I did not have the courage to do what I should have done, Brex. For so many years. And now I put that responsibility on the shoulders of another.
But by doing so, I find that I cannot go on any further.
I am so sorry, my grandchild. I am sorry I failed you, and for that, the world must reclaim me.
Brex sat cross-legged, surrounded by books, one hand steadying his wooden enchanting plate and the other surgically carving symbols into the grain.
It was morning, and the gentle peace was starting to fade as the rest of the clan woke up. But for Brex, there was only the work left to be done, and whether or not his plan would succeed.
“Brex,” Tiyash said from outside his tent. “May I come in?”
He grumbled. “You don’t need my permission, I’m not an adult.”
“No, but I’d prefer it.”
Brex winced, setting his carving knife down. “Sorry. You can come in,“ he said.
As she tiptoed around the books, Brex ran his fingers over his forehead, realizing just how tired he was. He barely slept the previous night, running through the variables. His eyes seemed to ache just from looking at the books and enchanting plate.
“I brought you some water,” Tiyash said, handing Brex a canteen. He smiled at her and took a drink. As he wiped his mouth, he noticed the weariness on Tiyash’s face. Bags under her eyes, which were already red and puffy.
“You look worse than I feel,” he said.
Tiyash glanced downward, taking a seat across from Brex in his reading chair. “I’ve been having trouble coming to terms with the fact my friend might not be around much longer.”
Brex thinned his lips. “Oh.”
He turned his gaze back to the enchanting plate, half-complete with glyphs circling the border.
“We’re rooting for you, Brex. We all are.”
“You all?”
“My family and me.”
“You might be the only ones, Ti,” Brex said.
“I think a lot of people are interested to see whether or not you come back…but I hope you’ll still try, though,“ Tiyash said, lacing her fingers together.
Brex turned up the corner of his mouth. “I will. Promise.” He bit his lip for a moment, then spoke again. “Ti, what would you do if I didn’t make it?” He asked the question as plainly as he could, but he couldn’t stop himself from giving a hint of dread to it.
Tiyash glanced at the door to the tent and sighed, gathering her thoughts. “Well, first I’d make sure that you have a decent burial. A proper ceremony. And I don’t care how much of a fight Kotak puts up, it’d be an adult’s burial. Then I’d make sure that all of your stuff would go to people who would take care of it. I might keep the books myself. And I’d make sure that you have some kind of memorial here on the mesa. I’d come visit from time to time. Bring something for you. But I’d try to move on. And if we had to pack up the settlement and find another spot…I’d…”
She didn’t finish the sentence.
Brex nodded. “Thank you, Ti. I owe you a lot.”
“What are you doing now?” she asked. It was a change of subject, but not unwelcome.
She’d never asked before. Brex didn’t want to go into the details. She wouldn’t appreciate what he planned to do to Kotak later in the evening. But he could still try to explain from a broader perspective.
“I’m making a catalyst,” he said.
Tiyash scrunched up her face. “A catalyst?”
Brex gestured at the silver ring in the center of his enchanting plate. “For sorcery to work, you need a catalyst for every spell. You have to wear it somewhere on your body, and focus on it when you want to use the spell.”
She leaned forward, elbows on her thighs as she looked down at the enchanting plate. “So how do you make a catalyst?”
Brex gestured to the plate. “You use one of these. It’s made with wood from a Loquela tree. You carve the glyphs in a circle around the center, and then you put the catalyst, in this case, the ring, in the middle.”
“So what do the little symbols mean?”
Brex paused, wondering if he should stop. But the explanation fell out of his mouth before he could really consider. “Well, they’re glyphs, and they mean little bits and pieces that make up a spell. Kind of like how words make up a sentence. This one means “mind”, and this one means “vision,” see?”
Tiyash seemed to light up as he continued, leaning so far forward that she threatened to fall face first into the plate itself. Brex practically beamed the whole time, pointing out little details and answering her questions.
“So where does it all come from?” Tiyash asked.
“Well, they call it the Resource. But the name doesn’t really matter, I think. Something about muscle tissue in intelligent races containing the Resource. That’s what the catalyst does. It takes the energy in that tissue and transforms it into the spell.”
She furrowed her brow. “Wait, so, does that mean only sorcerers have it?”
Brex shook his head, “No, no, everybody has it. Like, both you and I have it. I’m just the only one of us to use it. Hold on.” He glanced over at his desk and grabbed A Beginner’s Guide to Understanding Sorcery, Vol 1. He held it toward Tiyash. “This explains it better than I can. You can keep it. I don’t need one anymore.”
Tiyash curled her lips into a smile and held it with both hands. But her gaze drifted from the book itself to Brex’s hand, eyeing the golden ring around his finger. “Is that one a catalyst too?” she asked.
