Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (147 page)

He tried to slow the raging ball by creating drag upon the single line, but it only slowed slightly as it began to turn towards the right. Ahead was what appeared to be an impenetrable wall of trees, so Gnak did the only thing available to him.

Digging in his heels he pulled with all his might, leaning back with both hands, grasping the makeshift rein in a death grip. The ball careened to the right in an arc as his feet slowed, nearly turning back uphill as it spun against him as its anchor. Then, as the ball rose up to become beside him, he allowed it to again begin rolling down the hill, but this time he raced along at its side, a wicked grin on his face.

Less than a hundred yards ahead, a small pine stood alone at least a few dozen yards before the wall of trees. The larger trees around them created nearly a perfect trail, as if divine intervention had created this place for just this circumstance. Racing along beside the great ball, he smashed into it with his shoulder again and again, driving it further and further away from him, lining up on his target. One second he was running, the next… He wasn’t.

Sprinting down the mountainside at full speed, attached to a giant ball of wood and vine, Gnak brought his plan to fruition. Racing headlong, guiding the cage down, he watched as the small pine passed between them, the vine connecting them suddenly becoming taut, yanking upon his hands with unnatural force. Nearly torn from his feet, he swung around the tree, opposite of the large round cage. Instead of being smashed to pieces by the cage, which was precisely what he now envisioned happening, he barely missed the wooden monstrosity and instead was clotheslined by the opposite end of the vine.

With an audible snap his jaw was smashed closed, as the vine connected with his throat and his feet came out from under him. Over and over he summersaulted through the air backwards, around the tree, before hitting the ground with an
oomph
, rolling to a stop.

Dislocated shoulder? Check. Broken tooth? Check. Wrist beginning to swell from having been yanked and bent at an odd angle? Check. Gnak grinned from ear to ear. His plan had worked.

Sitting up, he inspected his injuries, pulling bits of moss, dirt, and leaves from the gash in his bicep. It still appeared to be the worst of the damage. Untwisting the vine from around his hand and wrist, he was sure to keep tension on it lest the ball begin rolling once more and drag him into the wall of trees below. Assured that his wrist would recover, he turned his attention to his finger. Though it had broken earlier, it wasn’t until now that it had twisted to an odd degree. Grasping it with his other hand, he pulled it straight again with a snapping sound that caused him to grimace. Nodding his approval as it appeared to be straight once more, he rose from the ground and dusted himself off.

Taking the second rein, he watched downhill as a shadow darted amongst the trees there. He debated leaving the bear and rolling cage behind to pursue the Orc that watched him from the shadows, but did not trust the tree to hold the weight of the bear over an extended time. As it was, it had become half uprooted from the blow he and the bear had given it. With no other option, he carefully untangled himself from the tree and again watched as nothing happened.

Clenching his jaw, not wanting to show the one that watched his frustration, he put back to ball once more and shoved, keeping a rein firmly in each hand. As before, the rolling mass of limbs gave way and over it flipped unevenly. This time Gnak was ready for it and trotted behind the thing, guiding it as best as he was able to the largest path between the trees he could see from his vantage. Occasionally setting his body against the motion, he would slow it to better control both speed and direction. His competition below vanished somewhere in the shadows, but Gnak kept his eyes peeled as best as he was able, preparing himself for an attack he knew was inevitable.

The sky was lighting dramatically as Gnak broke through the line of trees, the ball barely fitting between the massive trunks as he guided the massive thing. No sooner did he clear the row of trees than his opponent reappeared. Dropping down from the branches above the Orc, nearly as large as he, did the opposite of what Gnak expected. Instead of leaping right in for the attack, it sauntered along beside him a moment as he guided the ball, gradually slowing it down in case he needed to manage stopping it to fight.

“You want me help?” the Orc called out.

Gnak recognized the voice, though was uncertain of the Orc’s name. He was one of a pair of twins, neither known for their intelligence. Whether it was Kunk or Burl didn’t matter really, as he had no intentions of sharing his prize.

