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"The sounds have
ceased," the Grand Admiral Leofolan Therolas noted to his remaining
bodyguard, another bionoid that went by the name of Elrin (a name the
Admiral found distasteful, because it seemed so very human and brief to
the tongue). He shifted in the small chair that functioned as a control
for the furnace helm that powered the wreckboat. "It lasted longer
than I had expected in any event. Georalal is normally very quick and
thorough."
Although he supposed that
the admiral spoke to him, out of politeness Elrin remained quiet because
he knew the comment was a sign of the Admiral's nervousness. The pompous
fool had insisted on this undermanned voyage, and now the axe had fallen.
They were lucky to be alive, and they would be lucky to make it back to
the outpost. Why the admiral had insisted on leading the attack on the
lone scorpion was beyond Elrin. Such acts of bravado
are common of younger elves, not…
Elrin stopped his musing as
his enhanced senses heard the sounds of the hatch opening, and a body
dropping down through it. Before he could tell what it was, his
magically-tuned reactions had placed him in front of the admiral, and he
had assumed his combat form. He saw now what had fallen sprawled on the
deck, just as he saw the large figure that dropped after it, to stand over
his fallen foe.
The admiral gasped, having
risen from the seat and turned to see the dead bionoid. "Georalal,
no!" The bionoid was dead, and the largest orc either had ever seen
was standing over the body, which had in death resumed elven form. The orc
carried a large axe which he placed at his side. He had a few small wounds
that bled freely, but the orc appeared unaffected by the injuries.
"Who are you?"
Admiral Leofalan demanded in broken orcish.
"I," answered the
great orc in fluent High Elven, causing the Admiral's eyebrows to raise in
surprise, "am Great Captain Dukagsh."
The orc named Dukagsh began
to move his shoulder as if going for a weapon. Elrin leaped forward,
covering the distance inside the wreckboat easily, but the orc simply
stepped behind the ladder and completed the movement, unslinging the long
arquebus and snapping it forward between the ladder rungs. Elrin had never
seen such a weapon before, and simply lunged for the tubular barrel of the
weapon. It exploded before he touched it, and the blast caught Elrin full
in the chest, knocking him back to where the admiral stood.
Dukagsh walked back around
the ladder and held the arquebus up before him, training it on the downed
bionoid, which was struggling to its feet. He looked at the admiral and
smiled a tusk-filled smile. The admiral did not flinch.
"That is the difficulty
with your bionoids; their shells make them rather tough to kill. That is
why I have two barrels on my gun," Dukagsh stated with finality as he
pulled the trigger again, and the arquebus erupted with a roar that
deafened the now defenseless Admiral, as it spattered him with the blood
of his loyal bodyguard. "Now we are alone," the orc finished in
near-perfect elven. He slung his now-empty arquebus upon his back again
and produced the axe that was still red with the sparkling blood of the
elves he had slain.
"How did you know I was
here?" Leofalan asked matter-of-factly. He did not fear death, and he
certainly felt that it would come soon, so his natural curiosity was
unleashed.
"Know that our great
god Gruumsh told me of your intentions. He delivered you to me so that we
can turn this war around."
"Surely you don't
believe that killing me will do anything but enrage us further and fuel
the war against your kind?"
"Of course I don't.
Your life is far more valuable to me than your death," Dukagsh
shrugged. He went to the porthole on the side of flitter. Seeing his own
ship, he grasped the symbol of Gruumsh he wore about his neck to alert
Karzat that he had the admiral and to pick him up.
"You are most unusual
for your kind, Dukagsh. Most of your brothers have fled the stars, and yet
you engineer this daring plan and capture me with little difficulty. I
almost believe that your god did lead you here." He glanced out the
forward view and then smiled. "But it appears my god has led others
here also. The armada Soul's Light arrives early."
To his dismay, Dukagsh saw that Leofalan was
right, but what disturbed him more was that his own ship, the Burning Spear, was fleeing the engagement. Karzat was abandoning
him! Cursing loudly, he surged to the viewport to see better, forgetting
the admiral behind him. The armada was closer to the outpost than to the
wreckboat. It would be easy for the Spear
to swing around and pick him up and still flee before the armada could
discover what had happened. But they fled instead, because Karzat wanted
him dead.
He remembered the elf at the
same time that he felt a hand rest upon his shoulder. He whirled about to
face the short elf, who remained unarmed.
To his surprise, Dukagsh saw that the elf pitied him.
"They have left you to
die, and hope to take your place," Leofalan shook his head sadly.
"This is why your people fight, Great Dukagsh. They care little for
the elves. They fight for the pleasure of your gods."
"What do you know of my
gods?" Dukagsh reverted to orcish.
The admiral thought to
change his language to orcish, then, thinking better of it, continued in
elven. His orcish wasn't really very good. "I have spoken with
them."
