Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Urgal King
The walk through the ravine took several hours.
Garzhvog had never been to the ancient barrows of the Urgal King, but he, like all Chieftains, knew how to find it; the knowledge was passed down from one leader to the next, and shared with their shamans. Legends filled in the rest, such that every Urgal child had a rough idea at least of where the Nar'vair, the highest of their race, resided.
Now he saw how the legends compared to reality.
In the old tales, the path to the King's barrows was lined with the bones of great kills and defeated foes. In reality, it was a simple, wild path of stone with great walls of rock on either side. It was large—no matter how deep they went in, even Illgra still had plenty of room to maneuver, but it was not so decorated as in the tales.
The entrance to the barrows themselves, however, was a different matter. The stories told of a great mountain cave, the sight of which struck feat into all those who laid eyes upon it save the mightiest and bravest of warriors.
Garzhvog and Illgra lay eyes on the entrance to a great cave in the fading light and only the Rider resisted the urge to growl.
The skulls of two dragons, bones aged and worn, lined the sides of the mountain's gaping mouth. Both were close to the same size, and he imagined they'd be a match for Illgra's own head were they not eroded with age. Still, he could make out the horns and razor-sharp teeth, and knew there was no other beast in the land they could belong to.
Illgra's snarl rippled through the ravine and their escort glanced back at her, but otherwise did not react.
Which was more than could be said for the two guards standing by the dragon skulls themselves.
Both lifted spears and pointed them at Garzhvog and Illgra, until the patrol spoke to them in rough mutters. They studied the dragon and Rider warily, but jerked their heads towards the interior of the cave. One of the patrol went running inside—undoubtedly to alert the King of his challengers.
Garzhvog stood tall and fearless as he strode into the cave with Illgra right behind him. The two guards growled at her and she bared massive fangs, hissing savagely at them. Though they did not cower, they did not challenge her further.
They possess nerve, she allowed, sneering. But not fearlessness.
I expect only one creature in this mountain to be fearless of you, Dautr, Garzhvog replied gravely. She rumbled agreement.
A gathering of Urgals began to form in their path—all of them Kull. Not a single standard Urgal stood amongst them. Children watched from the sidelines, not daring to approach until the threat was not a threat.
Garzhvog stopped before them and cast his eyes over the crowd. They were clearly hostile towards the newcomers, and when they parted to leave a path for the Rider and dragon, they did so with angry grunts and jeers.
One particularly belligerent Kull stepped between Garzhvog and Illgra, glaring up at the dragon and howling. Garzhvog stopped and only looked over his shoulder as Illgra cocked her head at the arrogant Urgal. She lowered her skull until she was in his face, took a breath, and roared.
Massive teeth flashed as she bellowed, sending the air in the mountain's belling quaking with the force of her wrath. The Urgal who had challenged her recoiled, covering his ears as the rest of the crowd briefly cringed away from the onslaught of furious noise.
Illgra's dark green eyes bored into the Kull, staring him down even as he staggered back amidst the crowd. She thumped her tail hard on the stone floor and the impact reverberated through the now-silent cave.
Sheep, she mocked. Loud, but a sheep regardless.
Garzhvog's ears were ringing, but he was only amused by the display of dominance from his partner. Illgra did not suffer fools.
They continued their walk to the deepest parts of the cave, guided along the path by the light of many torches. As they travelled, Garzhvog could see many smaller tunnels and caves splitting off from the main path; some he imagined were storage for food, others nests for sleeping, and perhaps more for weapons and other such things. The Urgals around them gave the newcomers a decent berth, but they followed behind steadily—trapping Garzhvog and Illgra between them and the King just ahead.
Finally, they emerged into a large, circular arena that opened up the back of the mountain. The sky above was by now glittering with starlight, although the glare of fires lighting the space made them hard to see. It was lined by a number of stone steps that climbed up and away from the circle at the bottom, like a bowl. Many Urgals were already sitting on the steps, and the rest of the crowd filtered up and around to join them and watch. He guessed there were as many as five hundred just here—far bigger than any average tribe.
