Desert Water

[ALikdoril 10]

Chapter one

“I need watta.” The blue orc thought to himself silently while running a hand through his black braided hair. Ragged breathes escaping his parched lips. The hot desert sun’s scorching rays stealing the liquid from his body in bursts of cruel sweat. He smacked his lips absentmindedly, accidently biting them with one of his two sharp tusks. His food supplies had run out two days earlier, when the sandstorm had finally let up. His water supply was also exhausted. Not even a single drop remained in his glass bottle, much to his discomfort. Still though he trudged ever onward. Determined to see where destiny took him. After the events in the cave he was sure that the spirits were leading him somewhere. He just hoped he found it before he himself joined them in the spirit world. Zar’Zak squinted his eyes as he noticed a strange object on the horizon. It seemed to be some sort of sandstone structure. Unsure if this was the place he was supposed to find he approached slowly. As he got closer to the sandstone structure he found it to be a long forgotten ruin of some sort. It was a small structure with a single sandstone archway with one incomplete wall off to the right, and a pillar to the left. Sandstone lined the ground in an approximately square area of about ten feet from Zar’Zaks estimation. In the centre of the Sandstone square stood the most wondrous thing Zar’zak had seen, an immaculate fountain of pure shining obsidian stone with crisp, clear waters flowing freely from its top.

Drool began to flow freely from his mouth. Was the water cool? He thought. Was it fresh? In the long run it mattered little he concluded. With a simple nod to himself he sprinted in the direction of the fountain. Once he reached the fountains edge Zar’Zak leaned over the fountain ready to take a drink. He paused for a moment. The Fountains water was murkier than he had originally thought. Still though water was water and he needed it badly. Cupping his hands Zar’Zak quickly gathered some water and slowly brought it to his lips. “Don’t drink that!” A voice cried from behind him. The voice was dry and cracked like bark from a tree. Letting the water fall from his hands Zar’Zak spun around drawing his iron sword in a single swift motion. Standing before him was an old crone. An orc if that could be believed. Her dark gray hair came down from behind her hooded cloak in dry wavy lines. She had eyes the color of dulled sapphire, an unusual color for an orc.

Zar’Zak eased his stance, though he kept his guard up and blade in hand. After all, appearances can be deceiving. The old crone approached, unconcerned by the still drawn blade in the blue Orc’s strong hand. She examined the Orc nodding in approval of what she saw. A strong warrior this one, He would suit her needs nicely. “The water in this fountain is tainted.” She said in an even though strained tone. “How I know lat nub lyin’?” Zar’Zak blurted out suspicion showing clearly in his voice. “Just look behind the fountain. You’ll see.” She said a small cackle escaping from her lips. Zar’Zak turned back to the fountain slowly. He let out a loud grunt of surprise. Lying there on the other end of the fountain was the bleached white of a skeletal corpse, half submerged in the liquid. How had he not noticed that before? The crone let out another long cackle as she approached the fountain. She grabbed the corpse with both hands and tossed it to the sands outside the stone square. Her gaze fell on the fountain, a distant sad look in her eyes. Zar’Zak tilted his head at the strangely accented Feorc.

It was not long before she began to speak again. “Long ago, this fountains water was clear and clean…” She said sadly, a tear falling visibly from her eye. “Life flourished around this fountain. It was an oasis to the weary. And I was its caretaker.” She continued. “But the water became tainted… When the human magician came…” Her face twisted into a gruesome sneer. “That man, he came and stole the idol that stood on the top of the fountain, our offering to the spirit that inhabits it!” The crone let out a sad sigh. “Without the idol, the spirit that inhabits the fountain lost all her power… and the once pure water became tainted.” She turned and looked into Zar’Zak’s reddish brown eyes. “One by one my clan left these lands in search of a warrior who could reclaim the idol. None have returned in the decades I have stood watch here. I am sure they are dead.” Zar’Zak was speechless, unsure of what to say. The crone came closer to Zar’Zak, her gaze never leaving his. Reaching into the cream robes she wore and produced a vial of clear water. “This is the last of the pure water from before the fountain was tainted. I can see you are thirsty. You may have it… But you must complete a task for me once you have had your fill. You must reclaim the idol!”

Zar’Zak stared at the vial. He knew it was a bad deal. He knew he should just walk away. But he was so thirty! And on some level, he felt sorry for the old crone, even if her accent was awful. “I…Will get lats Idol bac for lat.” He said hesitantly.

