***** Author's Note *****

I am terribly sorry about the posting delay. I was having severe writer's block. Thank you for your understanding!

Don't want to wait for more? Now Available! Read up to Chapter 79 on my discord! Link in my bio!

(To the anonymous reviewer who recently left a review on Chapter 16, I am sorry I can't answer your message directly here on FF because the site doesn't allow responses to anonymous reviews. But to answer your question, my art can be found on my discord server).

Speaking of art, if you check this story (and this chapter) posted on Ao3 (link in bio), you check out some 3D renders of Zathra and Barbaurak! :D

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74

Orcsbane indeed... Zathra thought irritably to himself, glancing around his immediate vicinity.

He could tell from where he stood, that he was only on the precipice of a proper infestation of the repugnant weed. Further beyond, where Alaesia was making her way into the distance, appeared even more choked with creeping tendrils, while great long swaths of it branched out in multiple directions, like some sort of monster reaching its many arms across the forest. No doubt Frogblood had likely located one such arm of the creeping foliage, while out gathering firewood at the olog's orders. It almost impressed Zathra, that the slaver captain had concocted such an insidious plot to use Mokob-hai to cripple Ar-Tashk; a clever, albeit, cruel plan. Almost. More than anything, Zathra was disgusted by Frogblood's actions, for his intimate knowledge of the excruciating suffering it could cause.

Zathra had watched Alaesia's cautious venture forward with keen, pensive attention, but nothing much seemed to capture her attention along the supposed road beneath the greenery as she walked along it. It was rather disappointing, making Zathra wish he could go rooting around the area himself, but the cloud of noxious air surrounding the copious amounts of Mokob-hai was like a fortress wall to the orc. His ghostly hand wasn't exactly helpful in blocking out the stench, so Zathra gave up on that pretty quickly.

The human woman eventually was swallowed up in the undergrowth beyond Zathra's line of sight around a bend of dense forest, leaving him to feel like all he could do was twiddle his thumb... or rather thumbs. The ghostly hand seemed to shift lazily between states slowly, like a pulse, coming and going as Zathra observed it curiously. However, he couldn't do much beyond speculate as to why. Its corporeality seemed to be outside of his own doing, once again leaving the orc to wonder if his magic did have a mind of its own, or if it was something he could master.

"I brought ya all the way 'ere, ya daft, blasted arm... The least ya could do is 'elp me figure out what the blazes is so important about this place!" He wagged the stump of his limb back and forth, but nothing much seemed to occur. In fact, the faint blue glow pulsed once more, then disappeared entirely, causing the orc to spit a myriad of profanities to the trees around him.

He grumbled, taking note of the place on the ground where he and Alaesia had each uncovered portions of the stone road, and around at the bits of wall she had stripped of plants. It took all of his concentration to press forward even a few feet, to get a closer look at the structure, the whole time, he felt as if breathing in would suffocate him. The orc sucked in a breath, holding as long as he could to keep his lungs from burning, and moved forward just to the first uncovered portion of the stone paneling.

With closer inspection, he slowly started to make out an intricate pattern, carved and etched into the surface of the rock, obscuring countless days of weathering that had taken its toll on the artistry over time. Moss stained great swaths along the surface, hiding lettering and imagery alike. As he scraped with his claws, small tendrils of white metal started to glint through the growth; whoever had created it had undoubtedly put all manner of skill and craftsmanship into their work and that idea tickled the back of Zathra's mind to no end. The question still remained, who had created this place, and for what purpose?

There was a moment of brief panic, as Zathra went to move away, worried that his magic might try to stop him as it seemingly had before; luckily this time, the orc didn't feel the same maddening pull in his chest as he scampered back to slightly less polluted air to gulp down a few breaths. Perhaps his magic was satisfied with just attempting to enter the abandoned structures? He could only try to piece together what that influence wanted of him, and it frankly made little sense to the orc. He glanced scathingly at his stump, "Don't suppose ya 'ave any answers for me, do ya?"

He tried, just for a moment, to try to will the fingers to materialize, but was frustrated once again. He hated how this whole area had piqued his curiosity to no end, yet he was unable to drudge up any proper answers, at least not without subjecting himself to nature's torment. However, perhaps it was the appeal of the area itself, the pull it had instilled into him, that held an answer. Seeing the hints of artisan works, even hidden under leaves and branches tickled a familiar part of his brain, the same part Barbaurak had scoffed at just days prior.

Zathra wondered silently if this place had something to do with elves. It wouldn't be unheard of, to find long-since abandoned signs of elvish society tucked away as ruins in Mordor. Much of the landscape to the North was dotted with remnants of civilizations lost to time, only to be overtaken by bands of orcs converting them into bases of operation. He had simply never thought to question how far South the elves had ventured in ages past. The orcs' main struggle for such expansion was the resistance of the likes of Carnan and her coordination of beasts and nature alike in defense against Mordor's forces. Mayhaps, he surmised, elves never met such resistance?

A whisper seemed to echo in his head, calling his name as the theory crossed his mind, so faint he believed he might have just imagined it. The orc brushed aside the concern, taking another deep breath, and forcing himself to go back towards the structures. He moved quickly, ripping as much of the Mokob-hai away from subsequent structures as he could until scatterings of broken pillars, pedestals, and large vaults of stone were revealed. Zathra scrambled back to the fringe, nearly collapsing from holding his breath, and taking a moment to collect himself before looking upon what his efforts had revealed.

If it hadn't been for Alaesia's observant eyes bringing attention to the numerous forms hidden amongst the forest's grasp, Zathra felt he likely would have been too overwhelmed to have truly noticed how expansive the complex of stonework was; he may not have even realized it was there in the first place, which made the orc make a mental note to thank her later.

