The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) (41 page)

One of the overlords had wandered close to another series of webs, and after burning them down, realized that it masked an opening that wound around for many paces in two different directions. One was a dead end, they discovered, but the other ended in a great—seemingly hand-carved hall—of some type.

That particular area appeared to have been intentionally shaped by the hands of a sentient creature rather than formed by natural means. Several goblin miners had confirmed that fact. Grubb then ordered the goblins to further explore it as it might lead to warmer areas or perhaps even a food source which they could use rather than use up what little rations they had left. The soldiers, broken up into smaller contingents, soon discovered there were two distinct levels. After a lengthy exploration, it was revealed to have a prison on the lower level, where they unceremoniously dumped the acolytes.

Shaman Tukk’s spirits discerned that it was once a temple constructed in the worship of Thanatos, the demon lord. This was evidenced further by markings upon the walls and rooms, made by cultists who had inhabited the place, perhaps long ago. On the walls, there were crude carvings depicting Thanatos’s unholy symbol, which was a skull with a sword running through it top to bottom, to symbolize the vanquishing of a life. Most of Thanatos’s cultists were led by necromancers or warlocks—mages and priests offered direct links to Pandemonium—leading any and all down the road toward black magic, despair and eternal damnation. Some were even warriors who wanted nothing but to slaughter in his name.

They found undead forces scattered about in the caves. They were mindless, foul creatures with no intelligence but voracious appetites for flesh; various ghouls and zombies that wanted only to feed upon flesh.

Zombies and ghouls attacked Grubb’s forces out of the darkness, swiftly and mercilessly, searching for flesh upon which to feast. If several of them attacked at once, it was a struggle for the goblinoids to overcome them. The ghouls were the most evil of creatures—possessed of unnatural strength and speed, fanged and clawed, and driven by the sole purpose of feeding their insatiable appetites. They were like the zombies, only more ferocious.

Some of the undead were herded or lured into specific rooms, where the orcs could lock them in or otherwise bar their way out. Doors were spiked and marked so as to remain undisturbed. The rest were destroyed outright by the goblinoids. Several orcs and goblins were lost in the fights to secure the tunnels, but this needed to be done in order to keep a safe environment, since Grubb did not know how long they would need to remain. All he knew for sure was that the more they explored, the more they understood that the complex beneath them was seemingly boundless as they had not yet found its borders.

Barguth now entered the main chamber they used as their meeting room. Seeing the goblin riding in atop his worg drew Grubb’s focus back to the current situation. The orc overlords and Shaman Tukk were conferring with one another beside him as he eyed the little goblin, watching him closely as he approached.

“Barguth,” he called, in gruff and forceful tone, forcing Barguth’s attention on him. “What news do you have?”

Barguth dismounted from his worg and turned to face the commander. Grubb wore a suit of enchanted mail that he had ‘
acquired’
from one of his many victims.  It was light, but its chains seemed more powerful than most, turning away many a blade, or so Barguth had been told. The commander also owned a horned helm that he actually wore, but only when fighting. Over his enchanted armor, Grubb wore a tabard with the symbol of a crudely drawn bone crossing over an axe—the symbol of the Bonemasher clan. He was the only one who bore the symbol on his tabard as it represented a noteworthy position within his own tribe.

Some of the orcs also bore the symbol on their shields. Barguth’s own meager suit of armor was partially covered by a tabard, too, bearing a symbol of a bloody fang on it.

Grubb locked gazes with his deep golden eyes staring back at Barguth. They indicated an unusual intelligence for the savage orcs. Grubb had long, dark hair on his head and his skin was a mix between gray and green. That same dark hair was cropped in a tight goatee on his face and was scattered all about his hands and forearms, only visible where the mail armor did not cover. Grubb was certainly an impressive specimen and it was hard for Barguth to comprehend that Kelgarek was even larger than this one!

“Well?” Grubb asked, drawing the goblin’s focus to him once more.

“I have looked into the cells and the prisoners were not moving,” the goblin reported in his shrill, somewhat high-pitched voice. “I don’t know if they live,” he admitted, “but a torch burned within the cell.” Barguth shifted back and forth nervously as he awaited Commander Grubb’s response. He had hoped it would be favorable.

“A torch burns within the cell? How was it lit?”

“Apologies!” Barguth shrieked, backing away from Grubb as to avoid a strike. But, nothing came. ”What will the master have me do next?”