The crone smiled ear to ear, showing her black and crooked teeth. “Then it’s a deal!” and with that she tossed the vial to Zar’Zak. Reaching out with his left hand Zar’Zak grabbed the vial and quickly chugged down the water. It was unlike anything he had tasted before. He was not sure if it was because he had not had anything to drink for days. But the water seemed to work its way through his body. Refreshing it and restoring a measure of the strength that was stolen by the desert through his sweat.

Zar’Zak let out as grunt of satisfaction and tossed the vial back to the crone. She caught it with surprising fluidity despite her obvious age.

“The human’s tower is a short distance to the north.” She said in a matter of fact manner. “He is guarded by the shamefully abused corpses of the dead. He also has dominion over fire.” He nodded at the crone, then turned to what he was sure was north and began his trek. “Be careful warrior!” She called out behind him. “If you fail you may become part of his undead guard!” He continued to hear her hacking laugh as the desert ruins faded from his view.

((Part one of a story, Will add more as i finish them.))

[ALikdoril 10]

Chapter 2

Night had fallen. The desert was unnervingly quiet. Not even the wind seemed to make a sound. Zar’Zak shivered subconsciously as he continued northward. The laughter of the crone seemed to follow him as he went despite the now great distance between him and her. “Dis nub short distance.” Zar’Zak muttered bitterly. He had traveled for hours. Yet still he could not find the “tower” this human dwelled. He let out a sigh, his sight falling to the sandy earth below. “I should go bac. Skah dis.” He thought to himself. However his word was his honor. And this knowledge drove him forward to the human’s tower, and the fountain spirits idol. Suddenly the sand kicked out in front of him blinding him for a moment. Zar’Zak reached up, rubbing the sand from his eyes. His eyes went wide. Standing before him was a large tower made of craggy uneven black stone. It had to be five stories high, maybe six! His eyes came to rest on a single window at the top. Light shined through the window and a shadow danced back and forth inside. Nodding to himself, Zar’Zak moved to the large oaken door. He pushed into the door, finding it surprisingly unlocked. He looked around inside the tower. The room was dark. Redstone torches lined the walls of the round room. A spiral staircase rested against the wall leading upward. Taking a few quiet steps, Zar’Zak entered the tower.

He looked around. The tower was quiet, too quiet. He took several easy steps to the stairs and began to climb them. And so he climbed, and climbed, and climbed some more, the creaking of the stairs being his only companion on his journey. When he reached the last room he found a large iron door barring his pass. Zar’Zak let out a grunt of annoyance and began to push, his muscles straining to push the door. He managed to push it an inch when an arrow imbedded itself next to his head.

With a start Zar’Zak turned around. Standing in front of him were three undead horrors. The decayed bodies of the closest ones resembled orcs the most. Rusty iron axes in their cold, dead hands, broken armor decorating the zombies decayed flesh. The only difference between the two being that the one on the left had a horned skull cap. The unholy creature behind them was a large skeletal archer, Also Orcish judging from the tusks protruding from its skull. Zar’Zak felt a natural rush of nausea and disgust at the sight. To treat the bodies of the fallen so shamefully, especially the bodies of fallen orcs! It was almost inconceivable. Zar’Zak felt his face flush with rage; a savage snarl escaped his lips as he charged. The undead stood there, their eldritch glowing eyes staring at the charging Orc emotionlessly. The two zombies dropped into a low war stance preparing to attack as the skeletal archer backed away into the shadows.

Zar’Zak swung his blade the one of the zombie with the skullcap. There was a loud clag as his sword impacted with the zombies large axe. Zar’Zak’s ducked instinctively as the other zombies axe passed over head harmlessly. A grunt of pain escaped Zar’Zaks lips as he felt a sharp pain in his arm, an arrow now resting in the meat of his arm. The horned zombie quickly swung its axe at downward attempting to sever Zar’Zaks head at the neck. Anticipating this Zar’Zak lunged to the side. He then quickly turned and slashed at the horned zombie. There was a sickeningly meaty thwack as the Zombie was cut in two. One down two to go. A faint twang followed by the sound of air whizzing by Zar’Zaks ear signaled another attack from the skeleton in the gloom. The skullcap zombie swung its axe, its rusted metal singing as it flew through the air. Zar’Zak managed to bring his sword up just in time to block it, the shock of the impact traveling up his arms making them numb. Shifting his weight to the side and angling his blade downward Zar’Zak directed the axe head to the floor. With a loud thud the zombie imbedded the axe into the floor. Another twang alerted Zar’Zak to danger and he crouched low. However his movement was too slow a flash of pain greeted him as the arrow imbedded itself into his shoulder. Enraged Zar’Zak grabbed the zombie and threw it into the shadows. Zar’Zak was rewarded with the satisfying sound of shattering bone.

