The Emerald King

Memories

Nara focused on the empty space above her open palm. Around her Gala’s guards watched from a safe distance. The dark empty cellar of damp moss-covered stone completely silent, save for the occasional shifting of the nearby guards. The only light came from candles lining the walls, giving the large room a dull glow. For three weeks now she had been practicing the spell her grandfather had tasked her with mastering. As things were he believed she needed to be able to better defend herself in the future. He and Gala couldn’t always protect her, especially if numbers were against them.

She brought her hand closer to her face and began whispering small flames into her palm. Once the fire was sufficient she imagined it forming into a little red orb similar to Don’s. The flames, as they had with most of her previous attempts, did so. The guards were still silent, having seen this before, perhaps even hoping she could go farther this time.

Nara dropped the orb to the ground, keeping her mind focused on imagining the orb. Her grandfather had always said the only weakness to magic was the mind. A strong imagination was needed to create a spell and a strong will to give it strength. Languages were one thing to her, but magic was an entirely different beast. At least with languages, there were set and mostly clear cut rules in grammar and pronunciation. With magic it always seemed there was more to it than what was shown.

She whispered more flames into her palm, still focusing on her previous creation, and tried to form another orb. Slower than before the flames did so, however, this time the orb was more oval-shaped than the previous. Slightly annoyed by this Nara dropped the second orb. Nearby stood several dummies made of wood and hay for her to practice on. The stone slabs at their base black from burning several others in frustration before now.

Keeping her focus on the orbs, she willed them to roll towards the dummy in the center. Upon knocking the post they stood on she released the orbs to explode. While they did in fact explode, destroying the dummy and catching the others on fire, it wasn’t the same concentrated tornado of flames her grandfather had manage to conjure. Nara stomped her feet in frustration, flat echoes vibrating around the room. She wanted to cry and even more so to scream. The guards made no movement or sound, probably afraid she might burn them.

“Nara,” the tall guard named Geer said, sounding worried.

“WHAT?” she shrieked back.

The orc shifted uneasily and cleared his throat before continuing.

“Didn’t your grandfather give you any hints to help you with this? I mean… you’ve been at this for a while, and made great impr-”

“NO! All he said was it’s simpler than it seems. But I’ve been trying for weeks. I can make two orbs now, but they don’t even explode right! And it takes all my concentration just to keep them from going out!”

“You don’t need to be rude, Nara,” the other guard, Torag, chimed in sternly. His blue eyes pierced her like daggers, bringing her back to her senses. Just now Nara realized that she was covered in a cold sweat and breathing heavy.

“Let’s rest for a while, okay?” Geer said. “I’ll have Darra make us something sweet to eat. I know how you love her cooking.”

The orc smiled, revealing clean white teeth beneath his polished tusks. “I doubt lord Gala would want to see you like this. I know she wants you to succeed.”

Nara resigned, wiping the sweat from her brow with her sleeve.

“Okay,” she said, defeated.

Geer left for the kitchens two floors above while she and Torag made their way to the dining hall of Gala’s fortress. The room’s size always amazed her. Rows of polished wood tables and benches spanned the center of the circular room, surrounded by braziers on each side of the tall smooth stone pillars lined with green banners, donning the emblem of a golden horse. This room alone was greater than the throne room of the king back home; She could only imagine the scope of Gala’s throne room.

She clambered on the bench closest to the cellar’s exit and waited for Geer to return. Torag took a seat across from her, setting his sheathed sword to lean on the table’s edge. Nara was eleven, yet she felt like a toddler with her feet dangling in the air. The seats very much accommodated the size of the room, as well as the orcs, but for her, they were too big. Even her grandfather’s feet wouldn’t be able to reach the floor.

About half an hour had passed by the time Geer had returned with Darra, holding a large silver tray of sweet rolls, each twice the size of Nara’s head. She set the tray down on the table and took a seat next to Torag, while Geer sat down next to her. Ever since she had met her, Nara thought that the cook was very beautiful. Her dark brown hair complimenting her green skin. Her eyes a soft hazel full of warmth. Her tusks were smaller than Geer’s or Torag’s, but they were just as clean and polished and her lips soft and full.

So many of the orc’s Nara had met were very kind, not to mention smarter than her people gave them credit for. It still made her feel sick, thinking about what the nobles were doing to them. Attacking such a kind race was horrible, and her grandfather went along with it.

