They cleared the gatehouse and entered the city, the road continuing towards the hill before branching left and right, presumably wrapping around the inner walls. The dwellings packed into Ard-Gurslag looked nothing like the ones found in Orc villages throughout the Continent. Instead, these buildings were made of wooden planks with cedar shingles, painted in various bright colours.
The townsfolk stopped to watch as the group marched by, focusing their gazes on the Humans. Athgar noticed no signs of hatred, only curiosity, younglings even halting mid-play to stare at the unexpected visitors.
Garag led them to the left, revealing more buildings, as they circumnavigated the base of the hill in what Athgar thought of as the outer ring. To his right lay the next ring of towers, each topped with a blue roof. It was odd to see peaked roofs on towers, for in Ebenstadt, they were flat, the better to accommodate archers.
He glanced at the Orc archer in front of him, who’d slung his bow onto his back. Compared to Kargen’s great warbow, it was a crude weapon, and it took him a moment to realize why. The terrain here was vastly different from back home. Between that and the thick underbrush, it only made sense that their bows be easy to carry, even if limited in range.
Athgar shifted his gaze to the polearm-wielding Orcs. Garag had called himself a glaive, and it was easy to see why, for the weapons they carried were precisely that, single-edged blades mounted on poles only slightly taller than their wielders. It took immense strength to handle such a weapon, but he had no doubt the Orcs could do them justice.
The road ahead bent to the north, leading to many places of business for customers lined up to purchase goods from open windows. To his mind, it was a strange way to do business, but no one appeared to care.
They crossed through the city, red towers on their left, blue on the other side, until the road once more curved, this time to the east. They approached the extreme opposite end from where they’d entered, but instead of another exit, a ramp on the right led up to a smaller gate set in the wall with the blue turrets.
Garag halted his command. “This leads to the inner city. The most powerful of Ard-Gurslag call this place home, so we must mind our manners.” He looked directly at Athgar, then Natalia. “Humans have never set foot in the inner city. I have no idea how you will be received. Do you understand?”
“We do,” replied Natalia.
“Good. Then let us finish this before word of your arrival beats us to the Royal Council Chambers.”
“That is not likely,” said Kargen. “We marched all the way through the inner city. Someone will have alerted Her Majesty of our arrival. That is what you call your queen, isn’t it? Her Majesty?”
“We prefer the term Greatness,” said Garag, “but I doubt she will argue the point.” He marched everyone up the ramp, stopping at the large, iron-bound doors flanked by two flat-topped towers.
A sentinel appeared at the top of one, barely looking at who’d approached before issuing a challenge. “Who seeks admittance to the inner city?”
“I do,” replied their guide. “Garag, First Glaive of Ard-Gurslag.” He delivered the line with a boredom that suggested both were going through the motions.
“And who is with you?”
“My warriors, along with four outsiders.”
The guard on the wall suddenly grew more attentive. “Outsiders? You have made this day considerably more interesting.”
“Will you let us in or simply gawk, Krogal? We should not keep the queen waiting.”
“Yes, of course. One moment, and I will open the gate.” The fellow disappeared from the top of the tower. They waited an inordinately long time before the twin gates swung wide to reveal the inner city. The buildings here were larger than those they’d walked past but bore the same strange assortment of colours, making for a vibrant display. Athgar could only imagine what it looked like on a sunny day, with light streaming from above.
Garag led them through the opening, then along a straight road paved with flattened stones. At the far end stood a final gatehouse leading into the inner keep and the home of the great tower which dominated the place, though its base was hidden by this new gate.
The population was less dense, with few onlookers remarking on the group as it passed. Those watching them were adorned with jewellery, including torcs, rings, and bracelets, while their attire was similar to the rest of the population, simple tunics or robes, though woven of much finer cloth. The vibrant colours led Athgar to wonder if more magic wasn’t at play.
