The ancient city rose up on the far side of the river like a stone forest. Hundreds of square towers and high rises competed for space behind a mighty stone wall, and acrid smoke belched forth from innumerable chimneys, kilns, and furnaces. Koruk pinched his nose as they walked. The dirt paths had gradually given way to paving stones as they approached the city; arteries feeding the great city from the countless outlying farms, mines, and ranches. The road was crowded with orcs driving herds of hairy pigs along and pushing carts and wheelbarrows.

  The road led to an arched stone bridge spanning the Blue Run, beyond which the gateway of the city loomed. Twin towers flanked the blocky gatehouse, atop which a pair of huge braziers burned, and wide red banners draped down them displayed a stylized golden flame. The effect was, Koruk thought, extremely impressive.

  The near side of the river was crowded with tents and hand carts, many of which were of unfamiliar make. It was strange that so many people appeared to have taken up residence just outside the city walls, Koruk thought. He was soon to have answers to his questions.

  An ugly guard commanded them to halt as they were about to step onto the bridge. He swaggered towards them flanked by two other goons.

  “Ere’s a toll fer passage. Three gold flames per ‘ead, or 24 silver tuskets or the same weight in jewelry.” The guard grinned at them idiotically as he delivered the scripted monologue he had clearly practiced many times. His breath stank of alcohol and rot, and Koruk could smell it even from several paces away.

  “That’s ridiculous!” Koruk protested, “Passage south on the road is guaranteed by ancient orc-law.”

  “Well see, it is free, right? All we’re askin’ fer is a small fee, for the upkeep of this here bridge. If you don’t like it, you’re ‘free’ to swim the river!” The guard said. His friends chuckled.

  Rage flared in Moktark’s eyes, and he took a step forward. Koruk grabbed his huge arm and led him away. This wasn’t a fight they could win. Not in full view of the city gates.

  When they were a little ways away, Moktark angrily shrugged off Koruk’s hand. He punted a rock across the road out of frustration. Koruk let him roam around for a bit and calm down.

  “Even if we wanted to pay we have no money.” Koruk said. Moktark spat and snorted.

  “I would pay them in their own blood. To hell with this city!” He sulked.

  Having nowhere better to go, the trio headed for the encampment to ask around. They learned that the orcs there were mostly merchants who had been denied access to the city in the same manner. A few of them had met the head price and gone through, but for most of them it was simply too high. It would render their entire trip unprofitable, and so they had set up camp in the hopes that the gate guards would come to their senses or be replaced.

  Every merchant they talked to had a similar tale of woe, and they were about to give up hope and hit the road again when a figure beckoned them over.

  He was a slender orc, dressed in strange tan robes and resting under a lean-to set up beside his cart. His face and head were entirely covered by a loosely wound turban, which revealed only his eyes and tusks. Devious eyes, Koruk thought. A strange animal was hitched to the cart, looking like a tall goat with a huge hump on its back, and from beneath a tarp Koruk could see many foreign wares hidden away.

  “I have heard you are looking for a way south, past Zernthod.” He said. “Getting into the city is impossible now, but there are ways past it, for the strong or clever. You look to be both.”

  “What do you know, trader?” Koruk asked. Something about this smelled fishy.

  “I know many things traveller. I have walked the world plying my wares, and know the hidden paths and ways better than any here.”

  “If that’s the case, what are you doing sitting here?” Moktark asked, scoffing. The trader shrugged his shoulders dramatically.

  “My fate brings me to this dismal city sadly.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “You know a way around?” Koruk asked.

  “I do, for the right price of course.”

  “If we had money we could have simply paid the guards. We have nothing for you.” Koruk said, turning to leave.

  “Not money. If you don’t mind, I’d like to have a lot at that artefact, and that companion of yours.”

  “They aren’t for sale.”

  “I just want to examine them. No harm done!”

  Koruk turned back to him. He glanced at Moktark and Oben, who both shrugged.

  “I’m watching you.” Koruk said, narrowing his eyes.

  The stranger marvelled at the star-metal shield, and asked many questions about its origin. Koruk gave him an abridged summary of how they had taken it and the human from the dragon’s egg in the north, which was later stolen by the Beast Tamers. As he spoke, the merchant drew symbols on a roll of parchment, and sketched both the shield and Oben.