Garzhvog allowed himself to slowly turn, studying the structure with interest. It was a far cry from the impressive work done by the dwarves, but this place had been carved from the rock for a very long time, indeed.
He finished his turn and laid eyes on the being on the opposite end of the arena.
The Kull was big even for his race; nearly nine feet high and as thick with muscle as any of his kind. His horns were twisted several times over with age; a trait Garzhvog had not seen in even the oldest Urgals he knew. White dreadlocks fell down to his shoulders, and those yellow eyes were old and dark. His body was littered with many scars, but all had healed well and none looked dire enough to plague him.
The String of Horns, a sash tied around many horns carved from defeated rams, hung over his right shoulder and wrapped around his torso. Garzhvog could not guess how many horns made up the String, but there were more than a dozen just on the front half alone.
Like many of his kin, the King donned common tribal clothing, but where he differed was in the cloak he bore—whereas Garzhvog bore a black fur coat, Kulkarvek's was hewn of violet scales.
Dragon scales.
The Urgal King sat on a raised, flat stone at the top of a wide staircase—nothing like the thrones King Hrothgar or Queen Islanzadi sat upon, but his immense shape needed no fine chair. Buried in the stone around him were six swords that Garzhvog knew immediately were the blades of Dragon Riders—their incredible design and unique coloration gave them away for what they really were. Lying nearby was a great spear, as well as an axe, and on either side of the flat throne were the near-complete skeletons of two dragons.
Their skulls lay on the stones beside the King, and their bodies twisted back and away to line the side of the arena itself. Behind him was the skull of the biggest dragon he'd seen so far, and within its mouth he caught sight of a gem-like gleam.
Garzhvog met the King's eyes.
Standing near Kulkarvek was another Kull—smaller than the King and clearly female, but she was far more imposing than any other Urgal he'd seen thus far besides the greatest of their race. As the Chieftain stared at the King, she lifted a spear and slammed the butt of it against the stone. The arena immediately fell into complete silence.
Garzhvog assumed she was the King's second in-command. That would put her on equal level with himself in the absence of a Chieftain.
"You are a fool to come here," she growled. "You, Chieftain, who think yourself a Dragon Rider? You have only come to strengthen your King with the blood in your veins and the bones of your dragon."
"I am Nar Garzhvog, Chieftain of the Bolvek Tribe and Rider of the dragon Illgra. I come to take my King's head," Garzhvog replied, not looking away from Kulkarvek the entire time he spoke. "For he has failed our race."
Kulkarvek's eyes gleamed dangerously. His second snarled at Garzhvog. "Your horns will be stripped of your head before it is spiked for that, Rider."
"I am not here to speak to you. Get out of my way or I will cut you down."
She bristled and uttered a vicious roar. "I should gut you and spare your King the trouble, drajl!"
"You will not interfere, Rhaega," Kulkarvek finally spoke, standing to his full height. The female dipped her head in submission as the King gave his commands. "He was foolish enough to challenge me, and I will give him the death he wishes for. But the dragon is not a part of this fight."
He looked around the arena, at the dozen or so warriors who surrounded them. "Kill it."
Garzhvog felt the rush of rage in his veins, but he did not tear his eyes from Kulkarvek. Illgra and Opheila's minds joined his and he felt the life of the Kull warriors as they began to approach his dragon. He seized them with a firm stab of thought and muttered a word of death.
All of the Kull dropped lifelessly before they took so much as three steps towards Illgra.
Kulkarvek's expression darkened.
"If the dragon is not a part of this fight," Garzhvog said calmly, ignoring the startled mutters of the watching crowd. "Then you will give up the power of the dragons you have stolen."
"You dare give me orders, child?"
"You have survived the last hundred years by stealing the power of the dragons you slew so long ago," Garzhvog snarled. "Those kills were yours, I grant you that. You were mighty for slaying so many. But you have been greedy, Nar'vair. You have defiled nature to live forever. You use them to win your challenges when your bones should be in the ground. You steal life and power from them that is not rightfully yours."
Kulkarvek's lips rose into a vicious snarl. "All I hear is what I have earned for proving myself dominant."
"Proved yourself? You failed to complete the hunt!"
