Safrag turned such a murderous gaze upon her that the Titaness crouched in fear of being reduced to a stain on the floor. Yet his anger was not aimed at her. Instead, he pointed before him. In the chaos of the spell’s shattering, the vision he had summoned-and kept intact through his own magic-stood unnoticed. Morgada gazed at the revelation and was dumbfounded.
“What does that mean?” she asked, as she stalked around the image. In the center of the vision stood a figure. One by one, the inner circle of the Titans surrounded the figure, staring at it.
“What does it mean?” Morgada asked again of Safrag.
The lead Titan eyed the hated face, the mocking smile … the missing hand. He nodded to all the others. Their eyes did not deceive them.
“It seems that the Grand Khan Golgren is our key to the Fire Rose,” Safrag finally said.
And very slowly and bitterly, he smiled.
III
There were troubles with ruling a realm divided by broken land, mountains, and other geographic divides. Golgren borrowed his ideas in that regard from the Uruv Suurt, who claimed mastery over their mainland colony of Ambeon and many, many islands east of the Blood Sea. No realm was as splintered as the minotaur empire’s, and a constant stream of ships kept communication going between the individual colonies. Under Faros Es-Kalin, the newest emperor-Golgren’s archenemy-those ships had swelled in number.
The Grand Khan boasted a continuous stream of ships moving between the parts of his realm too, especially the lighter sailing craft that borrowed heavily from the empire’s designs. Yet sailing around the Hollowlands, past the Misty Isle, and through the Bay of Balifor was an overly-tedious and dangerous process. Thus, while that route was necessary at times, Golgren had also opened a land crossing near Ogrebond heading south to the sea just beyond the bay, utilizing a new port town he had dubbed Carduuch, or “Serpent’s Bite”. Even that way entailed wasted time and effort, however.
And that was why Golgren had begun to study the nearby land of Khur in detail.
Khur was an arid land filled mostly with human nomads. In many ways, the nomads were respected by the ogres, who acknowledged their strength, cunning, and savagery. However, being human, the nomads had made ties with the Knights of Neraka. And thus to invade them was to end the semblance of peace that existed between Golgren and the dark knighthood. Yet, if the news he had received was correct, the Black Shells had already broken that peace, and Khur was already his enemy.
Golgren studied the weathered maps on a huge wooden table in what had become his war room. The high-ceilinged chamber had likely been a grand ballroom in the days of his ancestors, for it was vast. The floor and walls still retained remnants of fanciful images, some recognizable as High Ogres in poses of merriment. The Grand Khan cared not a whit that he had turned a place of entertainment into one of planning destruction, for to ogres war was the ultimate entertainment. It gave purpose to their otherwise dismal lives and had a long ogre tradition.
Khur had been Golgren’s next intended foray into conquest, one that he had felt would not be so disturbing to the Solamnians at least. Uniting the “provinces” of Kern and Blode through Khur would prove far more vexing to the Nerakians and the Uruv Suurt. And as an ally of Neraka, Khur was an enemy of Solamnia. In Golgren’s eyes, it had been the perfect next step in his master plan.
His face expressionless, the Grand Khan suddenly swept his maimed arm across the table, flinging away the maps that had been given to him long ago by the Solamnians who had come to “train” his village in warfare against the Black Shells.
Golgren strode out of the war room, with two hulking guards-one from Kern and the other from Blode, as he always dictated-following close behind.
Signs of reconstruction and renovation were everywhere, with scaffoldings lining corridors and raw materials covering portions of the marble floors. The work had slowed over the past months, in great part because very few elf slaves were involved anymore. Having determined that they would be his bargaining chip with the Solamnians, Golgren had not wanted to let his people become too much accustomed to using the elves as slaves. Without them, ogres tried their best to imitate the meticulous skill of the elves. The results were not as pleasing.
Three ogre workers quickly scrambled to attention as he strode by. They had been seeking to patch a section of wall that had collapsed in upon itself in generations past. The work had been started by the slaves, and where elf hands had sought to ease the cracks and replace the marble, the wall looked almost as though it had never broken in the first place.
Unfortunately, where the ogres had taken over, the new marble did not match the previous stone in shade, nor were the cracks completely covered over. Instead, great splashes of plaster feebly attempted to bridge the gaps between broken pieces.
The three ogres had been chosen because of their relative skills at such craftsmanship, but so amateurish was their effort that Golgren paused to survey their handiwork. The trio dropped to their knees and cowered before their much shorter lord.
Golgren snapped his fingers. One of the Grand Khan’s guards let out a grunt of warning and thrust a sword forward for emphasis. The three workers scrambled to their feet and fled down the corridor.
The Grand Khan softly placed his hand on one of the ancient reliefs. In the image, two High Ogres rode magnificent steeds in the midst of some activity, possibly a hunt. Their images had been recreated by the slaves, but whatever they were hunting for had been obscured by the pathetic efforts of the ogres.
“The elves, whatever their faults, were far more adept, weren’t they?”
The two guards swung around to face the unexpected newcomer. Golgren, unfazed, slowly turned to face Safrag.
“Such a glorious piece of work,” the new Titan leader murmured. Stepping past Golgren and the wary guards, the gargantuan sorcerer let out a sigh. “Please. Allow me.”
Raising his palms to waist level, the Titan stood before the center of the relief. He took a deep breath.
A golden glow rose from Safrag’s palms. He shivered slightly and began breathing rapidly. His eyes fluttered half closed.
Despite their responsibilities, the guards took a step back. Ogres, more than most races, feared magic.
The glow rose to envelop the image. While there was no visible change at first, where the work had either been done by ogres, or not touched at all, the energies suddenly grew bright.
And before the eyes of the onlookers, the rest of the relief took shape. The two hunters were joined by a never-before-glimpsed third figure: a female astride the back of a wingless griffon. Their prey turned out to be a huge, majestic creature that resembled a horse with lupine features and two horns. The strange creature was an amalok, one of the most dominant and useful beasts in all Golthuu. A variety of amalok breeds had once spread from the uppermost points of Kern down to the worst recesses of Blode. They had been used for their hides, their meat, their horns, and for racing. The spotted variation pursued by the High Ogres was carved in such detail that one could distinguish the strands of hair and the split in the hooves. There could be no doubt that an animal of that kind had once lived, though no such amalok was found anymore.
With a slight gasp of effort, Safrag stepped back.
“Arresting, isn’t it?” the Titan commented. “There’s so much to admire of our great ancestors.”
“Decorum being one of those things,” the Grand Khan blandly returned. “And what does Safrag require all of a sudden, that he appears to me with such brash suddenness? Or has he a desire to offer the Titans as workers to restore the palace for me?”