The Savage Land of Greenfall
The orcs did not spare their own bodies. Those already dying threw themselves forward without hesitation, offering their lives so their comrades might live a moment longer.
Even as the light faded from their eyes, none of them regretted the end that was coming.
In the midst of a melee too savage for even the smallest gesture of mourning, I hurled Chain Lightning toward the city gate.
KWA-RUUUNG—!
A bolt of blue lightning streaked through the air and leapt from one red-skinned orc to the next, blasting open the path that had been sealed shut. Once again the fallen numbered only about ten, yet in that brief opening the gray-skinned chieftain burst through, his warriors pouring after him. The moment those gray fighters carved a foothold and began swinging their blades, a broad corridor of steel and blood opened across the battlefield.
“Haaah!”
I joined them at once. Blue lightning still crackled around my hands as Nightmare and I charged the enemy line. Most of my mana was already spent, so what rose along my sword was no longer starlight but the scorching flame of Calvein.
Hwar-reuk!
The chieftain’s reckless disregard for his own life had a single purpose: to give the non-combatants still trapped inside the city a chance to flee. He forced a path open with everything he had, and that path became the escape route for the female orcs and the children.
That, at least, was how it should have gone. The black-mage orc who led the red-skinned host simply flung his mana toward the fleeing civilians. A violet mist shot through with black tendrils swallowed the women, and something unspeakable followed. Skin melted away, white bone gleaming beneath, while the bright-red blood that spilled onto the ground rose as if alive and flew straight back to the black mage.
“Tukahaaa!!!”
The chieftain, forced to watch the horror unfold only a few paces away, loosed a roar thick with despair. His fury looked ready to butcher every orc that stood before him, yet the cruel reality refused to yield. Red warriors kept flooding in from every side, an endless wall of bodies that would not break.
My own situation was little better. They still feared my magic enough not to close the final distance, yet dozens of them had ringed me in and were pressing hard. Whenever long spears and halberds came whistling in, Nightmare had to dance and weave with frantic speed.
Hwar-reuk—!
I swept the raging flames in wide arcs. Calvein’s mana revealed its savage nature without restraint, blackening and devouring everything that dared stand in its path.
Then the gray chieftain threw back his head and bellowed a single word, and the entire battle froze as if by miracle.
“Makutus!!!”
Time itself seemed to stop. I stared around in confusion. The chieftain fixed bloodshot eyes on the red orc who still clutched a grimoire. For a long moment the two simply glared at each other; then both moved at once. Every warrior between them stepped aside, opening a clear path. A natural one-on-one standoff took shape.
Only then did I understand. The ancient orc ritual I had read about in the cultural primer—the Maku-tus—was about to begin right before my eyes.
The chieftain tore off his armor and leveled his longsword at the red sorcerer. In answer the sorcerer cast aside the robe that had hidden his body. The gray orc’s bare torso was a map of brutal scars; the sorcerer’s skin crawled with strange, writhing tattoos. The two stood facing each other, and the duel began.
They traded fierce blows. The massive longsword clashed with sinister mana, and soundless screams seemed to tear the air. At first the chieftain looked to have the upper hand, yet as the seconds stretched it was he who tired faster. The fire of rage drained from his eyes; the powerful muscles that had armored his frame began to wither. With every exchange the change grew more pronounced, as though the sorcerer were siphoning the very life force from his opponent.
No cheers rose. The fight continued in absolute silence. The chieftain’s blade lost its edge as strength left him, yet he refused to yield. When the faint light that had clung to the longsword finally guttered out, the gray leader dropped to his knees and collapsed.
Huff—huff—
Even from a distance his ragged breathing filled the field. A thin wind stirred the blood-dark dust. The victorious sorcerer planted a foot on the fallen chieftain’s head. The gray orcs scowled at the humiliation, but not one of them spoke.
The sorcerer surveyed the battlefield, smiled in satisfaction, and crushed the chieftain’s skull beneath his heel.
Kwaduk!
That was the end. A heavy stillness settled over the field. The gray orcs stood in grim silence.
Then the sorcerer shouted, arms flung wide in the flush of triumph, completely unguarded.
“Makura! Hukemak!”
He poured out words I could not understand, eyes sweeping the circle as if daring anyone else to step forward.
My heart began to hammer. With every last drop of star mana spent, Calvein’s ferocious power was flooding my body instead. The burning fragment of the Red Dragon of Destruction hungered for the world’s end—an arrogant mana that regarded every living thing before it as worthless and itself as supreme.
