Chasing Sun: Part 3, Vosh Rahk

  • Alik'r Desert, 29th of  Rain's Hand, 206 4E

     

    They were walking, dragging their feet through the sand, their determination urging them to keep moving. To stop would mean to die. The Third felt his bones creak with every move, the weight of his armor pulling him down, almost like if he was bearing the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. His mouth was dry and his tongue had turned into a piece of dried meat glued to his palate.

     

    They were struggling for the last two days. They had only one full waterskin left and the Third reasoned they will need it later so since the morning all three Orcs had barely a few drops of water to get them through another day under the fiery ball of Magnus.

     

    The Third stumbled and almost fell right on his face, but he managed to regain balance and straightened again. He noticed how Yaman and High Pristess looked at him, doubt in their eyes and he felt his chin raising up and forward in challenge. They averted their gazes and kept walking. Yes, they were all struggling.

     

    Struggle… the Third thought, his thoughts slow and lazy as a snake shedding his skin on hot rock. Everything is a struggle. Was that your intention, Warrior-God? To have every inch of our road test us? He shook his head, almost like if he was answering to himself instead of the god. Whole world is a struggle. Just look around. You might not want to admit it, but whole world is at conflict. Scorpion trying to kill the desert lizard, spider laying his traps for oblivious flies, Elves waging war against humans over their beliefs, and even the light of the day fights the darkness of the night. He looked up, directly into the sun without shielding his eyes, feeling the heat on his grizzled face and when he looked down under his feet he saw bright red dots in front of his eyes. For every two forces fighting there is always one watching. Being the witness of the struggle. The Third then sighed, trying to get all the world's weight out of him with one mighty gust of air released from his lungs. But it didn't work. It's always the bystanders who get hurt. Maimed...

     

    The perfect balance is not made out of two but out of three points. There always have to be three. He looked at his companions and frowned. Who will win and who lose? Who will be maimed while the serpent on our chests wanders on?

     

    Each of them represented something, in this long chase. But what? I think none of us really know. They all were coming from somewhere, heading somewhere else. Each desiring a different thing. To the Third it was important where they were coming from, not their final destination. That's why he picked up every piece of paper left behind by Him. The High Priestess just discarded it, treating it like a trash, the mumblings of a lunatic. But the Third always picked them up, treasured them until he had time to properly read them. Study them. Study Him.

     

    Each of the letters was a window into His soul, bringing the Third closer to comprehension of their prey. Trinimac... he pleaded humbly, I am your Doubt. But why do I doubt High Priestess' goal? Is it another test? She makes it sound clear as day but nothing here is obvious. Who am I, Warrior? Am I your Blade of Courage or that kid born to refugees looking for sanctuary?

     

    He couldn't help himself but remember that life on the run, being chased by Bretons and Redguards like dogs when everything they did was...existing. They were just passing through Bangkorai, looking for a new home, when the Third was just ten winters old. Baron of Evermore...was a cruel man. He chased Orcs with hounds and his men, turning murder into sport.

     

    Do you remember? he asked himself. Back when you still had a name. And parents. They chased you down to the lower Bangkorai, to the edges of desert very similar to this one and your parents decided to meet a Good Death. So you could live. Do you remember?

     

    He shook his head. No, I don't want to remember. I have a new family now. New purpose, new cause.

     

    But is it just?

     

    He wanted it to be just. But was that enough? We are the vanguard of the Warrior, whether we want it or not. We are the bringers of change, the breakers of chains that are tying our race to the ground, to dust-

     

    He blinked several times and then shook his head. Your mind is wandering off.

     

    They crossed another dune - just one another dune after hundreds of others - expecting to see only more sand, leagues of sand before them until they could catch their prey. And they saw that, yes. But there...in the distance… A black spot. There on that rock. Can it be?

     

    It was a rock shaped by the winds of the desert into a column, most likely tall as four Orcs. How long did it take the desert to shape the rock that way? Millenia most likely. And on top of that column was a black spot, sitting under something that looked like a makeshift tent. The Third looked at his companions and saw their eyes locked on the same place.