“Something wrong?” Darra asked, “you look lost in thought.”

Nara was surprised to see the orcs all looking at her, worry on their faces.

“It’s nothing,” Nara said, lying, “I just can’t believe I’m here, I guess. Just a few months ago I was home playing with my friends.”

“Feeling homesick?” Dara said, placing a sweet roll on a plate in front of her. It was so large that Nara had to break it into smaller pieces to eat it. She took a bite, enjoying the satisfaction of its crispy outer texture and soft doughy center. The sweetness of the glaze on top was mellow, not overpowering, and savory. Nara couldn’t help but savor it.

“A little,” she said after swallowing. “I miss my friends…”

“You’ll see them again, pup,” Geer said heartily, downing a roll in just two bites. “As soon as lord Gala can figure things out, I’m sure we can get you back home in no time.”

The thought gave little comfort to Nara. She did miss her friends, but she didn’t really miss her home. Girls back home were always treated like they weren’t as good as boys. They weren’t even allowed to learn magic for combat, something her grandfather kept secret from the elders of the mages’ council. Only herself and his closest friends were aware of it. She really missed her grandpa’s friends.

She often thought about what they were doing now. Old John coming up with a new another new spell, or Vance and Tara arguing over old texts written by mages long dead. Most of all she missed Ben, playing his flute and making mini earth golems dance around in a circle. The four took their time to enjoy the snack, while Nara was lost in sweet memories. Then she came to wonder more about the orc lands. What were their beliefs? what stories did they have to tell? Who were their friends?

“Gala told me that your people don’t worship the animal spirits anymore,” she said, “why do you?”

Torag was the first to answer, he sounded grumpy in his tone, but Nara was used to that by now. Geer told her once that he had seen a lot in his life, making him jaded.

“Just because one lord or two says we forsake something doesn’t mean we all got to. Gala didn’t give up the spirits, and neither do we. It’s part of why we accept her as our leader. Does everyone accept your king and go with everything he believes? What about the lords beneath him, the ones that brought you here to begging with?”

“Well…” Nara said, thinking, “no, I don’t think they do.”

“There you have it then.”

“But if they don’t it’s treason! And the king can cut your head off as punishment!”

“Bah!” Torag spat. “Executions are for the southern savages. You’ll find none of that here. The worst punishment a Zruhk deals in is exile.”

Nara was surprised, she could only wish that he kind was as kind as the lords ruling the plains.

“Gala also said your magic comes from the spirits, but I’ve never seen her use it.”

Darra chimed in this time, “we can’t commune with the spirit of horse anymore.”

Nara’s curiosity grew.

“Why not?”

“Because they disappeared a long time ago. We don’t know what happened to them, and now the horses we ride are dumb, unable to think or speak as they once did.”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” Nara said, feeling tears well up.

“It’s okay, child,” Darra soothed, “Gala and the rest of us have hope, that the spirits will one day return.”

“I hope they do,” Nara said, sniffling, “that’s really sad.”

“I saw orcs with purple skin before. Do they pray to the spirits too?”

“Yes,” Darra replied, “They’re our neighbors to the south, the orcs of the Riverlands. They pray to the koi spirit, but any orc can pray and commune with any spirit. We just happen to each focus on the ones that mainly roam our respective lands. But the Riverlands orcs are very kind and hearty people. They love their parties and festivals more than any other clan.”

Nara’s eye lit up, the thought of meeting a new culture of orcs excited her. She wanted to see them all if she ever got the chance.

“Do you think I’ll get to meet them?”

“It’s very possible,” Geer said with a smile, “Lord Gala is good friends with their leaders, as is her brother, Kulg.”

“But if you want to see them you need to do as your grandfather instructed and practice your magic,” Torag said sternly.

At first, this put Nara off, she dreaded going back to practice, but she knew she needed to if Don was going to allow her to keep traveling with him. She was halfway across the world and near twelve years old. It was time she showed her grandpa the kind of woman she would grow to become.

“Alright alright, let’s go,” She said hurriedly, hopping down from the tall bench and pulling on Torag’s arm.

“I’ll show grandpa I can do it! And I want to hear about your friends too, I love stories!”

Together, they climbed back down into the cellar, Nara ready to prove herself and learn even more about this new and exciting land.