“We split great bear, have feast, be comrades,” the Orc shouted, keeping pace.

Then, Gnak saw the wisdom in the words from a usually unwise member of his clan. It
would
be easier to control the contraption with another handler. Why not share the labor? With a grunt he reached out his hand, and Kunk, or Burl, whichever one it was, took the left rein and helped to guide it further down the mountain.

For several hours the addition of a second body
was
a great asset. Controlling not only the speed but also the direction was much easier. Gnak was surprised how easy it was to work together to control the cage as they picked out a safe trail down the mountain. They saw no other Orcs along their decent, and if any others had seen them, they had not approached the apparent team.

After all, it was not uncommon for Orcs to create alliances in order to further their own causes. It was the reason they had clans consisting of many families. It was the reason separate clans came to the call of a single chief in times of war with other races. But usually, when it was no longer beneficial to all parties, such alliances would break up until deemed necessary once more. Such was the case, Gnak thought, of his current alliance.

Nearing the base of the mountains, the trees began to thin noticeably as the sun rose higher and higher into the sky. Pulling upon his rein tightly, Gnak began to drag upon the ball, altering its course to avoid a small ravine ahead. Of course it was not the only obstacle he noted. Suddenly letting go of his rein altogether, he shouted in dismay, as if it had been an accident. His temporary comrade fought with the cage as it began picking up speed, digging in his heels in an attempt to slow or stop the giant ball, but it was no use. Here the slope was too steep, the ball following a groove worn in the rocky soil by an eternity of rainfall down the mountainside. The great spherical cage followed the groove, dragging with it a now bouncing and rolling Orc to only one foreseeable location.

As the shallow groove in the earth narrowed ahead, it passed between a pair of trees. Gnak watched as the cage careened up one side of the shallow gorge, only to again alter course back into it. Down it went, Kunk or Burl crashing along behind it as it reached the breach between the two trees. Just as Gnak hoped, the ball passed between the trees, but the Orc passed outside the left tree. Like he had done earlier, the Orc was yanked hard, his body snapping like a whip, smashed full in the face by the cage as they met opposite the tree.

The impact was hard enough that it was apparent the Orc had become injured, its body bouncing back off the wooden surface to land in a heap upon its back. Gnak raced up to his fallen clan-mate and pounced upon him.
Share labor? Yes. Reward? No.
Viciously he plunged his sword into the back of his fallen temporary ally, penetrating between the ribs, through the heart and into the ground below. Jerking his blade free, he wiped it on the tattered leather armor of the fallen foe before rolling him over. Then, straddling the man’s chest, he smashed it in the face over and over with his pommel, breaking loose the teeth that would be his trophy. Pulling the tusks from the third destroyed mouth of the day, he dropped them into the pouch upon his belt and rose to again disentangle his cage from the tree. It was ruthless, he knew, but such knowledge was no burden on his soul. Remorse was not a trait he had learned. His people would be proud, and the clan would respect his kill. That was what mattered. To gain a position, you must first eliminate your competition, and then create a void in the position you wished to fill. It was simple, just, and fair. The strongest led while the weaker followed. Gnak wanted to lead.

With the rolling cage back under his control, he gave it a shove and once again followed as it picked up speed. This time he let it go as fast as was possible, and as soon as he had it on course he released the reins and simply chased the giant rolling cage of boughs. It would need a great deal of speed and momentum to carry it beyond the foothills and into the sands of the desert below. As it was, midday came as the ball rolled to a stop just a few paces into the sand. With a dozen or so miles left to traverse, Gnak took up the reins once more and pulling one up over each shoulder he grasped them against his chest and leaned forward, beginning to pull. Reluctantly the ball followed, half rolling, half dragging along through the sand, leaving a clear trail in Gnak’s wake.

Sweating after mere moments in the hot sun, his eyes burned in the bright light as the biting flies swarmed him. Slowly, ever so slowly, he dragged the beast along behind him, cursing the heat, the light, and the bear’s massive carcass. It was nightfall once again as he made it to the outskirts of his camp, covered in swollen lumps from the many bites he had suffered.

