Grut, ninth year of the Third Age
“Charge!” Ragnak thundered, drawing his twin axes. The swog beneath him moved fluidly, its powerful muscles pushing away from the ground as it leapt forwards with ever-lengthening strides.
The orcs behind Ragnak drew their own weapons, a good number of them the bones of slain demons, and let loose a terrible war cry to the heavens that tore the night in two. Their challenge was answered by a mass far before them: Tornak’s warriors, mounted on raptors and ready for the fight.
All sound seemed to fade for Ragnak. Only the thundering of the two forces rushing to meet each other rumbled in his ears; all else was forgotten. This was the night Aderra would be avenged. Tonight, finally, he would have peace, true peace. Tonight, Tornak would be slain.
Though the swog beneath him quickened its pace, and though the raptors before them charged forward with the lust of battle, time seemed to suddenly slow down for Ragnak. He watched as the two armies drew closer, and closer, their weapons drawn, their mouths locked in a terrible scream, their faces pictures of ferocity. So this is how peace is achieved, Ragnak thought. The idea seemed wrong to him, insane, as if it didn’t belong. And then the armies clashed.
Sound suddenly returned with a clash of arms. Arrows flew through the sky overhead. Orcs fell. Screams rent the air. Flames burst into existence. The raptors screamed and slashed their enemies. The swogs hissed and rent their foes with long claws. Orcs slammed into each other, tearing into flesh with their blades, knocking aside swords, killing without discretion. The sky and ground faded together, both stained with the blood of the battle. All was chaos.
Ragnak ripped through the orcs before him. Tornak had not won by being at the front of every battle, where he was an easy target. He had won by remaining in the back, cowardly issuing orders to those under him. It was him that Ragnak had come to slay. Tonight was the night that he would pay for his murder of Aderra.
Ragnak broke free of the ranks. He was now behind the enemy line, between the battling armies and Tornak’s vast city. However, between him and the city was another army, a second legion of Tornak’s raptors. They were waiting for the first wave to weaken Ragnak’s army before rushing in and finishing them. And standing at their head, mounted proudly on his armored raptor, was Tornak, nothing but shock registering on his face at the sight of Ragnak.
Without a second’s hesitation, Ragnak turned his swog straight towards the second army and charged. That was where Tornak was. That was his goal. Arrows thudded against his armor, but they bounced off harmlessly. Even those that were tipped with fire were quenched by the Heart.
Ranks poured in front of Tornak, charging Ragnak down. The spears and swords ripped through his swog with ease, but they slithered off of his armor and weapons like water, unable to penetrate it. Even those that found his unprotected arms barely left gashes before they were turned aside by the magic of the Heart, the wounds instantly healed.
Ragnak leapt off of his swog as the beast fell to the ground, pierced by a hundred weapons. He kicked one orc to the ground and dispatched him, slew another with a quick jab of his axe, and marched onwards, not caring how many orcs attacked him. There was only one that he sought tonight, and no amount of soldiers would stop him.
For the first time in twenty years, Tornak’s orcs faltered. Those that had not gone to slay Ragnak backed away, half turning towards the city. Tornak could not blame them. Ragnak was carving a path through at least a hundred orcs as though they weren’t even there.
He’s coming for me, Tornak realized with a jolt of fear. He’s coming for me, and nothing is going to stop him. One of us is going to kill the other. Tornak’s grip tightened on his sword. He had a family that loved him. He had a village that looked up to him. He would defend them at any cost. He could not ask his rapidly dwindling army to defend him, not when their efforts were so clearly useless. No, it would fall to him to meet Ragnak, to fight this final battle.
Tornak unslung his shield from his back. “Ready yourself, Tera,” he whispered to his raptor. “Our enemy fast approaches.”
With a mighty bellow, Ragnak slew the final orc and charged ahead, paying no heed to the mountainous pile of corpses that he had left behind him. His arms had been slashed so many times that they appeared to be encased in dark magic, and his head was so wreathed in it that he saw Tornak through a haze of dark red.
