The Sons of Silence
the rocky slope smelled the same as it did in Kelvur. Hazkul Bern sniffed the air and tasted the salty moisture in his mouth. The waters swirled and spat foam upon the rocks where he stood. The mist produced by the heavy waves crashing into the larger rocks ahead sprayed him with cool droplets. The elf’s dark hair danced in the night’s breeze while he waited patiently for his spy to return from her reconnaissance in the city.
Two others sat quietly throwing dice in the bottom of their boat. If they were spotted together in Calrok, they would probably seem an odd group. Hazkul had sent their only orc into the city to watch their prey. Gilk was the only one of them that had any hope of blending into the crowds, though the tall, slender orc had covered herself almost entirely in a hooded cloak.
Hazkul watched the other two, a woman and a geldrin, play their game. Most wouldn’t give them a second glance, but Hazkul knew them to be capable assassins with skills far superior to many he’d worked with in the past. That’s why they were chosen for their mission—at least the woman, anyway. The geldrin was forced onto Hazkul’s team, a necessity of the current state of affairs that he was not particularly pleased about.
An assignment across the sea had never been attempted before, and he needed the best with him. Well, the second and third and fourth best, if he could give them such credit. None of them matched his own caliber.
Hazkul had been a notorious assassin for half a century. His notoriety had made other would-be assassins gather to him. Thus, the Sons of Silence was born. His elite group of assassins—if they could be called that anymore, for they were an army, even having their own castle—had been well known for their ability to perform a job and keep the secrets of their benefactors. Those were the good old days, before everything in Kelvur had changed.
Hazkul gritted his teeth and tried to change the path of his thoughts. The sun is descending, the elf thought. Gilk should return any time now.
The woman, Chadwa, cursed under her breath, though it was more a growl than actual words.
“You lose again,” Jilgor, the geldrin, whispered.
The sound of the crashing waves against the rocks covered any noise they made, so Hazkul had no need to correct the two. And anyway, they had anchored themselves far to the south of Calrok, knowing the fishermen would not come so far as to spot them.
Hazkul looked out to the sea, knowing where their impressive ship lay in wait. It amazed him that he could not see the mighty vessel. It was hidden by an intricate array of massive sails. They were painted the color of the sea and imbued with magic that tricked the eye. They were of no use for sailing, of course, but ran along the ship on ropes and pulleys for quick concealment and removal, which made the vessel stealthier than any he’d previously seen.
“Fwt-Foow! Fwt-Foow!”
Hazkul’s pointed ears barely picked up the agreed-upon bird call from the rocks. He turned and searched the formations, looking for Gilk. It took him longer than he liked to spot the orc. She is one of the best, Hazkul reminded himself, granting slack for the extra time he took to put eyes on the orc.
After paddling their boat around a rocky outcropping, the crew brought the vessel close to the shore so Gilk could join them.
“So?” Hazkul cut straight to the point.
“The city is almost entirely populated by orcs.” Gilk shook her head in disbelief.
“As we were told,” Hazkul replied as though it were obvious.
“Right. I saw only a few goblins among them and no trolls.”
“And the towers?”
“They won’t be a problem.” Gilk waved off the notion. “I’m not sure this city has ever been under attack.”
Hazkul nodded. Gilk’s assessment made sense. Calrok sat in a perfect valley where the mountains met the sea. To the north, the Scar Cliffs jutted straight into the ocean. To their west and south were impressive mountains. And to their east, the Gant Sea roared. The elf was no slouch when it came to military strategy, and even he couldn’t imagine the force it would take to overcome a city so well protected by natural elements.
“And what of our prey?” the elf leader asked.
“He was easy to find. He stays in a house on the slope. Rather plain place, I thought.”
Hazkul rolled his eyes. “Can we take him?”
“It should be easy. We can do it tonight.”
Karnak released a hardy laugh that sounded like a roar to Merrick. The big green orc slapped the huntsman on the shoulder, nearly knocking him off the small porch.
“You better get to that cottage,” he said boisterously. Realizing he was still being loud, Karnak peeked over his shoulder. Tanessa had gotten onto him only a few moments earlier. The big orc hunched and lowered his voice. “Before you get me in trouble!”
Merrick snickered as he slipped across the grass to the small cottage on the edge of the property. He settled himself into one of the chairs that sat on the even smaller porch of the cottage and waved good night to Karnak after the orc gar composed himself enough to go quietly back into the house.