Dukagsh frowned and his hand
went to his axe.
"You may doubt me of
course. I know you are taught to disbelieve anything an elf might offer or
say, but it is true. As the Grand Admiral I have communed with Corellon
personally on some occasions. I have met various incarnations of your gods
as well. Not all of them, of course," he waved aside the orc’s axe,
and the orc let it be pushed aside, mesmerized as he was by the elf's
words. "But I do remember Gruumsh in particular. He's built rather
like you. Larger and uglier, only one eye. Spear and torch, the whole bit.
But do you know that he couldn't care less about your success or failure
here in mortality? He is in constant war with Magubliyet of the goblins in
the planes of Archeron, and he only cares that you grow up to learn to
fight, and then die so you can aid him in an endless battle on the fields
of Archeron, over a cause that is now long forgotten."
Dukagsh was confused.
"You are an elf, you cannot understand the ways of the orcs or our
gods..." he started.
"But it was Gruumsh
One-Eye that told me this. Surely even an elf can proclaim the truth as he
has heard it from He-Who-Never-Sleeps? I have always wanted to ask this
question of an orc chieftain, but none have ever been interested in
parleying with an elf. But you are different, very different, Dukagsh. I
believe that is why you were led here, and that is why you were left here.
You are a threat to the way of life for the orcs. I am a man of military
background and education. You understand strategy and tactics very well, I
can see that from this raid alone.
"Consider this: I am
willing to guess that you often have tried to change the way your leaders
arranged their warfare, or challenged their thinking or strategy. You are
like what alchemists call a catalyst, a substance that causes a reaction
and a change to occur on any other materials that are near it. You are
able to do more than the others because you already understand that you
are more than what your gods allow. This is the biggest difference between
my race and yours. This is why we always win. We see all that we can do,
we allow ourselves to grow beyond our expectations. The orcs, unlike you,
act on what the shaman says and live by the legends and stories which are
told around the campfires at night. They do not ever strive to exceed
their potential."
"You seek to crowd my
mind with your lies," Dukagsh barked, but the sinking realization of
the elf’s words was shaking him to the core. It was something he knew to
be true because he had been living it every day of his life. He had been
fighting to put a voice to it since he had first become a warrior and seen
the way their gods manipulated their lives so much, kicking the orcs down
whenever they might have gained an advantage for themselves. The final
proof was the fact that he had pulled off the greatest victory of this war
for the gods’ cause, and in that moment he had been betrayed by those
same gods and left to die. Now the elves would assuredly defeat the
remains of the humanoid fleets, and there would be no more orcs in space.
There would be no orc empire among the stars as the shamans had promised.
It was never the priests’ intention to see this destiny fulfilled. At
every chance the orcs had had to establish themselves, the shamans had
moved them on, and the opportunities had been lost. It was not the orcs’
fault! It was their own gods! They were as greedy and jealous as any of
their shamans.
It was as if lightning had
struck his head. Dukagsh reeled with the possibilities. Then his thoughts
crystallized with a new purpose. Or perhaps it had been his original
purpose all along and he hadn't known it. But he had not lost yet. He
still had the admiral.
He reached for the admiral
only to see him twist a ring on his finger and begin to fade from view.
Dukagsh snarled and struck out with his axe, only to strike the chair as
Leofalan faded to a mist, then disappeared. A voice remained behind.
"You are a worthy
opponent Great Captain Dukagsh. It is unfortunate that you were born to a
side that was never interested in winning the war. I would have enjoyed
having you at my side. I wish you luck, but I know you will not survive.
May you at least find rest in death." The voice echoed and then was
gone.
Dukagsh sat alone on the
furnace helm, the wreckboat continuing its slow forward course. He raised
his head. He had not lost yet. He brought the small wreckboat about and
headed for the last orc hammership that was now also fleeing the outpost
at the approach of the armada.
"I will survive, if
only to enact revenge on those that betrayed me!" He began to swear
an oath to Gruumsh to that effect then, but a thought crossed his mind
that halted his speech. The Admiral's words came back to him,'Your
gods couldn't care less about your efforts...' Gruumsh had betrayed
him too. How does one exact vengeance on a god? Dukagsh did not know. But
he had not lost yet, and he would have more time.
On board that hammership
minutes later, Dukagsh was greeted with surprise and cheers from his orc
followers. He shouted for the captain of the vessel and was approached by
Captain Rark.
"Dukagsh! We must flee!
The armada arrived earlier than we expected. The other ships have fled
already!" Rark explained.
Dukagsh nodded his head.
"Yes, we are through now, set out for the sphere. We leave this place
forever."
"Where is the Grand
Admiral? Is he…?" Rark was hopeful, of course, that the Admiral
would have struggled and resisted, forcing them to kill him. He was loyal
to Dukagsh, but did not understand how keeping the Admiral alive would be
so useful as killing him and striking fear into the elves’ hearts.