Comfortable darkness was reclaiming the land as Gnak dragged his kill into the camp, circumventing the short wall surrounding it. Those out and about gathered to witness his feat, his peers sneering, obviously outdone by his more ambitious prize. Pretending to keep to his task he peered around at the camp, taking in as much as he could while pulling his sword to begin cutting through the vines that lashed the cage together. Within the camp were the usual suspects. A bear here, a mountain lion there, each roasting upon a spit hung over a fire. A dire wolf was a great prize, and he saw two among the kills now roasting, but only one carcass within the camp was large enough in size to rival his own. At least from
this
vantage. From here, however, he could not tell just what the other large carcass belonged to.

Turning his attention back to the task at hand, he made a show of cutting the last vines as the boughs relaxed and opened up like a desert flower, spreading to show the ancient bear within. Many nodded in appreciation, a show of respect for the great beast and he the one who slayed it. Putting his sword to the bear’s belly, he sliced it from ribs down between its hind legs to its tail. Reaching within the great creature he pulled out guts and entrails, creating a pile of gruesome flesh in equal proportion to his own body. Once gutted, he set about the task of skinning the great beast with a crowd of onlookers. Most were his peers, the others to enter Catunga with him, but others were elders. These helped him to maneuver the carcass to better remove the hide and head.

When the gutting and skinning was compete, the hide and head were gathered by an Orc woman for tanning, where she would boil the brains and bush the putrid concoction onto the flesh to keep it from hardening or rotting. Gnak did not know her name. Did not care to, so long as she brought him back his hide when the work was complete.

The entrails were gathered by a male for use in crafting weapons and armor, before the giant skinned carcass was run through with a long iron rod and, with the help of his elders, Gnak and three others lifted the great bear and carried it to the center of the camp and placed it upon its supports. There it would be rotated for the remainder of the day, following night, and another day before being consumed by his clan.

It was the role of the strong to hunt, and he had proven to be very strong by providing a great meal for the feast. Such an accomplishment would serve him well at the conclusion of Catunga, for it would be factored into his ability to lead. With his kill roasting upon a spit, liquids already seeping from it to sizzle in the fire, Gnak turned to seek the shaman’s tent for herbs to pack the wound upon his arm with. It was then his eyes fell upon the other massive carcass that was at present being roasted like his own. Had it not been for the head upon the ground near the spit, he still would not have recognized it for what it was. At least not right away.

There upon the ground lay the severed head of a sand giant. Its giant eye had swiveled back into its head, revealing an orb of white crisscrossed with purple veins. Below the eye was a beak-like nose structure, and below that was a great round mouth filled with row after row of razor–sharp teeth. Upon its head were knobby spikes used for bashing, and even now it looked dangerous. It was small for a giant, probably not yet an adult among their kind, but it was a giant nonetheless. Giants were men, and so were thinking and reasoning creatures. They fought with weapons, even the young ones. His ancient bear was not the best prize among the kills this hunt. Not by a long shot. Though sand giants were smaller than their mountain cousins, they were near impossible to bring down alone. Gnak knew only one Orc besides himself that would dare try. Korx. Once again he had been thwarted by his lifetime rival.

Angered, Gnak stomped away from the roasting giant, ignoring the enticing scent of its steaming flesh. Across the camp he strode, yanking the flap aside as he stormed into the shaman’s tent. He had not expected to see what he found within, and it angered him further still. There in the tent sat Korx with the shaman, having his own wounds dressed. Gnak would have to wait his turn.

Turning upon his heel to leave, preferring to wait outside rather than look upon his enemy, he was prevented a clean retreat when the giant killer spoke,

“Gnak kill big bear. Korx kill giant,” Korx bragged.

“Gnak kill biggest bear. Korx kill smallest giant,” Gnak replied with a snort.

“Small giant better kill. Big bear no better. I win.”

