NABC Epilogue 1: A Gift of Flame
Epilogue 1: A Gift of Flame
Epilogue 1: A Gift of Flame
Icy gales howled through the mountain ranges of the north with unceasing fury. Their tall, indomitable spires stretched skyward, making the ranges of the west resemble little more than mounds of dirt by comparison. The thick coating of white that capped each jagged peak only sharpened them further, the snow itself compacting into white blades and ridges that had sent many a brave adventurer sliding to their doom.
One might suspect that this inhospitable environment was just as bereft of life as it seemed. Yet that was far from the case. Deep within, past the first few rings of the range’s maw, were caves. Massive crevices that had been hollowed out by wind and claw alike, their interiors rivaling the Roman capital’s castle in both size and grandeur.
The dull sound of wood against stone tapped a slow, steady rhythm against the stone floor of the cave. But this was far from the rough black stone that composed the rest of the mountain. This floor had been smoothed and polished into a single uniform layer. One of marble and obsidian and gold, all mixing together in a collage of wealth. Atop it lay scattered piles and piles of precious stones and coins and treasures of every description, the lack of regard for their organization only making the display seem more ostentatious.
The tapping continued, treading deeper into the cave. An orcish woman, more ancient than dirt and with a back so bowed as to be bent in half, continued her advance. What few snowflakes dared follow her inside melted as soon as they crossed the cave’s threshold. Despite her grimy appearance, her feet were entirely clean and didn’t leave so much as a single mote of dirt across the floor as she walked.
It wasn’t long before her presence was acknowledged. The mass of sparkling black stone before her opened one massive glittering eye, a treasure more resplendent than even the piles of gold and gems gathered around. Then it spoke.
"Hmmm. One of Epimetheus' failures. What are you doing so far from your cage, little one?"
They weren’t words, per se. Not truly. More of an impression that was imprinted upon her very soul. Nevertheless, the low rumbling that accompanied them shook the mountain and filled the cave with dark smoke from the being’s twin nostrils.
The orcish woman stopped. Proceeding any further would be a blatant breach of respect. “Greetings, oh great one. Forgive the intrusion. I mean no offense in disturbing your slumber.
It snorted. “Hmph. Your very stench offends me. The only reason I have allowed you to persist thus far is to satisfy my curiosity. Now answer, that I may scour your filth from my abode.”
The ancient orc didn’t even blink at the threat. “I seek an audience with you on behalf of my people. Great changes are on the horizon—not just for my people, but for the world as well. Your aid against the storm to come would be a great boon indeed.”
The mountain fell silent and still as a grave. Then it began to rumble, harder and harder until the ceiling itself seemed as though it would cave in upon the woman’s head. After a few minutes, the earthquake subsided. “Lowly bug. For you to make it so far, I presumed that you must have some unique attributes about you. But it appears not. You exhibit the same lack of intelligence and regard for your own life as your brethren.”
A dark maw opened wide within the cave. A deep red glowed within, then rapidly shifted to orange and yellow. The warmth that suffused the cave intensified until the very air scorched the orc’s skin and lit the edges of her cloak aflame.
Still, she did not flinch. Instead, she reached into her robe and retrieved an item. A small stone, carved in the shape of a sleeping fox with its tail tucked beneath its chin. The runes carved across its back blazed with light that sizzled in the woman’s grip. Yet she did not react.
The woman’s hand clenched. The stone cracked, the fox’s body crumbling away. In its place remained a shining red gem so brilliant it hurt to look at. The heat it radiated rivaled even that which suffused the cavern.
The glow receded as the maw closed. A curious head rose and stretched forth to inspect the gem, revealing an even greater trove of treasures hidden beneath its chin. The being’s scales rippled as it moved. “This is…”
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“A gift.” The orc said simply. “From my master.”
Another snort. “Your master would never think to prepare such a thing.”
“My creator is not my master. I serve another. One who sees potential in my people and seeks to make us whole. One who has endowed you with many gifts, as well.”
The being’s eyes flickered with understanding. “I see. Then perhaps a gift of flame is fitting, indeed.”
A forked tongue flicked out to seize the gem and pull it into the maw. The tiny pebble made a barely audible crunch as massive teeth bit down on it. But the effect was immediate. A flash of power rippled over the being, outlining its form. Black scales edged in ivory. A majestic horned snout. Talons as large as the humans’ grandest swords. And two leathery wings folded across its back.
The dragon stretched, its wingtips extending to touch the vaulted ceilings of the cavern. Gold and gems clattered as they fell from its great underbelly and onto the ground. Then, it sighed with contentment and settled down once more.
“This is not the extent of my master’s generosity, of course.” The orc said. “It is merely the beginning.”
“Hmph.” The dragon snorted again. “Of course. Such an offering is the bare minimum due to one of my status entertaining an insect’s words.”
Yet his bearing told a different story. There was a hungry look in the dragon’s eyes now, one that suggested he had far more interest in the matter than he let on. It wasn’t hard to understand why. Even the orc could feel the difference. The cavern’s temperature had risen a few notches, and the dragon’s scales now seemed to glow with newfound luster.
“My master already works to clear the dead wood among my kind as we speak,” the ancient orc continued. “Though their ashes will fertilize the ground for new growth, he wishes to ensure that those saplings survive long enough to bear fruit.”
“I cannot help but wonder what he sees in you. So strange that one so noble would lower himself to care about mere ants.”
“He sees potential in us. Great potential.”
“In fleshy soft bodies who can do little more than writhe across the ground. Whose greatest ambition is to bash their empty heads against their foes and crack them open in pursuit of victory.”
The orc did not respond. Instead, she continued. “He believes we can become more. Though it is not a given, considering the enemy that stands against them. The Romans.”
A deep growl filled the air. “The Romans… I had heard rumors of their return, but thought it impossible. The tall tales of youth who have not learned the weight of such words.”
The indignation in the dragon’s tone was clear. The orc nodded. “Yes, great one. We seek your protection against this foe as our people begin to grow anew.”
“Protection? No.” A massive horned head glared out of the cave entrance. “I am no mere dog that guards a master’s home. I am the master.”
The orc bowed her head. “Indeed, great one. Yet your memory is as long-lived as any. You surely understand that they will come for you and yours just as before.”
“Whatever foolish ambitions they aspire to shall crumble to cinders before me. I will permit nothing less. My people will not fall under such a yoke ever again. Now… Leave. I have much to consider.”
The final words were punctuated by a snort of flame that melted some of the gold near the dragon’s head. The orc nodded and turned to go as the dragon settled back down to rest, her staff tapping out its slow rhythm once more.
She had secured no promise of aid of any kind. She hadn’t truly expected to. The dragons were too proud for that. Yet she had done her part. She trusted in her master and his plans. The actions she’d taken here would pave the way for her people’s future, into a new dawn where they could finally leave behind the legacy that had shackled them for so long. Even if she would not see it herself.
The cold hit the orc woman like a physical blow. The wind sliced through her robes and brazenly stole her warmth away. The rough pendant at her neck, already flickering from the strain of her journey here, spluttered and died. Even the residual heat from the blackened and burned hand that had held the gem disappeared, only to be replaced with the telltale signs of frostbite.
The orc shuffled through the icy snowdrifts with careful steps, making her way toward a relatively flat rock away from the cave’s entrance. Hopefully, it was far enough away. The dragon had shown disdain for her scent, but she had little energy to travel further. Even now, her joints began to seize up with age, and the cold reasserted itself.
She lowered herself stiffly upon the rock and bowed her head, closing her eyes in prayer. It took only a minute before her stooped figure disappeared beneath the snow and ice.