Path of Dragons 17 - Chapter 8 - Orc Society (Patreon)

“I find this unnerving.”

Elijah ignored Ok’tarik’s complaint and continued to fly circles around the orc.  In truth, he could very much understand why his new ally might’ve been uncomfortable, especially considering that Elijah had chosen to travel in Shape of the World Serpent.  It seemed like the best option, especially considering that Ok’tarik likely had very bad memories of his other flight-capable shapes.

Like Shape of Withering.

Or his dragon form.

And he certainly couldn’t get by just using his oft-ignored humanoid wings.  For other dragons, they might’ve been necessary, but Elijah could transform into any of his other shapes in less than a second.  That made gliding around in his human form much less valuable of an ability.

But it had the added side effect of reminding Ok’tarik of old fights.

Elijah considered it an acceptable trade-off, if only because he hoped it would keep the orc in line.  They’d agreed to an alliance of sorts, but Elijah wasn’t sure how honest his one-time enemy really was.  For all he knew, orcs were conniving betrayers who made habits of turning on their supposed friends.

He didn’t think so.  His instincts told him to trust Ok’tarik.  But Elijah had been wrong often enough that he didn’t want to chance it.

Gradually, they crossed from one ring to another, and the atmosphere slowly relented.  By the time they reached the outermost ring, Elijah had begun to notice the return of the wildlife.  Most of the more powerful creatures remained out and about, terrorizing anyone who’d ventured into Orveth Kaal.  However, the smaller and more delicate among them had returned to their nests, burrows, and caves. 

Would the surge in beast activity last until the end of the deity trial?  Elijah had no idea.  But he felt that the shift was a good sign that things would one day return to normal. 

In any case, Ok’tarik barely paid attention to the animals.  Instead, he doggedly jogged through the air, leaving a trail of free-standing footprints of ethera in his wake.  From everything Elijah had seen, he could keep that up indefinitely.

Which was quite an accomplishment, considering it wasn’t a skill.

Or not a system-granted one, at least.  Ok’tarik had created it himself, though he had admitted that he wasn’t certain how he’d managed it.  Instead, he had simply done what came naturally to him.  He’d developed it during their first prolonged clash, and at the time, he’d wanted to  follow Elijah through the air.  So, he’d just made it happen.

An amazing feat, and by anyone’s measure.

Via Soul of the Wild, Elijah studied the flow of ethera through Ok’tarik’s body, trying all the while to figure out how it worked.  The patterns were entirely unfamiliar, but that wasn’t necessarily surprising.  After all, everyone did things differently.  And for an orc, that was even truer.

In short, Elijah was dumbfounded as to how Ok’tarik had managed it.  However, it only took him an hour or so to realize something that should have been obvious from the very beginning.  Ok’tarik was old.  Very, very old.

The orc himself likely didn’t know how long he’d been alive.  Not only was the day-night cycle in Orveth Kaal sometimes difficult to track, but he’d also spent a good portion of his life non-sapient.  Perhaps even non-sentient, at least by Elijah’s standards.  For all he knew, Ok’tarik was a thousand years old.  Ten thousand, maybe.  There was literally no way to know for certain.

He had to have spent a quite a lot of that time passively absorbing information.  Even if he was incredibly information about processing it, some of it had to seep in to influence his development.  Likely, that was what had happened in the fight where he’d developed the ability.

Thousands of years of passive learning had culminated in what appeared to be a spontaneous breakthrough. 

The ability followed some odd pathways, creating an inefficient cycle that couldn’t really hold a candle to a system-created ability.  However, there was a certain aggressiveness to the way they’d been built that Elijah couldn’t help but wonder just how much the system was holding him back.

At present, he couldn’t do much about it.  Messing with his core abilities while still a demigod was a good way to cripple himself.  But that didn’t mean he couldn’t prepare himself for when he reached the deity tier and was expected to adjust his own abilities.  So, watching Ok’tarik use his ethereal steps was edifying. 

That occupied Elijah as they traversed the ancestral world. 

After leaving the final ring behind, they began seeing more and more beasts.  A few even attacked them.  Neither Ok’tarik nor Elijah hesitated to put them down, resulting in a steady stream of experience that pushed him closer and closer to gaining a new level.

Oddly, Ok’tarik managed to harness some of that energy as well.  Most of it entered his system as vitality, bolstering his body a tiny bit at a time.  However, some of it was pure ethera snatched by his cultivation system and added to his core. 

Was that what it really looked like for someone to progress without the system?  It was much more incremental than what he experienced, and Elijah could only believe that the system took that same energy and stored it somewhere until he reached a level threshold.  Only then did it grant him the new attributes.

By comparison, Ok’tarik’s body was constantly improving.

It reminded Elijah of the visions of the first dragon.  She had done something similar, though the torrents of energy she absorbed were like might rivers compared to Ok’tarik’s residential faucet. 

Still, it gave Elijah some hints as to what might happen when he transcended the system.  Mano had already told him that progression wouldn’t end with transcendence, and Elijah expected that learning to harness raw ethera and vitality was a key part of taking that step.

There were orcs, too.

Though it seemed that Ok’tarik was still revered among their kind, because the second they saw him coming, they fled as quickly as their ships would cut through the atmosphere. 

When Elijah asked what they would do if the other orcs attacked, Ok’tarik said that he would kill them.  And he did so as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Which, for an orc, it probably was.  Despite his dedication to uplifting his people, he was still a slave to their nature.  Personally, he could overcome it.  But the others could not, and there was no escaping the reality that if he wanted to lead, he needed to obey their customs.

Such as they were, at least.  If one could refer to unchecked aggression as a custom.