Zar’Zak waited for a moment. But when nothing emerged from the shadows Zar’Zak nodded to himself. Zar’Zak then quickly pulled the arrows from his shoulders grunting in pain with each pull. Feeling accomplished he turned around and stared at the iron door. With a shrug Zar’Zak approached the door and started to push. His muscles strained as he pushed but slowly and surly the door opened inward.

The blue orc was now standing in a well lit room. The chandeliers candles were aflame with blue fire, casting an azure glow to everything in the room. Rows and rows of cobweb covered books lined the shelves around the window. A small desk with a quill and inkwell on it was in the corner. A single dust covered push chair stood facing the wall of the desk. It’s back to the door. Slowly Zar’Zak approached the chair, sword drawn and ready to strike. With a swift movement he spun the chair around! He stood there dumbfounded. The occupant of the chair, a skeletal corpse sat there silent in its greeting. Its tattered red robes barely holding form to it. What caught his attention though was the large crystal statue tied around the skeletons neck by a leather cord. The statue was of a woman dressed in ornate armor, her hand holding a sword outspreaded to the heavens. “Dis da idol?” he said aloud. Shrugging Zar’Zak cut the cord with his sword.

He stared at the corpse for a few moments pocketing the idol.

He shrugged and turned to leave. As his hand came to rest on the iron door a bolt of flame struck the door slamming it shut. With a gasp of surprise he turned his head to find the dead corpse staring at him. Baleful light emanating from its empty eye sockets. “Skah…” He breathed turning to face the lich fully. Bellowing a war cry Zar’Zak charged at the lich. With a screeching cry the monster launched another bolt of flame from its hand. The bolt struck home hitting Zar’Zak square in the chest, launching him backward into the door. He felt dazed as he slowly tried to rise. His breaths coming out ragged. The lich closed the distance in his moment of weakness; its hands alight with fire. Zar’Zak regaining some of his composure attempted to slash the lich. But it grabbed the iron sword almost instantly superheating the blade. With a loud crack it snapped the sword in half. Zar’Zak dropped the sword in surprise giving the lich a chance to grapple him. It took it and grabbed him with its fire wreathed talons. Zar’Zak felt himself scream in pain as he felt himself lifted up, the burning pain was intense but Zar’Zak endured. The lich then slowly brought him closer holding him in a bear hug. With a shriek it lit its own body aflame. The pain was maddening. It felt as if his body was being incinerated. He closed his eyes as he let out another scream of pain. The lich followed suit, letting out a triumphant screech.

Zar’Zak was desperate. He had to escape the lich’s grasp somehow. He struggled for a few moments. Before he drew his head back and head butted the lich. A sickening crack echoed around the room as the liches skull cracked open. It dropped the orc letting out a scream of pain. Acting quickly the orc took up his broken blade and tossed it at the lich. The blade imbedded itself into liches head. It let out a final screech as it tumbled backward and out the window. Zar’Zak approached the window and looked out. The lich lay silently on the ground, its broken form slowly burning. The blue orc nodded at the scene satisfied. He grabbed the ruined hilt of his sword and attached it to his belt. With one last look at the room he nodded and headed back to the fountain.

[ALikdoril 10]

Chapter 3

The travel back was the hardest. His body felt like it was broken and each step was another exorcise in pain. Still though he moved forward, He knew the fountain would be there to greet him soon. The sun had risen again during his trek, its heat adding to the pain that now racked his body. His breath came out ragged and strained. He was sure he broke a rib when he was launched into the iron door. What was worse his iron sword was now ruined as well. If some unknown foe fell on him he was sure he would not survive the encounter. One thing he was thankful for though was the soft crunching of the sand beneath his feet. Something about the sound encouraged him to keep going despite the pain and tiredness of his body. When the sandstone ruin was finally in view he stopped for a moment to rest. He could see the dark wavy form of the obsidian fountain, and the dark shape of the crone sitting patiently on the fountains edge. With a grunt of effort he started moving again. The crone turned her head when he finally reached the edge of the fountain. “You’re alive!” She exclaimed a mix of amusement and surprise in her voice.