Houses lined the main thoroughfare, though a few businesses were on side streets, for Orcs emerged carrying goods. Merchants pushed wagons, bringing their wares to the wealthy rather than expecting them to visit the more modest environs of the common folk.
Several Orcs called out to Garag as he passed, but the fellow ignored them, concentrating instead on his destination. As they advanced, the Palace gates were blocked by six heavily armoured Orcs bearing glaives similar to those wielded by Garag’s warriors, but these blades were heavily adorned with filigree depicting the Gods.
“The queen awaits you,” said the leader of this new group, though he didn’t deign to introduce himself. “Your warriors will remain here. The rest will follow me.”
Garag dismissed his command before he turned to Athgar’s group. “You heard him. You will soon be in the presence of Her Greatness. She does not suffer insolence.”
“Understood,” replied Kargen. “I promise we will be on our best behaviour.”
“Lead on,” said Garag, speaking to their new guide.
They passed through the gatehouse, and before them stood the base of the tower, a massive structure, the largest in the entire city, even without accounting for its height.
“Interesting,” said Natalia in the Human tongue. “It appears the entire Palace is held within this one tower.”
“How many floors do you reckon there are?” asked Athgar.
“Were this a Human tower, I would estimate at least a dozen, but their interior architecture may differ from what we’re accustomed to.”
“Quiet,” snapped Garag. “You are in the great tower. Such chattering is considered unseemly, especially given you speak the language of outsiders.”
“My apologies,” said Natalia, reverting to Orcish. “I shall be more mindful in the future.”
They were escorted to the tower's base, where a tall, thin Orc waited.
“What have we here, Garag?” she asked.
“Outsiders, Minister. Discovered in the eastern reaches. This is Kargen, Chieftain of the Red Hand, and his shaman, Shaluhk.”
“Greetings to you,” she replied. “I am Thusha, the Second Minister of Ard-Gurslag.” Her nose wrinkled. “You brought Humans, I see.”
“This is Athgar, High Thane of Therengia,” said Garag, “and his companion is Nat-Alia, master of water.”
“They are members of my tribe,” added Kargen, “and deserve the respect given to all Orcs.”
Thusha gave a slight bow of her head. “It shall be as you wish, Chief Kargen. Word of your arrival has swept through the city, and the queen is eager to meet you. If you follow me, I shall take you to her.”
Garag stood to one side.
“You are not coming with us?” asked Kargen.
“It is not my place to be in the queen’s presence unless summoned.”
“He is correct,” said Thusha. “The audience chamber is not for everyone. Now come, before Her Greatness grows bored of the delay.” She went through the doorway into a richly appointed hall with a thick carpet and wood-panelled walls decorated in battle carvings. They passed by openings on either side, while ahead of them sat a large door painted with a colourful depiction of a dragon soaring through the air.
“This,” she said, “is where Her Greatness, Queen Urgash, presides over the affairs of Ard-Gurslag.” She pressed her right hand upon the door, which glowed slightly before it swung open to two heavily armoured Orcs armed with golden glaives.
“Who disturbs the queen’s council?”
“Thusha, Second Minister to Her Greatness.”
“Enter, Thusha, Second Minister of Ard-Gurslag.” The guards stepped aside, revealing a large, circular chamber with two steps leading to a raised platform. A bench sat along each side of the platform, while the other end held a throne, an immense wooden construction with a huge dragon skull mounted atop it. The queen’s advisors, ten in total, sat on either side, their necks craned to see who had entered.
Thusha advanced to stand in the middle of the platform. “I bring the outsiders, Greatness, as you requested.”
“Bring them forward,” said the queen, “that I might see them better.”
Thusha turned, waving them forward. “This is Kargen, Chieftain of the Red Hand, and his shaman, Shaluhk.”
“And the Humans?”
“Athgar, High Thane of Therengia and Nat-Alia, master of water.”