By Zathra's estimate, there wasn't just the single thoroughfare that Alaesia had discovered. A brief glance with a more critical eye permitted him to make out the suspicious shapes of unnatural structures sprawling out in all sorts of directions around him. The orc could only assume whatever ruins were cloaked in green would have been quite a magnificent sight to behold back in the prime of its construction. Instead of being driven away by the orcsbane, he found himself enraptured by the sight of effigies, statues, and carved reliefs, gilded with threads of white metal that flowed and arced into beautiful patterns along the stone surfaces all around and for a brief moment, Zathra wished he could just take his time to fully absorb the sight.

Unfortunately, the smell was starting to get to the orc. He couldn't help but move further away. Luckily, he found he was able to dig through an area much less overrun with Mokob-hai, in his attempt to discover more answers. It took a little effort, but a similar section of architecture revealed itself at the orc's renewed efforts. It wasn't large, definitely not suitable as a dwelling of any sort. As his hand brushed away some leaf litter from the top, it quickly became evident just what he was looking at; it was a monument, perhaps even a gravesite. A large stone sarcophagus, engraved with words that seemed to grasp at something buried so deep within the orc, it caused his chest to ache in mourning; for what reason, he couldn't place.

It irked Zathra in an unfamiliar way to see large cracks that had seemingly split the stonework. Perhaps what he felt was sadness, knowing such immense effort had gone into the creations before him, only to be brought to ruin by the choking hold of nature's swarm. Who knew how much of the area was filled with other long-forgotten tombs, desecrated by the unchecked growth of the forest.

Zathra's dominant hand corporealized as he reached quietly forward, brushing his fingers across the shattering cracks in the rock, tracing both refined and raw edges alike. The shadows within the gaps fell away at the faint glow of the spirit-like appendage, causing something to glint within the hollowed stone and catching the orc's eye. He leaned forward, peering into the gap, only to be startled as a forceful thought hit his mind.

Zathra, I need help. Please!

"Shrakh!" He hissed and stumbled back, grasping at his chest to try to stop his heart from pounding in surprise. Never had anyone actively thrown their consciousness at him in that manner, and for a moment, Zathra whirled around, thinking Alaesia's voice might have carried to him through the air. But, no, it was very distinctly the same intangible voice through which he communed with through his mind. Even still the confusion had him spluttering aloud, "What's the matter, lass?"

But there was only silence in return.

He glanced back at the gap in the stone, fighting to decide what to prioritize. Alaesia's voice hadn't seemed that worried, right? He figured back and forth silently; it wouldn't take long to investigate the gleam he had seen behind the stone, then he'd try to figure out how to help the human woman... somehow... She was nowhere in sight, and there was still the Mokob-hai to contend with...

He started ripping at the roots within the crack, tearing what he could away to get a better view. He grimaced, but only for a moment, at the thought that he was contributing to the damage of the grave. What if the glint he had spied was related to his magic? It was the only thing he had seen thus far that had caught his eye at all. He couldn't just let it slip through his fingers. Unfortunately, the stone was far stronger than the orc supposed, and his efforts did little in the way of breaking anything away.

The orc cursed, trying to fit his hand into the narrow gap; if he couldn't widen it, his only other choice would be to try to reach inside. The cold, familiar touch of metal brushed against Zathra's calloused fingers, but it wasn't like the crude, rough make of orc iron. Whatever it was felt like silk or water to the touch, and as his fingers ran along it, the cool plating sent a shiver up Zathra's spine.

"Ah, skaita..." He groaned. His forearm was wedged as far as he could get into the split of the rock without getting entirely stuck, but in his haste, he had accidentally pushed the metal object further back. There was no way... Unless... Zathra withdrew, then put his stump forward as flush to the stone as possible, uttering quietly, "Come on... Just give me this... please? Ya worthless scrap of dog meat..."

Zathra paused, taking a deep breath, trying to find whatever part within him held sway over the ghostly visage of his arm, and upon exhale, begged that it would appear. A clatter rattled through the stone, ringing somewhat like a bell as something was suddenly knocked around by the sudden appearance of blue ghostly claws seeking and grasping through the stone. Zathra scrambled in a panic, trying to snatch at whatever he could before it was accidentally knocked deeper into the recesses beyond his reach. The ethereal fingers grasped and clawed blindly, before finally latching onto a metal object and pulling it back up to the gap in a mad rush to not lose it. He shoved his other hand back into the crevice and grabbed the object before he lost that tiny thread that had connected him to the limb.

It wisped away in a cloud of blue vapor as he fumbled to pull the thing out, but Zathra couldn't help the elation that swelled in his chest; he'd done it! He'd managed to get the stupid ghostly hand to appear! Somewhere between need, instinct, and willpower, he had found the thread necessary to heel the magic to his command! Other unfamiliar elements swirled within him, making the thread feel vague and blurred to his inner sight, but he had found it! The success almost entirely distracted him from the fact he had the item he was trying to get in the first place still partially trapped in the rock.

As he began to wiggle and pull, trying to free the object, once again, Alaesia's voice came slamming into his head, but this time carrying with it a scattering of images as she begged, Zathra, please, I don't know what to do!

There was a flash in Zathra's head, of a cavernous room of black, of forested silhouettes, of blood, and of the gray warg; his stomach dropped like a stone. The visions were too muddled, too hazy, he couldn't make it form a coherent picture. All he knew was he had made a critical mistake to assume the remaining wargs had left the area. And how could he possibly reach her beyond that wall of Mokob-hai now?

***** Translations *****

Mokob-hai - Orcsbane (Plant)

Shrakh - Shit

Skaita - Dammit