DORULL SAGA - SWAMP OF DEATH
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Grodish peaked through the hidden,
stone doors, which led from the king’s quarters into the great hall. Sight
of the vicious battle between humans and goblins, made the young half-orc’s
blood boil. Sharp sounds of scraping metal and loud yells and screams, hastened
his pulse rate. In a moment of weakness, he wanted to charge from the hideout,
but fortunately his reasoning prevailed.
“Boy, we need to escape unnoticed.”
Roshnak said, as if he knew what the half-orc was thinking.
“We could try through that
dungeon.” Grodish whispered.
Orc nodded, ready to go, but the loud
steps coming from the tunnel in which they planned to go, stopped him
momentarily. A large group of human soldiers run just past them, making Roshnak
step away from the doors, although he knew there was no way they could've spotted him. With the corner of his eye, shaman saw a familiar face. Risking being
discovered, he opened the door. There was no mistake. That was him. Orc’s
reaction confused Grodish, as he hastily closed the doors back.
“That was him, my boy.” Roshnak
whispered “He’s much older, but I’m sure that was him.”
Young half-orc’s face instantly
distorted in a painful grimace, as he started pulling his axes from the straps
on his back. His eyes turned red. Rage seized his entire body, as soon as he
realized who was in front of them.
“No my son! Not now.” Roshnak
almost screamed “We’ll need to wait for a better time.”
Thick, white foam appeared from the
corner of Grodish’s mouth, as he tried to suppress the rush of adrenaline.
Veins on his neck bulged out. He began breathing heavily, gnashing his teeth.
Half-orc was fighting very hard to regain composure. First wave of rage had
passed, with his pulse still being twice as high. Stiff, cramped fingers, were
a sign that Grodish was finally starting to calm down.
“You need to understand, there’s
too many men around him.” Roshnak whispered, squeezing half-orc’s hand “There
will be another chance for your vengeance.”
“How? When?” Grodish growled.
“Come, the goblin king gave me an
idea.” The shaman said, “We need to go to Zhinnaeg.”
Battle between goblins and humans
reached its peak, when Roshnak and Grodish sneaked out of the hidden, royal
quarters. Steep stairs led into the catacombs, but as they found wide open
storage doors, they changed their plan. Once they grabbed some food and drink,
the shaman took them towards the stream, flowing through the cave. Water was
disappearing behind the small opening in the rocks, on the farthest, dark
corner of the room. Without hesitation, they went in. Slippery, rock bottom,
slowed their movement, through this narrow, somewhat claustrophobic pass.
Shaman suddenly lost his balance,
falling hard on his back. Painful misfortune seemed to be helpful, because
Roshnak slid over twenty yards, before he managed to stop. And with that, he
got an idea.
“Sit down my boy, we could slide
down much faster.” orc exclaimed, rubbing the painful spot on his back.
And Roshnak was right. Just a
couple of minutes later, they were at the end of this dangerous water slide.
Daylight was getting stronger, as the orc flew out of the tunnel. Ground suddenly
disappeared underneath him, and before he could figure out why, he fell into a
small lake. They were somewhere on the southeast side of the hills. Shaman
laughed loudly, coming out of the water, as Grodish splashed hard, just behind
him.
“We need to repeat this sometimes.”
Roshnak laughed.
“Are you hungry?” half-orc asked,
swallowing the salted fish he found in the storage room.
Roshnak readily grabbed a couple of
pieces, washing it down with some fine goblin wine.
“They do know how to make their drinks,
and know it well.” shaman burped, taking a piece of torn tunic out from his
backpack “With a bit of luck, that stench of alcohol will be easy to follow.”
Roshnak drove his cane into the
soft ground, proceeding to take out a carved, wooden figurine of a bear, from
the leather pouch, hooked onto his belt. He carefully placed it onto the
ground, several feet in front of the staff, which he grabbed with both of his
hands. Shaman closed his eyes, silently starting to speak out some strange
sounding words. He then repeated the phrase. And then again. And again. Faster
and louder, with every other repetition, until all of a sudden, the ground
around him started to shake. Finely written, black runes on the figurine
glimmered a bit, before releasing the white smoke. Firmly tightening the cane,
the shaman opened his eyes.
“Come Ursu,” he whispered.
Figurine cracked, releasing a
bright light and a cloud of smoke. In an instant, out of it appeared a large
silhouette, as it began to transform. With the last flicker of light,
everything calmed down. Before weary, shaman stood, over fifteen foot tall,
magnificent, black bear. Recognizing the master, it approached Roshnak,
silently mumbling.
“My good Ursu.” Roshnak whispered,
scratching him behind the ear “You need to find someone. Go, now.”
Bear sniffed the goblin's torn
tunic, and then looked at its master, awaiting for confirmation.
“Go.” Roshnak said again.
Ursu sniffed the surrounding air,
letting a silent moan, as he ran towards the hills to the west.
“Splendid.” Roshnak was pleased “We
can now go too, my boy.”
“To Zhinnaeg?” Grodish asked.
“Yes.”
“And where is that? Why are we
going there?” half-orc was confused “I don’t understand. Because of the
goblin?”
“You are impatient, my boy.” the
shaman said “But I don’t blame you for that. We are heading north, and I’ll
explain everything, once we hit the road.”
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