Urgash stood, then stepped closer, leading to a chorus of murmurs from her advisors. The first object of her scrutiny was Kargen. “It has been eons since we welcomed outside Orcs to our city. Two thousand years ago, we shut our doors to outsiders to preserve our way of life. Now, millennia later, we find two of them at our very doorstep. How did you come to be in our land?”
“We are travelling north to Ruzhina, a Human realm.”
“It must be a journey of considerable importance to take you through this region.”
“We are going there to destroy the power of the Volstrum.”
“Volstrum? That name is unfamiliar to me.”
“It is an academy where they train masters of water,” replied Kargen.
“Ah, yes,” said Urgash. “Masters of water. We have had troubles with them in the past.”
“You have?” said Natalia.
The queen turned at the interruption. “Why are you so surprised?”
“I was unaware the family had any contact with Orcs.”
“It was centuries ago when the realm to the north was first founded. There were several incursions into our territory, although none survived to tell the tale.”
“How did you know they were users of Water Magic?”
“They used their magic when we attacked them. Does it surprise you that we are familiar with magic?”
“Not at all,” replied Natalia. “We have mages back in Therengia, many of them Orcs. I was, however, under the impression the Stormwinds were powerful casters.”
“Stormwinds? Another term I am not familiar with.” She looked at one of her advisors, a pale Orc of advanced years. “Would you care to comment, Throgar?”
“They never revealed their names, Greatness, and even if they had, we would have been unable to understand them.”
A middle-aged Orc stood. “With all due respect to the Keeper of History, that is incorrect.” He bowed his head at the queen. “As you know, Greatness, our Enchanters are capable of casting the spell of tongues, even if there has been no requirement for it in recent years.”
“Also true,” said a younger female, “yet here we are with Humans amongst us able to speak our language. Perhaps your Enchanters might wish to re-evaluate their choice of spells, Morgal?”
“You must forgive the outbursts,” said the queen. “I encourage all of my advisors to speak their minds.”
“As we do back in Runewald,” replied Kargen.
“You say you are a chieftain. Do you have a monarch?”
“In a sense, yes. We Orcs, along with the Humans who live in our land, elected a High Thane.” He nodded at Athgar.
“Elected? How curious.”
“It is a tradition going back centuries.”
“Tell me more,” said Urgash. “I find this most interesting.”
“Shaluhk has much more knowledge on the subject than I do.”
“Ah, yes. This shaman of yours.” She stepped closer to Shaluhk, looking her up and down. “I must admit to some surprise. We lost our last shaman more than a thousand years ago.”
“Fifteen hundred,” corrected Throgar, bringing a withering glare from his queen.
She continued. “It has been many generations since a shaman trod the streets of Ard-Gurslag. What do you know of Orc history?”
“The Ancestors tell of the Great War that enveloped the entire Continent. Both sides suffered horrendous losses, leading to the destruction of all the Orc cities, save for this one, it would seem. Those who survived became a wandering people, constantly moving to avoid being hunted down by the woodland folk. After centuries of such fear, our people settled down, building villages and becoming tribes rather than small enclaves. But by then, the Humans had arrived, claiming much of the Continent and driving us to increasingly dangerous lands to avoid them. Eventually, the Kingdom of Therengia was founded, and Orcs were welcomed to settle there, but it was not to last.”
“Why was that?”
“The other Human kingdoms sought to destroy Therengia, what we now call the Old Kingdom. With its demise, our people were once more scattered to the far reaches of Eiddenwerthe.”
“Yet you are here in the company of Humans. How did that come to pass?”
“The Red Hand settled in an area south of the Grey Spire Mountains. Athgar’s people, descendants of the Old Kingdom, had a village nearby. My bondmate, Kargen, traded with Athgar, who is a master at making bows and arrows. Later, when Humans attacked our village, he and Nat-Alia came to our aid, along with others.”
“What others?”
“There are many Humans who wish only to live in peace and harmony.”
“Peace? The only way to achieve peace is by showing strength.”