A guttural growl left Kulkarvek, but Garzhvog's own teeth were bared as he spat fury at the King. "You slew six dragons and five Riders—one Rider, he who rode the dragon whose scales now make up your cloak, he escaped! He did not perish in the wild. He did not die of his wounds. Would you like to know what he did, O' mighty Kulkarvek?
"He survived! More than that, he destroyed the Dragon Riders of old and now rules as the False King in the city of Uru'baen, far to the south. Under his orders, the minds of our kin, of the wandering and mountain tribes, were enslaved by the Shade, Durza! And what did you do about this? You did nothing! You hid here, cowering under your barrow of rock and bone, and you ignored the enslavement of your kin!"
"If they were enslaved, it was their own fault for being too weak! Are you so soft of flesh and bone and horn that you know not the ways of the world, boy? The strong survive and the weak perish!"
"Ah, then you are the King of Sheep! The one who slew Durza and freed our people, who did the job you should have done yourself, was a human boy barely sixteen summers! A child of a Dragon Rider who knew little of the world! You claim to be mighty, yet you were too cowardly to leave your barrow and let a child do your duty! You do not march to war on the prey you failed to kill! You do not seek vengeance on wrongs dealt to our people! You are as false a King as he who sits on the throne in Uru'baen, and now I have come for your head!"
"YOU DARE!?" Kulkarvek roared.
"Yes, I dare! A war is coming, and I will not allow the Urgralgra to stand by idly! We have been given a gift! Our race is now part of the pact with the Riders! I am the first of us to be joined to a dragon, and more will follow in my footsteps! When I take your head, my dragon Illgra and I shall lead the Urgralgra to bloody glory and slaughter the False King in the south! Would you deny them the retribution they so rightly deserve?"
"I am Nar'vair, and my word is law. My kin in the mountains will follow none but me, even if your weak-blooded tribes in the south die to nothing," the King spat. He grabbed a spear and pointed it at Garzhvog. "You have challenged me, boy, and I accept your foolish request. Your dragon will stand aside while I carve your horns and remove your guts, and then I will take her head and her jeweled heart for myself!"
Garzhvog scowled and removed Domia from his back. Illgra, step away. Stay joined to me with Opheila.
She bared her teeth and roared at Kulkarvek, who sneered at her mockingly. Do not give him a gentle death, Ushnark.
He will scream before I am finished, the Rider swore. Illgra hissed aggressively and backed off, not taking her eyes from the Urgal King as she retreated to the side of the arena. Rhaega did the same, but she remained closer to the throne.
Kulkarvek snatched the axe beside him with his other hand, tossed the String of Horns to the spot he'd sat upon, and stalked down the steps of his stone seat, fearless and enraged. Garzhvog readied Domia in both hands, glaring the King down.
In Urgralgra culture, Chieftains were made by defeating their betters in combat with weapons—spears, axes, and the like. To become King was an altogether different beast. Both combatants could use weapons, but also magic and the power of their minds. It was a contest of complete dominion in all aspects.
Garzhvog felt Illgra and Opheila's strength join his as he began to stalk towards his enemy.
There was no clean way to defeat the Urgal King. Kulkarvek was old, powerful, and experienced. Victory would require blood and pain. He would be at his most dangerous now, when Garzhvog did not know the full reach of his abilities and his power was at its peak.
Kulkarvek hefted his spear in a sudden brandish and threw it—not at Garzhvog, but at Illgra.
It was fortunate they had already joined minds and prepared wards in advance. The spear flew at such terrible speed that it was a mere blur in the air, but it deflected off Illgra's wards and buried itself with such force into the stone walls that it cracked the rock for several feet.
Garzhvog roared in rage at the attempt on his dragon's life and charged. Kulkarvek seemed surprised that Illgra was unharmed, and she was in fact bellowing fury at him for daring to strike at her, though she did not attack. If she broke the rules of the fight, the entire hoard of Urgals under Kulkarvek's command would descend upon them.
Opheila's thoughts melded with his. He is already using the Eldunari he took. Be wary—his power is greater than yours!
