Book III
Chapter Thirty-One
PREPARATIONS and PROPHECY
Brun was brooding, as Tha’seng did his final fitting.
The tailor muttered notes to himself under his breath, making sure the fabric of the cape didn’t cover up too much of his kingly armour. Brun was grateful for a quiet moment. Much of the past nights had been council meetings and preparations.
Many preparations.
There was the coronation, of course, an event which would set the tone for Brun’s entire reign. The idea of being a king at all still seemed strange to him, the son of a farmer. The idea of a legacy, of his children being heirs to a kingdom… to his kingdom…
Sometimes it excited him, but not tonight.
All he could think of was Na’la.
“Where do you think she is?” Brun wondered aloud.
“Heh?” grunted the tailor, as he adjusted the fold of the dark blue cape over the lip of a pauldron. “Who?”
Brun did not answer. It had been five nights since Na’la disappeared, and he had not noticed. He hadn’t noticed her leave. Inwardly, he scolded himself.
Brun, the Dunce, he thought. The Dunce King.
“Who, my Lord?” asked Tha’seng. “Hold out your arm? Like this, please? Good.”
The tailor began to examine the sleeve.
“No one,” lied Brun, as he began to look around the room.
This was the room he’d been ushered into, six moons ago. A room, deep in the heart of the Chandler’s Court.
Brun had never entertained the idea of holding the coronation at the pyramid. The Lich had its deep roots in that place, though it had belonged to the Na’ga first, all those centuries before.
The only other place big enough, grand enough to hold the ceremony was the Chandler’s Court. At the night’s zenith, Brun was to go up to the roof, and give a speech to the people of Ne’jum.
His people.
The room he was in had been utterly transformed. The once cluttered one-room-shop had been cleared out at the beginning of Brun’s Rebellion, and used as a sort of secret council chamber. Ner’u and his workers, along with Tha’seng, Rung’j’u, and other members of the resistance met there nearly every night.
Once cleared, they’d brought in a war table, to lay out maps, numbers, names, correspondences…
There was also a pile of tabards and flags in the corner, organized goblin-style. On each piece of dyed red cloth, there was the symbol of a sword and a shield.
“Well!” said Tha’seng, circling Brun, inspecting his attire. “I can’t find anything to improve, so… I suppose we’re finished here. Now… Nothing to do, but… wait.”
Tha’seng sat, and gestured for Brun to do the same. Brun did, but there was no comfortable way to sit in all his heavy armour. Layers and layers underneath were making him sweat already.
“Brun,” said Tha’seng.
His tone was low, and very serious. Even Brun’s breathing became very quiet from the shift in tone.
As he began to speak, the tailor cracked a curtain. He peered out the window, and made sure no one was coming.
“Brun, I… want you to be careful.”
“About what?” whispered Brun.
Tha’seng let the curtain drop, and looked him square in the eye.
“Ner’u,” said the tailor. “Be careful of Ner’u. He is a wise goblin, that much is true… That much is clear, but… He is also a vengeful goblin.”
Brun nodded gravely. “Yes, I… I get that impression.”
The past three nights, Ner’u had been insistent on a single mission : destroy every human settlement on the continent. Almost everyone else on their little council of eight had been in agreement with Ner’u.
Tha’seng had been the only one to say, “We should stay here. Shore up our power, before dispersing it. We need to be making allies, not spending soldiers.”
Though the tailor had all the air of an authority, the room sided with Ner’u, and Brun (distracted, confused, and overwhelmed) had simply… let the council decide its own fate.
Outside, there was the sound of an explosion, and a cheer from a crowd. It sounded like a lot of people.
The tailor leaned back, and rubbed his face. “Brun, do you understand why you’re being made king?”
“Well,” said Brun, “yes. Because you… saw it.”
“Right.”
“In a vision.”
“In a prophecy, yes,” nodded Tha’seng. “You are king… because of a prophecy.”
“Among other things,” grinned Brun, trying to get himself to feel good on this momentous occasion. For a moment, it worked.
“No,” said Tha’seng. “I need you to disabuse yourself for a moment. You… rule… because… of the prophecy. That’s it. That’s all. These people don’t know you, not really. Do you understand me?”
Brun nodded.
“Good. But. Prophecies must be seen to be… known, to be truly known. There are some who think… some who say that you are not the prophesied king.”
Brun made a face, and itched his temple. The plate armour squealed and scraped as he moved. “Okay…”
“Some are saying,” said Tha’seng, “that Ba’kura (and not you) should become king tonight. And they are going to ask you…”
Brun knew what was coming, and shook his head.
“…Shake your head all you want, Brun, but these people want the Lich Queen dead.”