     

    “We have him!” High Priestess gasped and quickened her pace, almost running.

     

    The Third cursed under his breath and ran after her. The ringing of his armor made her turn around and he grasped her arm, stopping her in her tracks. She looked at the hand holding her with fury and then the fury redirected on him. But before she could speak the Third growled: “Do we? He could see us long before we could see him. And yet he stayed. He's not running, he's waiting for us.”

     

    She brushed the hand off and bared her tusks at him. “Or he is done for and can't run anymore.”

     

    “He had three camels,” the Third retorted. “How far would he get with them? Think about it. How long would he have to wait until we would catch up with him? Days. But why? It's not like he couldn't run anymore. He chose to stop running. Doesn't that scare you?”

     

    “Maybe Trinimac finally intervened,” she murmured. “But does it matter? Shall we just stand here and look at him then?”

     

    The Third frowned. Because of both sentences High Priestess said. He sincerely doubted Trinimac intervened, took control. It didn't work that way. Not anymore. His eyes gazed back to the column and the black dot on top of it. She is actually right. We can't just wait until he comes to us. We have to come to him. All this turned the feeling of finally catching their prey into the flavour of ashes in his mouth. We didn't catch him. He chose to wait, he let us. But why?

     

    “It's a trap,” Yaman rumbled and the Third looked at him, the way he held his mace, the way he tensed his muscles. You feel it too, friend. Good, at least some of us are not blinded by the promise of victory. The chase finally coming to an end...it is tempting, but it's not over yet.

     

    “Of course it's a trap,” the High Priestess snorted and the Third looked at her. “What? You thought I don't know that? It's obvious. But we have no other choice than to walk right into it. We can't sit here until we die. Or until he dies.”

     

    The Vosh Rahk sighed and nodded. “My apologies, High Pristess. You are right. We have to go to him. But let's be careful.”

     

    She narrowed her eyes. “Don't doubt me again, Vosh Rahk,” she hissed and began walking towards the column. The Third and Yaman followed in her steps. The Third's eyes were set on the column, on the make-shift tent at the top… Why make a tent at the top? Why not under the rock, in its shade? Maybe He just wanted to have the advantage of higher ground. The way the Third was looking at it they were going to have lot of trouble getting Him down from there. If they try to climb up they'll make themselves vulnerable, unprotected and he could easily knock them down. They lacked ranged weapons so they couldn't even threaten him. And he could hurl his magic down on them.

     

    The Third narrowed his eyes as they were getting closer. If he's actually alive… The figure in black was just sitting there, unmoving, and to the Third it almost seemed like if He was dead. Almost. Not going to fall for that trick again…

     

    As they were drawing closer the Vosh Rahk noticed a carcass half-buried in the sand, it's white bones bleached by the desert's wind, rotting meat still clinging to them. The last camel. He ate everything he could. I can even see the notches of the knife on the bones. He looked up again, now merely twenty steps from the column and the figure still wasn't moving. The Third's eyes were darting from one side to another, checking their surroundings, the ground under their feet, looking for any sign of the trap. But there was nothing.

     

    And then the figure moved and the Third unwittingly raised his shield, expecting a barrage of spells...but nothing. The figure just stood up.

     

    The sun was slowly setting down behind the column and the Third was finally able to see the details on their prey. The ragged black clothes mixed with Redguards' white and red, covering every inch of his body except face. It was giving him a look of a ragman and while it would let him pass as a beggar in any of Tamriel's cities, here in the desert, it made him look even more ominous. The red eyes were bright and studying as always, the black tattoo of an exile on his face bleached by the sunburns, his long beard oily and disheveled, his bald head glistening in the sun, and he had his usual smirk on his face.

     

    “The Orc in black fled across the desert,” their prey shouted cheerfully, “and the Knights followed. And now they've finally caught up. Took ya long enough.” There was a chuckle and the Third exchanged looks with Yaman. Dehydration? Desert madness? “What? No bowin' this time?”