Karnak’s little son, Gernot, had gone to bed shortly after dinner. He gave everyone hugs good night, attempting to prolong the inevitable conclusion that he would land in bed while the grown-ups enjoyed further fellowship. The little orcling’s tuft of black hair bobbed as he waddled from person to person. Merrick earned a disapproving scowl from Tanessa, Karnak’s wife, for riling up the young orc. Eventually, Gernot was swept up and taken away for tuck-ins.
Tanessa and their elven guest, Ralowyn, had both turned in shortly afterward. That left Merrick and Karnak to their own devices. Merrick was a man living among orcs, and Karnak, the orc gar of Calrok, took it upon himself to show the huntsman everything that was great about his people. Merrick had enjoyed his time in the orc city immensely.
Merrick shook his head and gazed down the slope over the city of Calrok as it spread toward the Gant Sea. He had taken to sitting on the porch in the evenings, breathing in the cool evening air and smelling the sweet aroma of the pasture flowers and the coast. He always took stock of the things for which he was grateful. There was Karnak’s friendship, of course. Never in Merrick’s wildest dreams, sleeping under the open sky on his many youthful hunts, did he imagine he would be friends with an orc of Drelek—let alone a gar.
There was also Ralowyn, of course. Beautiful Ralowyn. Merrick glanced around quickly as though someone might have heard his thought. She was surely beautiful. Merrick was often struck by the presence of the slender, pale elf with silvery hair from Loralith. He was glad she was in Calrok with him. More than glad.
He had grown fond of her. He did not know how to tell if she reciprocated his feelings. How could she? He was a simple huntsman from Tamaria—a nobody, really.
And she is … His thoughts trailed off. He had no words to describe her.
He was also thankful for Valurwind. The giant astral falcon from another plane came to mind as he absently thumbed the cool stone figurine in his pocket. Over the last month since their arrival, Merrick had been able to train with her, and the two had grown closer, becoming quite the duo. When he’d first ridden her, he found soaring through the air a clumsy and terrifying event. He and Valurwind had enjoyed a marked improvement in their abilities together training with the Scar Squadron, Drelek’s elite group of wyvern-riders. The Scar Cliffs provided the perfect training ground to produce fierce orc warriors and a confident astral falcon-rider. Merrick finally understood the way Valurwind moved and leaned comfortably into her turns. He trusted her. She wouldn’t let him fall.
Merrick’s ponderings on gratitude wandered to Karnak’s household. They made Merrick feel part of their family. Tanessa was as patient an orc as the man had met in Calrok. Furthermore, she was kind and showed him and Ralowyn overflowing hospitality. She had said many times that their stay in the cottage was of no imposition, and she proved her generosity by having Merrick and Ralowyn at the house for meals every day. Gernot was a rambunctious orcling who reminded Merrick of some of his little brothers. The orcling would race to Merrick, his hair tuft waggling on top of his head, and jump into the man’s arms, ready to wrestle.
The man gripped the armrest of the old wooden porch chair and stood. He breathed deeply, inhaling the night, and smiled as he took a final look over the pasture of the lovely home.
Yes, he thought, thumbing the ridged wood of the door as he slipped inside, ready for rest. I’ve got it pretty good.
The scream tore through the night and ripped Merrick from his sleep. He stumbled to his feet and staggered toward the door in a drowsy stupor. The first noise could have been the result of a nightmare. Merrick had experienced them off and on since the battle in the orc capitol of Ruk.
A booming roar snapped him fully awake. He had no doubts in the reality of that mighty cry. Merrick grabbed his spear from beside the door and burst into the night.
Outside, all seemed calm, until a crash resounded inside Karnak’s home. Merrick rushed across the grass. Just before he reached the porch, the door exploded outward. A body flew in his direction, and Merrick whipped his spear around instinctively, cracking it against the head of the flying body with an awkward Cthunk! The creature fell to the ground, unmoving.
Merrick had never seen such a being. It looked about the size of an orc but had an appearance of stone. The huntsman reached down and rolled the creature over to get a better look at its face. It too was like stone, with orange and white patches of moss growing where hair should have been. He knelt there, no less confused than when he was startled awake. When he hit the creature, it hadn’t felt like cracking his spear against stone. He carefully prodded at the creature’s face. It had a certain crunch to the touch but still had give, as if the skin had dried and cracked, leaving stony layers.
“Wait!”
Merrick snapped his head in the direction of the house. It was Karnak’s voice, but he wasn’t outside, and he wasn’t speaking to the huntsman. Ralowyn ran up beside the huntsman as Merrick hopped to his feet and bolted into the house, leaving her to ponder the strange creature lying on the ground.