“No,” said Brun. “I am not going to kill her.”
“Oh, I know that,” said Tha’seng. “And I respect it. But you’re going to have to do something, something, about the situation w—”
The door slammed open, making both of them jump. Instinctively, Brun’s hand went for his sword, and drew it.
Ner’u was standing in the doorway, along with thirteen other goblins. All but Ner’u was armed with either swords or spears.
“Ner’u!” said Brun.
“Put your sword away,” said Ner’u, coldly.
Brun stared, confused.
“Your Highness,” said Ner’u.
Brun sheathed his sword.
Ner’u grinned, and swaggered over to Brun. He handed the orc a scroll, with beautifully carved hand-horns. They were in the shape of a dragon’s head, and a dragon’s tail. Both horns were painted vibrant red.
“What’s this?” asked Brun, as he pulled it open.
Ner’u crossed his arms, and walked to Tha’seng.
“It is your speech.”
Ner’u smirked down at Tha’seng, where he sat.
“I… already have a speech,” said Brun. “I can’t just—”
“You’ll be using this speech, your Highness,” said Ner’u. “Sorry there’s no time to study it. We should get going ; it is nearly time.”
Ner’u’s guards went to Brun, and began to escort him out of the building. Tha’seng began to get up as well, but one of Ner’u’s goblins put a rough hand on the tailor’s shoulder, and shoved him back into his seat.
“The King thinks it best,” said Ner’u, “that you stay right here.”
“What do you think you’re doing?!” hissed Tha’seng. “This is the most important night in four centuries, and you’re g—”
“You’re not in charge anymore,” said Ner’u. “And you are not going anywhere.” He nodded to the three guards that stayed behind. “Don’t let him leave.”
* * * * / * * * *
Brun found himself being shuffled through an enormous crowd. Though the guard was as much to trap him as anything, he was grateful they were there.
Goblins and orcs cheered and screamed as Brun came through.
The reached out, and tried to grab him, to touch him, to garner the touch of the one from the prophecies.
The short walk to through the Chandler’s Court, up to the ladderwell, took a long time. Not the first up the ladder nor the last, Brun had a moment to read through some of the scroll he’d been handed.
It was violent language.
There had been talk at the councils of making allies of other tribes, but the only strategy there was to show up, kill humans, and tell the locals “I’m your king now.” Brun didn’t have to be a genius to know how well that was going to work.
There had also been talk of changing the name of Ne’jum. Here, it seems they had decided the new name of the city.
Ku’blj’nj’el.
Goblin-haven.
It made sense. The goblins had been here for millenia, preceded only by the Na’ga. And the Na’ga were all dead now, long ago sacrificed to the Lich for his first ceremony.
But Brun hated feeling cornered. And he had not liked the name. In that meeting, one of Ner’u’s lietenants had joked, “And now, we get to call the west ports Apetown! Taste of their own poison!”
The goblins had laughed at that, but all Brun could see was the cycle of hatred, turning like a cosmic wheel, all around him.
And yet… if it was not going to be named Ku’blj’nj’el, what should its name be? And who was he to decide?
“I am the King,” he thought aloud, muttering down at the open scroll.
“Up you going, King,” Ner’u said. It was said like a threat, and Brun took it as one.
But as he went up the ladder, Brun felt the fire filling him up.
He turned the words they wanted him to say in his mind, and thought…
Never threaten a soldier.
* * * * / * * * *
Book III
Chapter Thirty-Two
CORONATION of the FIRST ORC KING
Brun climbed up the ladder, to the roof of the Chandler’s Court. The massive warehouse had a flat roof, and they had laid a very specific path where one could walk, and not fall through the mold-ridden ceiling.
The night was clear and beautiful. All the stars were out. Strips of clouds pulled themselves across the pensive sky.
Peaceful as the night should’ve been, the atmosphere on the roof was grim.
All eyes were trained on Brun. This was a sharp contrast against the cheering frivolity of the people below, anxiously waiting for the coronation of their first Orcish King to begin.
There was no frivolity in the eyes of the goblins on the roof.
They watched, ready to strike him down, dead.
Brun gritted his teeth against his tusks. He squeezed the scroll in his hand, and felt his sword swing at his belt. Part of him wanted to step somewhere he wasn’t supposed to, and let the roof buckle under his weight.
But this was a stray thought.
Instead, he simply obeyed, and came to the edge of the roof, and…
The noise of the cheering deafened him.
It was so great a sound, Brun staggered. Ner’u exchanged nervous glances with his top two lietenants, but he quickly regained his composure.
He gestured for the crowd to quiet, and they did not.
Once Brun began to speak, however, people stopped their shouting, to hear what the king was saying.