     

    “We're long past bowing, Rakash,” the Third replied with his eyes scanning the surroundings. Something was irritating his nerves and it wasn't the Orc on the rock. There was something else, something that made his hair on his neck stand. Even High Priestess was strangely quiet, which made the Third even more nervous.

     

    “Ah, yes. The Steed,” Rakash laughed, his voice strangely resonating which made the Third raise his gaze to him again. His red eyes were uncharacteristically bright, almost as if burning with fever, with something mad dancing in them like a shadow cast by a torch. “The one carryin' Warrior on its back, the mighty charger who trusts its rider yet relies on its own experience. Warrior shall ride ya into the final battle, but is he really the Warrior? Would ya bet yer life on that? Maybe he's not, maybe he's just draggin' ya around like a Shadow.” Another chuckle and then his gaze fell on Yaman. “Ah, Atronach. Will ya take the blow intended for the Mage, gettin' maimed instead of him, when the time comes, dear Golem?”

     

    “That's enough,” growled High Priestess. “Come down, you piece of shit!” The Third shot her a look, not really expecting such portrayal of disrespect from her, especially to Him.

     

    “Ha! Ya want the secret, right? Have ya not learned anythin', Lover? Is he not whisperin' to ya in the night, the tender words? I see yer eyes in Garden, but ya can't really see or hear, don't ya? How frustratin' that has to be. I thought that by now he would tell ya. If ya want the secret ya have to seize the Tower!” Another laugh. “Get it? The Tower,” he showed on the rock he was standing. “So come on, climb the Tower like the Thief!”

     

    “I'm not climbing anywhere!” she yelled at him and the Third saw Rakash's eyes widen. The air seemed to shimmer for a second and suddenly the Third felt a rumbling under his feet, feeling the sand shift.

     

    “I'm sorry,” the Orc in black said and shrugged. “But ya probably guessed it's a trap.”

     

    The air shimmered and the Third finally saw. The carcass of the camel...those weren't notches from a knife. Those were marks from big teeth. Illusion! The ground shook and he looked at the sand shifting under his feet. And then he understood. “Dunerippers!” he shouted and it was then the first fin ripped the dune several steps away from him. “Climb, High Priestess!” he yelled and to his surprise she obeyed. Why are you still standing, fool? Move! He jumped to the side as the trembling got stronger and the big maws of a sand-crocodile emerged from the ground, snapping at the place where he was standing seconds ago.

     

    He had no idea how his sword got from its sheath and into his hand but it was there, ready and thirsty, as always. He swung the sword faster even than his own eyes could follow the blade's trajectory and he only saw how the blood sprayed from the Duneripper's upper jaw, followed by several teeth and he heard the painful hiss of the creature. It was turning to him, its eyes bloodshot with frenzy and it opened its maw again, now half of its body out of the sand and the Third buried his sword into its upper roof of the mouth, going right into its brain.

     

    It thrashed and ripped the sword from his hand, its head swinging from one side to the other and the Third took a step back. He saw a Duneripper emerging from the sand and charging Yaman who swung his mace in vertical swing, bringing it down right on its head with his full strength, crashing the scales, bone and brain into bloody red-white paste.

     

    Another fin appeared from the sand, heading towards the Third and he frowned. What are you going to do without your sword now? He was standing with his back against the rock column, his shield in front of himself. He reached behind his back to pull out a long knife, a last resort, because he doubted it would have any effect against the creature. Don't give up now, the Warrior is looking. Don't disappoint him. He took a second to look at the thrashing Duneripper, at its body structure.

     

    Short stumpy legs, a long flat tail, a massive maw almost shaped like a beak, meant to rip the sand - Guess that's where the name came from. The legs were weak spots, not covered by the plates of scales, but there were also weak points between the scales that could be exploited.