Brex drew his hands close to his chest, the fingers of his right hand idly rolling the ring on his left. “Yeah. It was my first one. A gift from my parents.”
“Oh.” The moment pushed on them both until she spoke again. “What does it do?”
Brex grew quieter, whispering the words to her. “It’s a severing spell. You can cut a branch that’s out of reach. That kind of thing.”
Tiyash nodded, balled her hands into fists and swallowed. “Brex…can I ask you what happened to your parents? I don’t want to bring it up with you, but no one else will tell me. They were already gone by the time my family joined the clan.”
Brex twirled his finger around the ring on his hand. “They were nice. They understood.” He swallowed, getting caught up in the memory of his family. “When I was a kid, I started reading a lot, and they got me more books. When I lost at brambleball with the other kids, they told me about the strategy I could use to win.
“They weren’t perfect, though. Nobody’s perfect. They yelled a bit. At grandfather, at me, at Kotak sometimes. They didn’t understand why people would be so judgmental over me learning sorcery. And they took it out on people in…not-so-great ways.
“But I remember the day that they came back from the city and gave me this. They said that I could put any spell I wanted on it, and I picked a severing spell. I was going to use it to gather some fruit for them. I spent the whole day getting as many as I could. Dragonfruit, berries, grapes, whatever I could get my hands on.
“I used it for years. And Kotak and I made dinner together for them one night. But…”
Brex found his mouth dry, but continued.
“They ran into a band of human raiders, looking for supplies. The raiders had a sorceress with them. She…she used a severing spell on their armor that cut the metal and pushed it into their skin. And a second one to cut…” he swallowed again, “to cut veins near the heart.”
Tiyash held the book tight in her hands. “Brex, I…”
“The rest of the group was able to subdue the sorceress and took care of the bandits. They brought back their bodies for us to bury.”
“Brex, why would you keep that?”
He kept his eyes locked on the ring. “I…Because this was their gift to me. This wasn’t what killed them, even if it’s the same spell. It seems stupid to me. It’s like hating all knives because somebody used one to cut you. Everybody says that it was a shameful thing to wear the spell that killed them, but this was the one I used to help make dinner. And I think that my parents’ lives, even if they weren’t perfect, matter a lot more than their deaths.”
He heaved another sigh.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring all this up,” Tiyash said.
Brex shook his head. “It’s all right. I’d rather you hear it from me than somebody else. Especially since I…might not be around much longer.”
A bell rang outside the tent, and they looked outside. The hunters were starting to gather in the center of the encampment.
“I have to go, Brex,” Tiyash said. “They’ll be expecting me.“ She stood up and made to leave, but Brex noted that she still carried the book. “Take care of yourself.”
He nodded. “You as well.”
She slipped out and Brex remembered his epiphany from the previous night that Tiyash was the only reason that he wanted to stay.
But maybe that was enough.
Brex huddled in his tent for the rest of the day. The sounds of pages flipping and muttered profanity sprang out of the tent, earning Brex some concerned and flippant looks from the passing orcs.
As he finished each symbol on the enchanting plate, it glowed for a split-second, flush with color in the space he carved, before fading away.
When he finished the last symbol, the orc watched as each one lit up again, all simultaneously glowing violet. They all flashed bright, and with a loud snap, disappeared from the enchanting table, as though the symbols had never touched the wood. Instead, faint lines on the rings implied the transfer of magic before the lines themselves thinned until they disappeared.
Brex pocketed the rings. It was a big gamble, but worth a shot.
Playing to his strengths meant using his magic, even if that included upholding the stereotype of the deceitful sorcerer. But if he was lucky, no one would ever find out about this.
He told himself that he’d rather save his skin than his image, but didn’t believe it.
Brex, all dressed up in traditional furs and cloth for the rites, stood outside the chief’s tent, between a pair of burly bodyguards. He winced when he started to hear grunts and moans both feminine and masculine coming from within, wondering how the bodyguards tolerated all of that.
After the bouncing and moaning sounds fell to silence, the shaman slipped out from the front, smiling at one of the bodyguards before turning her lip at Brex.
Brex held her gaze, furrowing his brow. But instead, she only looked down at his hand and scoffed. In truth, he had no idea how she attempted to connect to magical energies, but it appeared she had as much disdain for his methods as he did for hers.
As she passed him, the orc felt a shiver slide along his body, sensing some vibration or resonance between them. He had always read that this kind of reaction came from two sorcerers meeting with unsuppressed abilities.
Brex kept his attention to the chief’s tent. Kotak’s silhouette danced around the fabric as the chief cleaned up after his conjugal visit.
Sometimes in Kotak’s presence, Brex found his mind wandering, considering where he would be if he had given up the ways of the arcane and chosen to stay with Kotak. He wouldn’t be trying such a dishonest scheme right now. Instead, it could have been him in there before, not the shaman, feeling Kotak’s arms around his shoulders. Just like their best days, holding close and forgetting about the rest of the world. Fingers sliding on each other’s skin and–
“Come inside, gor-sha,” Kotak’s voice rang out.
