Path of Dragons 17 - Chapter 22 - Complications (Patreon)

“This explains everything,” Elijah said, looking down on Makit.  She worked among the other laborers, using a giant cleaver to hack apart a skinned animal.  Its offal lay in a corner, where hundreds of feral children feasted. 

Once they could claim real meat for themselves, they would be considered to have achieved something closer to adulthood.  Elijah was still uncertain as to the various levels of development within orc culture, but he’d separated it into at least four distinct phases. 

The first was just after they were born.  For a blessed week or two, they were sheltered by their mothers.  However, that protection was both inadequate and short-lived.  Orcish mothers did not coddle their children.  Nor did they breast feed them.  Instead, they merely threw hunks of meat their way. 

That was as far as motherly instinct went among that race.

Elijah was unsure exactly how they knew when to abandon their children, but he’d seen that it didn’t take long.  Once the children reached a certain point, they ventured off on their own.

Often, they joined with others like them.  Huge, roving bands of feral young, picking at scraps and attacking the weak.  One-on-one, they were incapable of overcoming even the oldest and most infirm adult.  But together?  They were like a troop of murderous monkeys capable of taking down much larger prey.

It was a sign of things to come, as the adults used similar tactics against their foes.

Mostly, they were scavengers, though.  And a good many of them ended up starved or falling victim to their fellows.  They were brutal creatures held back only by their sense of self-preservation. 

Those were the first two phases.  The third was when those orcs ventured out into the wild and established themselves as hunters in their own right.  If they couldn’t survive that, then they didn’t deserve a place among the horde. 

Often, that lasted years as they slowly grew stronger away from the relative safety provided by their elders.  According to Ok’tarik, few survived, though he was a bit fuzzy as to the numbers.  He understood how to count, and at the most basic level he recognized the concept of percentages.  But his lack of education showed in his ignorance of anything beyond that.

Either way, when they returned, they entered the fourth and penultimate phase, where they joined the horde, but as low-level peons that were used as fodder.  Even more died during that stage, but the ones that did make it were considered adults. 

Somewhere between the second and third stage, orcs divided themselves into the various castes within their society.  Most ended up as work-slaves or warriors.  Some became shamans.  Strikingly few established themselves as skilled craftsmen, though to an outsider, they looked and acted no differently than work-slaves.

Then there were the manual laborers like rowers.  They weren’t fit for anything else, but they were still strong enough to have survived to the end. 

Only the would-be fighters participated in the hunt, though.  The rest joined the non-combatants, establishing a hierarchy of their own through an entirely different process.  Ok’tarik’s explanations weren’t helpful there, as he really didn’t know much about how it all worked.  Elijah only knew what he did because he’d taken the time to observe.

After all, he couldn’t be expected to use the orcish horde if he didn’t possess at least a basic level of understanding.  Which was a difficult standard to meet, largely because orcish society was so unfamiliar.  Fascinating.  Brutal.  Surprisingly complex.  But utterly alien. 

Either way, Elijah wasn’t thinking about orcish culture at that moment.  Instead, he focused on two things.

The first was the most obvious.  Makit – Ok’tarik’s mate – was pregnant.  Her belly had swollen to the size of a beach ball.   Literally.  The massive stomach looked comically large, even on her muscular orcish body.  It was proof that infants were born much larger than their human counterparts.

“How long until she gives birth?” Elijah asked.

Ok’tarik shrugged.  “When the child is ready, it will come.”

It was a frustrating but expected response.  The gaps in Ok’tarik’s knowledge were sometimes baffling.  They weren’t due to a lack of intelligence, but rather, in his way of processing information.  Some things just weren’t of use for him to know, and he wasted no time on curiosity.

“Why are you showing me this?” Elijah asked, glancing at his rival-slash-ally.

He already knew the answer.  It was written across Ok’tarik’s face.  The orc was clearly concerned about his child’s future.  Even more so than he cared about the fate of his people as a whole.

Elijah was not a father, but he’d heard more than once – and from people he respected – that having a child changed a man’s priorities.  Suddenly, it wasn’t about your goals, but rather, about ensuring a future for sad child. 

Clearly, Ok’tarik felt something similar. 

And he had no idea what to do with those emotions.  With that drive.  It wasn’t characteristic of orcs, which suggested that it probably had something to do with sapience.  That becoming a higher-tier intelligence came with a degree of existential worry for his future child.

“I want your help,” Ok’tarik answered, his hands on the stone railing as they looked down on the butcher’s pit.  Elijah turned away from the bloody work below and leaned against that same barrier. 

“What specifically do you want me to do?”

For a moment, Ok’tarik didn’t respond.  Then, when he did, it came with a note of frustrated bitterness. “I do not know.”

“I can ensure the birth proceeds without danger,” Elijah suggested.  He wasn’t an expert in that sort of thing, but during his internship in college, he’d assisted with a few difficult pregnancies among sea mammals.  He also knew basic biology, so he guessed that orcs worked similarly.

“That is no issue.”

“Then what?” Elijah asked.

“I do not know,” he repeated, even more frustrated than before.  Then, in a quieter voice that Elijah could scarcely hear, he repeated, “I don’t know.  Something.  Anything.”

Elijah took a second to consider the problem.  Clearly, Ok’tarik wanted the child to have a future, and one better than Orveth Kaal could provide.  The problem was that, as far as Elijah knew, orcs were stuck in the ancestral world.  They could escape, but only on the system’s terms. 

And only a few at a time, stripped of all progression and forced to rebuild themselves in an unfamiliar world where they were considered pests, rather than a viable species.

That wasn’t the answer.

“What if I took the child to my world?” Elijah asked.