     

    The duneripper heading his way literally jumped out of the sand and the Third dodged to the side, the maw snapping at his head and then hitting the rock column. The Duneripper let out strange whining noise and shook its head, but the Third didn't wait for it to regain its balance. He dropped the shield and ran to its side, cutting its rear leg under the knee and then jumped on the scaled ridge, burying the knife pommel deep between the scales behind the duneripper's neck. It hissed in pain and the Third jumped off its back, when it started to shake, running towards the now dead Duneripper with sword in its maw. He ripped it out and turned only to see several other fins ripping the sand.

     

    “Yaman!” he shouted. “It's a nest! Climb!” He saw the big Orc hit another Duneripper with his massive mace in the middle of jump and flinched when he heard the mighty crack of scales and ribs. The Third quickly sheated his sword and hung the shield on his back and then he began climbing up the column with Yaman climbing right next to him. He heard a loud snap as another Duneripper tried to bite his leg off, missing only by inches, its maws clapping on empty air. There was screeching of claws as the duneripper tried to climb after him but those creatures weren't given that ability. Luckily.

     

    The armor was weighing him down, each inch of the ascent an endless agony and it was only his sheer will that propelled him to climb. His muscles began to shake as he was closing the top and then he realized he couldn't move anymore, spasms taking over his muscles. His eyes were fixed on his right hand which began slipping on the rock… and eventually letting go. A big hand reached down and stopped his fall with a loud grumble. He looked up and he had to admit he never was so happy to see Yaman's ugly face. The big Orc pulled him up with loud puffing and then both of them just lay there, breathing.

     

    “Ah, well,” the Third heard Rakash's voice. “Can't blame me for trying, can ya? It was quite clever, ya gotta admit that.”

     

    There was a sound of hard slap and body falling on the ground. Loud spit and chuckle. The Third raised his head to see The High Priestess standing above the Orc, her hand opened and slowly turning red, just as Rakash's face. “Seriously?” the Orc in black laughed. “A slap? I tried to kill ya and all ya do is slap me? Come on. That Illusion was really good. Removin' ya from Dunerippers' perception and them from yers isn't some parlor trick. I'm damn good, am I?”

     

    She growled and grabbed him by his tunic, lifted him on his feet and pushed him to the edge of the rock. His heels were barely touching the stone, only thing keeping him from the falling was the hand of the angry High Priestess. And yet he is still smirking. “Go on, do it,” Rakash chuckled.

     

    “High Priestess,” the Third managed to force words out of his sore throat and began crawling back on his feet. She looked at him with anger and then back at the Orc in black.

     

    “I know,” she growled. “It's just...of all possible Orcs…” With yet another growl she threw Rakash back on the rock. He landed on his belly and turned on his back with a snort.

     

    “Yeah, of all possible Orcs,” he murmured. “Ironic, isn't it? But I'm not comin' with ya.”

     

    “You don't have a choice in this matter,” the Third rasped when he got to his feet and looked down at the swarming nest of Dunerippers. Their fins were cutting the sand around the rock, clearly frustrated their prey escaped. We can't get past them, we have to kill them all. Weak, thirsty…

     

    “Yeah, keep sayin' that to yerself,” Rakash retorted and the Third shot him a look. Their prey was weather-beaten, sinewy and his green skin had a red tint from the sun burn. The Third knew that the Orc in black was at the end of his strength yet he still kept talking. Never shuts up. Is there something in this world that would make him shut up?

     

    It was strange, but the Third couldn't help himself but sympathize with their prey. He read his journals, he knew what led him here, what shaped him. I'm not sure I would know what to do if I was in his position. Well, he knew what would he do, but he was an Orc of faith. He would do it gladly, but he understood not everyone was the same. Why him? So many would take his place without hesitation, and yet it's him…

     

    “Don't ya happen to have some water?” Rakash cut the silence again. “I'm literally dyin' here.”

     

    The Vosh Rahk looked at the supplies down under the rock, among the swarming Dunerippers and sighed. They dropped them in the first moments of trouble. There was a spare waterskin there, so right now, they had only one half-empty waterskin at the Third's belt with the rest being down there. The odds are not looking great...He untied the waterskin and handed it over to the Orc in black. “Here you go, Rakash.”