 “I thought I told you to
check
on the prisoners. If anything happens to them…,” Grubb warned, narrowing his eyes.  He drew in a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest.“I meant for you to make sure that at least one of them lives, Barguth.
Behind
the door!”

The smaller creature frowned, knowing he had made a mistake.

“Take Zodeban and Gob here to the prison entrance. Make sure that at least one of the prisoners is alive and post these two there until further notice,” Grubb ordered. Then he suddenly swooped down on Barguth and leaned in close.

“And if the prisoners are already dead, don’t bother returning,” Grubb snarled in a threatening whisper to the goblin, and then backed away from him, standing up straight once more. “I am wondering if there are others better suited to heed my commands.”

“I shall not fail you again,” Barguth offered in a hushed tone.

“Let us hope not.”

 The two orcs moved forward and saluted Barguth, not out of respect for him, but instead out of respect for their commander, Barguth knew. Most orcs felt that goblins were inferior to them in every way, especially with regards to martial prowess. That was mostly true. Barguth, however, was one of the best warriors that the Bloody Fang tribe had to offer and he could certainly handle himself in combat. And the fact that Grubb often used Barguth over some of his own orcs was all the more reason the orc soldiers did not like him.

“Aye,” replied Barguth finally as he saluted the commander. “Your word is my will.”

Barguth handled the hilt of his magical dagger as a not-so subtle warning to the two orc soldiers as he spoke. Gob and Zodeban glanced at one another and chuckled loudly as they made their way from both the room and the tiny goblin.

Barguth mounted his worg, rushed out the door and past the two orcs, giving the worg a kick to indicate for it to pad slowly so that the orcs could keep pace. He guided them all down the appropriate halls again toward the prisoners.

The goblinoid search party on the lower level had found something new with which to tease their half-ogre prisoner. It wasn’t enough that he was wrapped in chains and manacles, which hampered his movement so much that he could barely keep pace with them—yet they continued to harass him still.

Three goblins and four orcs made up this particular search party. The group was performing the necessary explorations of this lower level of the caverns and was trying to alleviate their boredom since they felt most of the dangers were already uncovered.

The orc leading the search party was named Forgulnak, a mighty orc that was close to ascending to overlord status. They had been searching for hours now and had not come across anything strange or threatening as of yet.

Forgulnak stared at Orngoth with contempt. His mind wandered, recalling how they had found him in the barbarian-ogre tribe and had overwhelmed them through sheer force of numbers. They had lost many orcs that day as the powerful ogres had fought with the intensity of four-score giants. But, the force of hundreds of goblinoids was eventually too much for even the mighty ogres. 

Forgulnak remembered that fight and the carnage wrought by the barbarian-ogres and it made him angry.

Following the fight, Grubb had decided to keep this half-breed as a prisoner. He was smaller than a true ogre, not as bloated, and displaying a more muscular, toned frame. His skin was not as yellowed or as blemished with warts, and he stood taller than Grubb, and with considerably more girth. Forgulnak knew that Grubb wanted to beat the creature into submission and make him his personal slave. He first had to break the half-ogre’s spirit and then his mind would follow. So far, he was executing that plan successfully.

Grubb guessed that the creature was half-ogre and half-human. That was confirmed by the Shaman Tukk, whose intermingling with the spirit world confirmed that and led him to further facts about the half-breed as well, including discovering his name. The half-ogre had been born of a human mother, Celeste, who had apparently died while birthing him. Forgulnak had recalled the shaman boasting about compelling the spirit of his mother to answer questions before releasing her from his spell.

Grubb instructed Shaman Tukk to find out more about the half-ogre’s past. Further conversation with the spirit world revealed that it was no long after the creature’s birth, that he had been cast out by his human kin, thrown away like so much trash during a trek through the Blackstone Mountains. He had been subsequently found by the Ironskulls, a tribe of ogre-barbarians that had made those same mountains their home. That is until the fatal mistake of relocating to the Dragon Fangs proved to be their undoing.

Forgulnak shook his head, his thoughts now consumed by the strange and unsettling memories of the shaman’s rituals. The spirits and the afterlife unnerved him considerably.

Wrapped in those thoughts, he did not notice the glowering look that the half-ogre shot his way.

Orngoth, the half-ogre barbarian, stood defiantly, staring back into Forgulnak’s eyes, displaying an unmistakable contempt for the orc, as he watched him walk away. He wanted to be free and to smash the orcs one by one, until he could find the one responsible for his captivity. He looked down upon the heavy shackles fastened about his wrists and feet, trying to ignore the taunts and insults of the goblinoids as best he could. This was becoming a common routine for him.

