Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.10T)
Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.
It is a grim tale, so be warned.
Here is the first post from this series.
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Tuchoraayurusha was a place of reverence in the middle of the warrens. Young spawn, save for the Wildborn, were born and raised within. Female spawn, save outcasts like Uyage, made their homes around the birthing warrens and the smallspawn warrens, guarding them fiercely from those who might do harm. Even when the Dread Lord called them to war, some of the female Warbands would remain behind to guard their young and bear them away, if the worst should befall.
The very idea Tuchoraayurusha both fascinated and repelled Retaak. He was fascinated because of the scale and complexity of the birthing warrens and their hallowed place in the thoughts of even the lowest spawn. He was repelled because, as a Wildborn, it seemed unnatural to him for a father never to hold his children; the only father that the spawn born in Bemachhorak were allowed to know was The Dread Lord. No wonder they kept killing each other, endlessly, over trivial matters. No wonder his brother and sister spawn did not yet know that the pain in their soul was yearning for freedom.
“You have that look on your face, dreamer,” said Uyage. “Now is not the time. Keep your wits about you, Retaak.”
“I always do,” growled Retaak. She often called him dreamer, sometimes derisively, sometimes not. Like questioner, Retaak did not see dreamer as an insult.
Uyage laughed. A good sound, even when she was mocking him.
The passageways widened and became smooth as they came closer to the heart of the Fellspawn Warrens. Scenes of mighty deeds were carved into the stone walls. The creation of the first Fellspawn by the first Dread Lord featured most prominently among them.
“Stop,” a commanding voice boomed out as they came to one of the great vault doors that guarded Tuchoraayurusha. “Who goes there?”
Ogre females were rarely as thickly muscled, but alone among the spawn they were taller than their male counterparts and sported curling horns on the side of their heads. The Ogress who challenged them was huge, grey-haired and scarred. More than a score of orcs and hobs stood close to her, ready to defend the door to Tuchoraayurusha.
“Uyage, and outcast from here and Retaak the Wildborn,” answered Uyage. “We do not seek to enter,”
“A familiar enough refrain for one such as you, sour-womb,” said the Ogress, looming over Uyage. Retaak wanted to push her way from his friend, but knew Uyage would not approve, even if they lived.
Uyage looked down and to the side, a simple sign of submission to the Ogress.
The Ogress sniffed and turned back to her squad. “You five, escort these two around Tuchoraayurusha. Watch them carefully, who knows what this barren husk and her wildborn might do?”
Despite the insults, Retaak understood Uyage’s reason for coming here now. The guardians of Tuchoraayurusha were rabidly over-protective; of course they would watch two strangers near their territory, especially if they were not of high standing.
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The spawn that escorted them hurled insults as Uyage, trying to provoke her.
“Don’t waste your seed on this one, wildborn, even you can do better than a barren.” was one that bit and Retaak bristled when he heard it. Uyage did not.
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The five wardens left them, spitting on the ground as they retreated. Retaak looked to Uyage, concerned that the abuse had hurt her. He was pleased to see a satisfied smile creep on to her face once her antagonists were out of sight.
“I see what you did there,” said Retaak, grinning.
“A free escort,” said Uyage. “I was serious about Wechegak though, we should keep moving.”
Retaak nodded. His enemies were out in full force but he could not afford to hide. That left him with little choice. “Take me to the Troll caves.”
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