listened to nothing but the chirping of insects, and then he clapped his hands and announced, “We’re here! Ladies and gentlemen, behold the pillars of Shi’larou, the gateway to the lost world!” He raised his bony little hands and the swamp began to tremble, the waters bubbled and steamed, and from the murky depths rose two spectacular stone towers.
When the spires had ascended to their ultimate height the waters continued to stir. A gust of wind swept over them carrying a whisper. “Who dares disturb my sleep?” it hissed angrily.
Petyr smiled and bowed in a goofy fashion. “My darling dearly beloved, it is I, Petyr the Imp!”
“Petyr?” said the voice. “Of all the impudent miserable creatures that had to stumble upon my doorstep and guess the answer to my riddle, it had to be you. Oh well, at least I have someone to talk to.” From the swirling muddy water arose a dragon. She was smaller than the other – Korasuun from the desert – however her body was narrower and her great eyes sleeker. Waiiga’s mighty scales had been painted with moss and other plant life from the swamp so that a small tree grew on the top of her surprisingly flat head. She seemed to smile at them, showing off her armoury of pointed yellow fangs and her venomous forked tongue. Her magical eyes buried themselves into Sam and his group and she began to laugh. “A hundred years without a peep from your kind, and now I see five of you in a matter of days.”
Sam found himself kneeling before the ancient being, though he didn’t know when he had decided to do so. “My name is Samuel.”
“I don’t care who you are,” the dragon snapped. “I only care that there are not more of you. Humans are quite delicious.” She licked her lips with her forked tongue. “To business then. I am going to ask you a question, he who answers it correctly may pass, but the rest of you must remain here, unless you care to be asked another question.”
Sam already knew the stakes. He would face Petra alone if he had to. He exchanged a look with Ashley and then said to Waiiga, “Ask your question. I am ready.”
The dragon chuckled merrily, slithered towards him and recited her riddle:
I am the beginning of eternity,
The end of time and space,
The beginning of every end,
And the end of every place.
“Hmm… What am I?” the dragon teased. “I’ll give you some time but your friends cannot help you.”
Sam calmly considered it for a moment and then smiled. “’E’, the answer is the letter ‘E’,” he said.
The dragon drew back. “So it is,” she hissed. “You’re just as cunning as the last girl who came through here. Congratulations, the way is open to you.” A magnificent spell came into play as the two swamp pillars filled up with light and a shimmering gateway opened between them.
Awe stopped him. Sam had to think twice about throwing himself into a world that he hardly understood, but in the end duty conquered fear and he began to walk forwards. A shadow manifested in his path. “Stop!” it called.
Sam was bemused. “Ariana?” He watched as the goddesses dark and slender form took shape and approached him. “What are you doing here?”
“My job.” The goddess of fate touched his cheek and smiled, un-phased by her teleportation. “Something rather unexpected has occurred – oh how I love the unforeseen! Let me be brief; you’ve come a long way to get here however a decision you make now could jeopardise this entire mission. You are needed elsewhere. Hazel Kisaani is going to die soon and you’re the only one who can stop it.”
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