“Impossible.”

“Really?  You know I have the means to leave this place whenever I want.  And I can take others with me,” Elijah explained.  He hadn’t intended to reveal as much to the orc, but his empathy for Ok’tarik’s situation drove him to abandon that plan. 

The warchief deserved to know.

Elijah wouldn’t have said as much before seeing the pregnant Makit, but now, he was entirely certain it was the right choice. 

Ok’tarik’s eyes widened.  “Is that true?  Why do you stay?”

“I’m taking Orveth Kaal for myself, remember?  It’s not for the dragons.  It’s not even for the orcs.  It’s mine.  Maybe there’s a place for you here, but I’m not leaving until I’ve taken it,” Elijah explained.  He’d said as much before, but Ok’tarik clearly hadn’t understood the scope of his commitment.  After all, it was one thing to make such declarations when you were trapped in a prison.  But to do so when you were fully capable of escape was something else altogether.

“Can you take us all?”

Elijah shook his head.  “Even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

“Why?  My people deserve to be –”

“What would they do?” Elijah asked.  “Let’s say I took them to Earth.  All of them.  Billions of orcs, all at once.  A good many of them at the level of deities.”

Ok’tarik frowned.  “They would take over.”

“And I don’t intend to lose my world to orcs,” Elijah stated.  “Maybe things could be different if…”

“If they were like me.”

Again, Elijah nodded. “If they were like you.  Even then, I don’t know if I could make that commitment.  No offense, but you’re only barely civilized.  If you could beat me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Ok’tarik didn’t respond to that, but his frown did deepen.  He clearly didn’t like being reminded of his own failures.  Certainly, Elijah hadn’t defeated the orcish warchief, either.  And he had to admit that that wasn’t his favorite truth to acknowledge. However, orcs were a bit touchier about that kind of thing.

That just further cemented Elijah’s belief that taking the orcs to Earth was a bad idea.  But one?  He could do one.

It would also give him some insight into what made them different than other sapient races.  Perhaps he could help the child develop into something better than his heritage suggested he would become. 

It was a nature versus nurture sort of question.  Could he remove the orc from the child?  No.  But he might be able to civilize the creature, at least to such an extent that it would give Elijah hope for the future of the race.

And if he failed?  If the child remained as feral as all the other orcs?

That was a result, too.  Not the one he wanted, but it would confirm the orcs’ place in his plans.  But he intended to use them appropriately, one way or another.

“We need to do a trial run,” Elijah suggested.  “How would you like to see another world?”

“Truly?  You would allow me on your world?”

“No,” Elijah answered.  “Another world.”

That narrowed down his options to the one he wanted.  He wouldn’t unleash Ok’tarik on Earth.  Not yet.  There wasn’t enough trust between them, and Elijah wasn’t certain if he could keep the orc under control.  However, there was one place where he wouldn’t need to worry about that.

After all, Elijah had built a dolmen on Kirlissa’s doorstep.  Surely she could keep Ok’tarik hemmed in.  And if she wasn’t around, then Mano could handle it.  Or the literally thousands of other deities that lived on Vyrin or on Esik. 

“Are you willing?  I will warn you that you will be stepping into the domain of someone much more powerful than either of us.”

“Will this help my child?  My people?” Ok’tarik asked.

“Potentially,” Elijah said.  Then, he admitted that he wasn’t certain what would happen, adding, “Even if it doesn’t work, we get valuable information that we can use to make a better plan.”

“Then I will do it.”

After that, they spent another few minutes watching Makit.  She never slowed, proving that orcish pregnancy wasn’t as debilitating as it sometimes was for human women.  Eventually, Ok’tarik grew impatient, and they set off for the inner ring, where Elijah had built the dolmen around the gate to the Plane of Nature.

The trip proved uneventful, though Elijah once again proved that he could now move much more quickly than Ok’tarik.  Much to the orc’s disdain. 

Soon, they reached their destination, though Ok’tarik hesitated before entering the field surrounding the palace.  When he finally crossed the threshold into the gate’s protective embrace, he did so with a look of consternation on his face.  The atmosphere was clearly comfortable to him – at least from a physical perspective – but there was something about the gate that elicited anxiety in the orc.

Still, once he’d crossed that threshold, he no longer hesitated to follow Elijah inside.  His face betrayed no expressions as he witnessed the result of all of Elijah’s work.

Once they reached the center of the dolmen, Elijah informed Ok’tarik’s expectations, explaining what he intended to do.  “The gate will lead to the domain of a transcendent dragon,” he said.  “Do not do anything stupid, or she will obliterate you.  Do you understand?”

“I can control myself.”

Elijah wasn’t really certain that was true, save for when the orc knew he had no chance of victory.  So, he reiterated the warning, adding that Kirlissa would destroy his entire race if she found his actions offensive.

“I will not offend her.”

“Good.”

After that, Elijah cast Root Nexus, focusing on opening a gate to Vyrin, the moon above the planet of Esik and where Kirlissa made her home.  Fortunately, the spell’s effect manifested without a hitch, with the frame of a doorway snaking up out of the ground as vines.  When they grew together, the portal itself came into being.  It presented as a green field, though Elijah could just make out the tiniest tendrils of ethera.

They had grown into a web that pulsed with power.

Elijah gestured.  “Go ahead.  I’ll be right behind you.”

Ok’tarik noted, “You could be leading me to my death.”

“I could.  But I’m not.  Trust me.”

“Trust,” the orc echoed, rolling the word through his mouth.  “Orcs do not have a word for it.”

“Be more than an orc.  Be a person.”

Ok’tarik nodded.

Then, without further delay, he stepped toward the gate.