Koruk awoke sputtering and coughing. Somehow he had gotten sand in his mouth. He tried to spit it out, but his mouth was dry. He felt hands on his shoulders, and thought he heard someone say something but his head was spinning and he couldn’t make it out. He felt something being pressed to his lips. A waterskin.
“… ear me? Hey, you alive little brother?”
Gradually Koruk’s senses started to clear. A familiar green face was looking at him.
“Urmph” was all he could manage. Realization dawned that he had a mouthful of water, and he spat it out, thankfully taking most of the sand with it.
“There you go, easy now little brother. See, I told you he was made of tough stuff old man!”
“Never doubted.”
“Pig… ” Koruk began, but was interrupted by a coughing fit. Moktark patted him none too gently on the back.
Memories started to flood back into Koruk’s mind. The frantic escape. Running down the steps of the pyramid. The flash of light and the explosion. At some point he must have blacked out. He noticed that his head hurt, and when he touched it he felt a stinging pain and a lump at the back.
“Took a rock to the skull. Nothing too serious.” Moktark said, answering his unspoken question and passing him the waterskin once again.
Koruk tried to stand, but his vision started to swim again. He found himself staring down at the ground, at the red sand pooling around his legs. Wait a minute, he thought to himself. Sand. I’m outside. That means…
Koruk lurched to his feet and nearly fell over, ignoring the rushing feeling in his head.
“The… imps…”
“Whoh boy, sit your ass down. There’s no imps. They’re gone.” Semthak said, grabbing Koruk from behind before he could topple over again.
“… what?”
“Yeah, packed up and left I guess. Guess we were in there longer than we thought.” Moktark added.
Koruk tried to nod. He wasn’t sure he ever managed to complete the gesture before falling back into black oblivion.
“You sure he’s going to be alright old man?”
Semthak nodded, and glanced around at the sand dunes surrounding them. Behind them, a pillar of smoke lazily wafted into the blue sky from the blown open top of the pyramid.
“Yes. He seemed lucid enough. He needs rest, and water. The better question is, are we going to be alright?”
Moktark grunted. The situation seemed grim. The tent city of the imps was gone, vanished without a trace. It didn’t seem like they had left behind a single scrap of fabric, let alone any water or supplies. The temple stood silent and alone amidst the endless sand drifts of the great desert.
“I’m going to go scout around, see if they left anything.” Moktark announced.
“Not on that leg you aren’t. Sit down. I’ll go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Semthak selected a tall looking dune in the distance, and headed for it, deciding if the imps had left behind anything of value he’d have a better chance of seeing it from a high vantage point. During the walk, he stewed in bitterness.
It had been seven years since the visions started. Since he had been called to this place. He had given up everything. His position. His home. The faith and hopes that Morzol had put on him, when he took the young orc under his wing so long ago. Going on 60 years now, Semthak reflected. But it still hurt, and reliving the event in the temple certainly didn’t help.
He had abandoned them all to go chasing the visions. He had felt so sure of himself. That it was all part of some higher purpose. But it was all gone now. A smoking black ruin half scattered across this accursed desert.
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Semthak turned back towards the temple, and spat on the ground. In a way it had been the most amazing experience of his long life, but his triumph had had snatched away at the very end. He’d never know what the visions meant now. What it had all been for.
If it was worth it.
He caught himself absentmindedly fondling the gemstone that human had pulled out of the “oracle” in the temple. He pulled it out to look at it, and marvelled as it seemed to suck in the rays of the red sun overhead.
“’Least I got a memento I guess.”
Putting it back into his belt pouch, he resumed the long climb.
A wind had began to pick up as Semthak reached the top of the dune, and sharp particles of sand whipped his face along with his tangled white hair. He shielded his face with his hands, and squinted as he surveyed the landscape.
All around him, endless waves of rolling drifts spread out towards the horizon. The sun beat down from above, and heat shimmered off the red sand, creating hazy mirages. In one of those mirages, Semthak thought he saw a bit of colour, a piece of cloth billowing in the wind.
The orc squinted harder. Yes, there was no doubt. One solitary, low tent still stood in the empty expanse that once hosted the city of the imps.
Semthak turned back towards Moktark, and waved to get his attention.
Moktark cautiously limped towards the tent, his weapon held in a loose grip.
“Anybody home?” He asked, having to raise his voice to shouting pitch to make it heard over the blowing wind.
There was a rustling noise, and the canvas flapped open to reveal Kiwai’s now familiar face. He sheepishly waved in greeting.
“Kiwai? What are you doing here?” Moktark asked, lowering his war bat. Before the imp could speak, Semthak interrupted him.
“Forget that, let us in, we need to get Koruk into shelter!”
Kiwai stepped aside as Semthak hauled Koruk’s unconscious form into the shelter of the tent. Moktark followed, still limping, and Kiwai closed the flap behind them.
It was noticeably cooler in the tent. The ad-hoc structure had been set up on the deck of a sandskimmer which was now half buried by the storm, and Semthak laid Koruk down gingerly on the wooden floor. Kiwai produced a jug of water, and Semthak forced Koruk to drink, before having some for himself.
“I can’t imagine why you’re here, but you have my thanks young one.” Semthak said, sitting down. The tent, really the mainsail of the skimmer, flapped angrily in the wind but did a good job of keeping the weather out. “Why are you here? Where did the rest of your kind go?”
“We call it the Day of Light. Once every few hundred years, the Oracle of the temple does battle with the sky demons, and casts them out of heaven to the earth. The exact day is always unknown, but there are signs in the stars that the priests use to predict it. We gather here to wait. After the demon falls, all the peoples go together to find its corpse. It is said that the flesh of demons is made of metals, and it brings great wealth and power to whomever finds it first, although all share in the bounty.” Kiwai began pausing to take a drink of water.
“And they left to find this demon? The fireball in the sky we saw?”
“Yes. They will spend many days and many nights searching, and weeks more cutting it apart and dividing it. All the while there were will be much feasting and merrymaking. When they have cast new bronze weapons from the blood of the demon, they will go east… to raid the barbarians.”
“To raid us you mean.” Moktark winced. “There were thousands of imps in that city. If they formed an army…”
“Yes, they would wash over Brittle Teeth and strike deep into orc lands. The old stories tell of this happening before, and its always a bloody affair.” Semthak finished, sighing. “Thankfully they usually focus on the Rock Crushers, trying to steal their gold. Only once have they ever made it far enough to besiege Zernthod.”
“I hope you’re right. We have enough on our hands with the Beast Tamers right now, back home.” Moktark said.
“You didn’t answer the first question.” Semthak said, turning to Kiwai. “Why are you here, instead of with them?”
Kiwai hesitated before answering, and did not look Semthak in the eye.
“I waited for you.” He said. Semthak raised an eyebrow.
“I am a trader. It is all I have ever known. I wish only to live in peace, not make war on the barbar… on you. I am not the only one, but the others returned to their villages.” The imp said, speaking quickly, trying to justify his decision. As much to himself as to us maybe, Semthak thought, but the orc kept his mouth shut.
“Couldn’t find anyone to take you on huh?” Moktark asked. Kiwai smiled sadly.
“My only family are dead now. Only I remain.”
“Can we trust him? He tried to dump us in the desert remember?” Moktark asked.
“Don’t see we have any other choice. Besides, he led us here safely. We’ll never make it home without a native guide, and we need to warn the orcs that there might be a big raid coming their way.”
Moktark shrugged and clapped Kiwai on the shoulder in a friendly gesture.
“Guess we’re your new crew then little man. Or should I say, Captain?”