I slid from Nightmare’s back and took a single step forward. The footfall was light, yet the pressure that rolled outward was crushing. This was the only way I could see to survive. Keep fighting as we were and the red tide would simply overwhelm us, no matter how swift a mount Nightmare might be.
The red-skinned sorcerer turned and met my gaze. A smile curved across his face.
“Kalse!”
I knew that word now. It meant human.
I tightened my grip on the sword and walked closer. Long spear-points brushed my cheek, yet the red warriors parted and let me pass. Alone behind me, Nightmare snorted and stamped, but he understood my intent and held his ground.
“Kalse, toka seh.”
Whatever the words meant, I simply leveled my blade at the red sorcerer the way the gray chieftain had done before his end.
Perhaps the gesture offended him. He scowled and roared.
“Kalse!!!”
Sinister mana surged in answer to his rage, rushing to swallow me whole. What met it was Calvein’s world-scorching flame. The fire that refused all change burned the approaching darkness to nothing.
From the gray orcs’ side a faint sound began—thud, thud—like the stamping of feet. The soft rhythm spread until every surviving gray orc was pounding the earth in unison.
—Kalse!
They chanted the word for human. Then a new cry rose, one I had never heard.
—Mohlabani!
—Mohlabani!
With every shout the sorcerer’s face twisted further. He hurled curses at the gray ranks, yet they did not waver. Even those whose skin had melted under his magic joined the stamping, white bone gleaming where flesh had fallen away. They did not stop.
The chant reached the red orcs as well. At last their will prevailed. The sorcerer’s face contorted with fury as he leveled his staff, dark mana coiling thick around it.
When both warriors were ready, the traditional Maku-tus began. There was no signal—only the plunge into a struggle for each other’s life.
I swung the flame-wreathed sword and painted stars across the air. Seven burning stars streaked toward the sorcerer; he slipped past them with almost lazy grace. His counterattack came at once. Even a glancing touch of that foul mana was lethal. Calvein’s power shielded me, yet it could not cover every angle. Where a thigh was grazed, the ogre-hide armor blackened; where a shoulder was brushed, the leather turned the same dead color. A cool wind rose and the blackened patches crumbled away like ash.
I steadied my breath and kept swinging. Seven motions, seven burning stars—then straight into the next form. This time the sword unfurled a moon wrapped in fire. The blade itself held no light, only the flame that took light’s place.
Hwar-reuk—!
The exchange continued without pause. The red sorcerer did not rely on magic alone. True to his orc blood, he closed for melee and finally drove a fist into my body. Each blow landed like an iron club. Still I could not falter. Lose focus for an instant and it would be over. I whipped my failing body onward.
As the minutes stretched, heat began to climb through my flesh. Calvein’s mana had slipped my control and was running wild. The spinning flames spread across my entire frame; my skin flushed crimson under the onslaught.
“Huuu…!”
Hot breath steamed from my lips with every swing. In that moment an ominous light flared from the grimoire in the sorcerer’s hand. Mockery glittered in his eyes.
Tuduk—!
A sudden, sickening sound. An alien sensation clamped around my ankle. I looked down and saw only white bone. Skeletal hands had erupted from the earth and seized me. The bones did not stop there; they grew like living vines, coiling up my legs. In seconds they had become unbreakable, ignoring every thrash of my body.
“Kalse!!!”
Certain of my end, the sorcerer raised a scorched arm and gathered his darkest mana for the finishing blow. It was over. I could neither swing free nor flee. I loosed Magic Missiles powered by Calvein’s fire, yet every bolt shattered against the mana barrier he raised.
They say your life flashes before your eyes at the end. Strange memories flooded my vision, flipping past like pages of a book. Amid the cascade I recognized something that did not belong to me—memories of another being entirely. Memories of soaring free across endless skies, of setting the whole world ablaze. Those memories showed me the way out.
The moment I understood, the raging mana inside me surged toward a single point. The heat felt ready to cook me from within, yet I waited until the power had fully gathered. The sorcerer’s preparation finished at the same instant as mine.
When every scrap of heat had concentrated into one focus, instinct opened my mouth wide.
And the world-ending flame that once burned the heavens returned.
KWAAAAAAAH!
The torrent of fire that erupted from my throat began to consume everything. Nothing could withstand the heat; everything melted. The sorcerer’s upper body vanished in an instant. The grimoire in his hand left not even black ash. The swirling inferno did not stop—it climbed until it swallowed the clouds themselves.