She rushed to the blue Orc hands outstretched. “Give me the idol, Give it to me now!” She yelled. Zar’Zak let out a sigh as he reached into his pocket and took out the crystal statue. He handed it to her not really caring anymore about the statue or the fountain, only wanting to sit on the ground and rest. The old crone took the statue with glee and rushed to the fountain climbing to the top. She placed the statuette on top of the fountain. At first nothing appeared to have changed. Then slowly the murky water began to become clear. Not only had that happened but the fountains water started to overflow as well.

Zar’Zak watched in amazement as the ground the water touched sprung almost instantly to life. Flowers and grass forming where sand had been. The old crone let out a laugh the sound was no longer a horse, dry cackle however. But it was a warm, fluid laugh. She then grabbed her cloak and tore it off her body. Zar’Zak looked with amazement. Where once had stood and ugly old crone now stood a powerful young woman. The spitting image of the statuette that now rested on the top of the fountain. “Thank you, my brave orc warrior.” She exclaimed. “You have returned the source of my power to me. He stole my idol and sought to use its power to grant him unnaturally long life you see. But now my power has been returned to me and I can restore this land to the lush land it once was.” She looked at the orc noticing the broken sword. “Oh, you broke your blade! A warrior cannot be without a blade.” With a swift motion she pulled a blade from one of the many sheaths on her belt. She casually tossed it to the ground in front of Zar’Zak. It was a strangely ornate weapon, made of the same craggy dark stone as the magician’s tower. Though he was tired he took the blade and swing it testing thought the air. It was surprisingly light. “Oh, and you have been hurt as well.” She exclaimed a frown on her face. The frown quickly turned into a playful smile. “Come, drink of my fountain. It will restore your vitality.” Zar’Zak’s gaze switched slowly from the woman in front of him to the fountain and back again. She giggled “Don’t worry, the water is safe now.” Zar’Zak looked back at the fountain and tensely approached the fountain. He kneeled before it and cupping his hands brought some of the water to his lips and drank. It was amazing! He could feel the water washing through him as he drank it, washing away the exhaustion and pain. He felt the strange power of the water as it re-knit his broken ribs and healed the burns on his body. Then things went bad. As he drank though he found himself falling back as more water poured itself down his throat. He found much to his horror he was choking. The spirit of the fountain let out a loud amused laugh as he felt consciousness leave him.

He awoke sometime later submersed in water. He quickly struggled to the surface of the muddy lake. He quickly made his way to the shore. Several thoughts raced through his mind. The first was how he got to the bottom of a lake in the middle of the swamp. The second and perhaps most pressing was why was he naked as the day he was born.

He scanned the shoreline, searching for his missing equipment and clothing. His eyes caught a faint glimmer in a nearby bush. Approaching carefully Zar’Zak parted the bush. Lying beneath were a pair of tan silken pants, a pair of high quality buckled boots, a leather pouch, a leather harness, and a leather circlet placed gently on top. To the right of these was a large gnarled staff of oaken wood. Its curved tip carved into the likeness of a scorpion tail. To the right rested a large sword of ornate design made of craggy black stone, and a small idol in the shape of a woman a sword in hand raised to the heavens. He recognized most of the equipment as his own. But where had the stone sword and the strange statuette come from? Shrugging Zar’Zak quickly dressed himself.

He strapped the staff to this back, tied the black pouch to his belt, and then sheathed his sword. Nodding he grabbed the idol and opened the pouch. He stared in amazement. He was sure he was out of food last he remembered but here his pack was full of fresh fish a bottle of water, and a… a Piece of paper? Stowing the statuette into the pouch he pulled out a paper. It was a map. More importantly it was a map to the main road to the cloud temple from… Where ever this was. Carefully folding the map and placing it in the pouch Zar’Zak turned to walk in the direction to the main road. Once he reached the cloud temple he would head back to the capital.

He was not sure why. But he was sure when he returned he would begin his training as a shaman. He could feel it in his bones.

The end

((This is the final chapter. Let me know what you think. :) ))

[domainoft 191]

A good fair tale indeed, I look forward to the final chapter.

[Dretus 14]

Amazing

[ALikdoril 10]

((Thank you for saying so. I wasn't to sure about this story as i'm not to sure about sprits lore wise.))

[Danny 2232]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.