     

    The smaller Orc spat and grimaced. “Stop calling me that. I'm no possession.” He took the waterskin and took a big swig.

     

    “That's not what it means-” High Priestess began explaining but Rakash didn't let her. It was his thing, interrupting people, always having the last word.

     

    “I know very well what it means!” he growled. “It means ‘prophet’ but there is an adjective tied to that. Possession or...possessed.” The smirked when he saw High Priestess's surprised look. “What? Didn't expect I'd know yer language? Please. Even ya don't know it. Ya just dig up some old Orcish words and use them everywhere ya can. Ya even threw in words used by Iron Orcs. Hypocrites.”

     

    “Would you prefer we call you ‘Vessel’ then?” she sneered and the Third shot her a look. She was pushing the line. They should have shown the Orc some respect, not treat him as a toy that can be used and then thrown away.

     

    Rakash flinched like if he got slapped and something snapped behind his eyes. “I'm not comin’ with ya.”

     

    “How can you be so selfish?” High Priestess hissed. “Almost every Orc would trade places with you, for the chance to bring change to this world. To lift our race from the dust. How can you prefer your miserable life?”

     

    “Because it's my miserable life,” he snapped back at her, his eyes narrowed and brows frowned. “It's my choice, my free will. And you want to take that away from me!”

     

    High Priestess was opening her mouth but the Third decided it's time he put his weight into the argument. “I know it's hard to accept or understand,” he started and frowned on High Priestess, “ and I'm still not sure I understand it, but it's not like you cease to exist-”

     

    “Yeah, good try. Being a prisoner in my own body certainly sounds like an awesome way to spend eternity,” Rakash snorted and his gaze fell back on the High Priestess. “Why don't ya convince him ya are a much better option, huh? I bet ya would love it.”

     

    “It's His choice, not mine,” she murmured. “Nothing I can do can change that, no matter how much I would like to change it.”

     

    The Orc in black sneered and sat down on the rock in frustration. “I've never asked for this, never wanted it. Still don't want it.” He then sighed. “I knew ya would chase me across the whole continent, I just didn't want to accept it. Still thought I could lose ya.”

     

    The Third knelt in front of him. “There's no running from this. You can't outrun fate or destiny.” The words got stuck in his throat, because saying them was much more painful than he expected. He understood the Orc in front of him. His tough choice, his path. One soul in exchange for thousands...how many would make that sacrifice? Very few are brave enough to even think about it...but each one of us would do it. We are his Triune, we are Vosh Rahk, Vorkhim Lorak and the Penitent. We wouldn't hesitate. Is this why you didn't choose any of us, Warrior? Is this his test, not ours? He took a deep breath, Rakash's red eyes closely watching him. “You have to take your stand, face it on your feet, stand up to who you are. And who He is. Orcs can't be defeated, only delayed. And so does He. How long do you think you can keep running?”

     

    The Third would swear he heard a spine break under his words and the Orc in black sagged in front of him, the hammer relentlessly striking the metal of his soul, bending it, shaping it. “Yeah, I guess,” Rakash murmured and the Third sighed. I didn't want to extinguish the fire that is your soul, lad, but you have to face the truth-

     

    A smirk then appeared on Rakash's face and eyes that looked back at the Third burned with mischievous fire. “Ya are right. I can't keep runnin' forever. It's about time I faced Him. Personally.” He stood up and the Third took a step back with a hand on his sword, but the Orc wasn't even looking at him. Instead he was looking to the distance, taking another step towards the ledge of the rock. He looked over his shoulder. “I'll give him yer regards.”

     

    And then he jumped.

     

    All three knights just stared as he disappeared from their sight and High Priestess shouted: “No!” They ran to the edge, expecting to see a broken body being swarmed by Dunerippers at the foundation of the rock...but it wasn't there. The air just twinkled with purple magic with no sight of the Orc in black.