It was unsurprising. Garzhvog ducked under a swing of Kulkarvek's axe meant to behead him and smashed his fist into the King's face. Kulkarvek snarled, spitting blood, and backhanded him with enough force to send the Rider staggering away.
As dangerous as it was, he needed to test Kulkarvek's might to best know how to fight him. Garzhvog regained his footing quickly, backpedaling somewhat just as the King focused on him intensely.
A blade of thought, honed to an incredible edge, stabbed at his mind. Garzhvog recoiled and bared his teeth, jaw clenched tightly as Opheila and Illgra bolstered his defenses as much as possible. The King stalked towards him with his axe at the ready, but the swing that would have killed a paralyzed foe in a single blow cut through nothing but air as Garzhvog sidestepped.
Kulkarvek's surprise was again visible in his eyes, only briefly replacing the fury. Garzhvog was already sweating a little from the strain. The Eldunari he possessed made the King dangerously powerful, but those dragons were far younger than Opheila, who was his saving grace with her incredible pool of strength. Between her and Illgra, they matched the power of Kulkarvek's sharp mind with a barrier as thick and impregnable as the Beor Mountains.
Now Garzhvog unleashed his own mental assault.
He timed it carefully, dodging a swing of Kulkarvek's axe and lashing out with Domia. As he did so, he stabbed at the defenses of Kulkarvek's mind—though he failed to pierce the iron shields, the force of his mental attack was enough to briefly shock the King, and Domia slashed a thin cut across his chest.
Kulkarvek howled again, feeling only rage. He was blind to pain as his eyes blazed and he gave himself to the berserker rage that flowed through his blood.
He moved with supernatural speed that Garzhvog could only just avoid, swinging his axe with a fury and precision that was borne of bloodlust and the experience of a hardened veteran. It seemed he was done getting a feel for what the Rider could do.
Now Kulkarvek began to weave his own tactics into the fight. Every blow was preceded by a jab of thought, and were it not for Opheila and Illgra bolstering his defenses even more, Garzhvog's head would have been rolling on the ground.
He fought every flinch when the King's mind crashed against his own, sometimes using Domia to deflect the axe of his foe when it was too much. Garzhvog did not counterattack yet—he watched, eyes sharp and careful as he did the best he could to dance around Kulkarvek's maddened rush.
Steadily, he got used to the pain from the mental attacks and finally he struck back.
Kulkarvek's mental jab came at him, followed by a swing of the axe, and Garzhvog snapped. "Thrysta!"
The spell caught Kulkarvek in the chest, sending him staggering backwards. With some space now between them, Garzhvog stalked in a semi-circle around him, getting closer to the center of the arena where he was less likely to be pinned against a wall.
The use of magic caused the King's eyes to gleam with malice. He held a hand up at Garzhvog. "Brisingr!"
"Skolir edtha fra brisingr!" Garzhvog barely retaliated as a massive blast of fire was unleashed at him, colored purple and encompassing several meters across. At the Rider's order, the flames rushed around him on either side and splashed harmlessly against the stone walls.
He felt Kulkarvek's mind jab against his and snarled, knowing another attack was coming. "Garjzla!"
Light burst from his palm and he heard the King roar in pain. Garzhvog only dodged the now-blind attack by sensing Kulkarvek's position with his mind, sidestepping a swing of the axe meant to cut him in half. As it was, he took the edge against his belly, cutting a shallow wound into his torso.
Garzhvog backed off, muttering slightly in the Ancient Language to slow the bleeding. Healing the wound entirely could wait; he didn't want to expunge more energy than necessary on something minor. But he wanted to avoid too much blood loss now in case he took a big hit later.
Kulkarvek shook his head and rubbed his eyes, blinking spots out of them as he hunted down the Rider with a baleful glare. Garzhvog bared his teeth.
He's not weakening as quickly as I hoped, the Kull thought.
I still have plenty of energy in reserve, Opheila replied. Be patient. We will seize our chance when the moment is right.
Kulkarvek suddenly drove his axe into the rock and spun on his heel, marching for the throne. Garzhvog strode after him, knowing what he was going for.
