End of Trilogy One

Book III

Chapter Thirty-Four

RETURN to ORC’SHIRE

The moon was a waxing crescent. The sun had just set, and the moon was close behind it, sitting at the hip of Mt. Wraithwood’s silhouette.

Na’la stood there, in the orchard.

She smelled the smells.

Golden apples.
Purple carrots.
Golden cherries.

The grass swished softly, hhhh.

The leaves rustled, shhhhuka shuka shoooooo…

it has beennnn annnn eonnnn, murmured U’gru, deep in Na’la’s spine.

“Hasn’t it?” Na’la said out loud, smiling.

She looked around, taking in the night. Rather than go home, Na’la decided to go up to Mt. Wraithwood, and say hello to J’ka. She felt like she owed her old master an apology.

Na’la decided to walk.

She did not rush, taking in every flower, every bush, every weed, every cowering vine.

Animal eyes appeared out of bushes and trees, to study the orc who came home to visit. Perhaps I should stay. She was still undecided on that.

A few birds sang songs, back and forth, to each other. It made her think of the ocarina she’d been gifted, right before she left home. That had been among the many things she had lost, when Ush’ga had put her in a cage.

She wouldn’t’ve had time to practice, anyway. She had been too busy with other things. Surviving. Killing gods.

gods bled, U’gru corrected, but a god cannnnnot be killed.

“Right,” Na’la though aloud, nodding. Her glowing gold eyes caught a glimpse of the scrumpy trees. “I’ll have to remember that.”

As she got closer, she found something surprising. These trees had frightened her so as a child, and yet now, they seemed like three old witches, welcoming Na’la home.

A grin spread across her face, as she made the connection.

These were not trees.

They were elves.

And she had never noticed before.

Na’la laid a hand on one of the trees, and it hummed a song to her. A hissing song.

U’gru hummed along, and Na’la realised…

U’gru is home, too.

* * * * / * * * *

Mt. Wraithwood was in full bloom. The ferns were growing tall now, and the trees were heavy with leaves, and with fruits, and with pinecones, and fat acorns.

But on Wraithwood, all the plants grew back the colour of tar.

They shone like tar, too, like the tar of Tar Lake. And as Na’la stepped on the glossy grass, she felt like she could hear each blade swishing. She felt their susserations, as much as she heard them.

Realmscars gleamed, all over the forest floor, on the trees, in steep ditches. In time, she thought, I shall try and heal all of you. The ghosts that lived in each realmscar all doubted her. Some scoffed. Some growled, or howled, or coo’d. Some realmscars stayed silent, keeping their doubts to themselves.

When Na’la finally got to J’ka’s cart, the mean old hag was not home.

The cart was in even more disarray than usual. Bottles littered the “yard” that had formed around the cart. This would not’ve been surprising, if vines and flowers had not begun to grow over and around and out from these bottles.

Maps and charts and scrolls with names on them were littered all about the area. Littered everywhere, as if animals had torn the place apart.

Na’la’s brow furrowed, seeing that there were burn marks on some of the pages, and tear marks on others.

She walked toward the cart, and began to step in, when something zapped her!

Na’la flinched, more from surprise than any kind of pain or injury.

Her flinch was just enough for a raccoon and a tiny white stoat to flit past her.

Na’la watched as Wj’ruh and Whisper sped into the inky brush.

She was about to go after them, when she felt a (mmmm) presence behind her.

Na’la turned.

But nothing was there. No one.

Still…

(mmmm)

…She…

Na’la walked, in the opposite direction from where Wj’ruh and Whisper went. She walked further up the mountain, through heavy bushes that seemed to part to make a path, just for Na’la.

She followed that path, respecting the wood’s wishes.

Up, up, up Mt. Wraithwood.

Up, up, up through the tar.

The moon was long set when Na’la finally made it to a mound of dirt, by the river that J’ka had made nine springs ago.

Beside the mound sat Blinker.

Its back was to Na’la.

Even its back changed shape, never stopping, changing again, and again, and again, without end.

Na’la walked to the grave, and stood beside the hulking shapeshifter. Even standing, she was half the height of the eldritch creature.

But standing side by side, they were made of the same darkness, that same sinking void. Though they seemed separate, they were one. They had always been one.

The grave had a realmscar on it, which meant there was a ghost there, waiting for something, simmering in the grievances it had harbored in its life.

“J’ka?” asked Na’la.

nnnnnnggggggg, murmured Blinker.

Na’la nodded, in a somber way.

Clouds were gathering over. Light clouds, but ones that promised to bring a little rain.

Na’la stepped forward, and touched the realmscar on the mound

* * * * / * * * *

uuuuuuuuuuu’UH!

J’ka’s spirit hissed and barked at Na’la’s spirit.

It rejected her, pushed at her, and then…

…you?