“Thank you!” he cried, over and over again until the people went quiet. “Thank you! Thank you so much! This is…”
Silence finally fell.
Or rather, it crept over the crowd, like a long shadow, growing.
Ner’u felt control slipping away from him.
“Let the coronation,” he shouted, “begin!”
With the help of some of his guards, Ner’u led the entire ceremony. He had clearly memorized it, and Brun found himself wondering what he had modeled this ceremony after. It did not seem very orcish, or even very goblinish to him.
I’ll have to remember to ask Keeper, Brun thought.
The coronation was simple, brief… Ner’u had him kneel, and take three oaths.
“Will you vow!” proclaimed the goblin, “to protect your kingdom, goblins, orcs, and elves alike?”
“I will!” shouted Brun.
As he shouted, it sent a shiver up Ner’u’s arms.
That, and the fact that Brun (locking eyes with Ner’u) had not blinked, and looked determined about something.
Ner’u gulped, and went on.
“Will you vow!” he shouted, trying to rival the soldier’s intensity, “to expand our new kingdom’s prosperity?”
Brun nodded. “I will!”
“And will you vow!” said Ner’u, finally, “to pursue justice! And to kill the one who once called herself the Lich Queen!”
Brun paused.
“I…” he began to say, still kneeling.
He looked out at the crowd, then down at the ground before him.
“Hm,” he said, and softly pounded his gauntleted knuckles against the rotting wood roof. The metal gave a thuck, thuck sound as it pressed into the damp lumber.
Before he could decide what to say, a child’s voice came up through the crowd.
“KING BRUN!” shouted a six-year-old goblin boy.
Brun looked out, and saw the child right away. He was sitting on an orc’s shoulders, as his mother and father (from the ground) tried shushing him.
“Get down from there!” one parent said.
“Shh! Shhhh!”
“Get down!”
“Hush!”
Brun stood, ignoring Ner’u’s gaping.
“I vow to…” Brun began, addressing the people, “to… lead with goodness. To lead with grace!”
Brun found his voice again, and shouted out his message to the crowd of tusks and slitted eyes. He watched heads with long ears tilt to hear him better.
“I see faces here! Faces I’ve only just met! Faces I can’t wait to know better! I see… hope! And goodness! I see grace. I see hard nights ahead! I…”
He smiled, and spread his arms out wide.
“This place! Was named Ne’jum! By the Na’ga! And it is wonderful to honour their memory, but… this name has been tainted! Forever tinged with the colours of sorrow! And grief! Your grief, and mine! Your grief, and mine.”
Brun was still holding the scroll in one hand, but he pulled his sword with the other. He looked at Ner’u, dead in the eyes.
“Am I King, friend?” said Brun. There was something threatening in the way he said it, that even those who couldn’t hear him noticed.
Ner’u’s face was trembling with rage. He said nothing, did nothing, made no move or gesture. All he did was glare.
“Good!” smiled Brun. Then, he raised his sword up in the air.
“The time has come for bold changes! For new phases! As King, in my first city, I name this place for the home that the Lich took from me!”
Some grunts of agreement bubbled up out of the crowd.
“I name this place!” shouted Brun, “Kal’krj’el!”
The grunts ramped up, and became cries of agreement, cheers of approval.
“And in my city!” Brun continued, “In this place, New Kal’krj’el! We shall not tolerate hatreds!”
The crowd was in the middle of cheering, but some of their expressions began to change.
“A city of grace! A city of compassion!”
Ner’u said, “And…! What of the…? What of the Lich Queen, my Liege?”
The crowd began to quiet again, especially those that were already becoming angry.
Brun was smiling, sword raised above his head. He dropped his sword down, and shoved the scroll at Ner’u’s chest.
“I,” said Brun, “have spared her.”
He turned to the crowd, and shouted it for all to hear.
“I’ve spared her! The Lich Queen was as much victim of the Lich as…”
The atmosphere changed, in less than a heartbeat.
As great as the cheering that welcomed him was, the booing jeers came flooding over him.
He had never seen so many singularly angry faces in his life before.
It was like ten-thousand tiny Ba’ku’ra’s, scolding him for something he didn’t know was wrong.
People began to hurl fruit up at him, though none of the fruit every got far enough to hit him. They, like Ba’ku’ra, were thirsty for vengeance, and wanted to call it justice.
But then, the long shadow grew over the crowd, and a dragon made of night flew in spirals through the air.
Her eyes glowed bright gold, harsh and hot and full of wrath.
The people cowered and screamed. Some fled, but not many. A lifetime of living in the Lich’s city taught that it was folly to run, in the face of a god.