The Urgal King grabbed one of the Rider's blades—a black sword longer than any of the other works he'd seen from Rhunon—and brandished it in-hand. He had to be more careful of deflecting attacks from it now. For all the skill and craftsmanship of the dwarves, they just could not outdo Rhunon's deadly works. Domia would not damage easily, but it was weaker in build than the incredible swords made by the ancient elf-smith.
Kulkarvek was faster with it, as well. He lunged and the black sword stabbed forth with the speed of a viper. Garzhvog narrowly sidestepped and swung a fist, catching the King's face again. Kulkarvek spat, but Garzhvog kept going and smashed the end of Domia into his gut with a jab.
The sword came around again, passing through wards, and Garzhvog leaned back—but he was still caught.
The tip caught the lower corner of his jaw and slashed across his nose, sending blazing pain across his face. Garzhvog roared and swung with all his might as he stabbed at Kulkarvek's mind.
Domia's edge buried deep in the right side of the King's chest and he howled in agony, but still grabbed the axe and pushed it out of his body. Kulkarvek staggered back, bellowing in rage.
Garzhvog couldn't follow up on the attack. He lifted a hand to his face quickly. "Waise heill."
Again, he only healed enough to stop the blood spilling from the wound—healing it fully would require repairing the fractures to the bone, and he could not do that right now. Kulkarvek glowered at the sight of his foe healing, but he also lifted a hand to restore his own body.
No, you don't! Illgra snarled and her mind joined with Garzhvog and Opheila's to smash the King's mental shields again. Kulkarvek swayed, but he still managed to heal somewhat by the time Garzhvog charged him.
The King ducked under the swing meant to take his head, but when he stabbed at Garzhvog's heart, he was struck by another spell that put him off-balance and threw him to his back. Howling at the chance, Garzhvog lifted Domia and swung down viciously.
Kulkarvek rolled out of the way as Garzhvog's axe shattered rock once, twice, three times in a frenzy to take his head. He managed to get back onto his feet, but Garzhvog lowered his head and charged, smashing his horns into the bottom of the King's jaw. Again, Kulkarvek staggered, and his defenses slipped a little.
It was enough. Opheila seized the King's mind with a predatory savagery as he bolstered the Eldunari to reject the breach. Kulkarvek froze in place, eyes blazing with fury.
Garzhvog kicked him into the wall of the arena and smashed Domia against the Rider's blade with such force that the sword went flying through the air. Kulkarvek roared and the dragons empowering him managed to force Opheila out, giving him enough mobility to lift his hands and catch the handle of the axe swinging for his neck.
Massive veins bulged as Garzhvog and Kulkarvek strained against each other, howling with deafening force. Domia was caught between them, trying to edge closer to the jugular of the Urgal King.
He was pinned and disarmed. It was the best chance Garzhvog had come across thus far.
Kulkarvek suddenly leaned forward and pushed down, such that the edge of Domia began to bite into the flesh of his left arm, and like lightning he reached down with his right hand, stole Garzhvog's hunting knife, and jammed it deep into the Rider's shoulder.
Illgra shrieked. NO!
Garzhvog snarled as Kulkarvek ripped the knife out and tried to stab again, but he jerked Domia upward and caught the King's chin. Briefly stunned, Garzhvog seized the opportunity to pulled the axe free and smashed the flat of it against Kulkarvek's face.
His mind slipped. Opheila tried to seize it, but he recovered faster this time and she missed her chance. Unperturbed, Garzhvog pressed the flat of the axe against Kulkarvek's face and smashed his fist against it, pummeling the King's skull against the stone wall.
The mental defenses began to give way slowly, but surely, and Garzhvog knew they'd reached the tipping point.
Kulkarvek's singular weakness was that he harvested energy from the Eldunari in his possession nigh-constantly to fuel his immortality. He did not have the gift of eternal life that Riders did and had to steal it to continue living so long. It drained the souls of the dragons, and more importantly, he didn't know how to really care for them—how best to let the souls regenerate their lost power.
The Eldunari he had taken were tired things. With time, they could provide Kulkarvek with an incredible edge that would destroy any unsuspecting opponent in a blur of speed and a single swing of a blade.