As Merrick rounded into the main room, he stopped short when Karnak raised a hand to halt him. The huntsman had always known Karnak to be a fierce orc. He’d gotten to see the big orc gar’s friendly side in their time together as well, but the look on Karnak’s face was one he’d never seen before.
Fear.
The huntsman followed his friend’s unwavering gaze. There by the table stood a tall, dark-featured elf. His long black hair blew out the edges of his hood, disappearing against his even darker garments. What the elf held in his grasp made Merrick’s heart sink.
Gernot …
The elf looked surprised at Merrick’s entrance. Then his eyebrow lifted, and a smirk scrawled across his moon-white face. He glanced past Merrick, seeming to answer his own question about the huntsman’s appearance. The elf bobbed a quiet chuckle and shook his head.
“Gilk and I will have to have a conversation later,” he said lightly.
“Let go of my son!” Karnak growled but stayed perfectly still.
The tone of his father’s voice scared Gernot even more. A heartbreaking whimper escaped the little orc’s lips.
Merrick reacted with a single step forward before the elf said, “Now, let’s not get hasty,” and pulled Gernot closer. It was then that Merrick noticed the intruder’s posture. He held a dagger close to the young orc’s throat, but the weapon must have been painted black, for Merrick saw only a glint of light shimmer on the sharp edge of the blade.
Karnak tensed, shooting a desperate hand out to stay the huntsman. “I don’t know what you want here, elf, but my son has nothing to do with it.”
The elf let out a half chuckle, shaking his head. “How is my friend out there?” he asked with a nod toward the open door. He let a brief silence fill the room, while Ralowyn stepped in through the door with a quiet gasp. Her fists curled around magical staff. Purple energy buzzed and swirled from the pinnacle of the silver staff.
“I see …” The intruder shrugged. “In fairness, he wasn’t really my friend—more of a necessary acquaintance. You know how that is.”
Merrick heard Tanessa suppressing terrified sobs behind him in the hallway. The rest of them stood in a silent showdown.
The elf intruder’s face twitched as he regarded his current predicament. It appeared that much of the night hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped. He clearly didn’t like the odds with which he was currently presented. After a moment, he grinned again.
“Well, this has been quite the eventful evening, eh Tyke?” he asked, leaning over Gernot. The intruder glanced toward the door that opened up to the cool night. “It appears this night wasn’t going to go my way no matter which way we sliced it.” He gave a slight chuckle. “Lucky for me, you were out of bed, Tyke. Why is that?” he asked with a frown.
“Wait—” Karnak started.
“At-tat-tat,” the intruder scolded Karnak, halting him. “I think we’ll be going now.”
“Wait!”
In a flash, the elf twirled, reached into his pocket, and threw a jar to the middle of the room. Ralowyn raised her staff to launch an attack at the fleeing elf who dove out the nearby window with Gernot. Before she could loose the magical energy, the jar exploded with a concussive shock and filled the whole house with thick, black smoke.
The blast knocked all of them back into walls and sent the table and chairs flying in all directions.
Karnak came to, his vision blurred and his head ringing. He rolled to his side as best he could, his head lolling heavily. As he felt along the floor, he squinted to clear his sight. Everything was covered in a thick black dust. He crawled as fast as he could to the hallway and found his wife.
“Tanessa! Tanessa!” Karnak roared.
He lifted her close to himself, shaking her.
“Mfff …” she let out. “Wha—”
“Are you alright?” Karnak hollered over the ringing in his ears.
Tanessa shook out the daze. “I’m … I’m okay,” she said, but then clarity struck her. “Gernot! No! No, no, no, no!” she whimpered, groping at Karnak in an attempt to get up and find her son.
“I know. I know,” Karnak said, squeezing her tighter in his comforting embrace. He was unsure if he were trying to comfort his wife or himself as they knelt in the dust and lingering smoke. “I’ll get him back. I promise.”
Karnak kissed his wife’s face, streaked where tears revealed her beautiful green skin beneath caked dust. He stood and padded toward a side table in their room where he retrieved his battle axe, Dalkeri, Fire Storm. He cursed himself for not grabbing it when he initially heard Gernot scream.
What could I have done even if I had? Karnak had barely fought off the creature that looked like stone before the elf emerged from the shadows with his slimy hands holding the orcling. Karnak was sure of one thing: he would bring a storm down on the heads of those who had taken his son.
He hurried to the other room where Tanessa was trying to wake Merrick. Karnak knelt beside his friend. “Merrick! I need you to wake up!”