“Giant much bone, bear much meat. More clan eat bear. I win,” Gnak replied, knowing the statement was not entirely true. Sure, a bear had more meat, but the giant was obviously the tougher target. Even so, he watched as Korx struggled to piece together a response.

“Bear easy, giant hard,” he finally managed.

Though the words barely created any meaning, Gnak understood them and knew them to be true. Even so, his was a proud kill. There were still two more stages to Catunga, a task and a fight to the death. It would be the task that set them apart. He would focus on the celebration and feast ahead, until his task was given. He still had time to eliminate some competition, though it was not allowed
in
the camp and as such he could not use this opportunity to kill Korx, though the thought brought a wicked grin to his lips.

“I come back after,” Gnak grunted, and strode back out of the tent feeling Korx’s eyes upon his back.

Gnak had returned to the shaman later that first night and had his arm wound cared for along with a few more minor injuries, but that had been a full day ago. Now the preparations had been completed and, as the sun shrank slowly over the horizon, Gnak could not help the anxiety building within him. He wanted to know his task. He needed to know it. The Catunga ceremony tasks were what really made a difference. Such tasks required intelligence, cunning, strength, and endurance. All of which Gnak had, but he still could not wait to know the details. Pacing inside his tent, not wanting the others to see his impatience and mistake it for weakness, he waited for darkness to come.

When it did come, it was announced by the pounding of great war drums, a sign that the ceremony was starting. Kneeling before the bone shrine within his tent he prayed to Gogoc, the god of battle, Burliq, the god of hate and rage, and Keeka, the goddess of health and endurance. The gods had never seen fit to answer his call, but even so, Gnak knew that not praying to them was taking a chance he would rather not. A rare few of his kind were blessed by the gods, receiving gifts of strength, speed, and power. He wanted such gifts for himself.

Rising once again, he dipped his fingers in a bowl of blood collected from the ancient bear’s head and delivered to him the day before, and splashed it upon the shrine respectfully. Then turning, he ducked through the flaps of his home, adorned with his tooth necklace that now held the six tusks of his traitorous clan-mates. Striding across the camp towards the constant booming of the drums, he watched ahead as his clan gathered for the ceremony.

Though the ceremony would last the whole of the night, he wore every bit of armor he owned. It was mostly oiled leather, but the joints contained bits of chain armor made by the humans who had wandered into their lands a few years previous, and he even owned steel bracers, though steel here was rare and usually used only for weapons. He imagined himself an impressive sight, and making his way to the center of the camp he was assured of his conclusion. Most of his peers, similarly prepared, wore only leather and bone. Gnak grunted at his success. The elders would surely take note that he was worthy to win the proud title of captain.

Approaching the huge fire pit that marked the center of camp, he located his peers who joined him in Catunga. Finding himself a seat among the ring of his peers, he kicked at them, making them create a wider space for him. Of course there had already been suitably sized spots for him, just not where he wanted. Within moments the remaining stragglers arrived and Gnak noted that their number had already dropped by nearly a quarter. The elders filled in behind the ring of those to do Catunga, and six females of their tribe took up positions between those seated at the fire.

He watched as the females began to sway to the thrumming of the drum, and the shaman dumped some strange leaves in the fire as blue smoke began to roil out of it. The females then started discarding their clothing, retrieving large woven fans to spread the smoke into the gathered ring of those facing Catunga. The nude females danced, an entrancing, sexual collection of movements that seemed altogether a natural part of their fanning of the smoke. The women swayed in the firelight, their dark flesh a medley of dancing yellow and red light as their dark shadows crept across the surface of those who sat surrounding them. Gnak could feel the effects of the smoke almost instantly. Breathing it, he could feel his body calm, the tension dissipating with every breath. He felt his mind opening, the many what ifs and questions fleeing him to make room for the words that were surely to come soon.

The motions of the swaying and dancing women seemed to become blurred, as if behind a haze of smoke, as the shaman added yet more leaves to the fire. The smoke changed color and still the nude women danced, their bodies enticing the crowd around them. Gnak tried to focus, but the haze would not let him. He turned his head to see if any of his peers were unaffected, but the motion nearly made him topple over, his balance all but lost. It were as if the world around him had become a dream, but still he tried to remain alert, to concentrate as the voice of their clan chief began to boom over the thunderous drums.

