Tzu Dhok’u’s left eye, which was accustomed to revolve slowly and dementedly in random directions around its socket, suddenly stopped moving. It joined its more conventional counterpart in opening wide, as surprise and awe covered the old slann’s face.
“Leave me,” he breathed.
Zhat Tziki and his jibbering colleague Ini-Me’ni began the long descent back down the wizard’s tower, leaving the Mage Priest alone in the rickety, cone-roofed attic room at its summit. Wind whistled through bald patches in the tiling and stonework. The whole tower seemed to sway slightly.
Slowly, Tzu began to move about the circular room. Its contents, he knew, would be worth a fortune in any lesser civilisation still crass enough to use currency. But there was one item in particular to which he was drawn...
On the staircase, Zhat tried to make small talk.
“So, you read any good plaques recently, Ini?”
“You saying I’m fick?!” shouted the frenzied priest, making a skinny fist. His eyes were horribly bloodshot.
“Just asking, dear fellow,” said Zhat with a reassuring smile. “Personally, I brought several of my favourite plaques for some light deciphering on my downtime. Learned my lesson. On the last campaign, I forgot to bring anything to read, and it got pretty dull after a few centuries on the lifeless plains of Kaltobi, let me tell you. Oh hi there Ini-Go! Glad you could make it.”
The two priests reached the bottom of the staricase and emerged into the tower’s large entrance hall. Ra was there, prodding volumes among the dusty bookshelves, along with the rakish skink chieftan Ini-Go and his inseparable companion the hulking scar veteran Fez-Iq.
“Ini-Me’ni! My eh-spawn-kin!” cried Ini-Go when he saw them. He spoke with a thick Tlaxtlan accent, and stood alert and engaged at all times, sometimes hopping from foot to foot. He had a rapier at his side and a dark streak in the scales above his mouth. “Do you have six fingers on your right hand?”
“Yes, brother.”
“Thank goodness! I heard they horribly maimed you in the battle. Tis my great misfortune that I was not there to protect you.”
“It was merely his mind that they maimed,” said Zhat, gravely, as Ini-Me’ni drooled a little onto the floor. “He had a heinous encounter with the orcish god Mork, from which he was lucky to have survived at all. Of course, it might have been Gork, it’s so hard to tell…”
“Mweeeenerrrrrghhhhh,” said Ini-Me’ni, ruefully.
“Do you hear that, Fez-iq!? That is the sound of ultimate eh-suffering. My heart made that sound when the five-fingered man killed my father.”
“Kill!” said Ini-Me’ni, his eyes lighting up.
“You don’t have a father, Ini-Go. You were spawned,” said Zhat.
“He was my local priest. An eh-spiritual father.” The chieftain took Ini-Me’ni by the arm, which swiftly gave him a nasty jab to the face.
Zhat left the two skinks to take care of each other and approached Ra Phee-Ki, who was looking puzzled. He was squinting a book that he held a few inches from his face.
“These...light leafy things. I do not understand them. The room is full of them, yet they seem to serve no purpose. They have not even been sharpened - I feel they would fail to wound even the measliest of warmbloods.”
“They’re not for fighting, Ra, they’re for reading,” said Zhat. “You remember reading, I told you about it on the way here. Like what we do with the plaques in the temples.”
“Ah yes, by looking at drawings you are capable of gaining new information for tactical advantage and the easier destruction of your enemies.”
“Well, yes, perhaps. But you can also read things that have nothing to do with fighting. One of the most beautiful plaques back home has several million words simply about the splendour of the jungle when it was created by the Old Ones.”
“And what do you gain from such...’reading’? It seems futile.”
“You gain all kinds of things, my friend. Reading has brought me some of the greatest joys of my life, and profound understanding of the world we live in. But these are gains of the soul. Not everything in life is fighting and pain.”
“Incorrect,” stated Ra. “I have fought all of my life, in thousands of battles over a span of dozens of centuries. All the world is fighting. Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is chanting something.”
“You don’t have to call me Highness, Ra: Zhat is fine. I’m not a stickler for titles like our friend upstairs. But in all seriousness, I think perhaps you would appreciate reading - it might broaden your horizons. Let’s take a look at this book, for example... let’s see, it’s about, well - oh my gods.”