  “What are you doing? What are you drawing?” Koruk asked.

  “This? I’m merely taking notes.” He said. Seeing the confusion in Koruk’s eyes he explained.

  “I’m… storing words on the parchment. Preserving the story.”

  “Sorcery.” Moktark muttered, but made no motion to intervene.

  The merchant examined Oben closely. He grasped the human’s smooth chin in his hand, turning it this way and that way, and ran his fingers through his hair as if searching for something. Oben looked nervous as the orcish merchant poked and prodded at him until he was satisfied, taking short breaks to draw on the parchment.

  “Remarkable.”

  “We’ve done as you asked, now tell us what you know.” Koruk said. The merchant seemed annoyed, but returned to his lean-to and sat down cross legged. He began drawing in the sand.

  “There is a ford in the river to the west, near the fork that splits the Blue Run in half. Cross it, and continue due south. There is a passage in the cliffs there, hidden among the rocks. I have used it many times to go north to Orc’gar. You will know it by its guardians, two great pillars of stone balanced atop each other. There is a road through the mountains leading south on the plateau.”

  “Can we not simply follow the opposite bank of the river east after crossing the ford, and then bypass Zernthod?” Koruk asked, tracing a trail with his finger. The merchant shook his head.

  “No, the river runs up against the cliffs. There’s no passage on the southern bank.”

  “I don’t like it.” Moktark said, shaking his head. “The mountains are dangerous. Crag lions and worse things prowl the slopes, and ghosts haunt the caves and ruins. They will come out at night and suck out your soul, leaving your dry bones to bake in the sun. There must be a better way.”

  “I have told you what I know. The mountain pass is your best chance, unless you can cough up the headfee.”

  Koruk thanked him, and the three of them left to go ponder their options in privacy.

  A rock hit the water with a splash. I wish he wouldn’t do that, it’s distracting, Koruk thought as Moktark picked up another rock to hurl into the river. He knew the big orc was just blowing off steam though, and left him to it. In the distance the great city loomed mockingly. The first great barrier in their quest, and likely not the last.

  “Why not we go around, the other way? By water?” Oben asked. Koruk looked at him.

  “By water?”

  “Yes, by boat. Sail around Zernthod, to east.”

  Koruk scratched his chin. That could work. He motioned for Oben to continue.

  The human demonstrated his plan using river stones. Essentially, they would build or steal a boat, and then sail down the eastern coastline bypassing Zernthod. Koruk idly wished he had asked for a copy of the map back in Wit’thod, but he believed he got the gist of the idea. He called Moktark over and explained it.

  “No way. I’m not getting in any boat. Drowning is no death for a warrior!”

  “As opposed to having your soul sucked out by ghosts in the mountains?” Koruk retaliated. Moktark was taken aback a bit.

  “That’s not much better I guess. I say we wait until night, and then sneak into Zernthod. Maybe kill one of those stinking guards and take his clothes to disguise ourselves!”

  “That’s foolish. There’s no way we’d get into or out of the city alive, especially if we killed the guards.”

  “Boat idea will work. Stay close to shore.” Oben said, crossing his arms. “Climb mountain seem dangerous. This easier.”

  “The problem is, even if we knew how to sail a boat...” Koruk began.

  “I’m not getting in a boat.” Moktark protested.

  “… Even if we knew how to sail, where would we get one? The Shattered Storm tribe to the north are avid sailors but they keep to themselves. They’d be the most likely to have something seaworthy.”

  “They’re a weird people, live on islands north of the Beast Tamers. Weird customs.” Moktark said, sitting down on a wide rock. He looked out at the river and sighed. “I think this is a terrible idea from every angle. We’d probably have to cross the Beast Tamer territory to the north to even get to the waters they ply, and then ambush a beached fishing boat and steal it. They wouldn’t give it to us willingly.”

  “Why? Why no go back through village Wit’thod, then go north to water?” Oben asked. Koruk and Moktark both grimaced.

  “Being seen returning home with our tails between our legs after barely having been gone a week wouldn’t be a good look.” Koruk said. “We’d ideally want to avoid White Moon territory altogether.”

  The three of them continued to argue and bicker for some time. Night began to fall. Eventually they decided to follow the merchant’s advice. They would take the mountain pass.

  It seemed the least bad option at the time.