“We proud. Tribe of Gathos. We proud cause we strong,” the chief began.

Gnak tried to focus on his words and follow their sound to the source with his eyes, but now he swayed with the drums and dancers, and could not seem to stop. Closing his eyes he found some relief, but now the chief’s words punctuated by drums were all that seemed to exist. So he clung to them as the leader of his clan continued.

“We strong cause Catunga. Begin Catunga, make clan proud. Watch you go. Make proud you return. Make clan stronger still. No finish Catunga, no return camp. Weak make clan weak. Gathos have no weak. Gathos strong. Hear my words. You task three. First go find enemies. War coming. Great chief say it. Capture enemy and return,” the chief began to explain.

Gnak understood the chief’s meaning even with his head swirling. He did not hear the words so much as see them within his head. He saw the Gathos tribe, proud and strong, and watched as they struck down their old and infirm. He envisioned himself leaving the camp with few provisions, his sword and spear at the ready. Then as the vision swirled again he saw the visage of a great black castle before him. He had never seen the thing, only been told of it by elders when he was young. It lay to the north in the lands of the humans. It was his destiny. It was his Catunga. Proud, he listened as still the chief spoke.

Again his dream-like vision changed and he saw the great chief standing before the chiefs of all the Orc tribes. The great chief was blessed by the gods and stood double the size of his kin, commanding them into battle. Shaking his head, Gnak struggled to listen on.

“Three part is sacrifice enemy to god you choose. Ask god give power. Win power. Make Gathos more strong. More proud.”

The chief’s voice was lost, the drums beating louder and louder, faster and faster as Gnak’s heart began to race with the beat. The new smoke smelled spicy, burning his nostrils, but the fog began to clear. Before he could open his eyes, he again pictured the massive black castle. He had his task. Capture an enemy and bring it back for sacrifice to the gods. Most would likely visit the goblins and trolls, their nearest neighbors who they fought most often. But Gnak knew that was not where he was supposed to go. No, he would venture north, across the mountains into the land of the humans where he had never ventured before.

With sweat beading upon his forehead he opened his eyes, his heart racing as if he fought the ancient bear once again. The fog abated and with it the dizziness, and he rose as the dancing women ceased their rhythmic movements.

Looking up to the stars, Gnak calculated that more than half of the night had passed in what felt to him was only minutes. Shaking his head once more, he felt somewhat lethargic as his heart began to slow. His tribe began gathering around the spits of roasting meat, hacking and pulling hunks off the carcasses before biting into the fistfuls of flesh. He hoped a belly full of good meat would chase away the odd feeling inside him, and as such sought out the great bear he had killed. Many surrounded the spit, pulling and slicing, but at his approach they cleared a path for him. It was his kill. He could take what he wanted.

Pulling his sword, still stained from Orc and bear alike, he carved a strip of meat from the beast’s back, close to the spine. Taking a huge bite he gnashed his teeth loudly, grunting his approval as he waved to allow the others to begin anew. Most would stuff themselves in preparation for the journey to the lands of their enemies, but Gnak had a different approach entirely. Heading back to his tent, he gathered up what few supplies he could muster. Tossing the bone spook and knife into a leather hide, he gathered up bits of dried meat he kept for days where the hunt was scarce. It was meager, but would sustain him for a few days. Beyond that he would have to rely on game for food.

Bundling the small hide with a leather cord, he tied it to his belt before again kneeling before the shrine of the Orc gods. A few mumbled thoughts and a splash of blood later, and Gnak strode from his tent into the path that would lead him out of camp. Without veering he struck out on a comfortable jog, straight east out of town towards the nearest goblin neighbors. If any watched him go, let them think he was taking an easy route. Gnak grinned into the night. Cunning and intelligence would win him the title of captain.