 He instinctively flexed as he stood, his massive arms displaying many a tribal marking to indicate his achievements within his clan, as was the traditional barbarian ritual—even amid the ogres.

Orngoth used large animal skins and hides to cover his scarred body, to keep him warm, and was also the material for the boots on his feet. He also had a few prized possessions which had been given to him by a friend of his mother’s, a pathfinder and sentinel of the forest named Lynnai. He recalled that special woman and how she had managed to find him just as the Ironskull ogres were raiding a merchant caravan and intercepted them.

That was a fateful day that set Orngoth upon his path of discovering who he was…and more importantly—who he
wasn’t
.

Lynnai was a ranger from Norgeld, which was Orngoth’s birthplace, and she was his mother’s dearest friend. She had known of Orngoth and discerned his general whereabouts through many inglorious deals, magical scrying and the like. She knew that Celeste, his mother, wanted to pass certain items along to her child. Lynnai had vowed to perform that task for her dearest friend and indeed did that day, many years ago.

The first item was a pendant, which he never removed. Lynnai told him that it held magic within it to help him recover from injuries gradually and that he should never remove it. That held true as evidenced by the severe beatings he’d been given by the Ironskull ogres, which had bestowed many a scar upon his back, legs and torso, but never left any permanent damage.

His second prized possession was a gem that could magically emit different intensities of light and shades of color. After years of owning it, Orngoth had learned how to control the effects. This particular gem meant a lot to him. It was now, however, in the possession of the orc commander, Grubb. He used it to manipulate Orngoth if he misbehaved, threatening to destroy it if he refused his bidding. To further ensure his continued cooperation, he had also taken the precaution of placing heavy shackles on him.

The third precious item was his club, which he had carved himself long ago in a place that allowed him a peaceful moment. This same club was what the goblinoids now taunted him with.

Forgulnak watched as one of his orc brethren took the massive club from the half-ogre’s back, showing it to him and teasing him, acting as if he were attacking another orc, and further mocking Orngoth. The size and weight of the club made the orc look foolish as he could barely swing it with both hands.

This levity was lost on the half-ogre, who seemed extremely upset. He roared in a rage and swung a wild hand out in an attempt to grab it from the orc. After a few moments, the orcs eventually stopped, growing bored with the activity. They cackled and dropped the huge club onto the ground at the half-ogre’s feet.

“Leave him,” Forgulnak ordered and they headed into the next room.

They had just stumbled upon what looked to have been a recreational room of some type. There were pieces of bone and playing cards scattered on a table with deep carvings in the top and on the bench surfaces, where Forgulnak assumed they kept records of their wins or totals. There were several tables and chairs within the room as well as a cooking pot in an alcove that looked as if it hadn’t been used in a long time. It was covered in dust and cobwebs.

The four orcs immediately sat and started provoking one another in an attempt to force a wager, including Forgulnak, who had a ravenous compulsion when it came to gambling. The goblins at first didn’t understand the point of the game and took to throwing some of the cards around the room.

Orngoth stood in the corner, having retrieved his club from the ground and returned it to its place upon his broad back. He slumped to the floor with a resounding sigh.

“Get back on yer feet, Beast!” yelled one of the guards, moving over to the half-ogre and smacking him on the back of the head. Orngoth’s ram-horned helmet went askew with the blow and his blue eyes flooded with anger, but he did not react. Perhaps he would someday soon get the chance to retaliate. He imagined squishing that orc’s head in his hands and that image made him grin.

The orc noticed it and stood menacingly in front of the half-ogre in a taunting manner, daring Orngoth to hit him. Orngoth’s left lip curled up, revealing a yellowed fang, but again he forced himself to ignore the jeering and taunts of the orcs, biding his time until he could get his gem back.

Then he would make the orcs pay.

Orngoth stood and removed his animal-skin cloak. He stretched as best he could while he was chained, showing off his extremely tight muscles and scarred limbs. The chains strained to keep him confined, and a few links began to bend out of shape under the strain. He noticed the chain begin to give way and strained against it once more, with one eye on the orcs as they went about their games. The chain bent and reshaped itself to his will yet again. It would snap if he tried to do it even one more time, he figured, and so he stopped, biding his time until he could do just that.

Orngoth replaced the cloak as it was chilly in these caves and the cloak warmed his body. He slumped back onto the ground and awaited the next order he would have to follow. His eyes shut for the moment and he slowly faded into the lucidity of a dream.