In her dragon form, Na’la perched behind Brun, who turned to stare up at her. The sword was in his hand, but he was not thinking to use it.
“…Na’la?” he said.
Her wings spread all the way open.
As Brun knelt again, Na’la’s shadow said…
“I
BLESS
THIS PLACE.
RISE NOW,
KING BRUN,
LIKE THE MOON
AS IT ASCENDS
TO RUB SILHOUETTES
WITH THE STARS.”
Then, the dragon fell, fell, fell, into the shape of Na’la. She wore a new cloak, the last cloak her Gran would ever make. Her new cloak was embroiders with Orcish glyphs, all stitched in moonthread.
But she also held a hooded cape before her. Its sigil was the two sister moons : one full, and one empty. One dreaming, one half-awake.
“Rise now, King Brun,” smiled Na’la. “And (as your Archmage) I give you this cape, as a symbol of your goddess’s approval.”
Brun stood, and took the cape.
The goblins on the roof were all either bowing in full, or half-bowing, keeping their worried eyes fixed to the ground.
They fear me, Na’la realized. It made her feel sad.
* * * * / * * * *
Book III
Chapter Thirty-Three
SHADOWVINES, and the SMELL of FENNEL
Tha’seng sat by the window, peering out the curtain at the Chandler’s. Everyone was either outside or on the roof, to hear their new king’s first speech, and to see him crowned.
In the corner of the room, the three goblin guards played cards, and drank from a shared flask.
Tha’seng did his best to listen for the speech, but it was useless. He saw visions, but his hearing was mundane.
But when the shadow dragon came, the whole city felt it.
Felt something.
Their shadows seemed to pull upward and away, as if gravitating toward the dragon up above. The close they were to the dragon, the stronger the pull of their shadows.
The goblins stopped their card playing, and shared a look.
One drew a sword, and all three rose to stand.
“What magic is this, old man!” one shouted at Tha’seng.
Tha looked at them in fear, putting his hands up.
“No magic! No magic ; this isn’t me!”
“Don’t lie!”
“It’s not me! I— My o-only magic is… I get… v-v-visions, but not—”
“I,” Na’la said, into each one of their heads, “BLESS THIS PLACE. RISE NOW, KING BRUN, LIKE THE MOON AS IT ASCENDS TO RUB SILHOUETTES WITH THE STARS.”
The guard lowered his weapon, but kept it out.
Tha’seng kept his hands up and his head low, not saying anything.
The goblins sat back down, but no one picked up their cards again. The one with his sword out plunged it into the wood, and put both hands on the hilt, fidgeting with it.
They waited in terse silence.
They didn’t have to wait long, though. Through the sliver of the curtain’s light, Tha’seng spied Ner’u and his company, briskly escorted Brun and Na’la toward the council room. Ner’u’s lips were pursed, tight, and his pocked face was knotted with rage.
* * * * / * * * *
“What were you THINKING!” Ner’u shouted.
He slammed the door behind them. With so many guards, the tailor, and two orcs inside, the council room felt extremely crowded.
Brun said nothing. Only grimaced, glaring at Ner’u as the rough-looking goblin scolded him.
“What happened?” said Tha’seng.
“Quiet!” barked Ner’u. “I’ll be dealing with you in a moment!” He turned back to Brun. “Do you have any… idea…? What you’ve just done?”
“I’m your king now,” said Brun. “And I will not be spoken to l—”
“I,” said Ner’u, “made… you. Do you understand me? I m—”
Na’la gathered the shadows to herself, and her moonblade appeared in her palm.
Each shadow in the room was pulled into her flesh, and her glowing gold eyes bored into Ner’u from across the room.
He quieted, and his rough face wrinkled in fear.
No one said anything.
Na’la walked, slowly, toward Ner’u.
She felt a lifetime of frustration, leaking slowly out of her.
As she got closer, the goblin (without consciously choosing to) fell to his knees, and lowered his gaze. A soft, pathetic murmuring bubbled out from his lips, wordless murmurs that said “spare me” better than words ever would.
“Listennnn,” Na’la said, as she loomed over him, “to your Kinnnng.”
Ner’u stared at the moonblade.
He was still whimpering, but he found the courage to use words that were his. He said them to the ground at first.
“Y-you… wouldn’t… you wouldn’t dare, to…”
He braved a look up at her. She locked eyes with him, unblinking.
“You… wouldn’t dare.”
Na’la felt the same thing she’d felt with J’ka. That same…
Pull…
That same…
…mmmmm…
She realized that this goblin was gaining confidence, and losing his fear of her.
He wasn’t smiling, but his voice was stronger.