“Yes,” said Shaluhk. “Unfortunately, that has been our experience as well. Under Athgar’s leadership, Therengia has become a great military power, rivalling the strongest of the Petty Kingdoms.”
“Which are?”
“It is the collective name given to the Human realms of the Continent. We have had dealings with several of them and count a few as allies.”
“Allies?” said Urgash. “What a strange thing to contemplate.” She looked around the room, gathering her thoughts. “After two thousand years of isolation, much has changed across the Continent. This is a lot to absorb.”
Throgar stood, his age causing him to wobble slightly. “With all due respect, Greatness, we have no way of authenticating any of this. She could be lying.”
Shaluhk turned on the old-timer. “How dare you! I am a shaman of the Red Hand—to lie would be unconscionable.”
“You have insulted my bondmate,” added Kargen. “By our customs, she could challenge you to a duel.”
“You must forgive him,” said Urgash. “Throgar is a doddering old fool and meant no insult. Were I to punish all my advisors for speaking thus, I would have no counsellors left.”
“I shall forgive him,” said Shaluhk, “providing he apologizes.”
The old Orc looked stunned. “Apologize? To you? Who do you think you are?”
“She is a shaman,” replied the queen. “You, of all people, should understand the respect due a person of that status. Or do you no longer read the records you so studiously care for?”
“Then let her prove her magic.”
Shaluhk moved up to stand before Throgar. “Your vision is dimmed,” she said. “I see it in your eyes.”
“That is not magic. Every Orc of advanced years could be so diagnosed.”
“True, but I can cure you.” She turned to face the queen. “With your permission, Greatness, I shall repair the damage to Throgar’s sight.”
“Do so, and you and your companions will have free rein of the city.”
Shaluhk addressed the council members. “I can heal flesh, but the advances of age are more difficult to counter. To restore Throgar’s eyesight, I will use a spell of regeneration, but it requires casting over multiple days to completely heal him. There will, however, be a noticeable difference after the first.” She looked at her new patient, recognizing the fear in his eyes. “Do you consent to be the object of this spell?”
“I do.” His voice betrayed his nervousness. “Will it hurt?”
“My hands will glow before I place them on either side of your head, and then a slight warmth will flood into you, briefly lingering in your eyes. It is a strange sensation, even a little unsettling, but you will experience no pain.”
“Then you may begin.”
As Shaluhk drew upon her magic, her hands glowed, and then she placed them on her patient. The light drained into him, lingering in his eyes. She stepped back, her spell complete.
“Remarkable,” said Throgar, looking around the room. “I can see everything! Are the effects of this spell permanent?”
“The spell has done its job, but age will still cause your eyesight to deteriorate. Repeated castings would prevent that.”
“How often does this spell need to be repeated?”
“In your case, likely only once a year.”
“Remarkable,” echoed the queen.
“It is capable of much more than simply restoring eyesight,” said Shaluhk. “I used it to regenerate Nat-Alia’s lost arm.”
“How does one lose their arm?”
“She was attacked by a large flying creature whose talons inflicted a necrotic rot. We had no choice but to remove her arm lest the infection kill her.”
“How interesting,” said Throgar. “How large was this creature? Was it dragon-sized?”
“Do you have records of such things?”
“Attacks, no, but some of our patrols have reported sighting a large creature far off to the east occasionally. Perhaps it was the same beast you encountered?”
“All that is interesting,” said the queen, “but let us return to the matter of this regeneration spell of yours, Shaluhk. How long did it take to replace the limb?”
“A ten-day.”
“Your services would be most welcome in Ard-Gurslag.”
“Given time,” said Shaluhk, “I can train others to perform this spell.”
“But we have no shamans,” replied Urgash.
“True, but we have several gifted shamans amongst the tribes of Therengia, with more being trained every day. We could arrange for some to visit here, providing a safe route is found.”
“This is a momentous occasion. I promised you the freedom of the city, and I am an Orc of my word. We shall house you in the great tower, and from this day hence, you and your companions are welcome throughout the city.”