Dukagsh knew this was what his loyal captain Rark thought within his mind.
Raised by shamans and witchdoctors, Rark could conceive of little else but
slaying one’s enemies outright. But he could be taught to do more. That
was why Dukagsh had chosen him over other orcs to lead the ambush.
He looked Rark in the eyes.
"The Admiral was captured by me. He escaped through magic."
Rark looked downfallen. It
was a possibility they had considered, but they had hoped that Gruumsh
would take care of that also in his own divine way. Rark looked up, his
eyes dimmed with understanding and sorrow. "Then this war is truly
lost."
"NO!" Dukagsh
roared this with such ferocity that Rark was taken aback. Dukagsh spun
about and swept his arm across the sky from horizon to horizon. "This
war was stolen! Stolen from us!"
********
Months later, a ragtag fleet
of orc ships and stolen or broken-down human freighters was led by Dukagsh
beyond the normal flow rivers, past his own home sphere, and still
farther. They stopped for air and supplies, stealing or raiding, never
leaving survivors. They followed an erratic course and traveled close to
the edge of sargassos to be sure of losing any pursuit. Dukagsh took these
measures, but knew the elves felt no need to chase them. The orcs were
defeated. Broken. The orcs would never be a threat to the elves. All of
the goblin races combined would never threaten the elves. The elves knew
it. Dukagsh knew it. For the entire journey he kept to himself. Plotting.
Thinking.
Finally they arrived in a
faraway sphere, with six planets, and a bright yellow sun. After scout
vessels returned with reports of their findings, Dukagsh chose the second
planet. Lush. Full of life and vegetation. But it also had a wide hot
equatorial desert expanse with nothing but sand for miles around. This is
where he took the orcs.
Many complained. The priests
and shamans especially. "Where will we hide from the accursed
sun?" they demanded.
"We will build shelters
and homes," had been his answer.
"We can't build houses!
We take them! We dwell in caves and mountains. What do we know of building
with our hands? We are orcs, warriors!"
Dukagsh smiled, "You
have failed as orcs and warriors. Now we will see if you can at least
build a house for yourself."
The orcs had laughed. The
priests had growled and complained. Threats were muttered.
They used their ships to
haul water, wood, and materials from the more fertile lands nearby. Small
huts and hovels sprung up. Villages began. A year later Dukagsh returned
from a trade mission with several large crates aboard their ship. This
drew looks of hope and glee from the orcs. He gathered them all near.
"Within these crates
lies your future! All the power that we will ever need to accomplish our
goals!" Dukagsh had bellowed, and then struck out at the straps
holding them shut. Anticipation ran high. Orcs young and old had wondered
what was within. New weapons? Powerful magic for the shamans to use? The
secret of creating marauders?
The crates split wide and
the contents fell to the ground, flapping out like injured birds. The orcs
rushed forward, then stopped. A young orc reached out to pick up an item
from the crate.
"What is it?" the
whelp whispered.
"Books?"
an incredulous Karzat stumbled forward from the crowd. His hatred for
Dukagsh was well known, but the orcs revered him. His power was not enough
to slay the great orc leader, though, he knew well enough; he had tried
three times now. He also knew that each time, Dukagsh knew. Dukagsh was
mocking him, facing the priest’s best and defeating it easily. Karzat
struck out wherever he could.
"We are orcs! We do not read, as the
elves or humans do! We…" Karzat began to rant, his one good eye
blazing.
Dukagsh cut him off.
"You have failed as orcs. You have barely succeeded at building your
homes. Some of you couldn't even do that yourselves." This last was
meant for Karzat and the other shamans, who had not raised a finger to
erect their huts. The shamans had required the other orcs to build homes
for them before allowing the soldiers to build their own. It was a point
of anger among the orcs. Dukagsh had seen to the angry populace. He had
helped build other homes until all had a roof over head, then he had built
his own.
"These books contain
knowledge, wisdom of many races. Secret knowledge, how to grow crops, how
to forge steel, how to build ships, how to fight with skill." He bent
down and picked one up, taking it to Karzat. "This one explains how
to build a house. You could use this most of all."
The orcs laughed. But then one asked, "We
cannot read. What can we do with these except burn them for warmth?"
"You will all learn to read. I will teach
you. My captains will teach you. You will gain the secret knowledge of the
dwarves, the humans, and the elves." There was muttering at this;
what could an elf know that was worth anything? He continued. "When
you are done, you will know how to stay warm in any winter. You will know
how to stay cool in the scorching flames of summer. You will learn how to
fight with skill and savagery. And you will practice!"
* * * * *
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Adapted from
"Dukagsh Tells It Like It Is" by Benjamin Buchanan
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