“We re…s-spect your… power, lady witch, but that power is nothing… nothing, without the right hand to wield it.”
…mmmmmMMMMmmmmm…
“So,” Ner’u said, swallowing, then beginning to stand, “if you don’t mind, this is the… ugly business of ruling, and… I would like your witch-ship to—”
“KNNNNEEL,” commanded Na’la.
He knelt.
Na’la stared at him. The shadows peeled off her, like ash from a crumbling log in a well-fed fire.
“I ammmm nnnnot a witch,” she said. “Nnnnnot mmmmmerely a witch. You mmmmay call me…”
In the silence that followed, as she chose which name she would take in the court of King Brun, the soldier with the drawn sword lunged for her, and swung.
Na’la did not need to step. She simply warped where she stood, appeared behind him, and swung her moonblade.
As it cut into the goblin’s back, the blade cut through his leather armour, his clothes, his flesh, his spine.
But more importantly, the blade cut his soul from his body.
The goblin collapsed, brainstem still active. He drooled and breathed, lifeless on the ground.
“MMMMMmmmmm… mm mm mm…”
The goblins all bowed. Brun bowed, too.
This was a mistake, Na’la thought.
She looked upon her enemy’s body, and wondered if it was possible to stitch a soul back to its body.
“Whatever you l-l-l-l-like!” sputtered Ner’u, fearing for his life and his soul. “I’ll c-c-call you…! Anything ; I’ll—! I’ll do—!”
“Silennnnnce.”
He went silent.
Beneath the raiment of shadow, Na’la was already crying. She shouldn’t’ve done that. It was wrong. It was cruel. It was self-defense, and yet…
She decided to try.
Na’la spread out her arms, and the moonblade became a thyrsis, a staff that smelled of fennel, wrapped in leafy shadowvines.
She extended the staff, and touched the goblin’s gushing wound.
The shadow seeped into his blood, and his body, and his bones, and Na’la reached deep… deep into her void.
Where are you? her spirit chanted, sifting through all those souls that she’d collected.
It was in a nowhere place, that only she could touch or know.
The souls that milled there blinked in unison, blinked at her, voiceless, blinked, blinked, blinked.
A spirit reached out within her, and Na’la let it ride out of her shadowy flesh, down the thyrsis, into the flesh of the goblin she’d felled.
His wound knitted back together, healing before all of their eyes.
Still breathing, still drooling, the severed goblin’s gaze became aware once again. He looked around, confused. He did not seem to recognize the sword in his hand, or the floor, or the faces…
“You mmmay rise,” said Na’la.
The goblin looked at her, and Na’la saw that his eyes had changed colour. The look of youthful confusion on his face made her think, Perhaps that was not his soul.
“All of you,” Na’la said. “Leave.”
All but Brun left. Even Tha’seng, who bowed, and muttered, “As you wish, Mother Death.”
Then, they were all gone.
Brun was still kneeling on the floor, as Na’la’s shadow fell away from her. The thyrsis remained, and (though it was still made of shadow) it clattered to the ground with the sound of any ordinary wooden staff.
Na’la burst into tears, sobbing, sobbing, weeping heavily.
Brun got up, saying, “Shhh, sh sh sh, it’s okay.”
He embraced her, and Na’la wrapped her arms around him, and buried her face in his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” Brun said. “It’s okay. Shhhh sh sh… Shhhh sh sh… Shhh…”
He brought her over to a chair, and they sat together.
After her tears slowed and quieted, Brun found the moment to ask…
“So… you’re…”
Na’la sniffled and nodded, wiping snot from her nose. “Staying. Yes.” She sniffled. “If you still need a… High… Mage, or—”
“Archmage?” said Brun.
Na’la chuckled. “Yeah.” She sniffled, and looked up at him. “Yes. I’m here to help.”
Brun smiled, and nodded. “Good. That’s good. That’s…”
“Who was that?” said Na’la.
Brun shook his head. “His name is Ner’u. He’s… I don’t know. He’s…”
“He’s going to be a problem,” said Na’la.
“Well, you fixed that for me.”
“No,” said Na’la. Her tears had finally stopped, more or less. “He’s afraid now, but… I think that might make him more dangerous. He’s going to keep secrets now.”
Brun rubbed his face.
Na’la smirked. “Tired of being King yet?”
Brun laughed, and shrugged. In his armour, it was a rather loud gesture.
He looked at her. “Where were you?”
“Me?” said Na’la.
“You were gone for five nights.”
Na’la nodded, and smirked.
“I went home,” she didn’t tell him.
* * * * / * * * *
Link to Orcish-English Dictionary
Wanna hear the music of NALA SAGA?
* * * * / * * * *
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