“Your time has come, Tornak!” he yelled as he ran, his axes weighted down with blood. “You slew Aderra! You took her from my life! Now I shall take yours, in payment! Prepare to taste my vengeance!”
The next thing Ragnak knew, something very strong had struck him in his armor and he had been flung to the ground. The raptor raised a leg, preparing for another strike.
Ragnak rolled, avoiding the blow, but Tornak bent down and swung at him with his sword. That proved to be a mistake.
Ragnak grasped the sword, heedless of the pain that was quickly healed, and yanked Tornak out of the saddle and onto the ground. He stamped on his face, keeping him temporarily down, and then swung his axe at the raptor.
The demon bone found its mark. It lodged in the ’saur’s neck. The raptor let loose an earsplitting screech, but a quick blow to the head from the other axe silenced it, and it fell to the ground, lifeless.
“No!” Tornak screamed, leaping to his feet. He swung his sword at Ragnak, who ignored it and allowed it to bounce off of his armor. Instead, he swung his axe at Tornak’s arm, quickly breaking it.
Tornak staggered backwards, the sword falling from his limp grasp. “No,” he repeated, his eyes wide. He knew the end was near. Ragnak advanced on him, his face a mask of fury and pain.
A kick to the stomach was sufficient to make Tornak fall to the ground. Another strike of the axe, and his other arm was broken, the shield useless. Ragnak knelt on him, keeping him in place, and looked into his beaten face.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. They both knew how it would end. Ragnak considered Tornak. Not that many years ago, he had similarly looked down on another orc, another victim of the power of his Heart. Grimnak had taken his father, and Ragnak had killed him. But he did not have peace. The pain of his father’s death had not left him.
Before him lay Tornak. He had taken Aderra. Would the pain of that loss stay with him as well? Would he be tortured by her death also?
Ragnak moved his axes carefully, deciding where to strike. He would have his revenge, and he would have peace. He would strike down Tornak now, concentrating all his pain at Aderra’s death into the single blow. And then, and only then, would his heart be at rest.
“You haven’t won.”
Ragnak glanced back at Tornak’s face. It wasn’t frightened now. It was calm. Tornak knew what was coming, knew that he could do nothing to stop it, and had accepted it. “You haven’t won,” he repeated. “You’ll never win as long as you carry that Heart.”
Ragnak considered him for a moment. “It is the Heart that has slain you,” he said quietly. “It is the Heart that will give me peace. It is the Heart that has given me revenge.”
He raised his axes on high. “For Aderra!” he bellowed to the heavens. And then the axes descended in a spray of blood.
Aderra… Aderra… The single word seemed to repeat over and over in Ragnak’s mind as he looked down on the mangled body of Tornak. He felt no different. The pain was still there. The memory was still there. He could still see Aderra’s lifeless body huddled in the corner, Kira crying over it, and he felt a wave of anger, of hate.
He drove his axe into Tornak’s lifeless body, snapping its bones in two. Still the vision swam before his eyes. He sunk his axe to the hilt in Tornak’s flesh, but still Aderra was before him, her blood pooling on the ground, Kira’s sobs filling the silence…
“Nooo!” bellowed Ragnak. Again and again he sank his axe into Tornak, but the pain only increased. Now Aderra stood before him, her eyes reproachful. “Avenge me, Ragnak,” she said, over and over. “Avenge me.”
“I have!” thundered Ragnak. “I have. I have slain Tornak!” His father joined Aderra, the same request upon his lips. “I slew them both! They’re dead, dead by my hand! Why do you still haunt me? Why do you rob me of peace? What must I do?”
Still the words echoed: Avenge me… Avenge me… Avenge me… Ragnak fell to the ground, burying his face against it, trying to block out the visions, but they persisted in his mind.
He had had his revenge upon Grimnak. He had had his revenge upon Tornak. And still, peace was not his.
What must I do?