In any case, their path to Agmar was filled with battle, almost uniformly against hostile beasts.  Elijah did his part, but Ok’tarik proved invaluable as an escort.  Where Elijah needed to cycle through his abilities and shapes to find victory, Ok’tarik beat them with overwhelming force.

There was something to be said for that.

And eventually, they reached their destination.  Until then, Elijah hadn’t made the connection between Agmar, which Ok’tarik had described as a normal settlement, and the city he’d stumbled upon his way to the core.  Back then, he’d noted just how well-developed it was.  He’d been incapable of ignoring the fact that it was obviously built by someone else, and judging by the size, dragons were the original architects. 

But now, he saw it in a new light. 

Orcs moved across the cliff face into which the city had been carved, and Ok’tarik explained that Agmar extended for miles and miles into the landmass. 

“How many orcs are there?” Elijah asked.

“We haven’t the number.”

By Elijah’s reckoning, there were billions inside, and that was after he’d killed so many during the previous war.  Their population was truly astronomical. 

Which gave him pause.  If they escaped Orveth Kaal, they truly could spread across the multi-verse.  Sure, there were people out there who could stop them, but what if, once they’d escaped their prison, they were allowed to grow unchecked?  Would that still be the case? 

Elijah was well aware that some orcs were already out there.  He’d encountered some back on Earth, when they’d tried to conquer Ironshore.  Without him around, they would have succeeded, too. 

How many other cities had orcs destroyed?  How many words?  Galaxies?  Was there universe out there where orcs ruled unopposed?

It was a deep and dark rabbit hole, and Elijah had to force himself to stop looking, if only because he didn’t want to question his choice to help Ok’tarik.  However, he couldn’t escape the reality that he had a responsibility to ensure they didn’t grow out of control.

That line of thought accompanied him until they reached the city.  The orcs predictably panicked at his arrival.  He remained in the Shape of the World Serpent, after all.  It would have been odder if they hadn’t fled in fear.

That eased as Elijah assumed his humanoid shape and landed on a wide balcony lined with studiously carved railings.  When Elijah looked closer, he saw something vaguely familiar.  At first, he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but then it hit him like a bolt of lightning.

“The palace,” he said to himself. 

And it was true.  Agmar resembled the palace housing the gate to Silvara.  The structure was different.  Instead of a freestanding complex, it had been carved into the side of a cliff.  In addition, the style seemed both more refined and rushed, as if it had come later in the history of the world’s original occupants.  However, the similarities were too obvious to ignore.

As Elijah admired the artistry of the architecture, a curiosity arrived.  When he glanced at the newcomer, he was treated to his very first sight of an old orc.  The creature was taller than Elijah, and yet, it carried with it a sense of age and decrepitude that overwhelmed everything else.  Its skin sagged, its eyes where rheumy, and its face was deeply creased with wrinkles.  Even its tusks were yellowed and cracked.

But Elijah didn’t miss that the orc felt powerful.  Not like Ok’tarik.  Soul of the Wild suggested something more compliant.  Or rather, more flexible.  As if Ok’tarik was a surging storm, while the old orc was a flowing river.  Both had strength, but one was a fast-acting force of nature, while the other was far more sedate in its effect.  No less potent, at least over time, but less flashy all the same.

Ok’tarik barked an order at the other orc, who shuffled away before Elijah could even be introduced.  Then, the orc warchief growled, “We were expected.  This is a complication.”

“Why?” Elijah asked.

“You will not undergo the rites unopposed.  Others have arrived to challenge you.”

“How did they know?” Elijah asked.

“Shamans know things others do not.  We do not ask how.  They simply know.”

“Like Seers,” Elijah suggested.

Ok’tarik had no context for what that meant, so he made no comment in response.

“What can I expect?” Elijah asked.

“A fight,” Ok’tarik answered.  “Unless you make a statement, you will be opposed at every step.”

“So, you want me to show them why it’s a bad idea to stand in my way?”

“Yes.”

“And I assume you don’t want me to blow up the city.”

“Also yes.”

Elijah nodded, then said, “I’ve got just the thing.  We going to fight here, or…”

As it turned out, the rites were meant to begin deep inside the city in a sacred fighting pit.  There, Ok’tarik had destroyed all opposition to his own rise to power.  Now, it seemed that Elijah was expected to do the same. 

He followed Ok’tarik and a handful of what the orc referred to as work-slaves.  The others were smaller than other orcs, just like the elder, but they didn’t have the detriment of age working against them.  As such, they were still broader and more athletic-looking than most humans. 

However, they carried themselves as if they considered their size a negative trait.  Hunched shoulders, drooping head, wringing hands – they seemed to live their lives in perpetual fear.

Perhaps that was accurate.

The trip through the city of Agmar should have been more interesting.  In any other circumstance, the relief sculptures alone would have demanded study.  Yet, Elijah had already shifted into a battle frame of mind.

He had the inklings of a plan for the orcs, and he wasn’t going to be deterred.

Soon enough, they reached a set of stairs sized for a fully grown dragon.  That meant that the work-slaves were forced to climb via ropes that had been attached to each edge.  Elijah had no intention of doing that. 

Neither did Ok’tarik.

As Elijah shifted into his dragon form, the work-slaves cringed.  He ignored them.  Ok’tarik hadn’t broken stride, instead climbing footsteps of ethera on his way to the top.  Elijah simply stepped, his enormous dragon form more than suited for the size of the steps. 

When he reached the top, he resumed his humanoid form.

“Are you prepared?” asked Ok’tarik, who’d beaten him to the top.

Elijah nodded.  “Let’s get it done.”

As the words left his mouth, a massive stone gate swung open, revealing bright sunlight and sand.  Elijah stepped through.