But Garzhvog had come here knowing what to expect, and with the strength of a fully empowered, old Eldunari, as well as his own dragon. Opheila did not weaken as quickly as the souls Kulkarvek possessed. They were already giving way, too drained from the extensive, intense fight to sustain their master much longer.
Slowly but surely, he was outlasting them.
Kulkarvek stabbed down with the knife once again, but his movements were slower. Garzhvog jerked Domia's handle up and repelled the blow, forcing the King to release the weapon he'd stolen. The rage in his eyes showed the slightest hint of trepidation.
Like a shark, Garzhvog tasted blood in the waters. When Kulkarvek struck his belly with a fist, the blow was heavy, but not enough to repel him. The Rider drilled a vicious punch into the King's face and smashed the back of his head against the stone.
Kulkarvek staggered, then howled and charged. The Eldunari in his possession suddenly bolstered, perhaps frightened of their master's anger, and gave him enough strength to push Garzhvog away. He grabbed Domia and ripped it free, but the axe was torn from his grip by a well-placed thrust of magic from the Rider.
Now armed with only their bare hands, the fight became even more brutal.
Kulkarvek swung in a frenzy of blows, each savage and powerful enough to crack bone despite the weakening Eldunari. Garzhvog felt two of his ribs break badly from one well-placed punch, but the pain only fueled his own battle-lust. He ducked under a punch meant for his face and stepped inside of the King's guard.
Garzhvog was a brawler as sure as any Urgal, but he'd trained with the elves for four years, and he knew the most dangerous vital points to strike an enemy with his fists. The bloodlust was directed by that knowledge—a horrifying combination of science and violence.
One blow took Kulkarvek in the liver. The King doubled over and his jaw was hammered; Garzhvog felt bone crack beneath his fist. He smashed the liver again, then the throat. He grabbed Kulkarvek by the horns, pushed his head back, and drove his hard, pointed elbow into the collarbone—a visible bend appeared and the King roared in pain.
Kulkarvek shoved him back, swinging again, and Garzhvog parried. His fist smashed the broken collarbone again, and again, and again, deepening the break until there was a clear, deep indent in the flesh. Pieces of bone punched through the flesh to the outside.
The Urgal King was gasping and stabbed at Garzhvog with all of his remaining mental strength. To match his rage, Opheila blocked the attack with calm decisiveness, dominant enough now to do so without Illgra's help.
Garzhvog delivered a series of devastating blows to the belly and liver, feeling ribs and organs perforate beneath his fists. He rose, lifted a fist, and smashed Kulkarvek's face with a final, heavy punch.
Kulkarvek staggered. Opheila passed his mind entirely and took control of the Eldunari, stripping their minds from the King. Illgra seized Kulkarvek himself and forced the Urgal King to his knees in a daze.
Garzhvog walked away to his axe. He picked up Domia and carried it in one hand to his stunned foe.
The arena was silent save the heavy breathing of the combatants; the pained wheezing and gurgling of blood from the Urgal King was palpable.
The wound in Garzhvog's shoulder was deep, his face was bleeding again, his ribs were broken, and he knew he had some internal damage that needed to be healed soon, but his mind focused solely on this moment. He was blind to pain.
Maybe through sheer force of will, Kulkarvek struggled against Illgra and got to his feet. His body trembled as he glared at Garzhvog and he held enough strength to swing a punch.
Garzhvog sidestepped and swung. Domia jammed deep into Kulkarvek's chest, just below his solar plexus. The King gurgled, blood pouring from his mouth as he let out a strangled scream of fury.
The Rider pulled his axe free and swung again. Domia bit once more, hungrily carving into the flesh and bone of the King's shoulder, and forcing him to his knees.
Garzhvog yanked the axe out of Kulkarvek's body and glared down at the Urgal King, who met his gaze with nothing save pure rage. He had fallen prey to his own greed and arrogance, and now in death, he would find no peace.
Garzhvog lifted Domia high above his head, howling at the top of his lungs, and swung down with all the fury in his blood.
The axe pierced the thick bone of the skull, punching into Kulkarvek's face. He gagged and gurgled, eyes wide and unseeing. Garzhvog planted his boot on the dying King's chest, pulled Domia free, and swung one last time.