Karnak shook his friend back to consciousness. Merrick opened his eyes and tried to regain control of his head. The huntsman looked at the orc gar blearily, trying to focus in the dark. Karnak gripped the man’s shoulders tighter. “Brother, I need your help.”
Events flooded back to the man, and his eyes snapped open. “Gernot!” he coughed.
“Yes,” Karnak nodded. “I need your help to find him.”
They looked toward the doorway as a purple light shone through the opening. Ralowyn was outside, working some spell over the fallen creature. Karnak hurried to join her.
Merrick blinked wildly and shook his head. Tanessa stayed to help him up.
“What is this creature?” Karnak asked Ralowyn.
“I do not know,” she said. “But it is still alive.”
“Can you wake it?”
“I do not know.”
“What do you know?” the orc roared.
“Karnak …” Tanessa said from behind him.
The big orc took a deep breath and balled his fists. He released them and ran them through his dark hair before tightening the knot on top of his head.
“I need information. I need to know where they took him,” he said, doing his best to stay calm.
“I do not know how to give you that,” Ralowyn said. The pain on her face was sincere. She would have given anything to help him.
“Over here!” Merrick shouted. The huntsman had wandered around the house. “I’ve got tracks in the mud here.”
Karnak sprinted to him. “Elves are so light-footed, how did you—”
“These tracks are big. Like our friend over there. If we can figure out what direction he came from, maybe we can find which direction the elf went.”
“Yes!” Karnak agreed, looking about.
“Wait!” Merrick said, raising a hand to halt the orc. “Let me look before we make more tracks.”
The big orc hunched impatiently. He knew Merrick was right, of course, but it didn’t relieve the anxiousness that threatened to burst from his mighty chest. He watched the huntsman move slowly and methodically scan the ground. The man followed the tracks out of the mud. Somehow, Merrick perceived more tracks through disfigured blades of grass. Were the circumstances less dire, Karnak would have been enthralled by the huntsman’s ability.
“I think they went this way.”
“Let’s go!” Karnak blurted. He yelled over his shoulder to Ralowyn and Tanessa, “Tie that one up. Use a lot of rope. He was strong!”
Karnak ran after Merrick. They sprinted through the darkness, following an unknown trail that led southeast. They slowed occasionally as Merrick traced the ground to ensure they hadn’t lost the tracks.
As the sun teased the horizon, painting the sky in pinks, Merrick stopped. Karnak’s heart sank in his chest. “Did you lose the tracks?”
“No,” Merrick said, not looking up from the ground. “There were more.”
“More?”
“More people.”
Karnak watched Merrick walk in what seemed to him a random circle.
“One followed the coastline. Multiple times,” Merrick observed. “Ah!” He shuffled closer to the rocky ridge ahead.
Karnak followed. “What is it?”
“They all seem to come from over the ridge,” Merrick shouted as he hustled up the slope.
When they reached the other side, they found where the Gant Sea met the cliffs that formed the eastern edge of the continent of Tarrine.
“No …” Merrick whispered.
“No!” Karnak roared.
They saw a small rowboat floating away in the distance. Karnak gripped Dalkeri as the axe blazed to life in a ball of orange flame. The orange stone in the center of the axe hummed with power. Karnak mustered all his strength and hurled the axe as far as he could over the water.
The axe flew a great distance but nowhere near the boat that paddled out toward open sea. Dalkeri soared through the air like a magic missile before it finally slowed and dipped toward the waves. Just before it plunged into the sea, the axe slowly floated back toward the orc who knelt in defeat on the edge of the cliff. Karnak heard the hum of Fire Storm as it flew back to him. Not looking up from the ground, he lifted one hand into the air and caught it.
“Where are they going?” Merrick asked under his breath.
Karnak looked up. The huntsman was right. Where could they be going?
He saw no ship in the distance. The small boat could not be trusted for a voyage on the open sea, especially if they were going south toward the Gant Sea Narrows. They’d be swallowed by the waves or crushed against the many islands. Karnak looked down over the waves that crashed into the rocks below them, imagining his poor son being smashed on a similar one somewhere in the Narrows.
Karnak bellowed a mighty roar. “We need to get back. I need to get Ker!” the orc said, speaking of his wyvern.
“I’ll call Valurwind and follow the boat so they don’t disappear,” Merrick nodded.
“Good idea! I’ll run as fast as I—”
The bushes to their right rustled. Karnak lifted Dalkeri in front of him as it blazed to life again. Merrick slid alongside the great orc, taking up his own ready posture.
Whoever was hiding behind the bushes was about to have a very bad morning.