As Winter Descends

[DoF Archive]

Date: 11/20/1998 10:05 AM Central Daylight Time
From: JakeThrash

As Winter Descends



As Jake closed the doors of the brewery in preparation for going home a chill wind blew past him. The first hint of winter was beginning to settle upon Rhydin. The trees had given up the last of their leaves, and the bare branches stood out in stark relief against a greying sky. The orc shivered from a sudden chill, but not because of the cool air. Memory overwhelmed him for a moment. The grey skies and the seemingly dead trees triggered scenes from another dead land. A far darker land in both appearance and spirit.

The orc shook off the thought and the chill of those haunted days with effort. He closed up the doors and barred them, sealing away the wintery view. Jake stood for a moment, his hands still resting against the doors, his grey eyes remained unfocused. Memories he had wished banished forever fought their way back to the surface. Unbidden they took him back to the long journey across haunted lands towards the tomb of Gothmorda.

The memories were fuzzy, as if they had been the memories of someone else. Perhaps they had been. Morgan had never talked much about the parts Jake was unable to remember. He remembered it had involved magic and shuddered again. The orc had always hated magic, and since their return to Rhydin, his hate for it had only increased.

The orc shoved himself away from the doors and turned back towards the brewery proper. He stamped out of the front office and into the huge warehouse where the giant vats brewed the latest batches of Bane's Brew. The smell of hops and barley permeated the air. It was strong, but the orc loved the smell. He felt great pride in the brewery, and in the ales that it produced. His favorite, of course, was the orcish black ale. He was still amazed that it sold as well as it did. He felt a need of a mug of it now. Wandering down the steps to the warehouse floor, the orc headed for the sample barrels set off to one side. Grabbing up the mug he always kept near for sampling purposes, the orc filled it with the dark brew. The creamy head of foam spilled over the side and down over his fingers, but the orc ignored it.

As Jake guzzled down a full third of the mug, the orc let himself plop down on the stairs. He kicked his boots out to lie lazily back against the steps. Propped up on his elbows, the orc ruminated on those bitter memories. They drifted by one after another. He could almost convince himself it had all been just some nightmare...if it weren't for the glittering silver blade he had mounted on the back wall of the brewery. His grey eyes avoided it, pretending it didn't exist, but always in the back of his mind the orc knew it was there, and knew that it meant it hadn't been a dream.

Another long swig of the dark ale and Jake's thoughts once more drifted into the past. Memories of his return to Rhydin...

Had he done the right thing? The orc thought he had at the time, but always he wondered and worried. Morgan had said the gauntlet had to be dismantled, that the Opals together had been too powerful...too dangerous. Jake had believed her, she was who she was after all, and who would know better?

Still the druids had been unwilling to take back the Opals. They claimed they had been "tainted." Jake snorted, as far as he was concerned all magic was tainted. He shook his head. He had asked the sorceress what to do with the Opals. He remembered her words as if they had been spoken just a moment ago. "Give them to those of strong heart." She had said they were not evil, but her attempts to explain had only confused the orc. The only thing he had understood for sure was they had to be protected, and kept separate, and that their protectors had to be of strong will and pure heart to resist their influence.

Jake had argued that they should have gone to the mages who overran Twilight Island, but Morgan had shaken her head. "They would be too susceptible to corruption. The stones are better protected by those that would not be tempted to try and combine them again." She had hesitated then, her eyes had bored into Jake as if seeking something. Her gaze had unsettled him. "They are too powerful combined. The danger is too great."

The orc hadn't understood her words, but at the same time he did, and not just because of his distrust for magic. Those fuzzy memories of his time in the dark lands echoed her words. There was a rightness to what she said. A rightness that almost scared him.

"Give them to those of strong heart," she had said. Jake could only think of one group of people of strong will and brave heart that he trusted to be the guardians and protectors of the stones...