The head of the oldest and once-greatest Urgal King flew through the air and hit the ground with a meaty splat. His headless trunk convulsed and slumped over, going into a series of spasms until it finally went still.
Garzhvog leaned on Domia, gasping for breath through the pain and shock. He was unsure how long he stood there, staring at the bloody mess of Kulkarvek's remains, but eventually, he felt Illgra's mind touch his own.
Ushnark?
He flinched and looked over his shoulder. The dragon-lady had approached silently. Her thoughts spread immense concern. You are badly hurt.
I…will live, he managed to think back.
I would not let you die, she agreed firmly. But we will heal you momentarily. You have an audience.
Garzhvog blinked and suddenly realized the Urgals had left the stone steps around the arena and entered the space itself. They were quickly filling it in, though they gave the corpse of Kulkarvek and Garzhvog himself a wide berth. They watched in stunned silence, staring at the Rider and dragon.
Ushnark, Illgra's voice was soft, belying the joy-relief-reverence in her soul, as she gently nudged him with her nose. They are waiting for you.
Garzhvog turned his eyes upon the empty, flat throne, and the String of Horns lying there. He lifted Domia and set the bloody axe in its place on his back, then slowly walked the distance to the throne.
Each step felt like a league's distance for how exhausted he was, but his body could not stop. He could feel Opheila still keeping the Eldunari subjugated, and he heard more than saw Illgra following him with her heavy footsteps in the silence.
Before he reached the throne itself, Garzhvog knelt and removed the necklace of beads that signified his status as a Chieftain. He set them to the side carefully, then stretched his hands out until they grasped the String of Horns. His shoulder burned with pain, but he moved the String until it was bound around his torso like a sash.
Only then did he stand and take those last steps to the throne. Illgra had wound around it, laying down on her belly behind Garzhvog and in front of the dragon skull, thus hiding the Eldunari from view of the other Urgals.
Garzhvog turned to face the gathering crowd. They stared at him reverently, and even the brash Urgal female Rhaega watched him as if he were something more than mortal flesh and bone.
Soaked in the blood of his foe and his own ichor, Garzhvog slowly lowered himself and sat down upon the flat throne of rock. Behind him, Illgra lifted her graceful head and roared.
The Urgralgra kneeled, bowed their heads, and slammed their fists over their hearts with a unified thump, as loud as thunder for the number of them.
Rhaega slowly stood and approached him. Garzhvog watched her warily even as Illgra's gaze threw daggers at the female. She climbed a few steps and knelt as well.
"Nar'vair Garzhvog," she murmured, voice shaking just the slightest. "The throne is yours."
Garzhvog, trying to catch his breath, went still at the words she spoke. It all became real suddenly—the String of Horns around his body, the cold stone throne beneath him, and the sight of Kulkarvek's decapitated corpse on the ground below.
And the Urgralgra bowing before him.
You did it, Ushnark, Illgra told him, voice brimming with pride. You did it.
Garzhvog nodded slowly. He focused on Rhaega. "Stand."
The Kull female did as she was told, eyes shining with some unknown emotion. Garzhvog stared at her for several moments. "Your King is dead."
"My old King," she agreed. "And now my new King sits before me. What would he have of the Urgralgra?"
"For now," Garzhvog began. "Deal with Kulkarvek as you and your people would. I must rest tonight and heal. Tomorrow—tomorrow we will speak of what must be done."
She nodded and turned around to face the crowd of Urgals, who were still kneeling. Rhaega thumped her chest and howled, prompting them to stand. When all had risen, she lifted her fist high into the air.
"The King is dead! Long live Nar'vair Garzhvog!"
The Urgralgra howled, a deafening noise that seared the air of the mountains and filled the wilderness for miles around. Garzhvog tried not to wince, remained steady before his new subjects.
We have much to do, Illgra murmured.
Yes, Garzhvog agreed. And in the morning, we will begin our work.
To war, Ushnark.
To war, Dautr.
A/N: The battle for the String of Horns is over. The war for Alagaesia is about to begin...
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