Zhat opened the book Ra had been investigating, and suddenly realised he was staring at an illustration of the Naq itself.
“Ra,” he said a little breathlessly, “send for my acolytes, tell them to bring the ritual offerings here this instant. We could be onto the Naq itself.”
Ra’s eyes widened slightly, but he remained impassive. “As you wish,” he said, with a bow.
As Ra sprinted off, Zhat began reading voraciously, turning pages almost by the second. Every word brought him closer to his goal.
A little while later, Zhat’s temple officiants had arrived and set up a passable ritual circle in the large hallway.
“Right, well the book says that the Naq was taken to the east of these lands many centuries ago by a rampaging warband. The exact location can only be discovered through spilled blood. Bring in the sacrifice!”
Zhat never particularly enjoyed this part of his duties, but at least this time he would be killing a filthy orc they had captured, and he felt it went a little way towards revenge for what they had done to Ini-Me’ni.
“Erm, you might want to hurry a little,” whispered one of the acolytes, as Zhat shuffled around the circle, humming along to the winds of magic. “The spell has to be done before sundown tonight or we won’t get another chance for who knows how long.”
“Son,” said Zhat, eyeing up the young skink priest, “you rush a ritual man, you get rotten rituals.”
Finally he felt everything was in place, and he intoned the enchantment with all due reverence. Watching from the sides of the room, Ra, Ini-Go and Fez-iq could feel the air suddenly become electrified as magic began to suffuse the circle. The orc’s blood, which had been collected in a wide dish, began to ripple slightly. Shapes started to form and spread, becoming a map. Slowly an arrow started to emerge. Zhat crept closer, peering over the edge of the basin so he wouldn’t miss anything that was revealed. Just as he thought he could discern where the arrow pointed, there was a screeching sound, and a huge circle of light appeared in air, blasting outwards to reveal the serene form of Tzu Dhok’u. Blood, candles and skinks flew everywhere.
“Evening, gentlelizards,” said Tzu contentedly, as the sun sank below the horizon in the window behind him. “Sorry I didn’t knock - thought I’d use a teleport spell as I really couldn’t be having with all those stairs again. Now, who’s got my Itzi grubs?”
Zhat picked himself up from the floor slowly, and tried to wipe off some of the orc's blood.
“My Lord,” he said, with a clentched-tooth smile, “How simply wonderful to see you. And how clever of you to think of such an ingenious method of descent. Why, the stairs would have taken you whole seconds longer at least, even taking into account the fact that you’d be hovering downwards rather than walking.”
“Exactly, my good chap. And you’ll never guess what I’ve found up in the wizard’s attic!”
“Could it possibly some ancient and vital relic needed for the furthering of the Great Plan, my Lord?”
“Um, well not exactly.”
“Ah, then it must be essential information for fulfiling our quest to retreive the Naq’otek-yotl’queztl’ra’tzui-huan’chipotli’zaq-khan?”
“Erm, I rather doubt it actually. It’s a soul harvester!” Tzu held up a strangely formed pot triumphantly. “Look, you say the spell in here, point it at the soul you want to harvest here, and then you torment it with this little button here. How great is that!? I’ve been wanting one of these for millennia!”
Zhat’s smile didn’t budge. “How nice for you, my Lord. I’m so glad your investigations in this treasure trove of knowledge and wisdom have been so productive.”
“Thank you, priest. Now, I feel like another battle, see if we can’t put this little beauty to use.” Tzu stroked the ancient artefact of pure evil lovingly. “We still have those pesky elves to sort out; I think we should go pay them a visit, what would you say, Ra?”
“Actually, sir, we have word that the Naq lies in an eastward direction,” said the oldblood, “although we do not know its exact location due to reasons...beyond our power. The best course would be to send the full force of our army that way, as we may have to deal with Chaos encampments that we know scatter the region. Besides, the elves are too stong, Lord. We would never survive another encounter.”
“Nonsense! you’re just saying that because no one ever has! And how would going east help us exact bloody vengeance, eh?” Tzu’s spinning eye began to twitch slightly.