Na’la’s soul smiled, as politely as it could.

Me. Hello J’ka. I—

No.

…I just wanted to say that I’m sorry f—

* * * * / * * * *

Na’la’s eyes snapped open.

She was lying on the ground, green cheek against the dirt.

Her flesh was flesh again. Her eyes were just eyes.

She heard raining, but did not feel it.

As Na’la looked up, she saw Blinker’s wing, extended over her, to shield her from the drops that fell.

Nnnnnggggg, hummed Blinker.

“No,” said Na’la. “I suppose not. It was worth a try, I guess.”

* * * * / * * * *

Book III

Chapter Thirty-Five

AROUND the CAULDRON

It was a somber night outside of the Dag’mur house.

It wasn’t somber for any reason in particular.

Just one of those nights.

The rain wasn’t coming down hard, but it seemed to soak through Re’mj’s hooded cloak a little deeper than usually. A little colder than usual.

Grjsh was in the market, at work.

Even her children were quiet, which was very unusual in the Dag’mur house. The daughters and cousins weren’t bickering, or playing, or singing silly songs together. They just sat around the dimming hearth inside. The whole house was brooding.

Her mother, A’kha, was sitting inside, too, nursing a heavy migraine. Since Na’la had left home, A’kha had become quieter, more distant, more inward. She had grown very thin, sickly thin.

Re’mj was the only one who was still outside.

She tended the soup cauldron, stirring, stirring, never letting it sit. She had not been in the mood to put the awning up, so rain fell right into the cauldron’s open mouth.

It yawned, to gulp the stippling drops.

She stirred. Tonight, she felt like an old woman.

The rain rose in intensity, and Re’mj pulled her hood tighter over her head.

A voice said something in the sudden din.

Re’mj looked, half-recognising the voice without hearing what it said.

“What was that?” Re’mj said. “I didn’t…”

The rain lightened, and Re’mj smiled.

Smiled wide.

Na’la was standing there, with Blinker behind her.

“I said, beautiful night!” grinned Na’la.

And it was.

* * * * / * * * *

Na’la spent all night, sipping soup from the mug she’d made as a child.

She huddled within her family, within the crowded hut.

They told her stories, of all the things that’d happened since Na’la had been gone.

They told her jokes.

Her sisters bickered, and her cousins showed her a game they made up, where the rules changed everytime you played, so that the cousins always won. Na’la loved it.

And as that first night back home came to a close, they asked…

“What about you!”

“Where did you go?”

“What happened?”

“Tell us everything!”

“Pretty necklace!”

“And nose ring! Wait, are you rich now?”

“Yeah, are you rich now?”

“Are we rich?”

Gran A’kha, in her softest smile, said again…

“Tell us everything.”

Na’la stared down at her bowl, eaten clean, glistening with the memory of soup.

The best soup, she decided.

“Well,” said Na’la, trying to decide where the story should start. “After we left here, we—”

“No no,” said Gran. “I said Tell us.”

Na’la shared a smile.

She let her skin become darkness.

She folded them into herself, and began to tell the tale.

She could not remember if it was her first Telling.

It may not’ve been.

But it felt like a first Telling.

And knowing that it might be her Gran’s very last, Na’la filled her family with the fullness of her passions. With her guilts. With her wonder, and her fear, with every frustration and embarrassment.

She even shared her feelings about Ba’ku’ra.

And she began…

“In a House of the Lich…
Once upon a cloudy day…
A human boy (named Kaye) was sleeping.
Sleeping in…
And sleeping smiling. But…
Then, a voice cut in…”

* * * * / * * * *

Book III

Cadence to GODS BLED

Now, to sleep.
Now, to sleep.
The Circle turns again.

Now, to silence.
Now, to silence.
The Circle turns again.

Now, to merge.
Tomorrow, sever.
The Circle turns.
The Circle turns.

The Circle Turns Again.

* * * * / * * * *

CADENCE to TRILOGY ONE

* * * * / * * * *

Mother Death
Stood up and said :

“ That’s all for now.
That’s all tonight.
Here’s what I’ll say for Na’la…

“Cloaked in power, but…
Thirsty for purpose,
And purpose
Is the thing that comes from
Within. The Hows Reveals the Whys.”

She gave a sigh,
A weary long one,
Letting all the night deflate.
She looked up, somber, to the moon.

“ Enough, enough. Can’t seem to stop!
Let us learn how
Time
Passes
Tomorrow… ”

* * * * / * * * *

The last thing I heard,
As sleep soon took me,
Was Mother Death’s soft song :

“ D u r ’ g u h o ’ g w a j g u ’ n a
U r ’ d d j ’ a e ’ r j . . . .
N a ’ l a S a ’ g u h . . . . ”

* * * * / * * * *

END OF NA’LA SAGA : Trilogy One.

Link to Orcish-English Dictionary

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