Brex chided himself. He had to focus if this was going to work. He had to remember the rings. He had to get Kotak to put one on.
His life depended on it.
When Brex stepped into the tent, his stomach dropped. In the few days since Chief Grotuk’s passing, most of the decorations that he knew from his grandfather’s time as chief had disappeared. Instead, they were replaced by racks of weapons and diagrams of fighting stances. Grotuk had been a diplomat, with maps and markings of trade routes, gifts from other clans and souvenirs from his travels. Kotak’s decor showed a closed fist instead of an open hand.
There was a second exit at the rear of the tent that gave Kotak access to his own private fire pit, crackling and hissing as it spat embers. Kotak himself was standing and looking out at the fire pit, facing away from Brex. The chief’s cloak fit him well, its hem hanging a few inches above the ground.
He tried not to show his disappointment at the change in interior.
“Chief,” Brex said, bowing and falling to a knee as he saw Kotak. “I come bearing a gift. Since I begin my rites tomorrow, this may be my last opportunity to give it to you.”
Kotak turned from the other exit and approached Brex, hands held behind his back. Brex felt like an idiot, a fully grown adult in a child’s ritualistic furs bowing before the chief who looked as powerful and elegant as an orc could. He crossed his arms.
Brex held out a single ring from his pocket.
Kotak raised an eyebrow at him. “Just a ring, Brexothuruk?”
“No, Chief. It offers you an easier way to track my progress through the rite.”
Kotak plucked the ring and examined it carefully. “Explain.”
“I am wearing a similar one now,” Brex said, lifting up his hand and showing it to the other orc. “You will feel my heartbeat through that ring and should I die on my rites, you will know by the lack of a pulse through the ring.”
Kotak weighed the ring in his hand. “Stand, Brexothuruk.”
Brex stood up, watching Kotak carefully.
Just put it on. Get it over with.
“Follow me,” Kotak said, leading Brex to the fire pit, tearing away some of the privacy they had within the tent. When Brex stood next to Kotak and the fire, the chief spoke again. “This ring, you enchanted it yourself?”
Brex nodded.
“You used the arcane symbols to give the ring its power?”
Brex nodded again. He didn’t like where this was going.
“Do you understand what message you’re sending, Brexothuruk?”
“Chief, I was told to play to my strengths when completing the rites. My strengths are in sorcery. I wish to start with my best foot forward.”
Kotak closed his hand around the ring, shutting his eyes. “A ring that lets me feel your heartbeat no matter how far away we are,” he said, his voice falling quiet against the crackling of the fire.
Put it on, please.
“And you burn what little goodwill we have left with this,” Kotak growled.
Before Brex could react, the chief slammed forward, hitting him square in the chest before bringing a foot to Brex’s ankle and knocking him down to the ground, face next to the fire.
Brex coughed and sputtered as ash floated into his face. Kotak knelt over him and pinned him down, sliding his face toward the flames.
“Tell me what the ring does or I swear to the ancestors your eyes will burn like charcoal tonight.”
How could he know? Brex thought. Tears welled up in Brex’s eyes and he couldn’t find the air to breathe, his body growing warmer while smoke flew into his mouth.
“Tell me, Brex.” Kotak pushed him closer.
He tried to find the words, but only found himself tugging at Kotak’s fibers and scraping at his skin, nodding, hoping that he could somehow confess after inhaling the wretched ash.
Kotak yielded, pulling him away, but remaining over the sorcerer, body pressing down to keep him pinned.
Brex coughed his way through the sentence. “Just…wanted you…to think…was already done…”
Kotak snarled, “How, Brex?”
“A link…to your mind…images…sounds…of me killing the bloodmane…imagined…”
Kotak leaned back, giving Brex enough air to catch his breath after several moments. He gasped and groaned his way back to something like normal, unable to take his eyes off of Kotak, who said nothing.
“I…I’m sorry, Kotak.”
The chief stared at Brex, brows furrowed. Brex thought he could see tears welling up in Kotak’s eyes, but his voice never wavered. “Your apology means nothing. I had hoped you’d come to reconcile. To show me you changed your ways. I was willing to stay your rites for another week, even longer, if you were ready to learn anything else to be an adult of our clan. But you hold onto sorcery too tightly.”
“I’m…I’m…” Brex eked out.
“You want the pride of killing the bloodmane that badly? Then you can have it. When you awaken, your rites will begin. Return with the bloodmane’s hide or else you will be killed on sight.”
Brex froze in terror at Kotak’s ultimatum, then stopped to consider the words.
When I awaken?
Kotak’s fist collided with the side of Brex’s head and all went dark.
Orcanist 