     

    “He outsmarted us,” Yaman rumbled after a long while, reminding his companions he was still there. “Again.”

     

    “Fuck!” High Priestess shouted to the skies and the Third ran to the makeshift tent, looking for a piece of paper he knew would be there. He likes to talk...he would write it all down. And there it was, under small rock. He took it into his hands and began reading.

     

    He had to go through details of some heist he did back at College first and then there it was. The final lines.

     

    Ah, my mind and hands wandered off. I see you closing. Was I really writing all this for so long? Most likely. You certainly look like shit, all three of you.

     

    I guess this is the last entry then. I wonder if you're going to read it after what's going to happen now.

     

    Let me just write the last words here.

     

    Nothing ever goes as planned....

     

    PS: Have you wondered why I drew you here of all places? I think that right now we're exactly in the middle of the desert. How much water do you have, hmm? If you're reading this you probably just saw me vanish. Hehehehe. I've learned a few tricks from Telvanni after all. Have you ever heard about Mark and Recall spells? Good luck out here.

     

    The Third let the paper fall out of his hands and looked in the direction they came. “He can be anywhere from Dragontail Mountains to Craglorn now.”

     

    “How could we let him slip between our fingers again?” High Priestess growled in anger. “Why, Trinimac? Where are you when we need you?”

     

    “Where are we when he needs us?” replied Yaman and both the Third and High Priestess looked at him surprised. The big Orc pointed into the distance and sighed.

     

    The Third looked at the mountains in the distance and nodded. He's right. We are trying to force him into something he doesn't want to do. We should be helping him instead….Where are we when you need us, Grulmar gro-Largash?

     

    Next - Practice of Telvanni Magic

Comments

9 Comments   |   The Sunflower Manual and 10 others like this.
  • Kophka
    Kophka   ·  March 22, 2019
    I have immensely enjoyed the time that I have spent reading all of the Straag Rod universe stories over the past couple of years, but I wanted to use my first comment to let you know that I really hope to be able to read more of this new Orsinium and this...  more
  • Caladran
    Caladran   ·  January 16, 2018
    Ah, Grulmar, you smart runt! :)
  • Exuro
    Exuro   ·  February 5, 2017
    The virgin fanatic was born under the sign of the Lover? lol, you're evil Karver. OOh, a possible enantiomorph not about Lorkhan. I recall that escape spell he used X-D
    • Karver the Lorc
      Karver the Lorc
      Exuro
      Exuro
      Exuro
      The virgin fanatic was born under the sign of the Lover? lol, you're evil Karver. OOh, a possible enantiomorph not about Lorkhan. I recall that escape spell he used X-D
        ·  February 5, 2017
      Well, I wasn´t exactly using the signs what they were born under, but their respective role in...yes, you hit the mark, enantiomorph. I have long theorized that Enantiomorph contains few smaller enantiomorphs and it also has more roles than the King, Rebe...  more
  • A-Pocky-Hah!
    A-Pocky-Hah!   ·  January 26, 2017
    Dunerippers, sharks of the sands!

    Gru you sly tuskin' bastard you. 
    I might give him an Orc slap for that trick. He must really hate destiny..
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  January 26, 2017
    HA! Knew he'd pull some shit like that. Good old 3rd Era spells. :D 
  • Teineeva
    Teineeva   ·  January 26, 2017
    "Have you ever heard about Mark and Recall spells? Good luck out here."

    Grulmar you slick motherfucker XD


    A really nice ending to a great little story. Better yet, as I hoped you would, you kept the standing stone...  more
  • The Sunflower Manual
    The Sunflower Manual   ·  January 26, 2017
    Oho! Grulmar's become quite proficient, despite himself.
    • Karver the Lorc
      Karver the Lorc
      The Sunflower Manual
      The Sunflower Manual
      The Sunflower Manual
      Oho! Grulmar's become quite proficient, despite himself.
        ·  January 26, 2017
      Yeah :D And still not really fond of getting his hands dirty so he rather comes up with some stupidly complicated plan how to shake his pursuers off... xD