“I think Ra’s right, you know,” piped up Ini-Go, earnestly. “Send me, my Lord. My eh-skink army is fresh and ready for battle. We will destroy Chaos wherever we find them. I will lead them eh-swiftly to the Naq itself.”
There was a pause, and Tzu seemed to grow slightly blacker. Steam started rising off his bloated body.
“Am I going mad, or did the word ‘think’ just escape your lips?” he shouted, eventually. “You think I hired you for your brains, you miserable, vomitous mass!? And you! Ra! You want me to send you back to where I found you? Unemployed!? In Greenland?”
“My Lord, you do realise that you don’t pay any of us to be here? We’re just your loyal servants,” said Zhat in exasperation.
“Insubordination! Enough of this! I’m going to fight some elves and you lot can all stay behind. I won’t be taking any of your silly skinks, either. Only the biggest and most ferocious warriors are worthy of the majesty of Tzu Dhok’u. If I’m feeling generous, I’ll save you some prisoners for you to snack on. Have a nice wait!”
The slann flew towards the door, which exploded with a flick of his hand as he approached. Then he was gone. There were screams in the camp outside as he passed.
“Great,” said Zhat, rolling his eyes.
“I have to go after him,” said Ra.
“I’d leave it a little while.”
“Perhaps. But you were right, Ini-Go. Your army must go east to find the Naq. Zhat, go with him. I’ll stay with Lord Dhok’u and send troops to aid you when I can.”
“I will see you before long, my friend, I can feel it in my heart,” said Zhat to Ra as he went to follow the Mage Priest. “I still have to teach you to read.”
Ra turned at the door. “As you wish,” he said.
--
Ini-Go looked up and down the battle line. There were skinks and terradons everywhere, sprinting circles round the massive, unnatural creatures they had encountered on their road east. Every now and again, the beasts would catch some skinks or terradons unawares and crushed their skulls to dust, but otherwise his fast-footed army seemed to be getting the better of this engagement. Fez'iq was leading a charge away to the left. He turned to the troops behind him.
“Amigos, hit them in the eh-centre where they’re vulnerable. I have business of my own to conduct.”
Ini-Go had spotted a man on horseback in the middle of the field, who appeared to have five fingers on his right hand. Of course, many of them did, but perhaps this was the one who had killed his father. The skink sprinted up to the Chaos Sorcerer, who was in mid-incantation to Nurgle and didn’t see him coming.
“You seem a decent fellow, I hate to kill you!” cried Ini-Go.
“What?! What’s this?!” replied the dark wizard, turning uncomfortably in his saddle and looking round the battlefield for the source of the interruption. He was clad in six-inch thick spikey armour with skull motif, and was struggling to get control over his demonic, pitch-black steed. Then he looked down. “Whoever you are, you’ll pay for this, you warthog-faced buffoon! I’ll boil your skin for my stew!”
He made a mighty swing with his sword, but the skink was no longer there. Suddenly he felt a small stinging sensation on his other side as Ini-Go’s rapier slashed at his leg. A tiny ribbon of blood appeared. “I’ll do you for that!” bellowed the sorcerer. “Come ‘ere!”
“Float like a butterfly, eh-sting like a mix-tlek’clthon insect!” sang Ini-Go happily as he danced around the large man’s clumsy strokes. “I see you are using Botelli’s defence against me, ah!? So naturally you expect me to counter with Capo Ferro!”
“What the bloody hell are you talking about, you insane creature? Ow!” replied the man, as more tiny skin-deep cuts appeared on the exposed parts of his body.
“You’re good, I admit it!” smiled Ini-Go, still jumping about. But the Chaos warrior was no longer looking at him. He was looking at the huge, snorting figure of Mup’ha-Sa, a ten foot wall of muscle, steel-like scales and lethally sharpened horns, getting rapidly closer.
“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m eh-smiling?” shouted up Ini-Go, oblivious to the stegadon’s charge.
“Aaaahhh,” said the man, trying desperately to turn his horse around.
“It’s because I’m not left-handed! Ha-ha!” laughed the skink gleefully, tossing his sword to the other hand. The sorcerer kicked his horse into a gallop and hurried away. “Exactly so, you coward, run for your life!” cried the latter, jubilantly. He slowly realised he could no longer hear his own voice over the sound of the thundering hooves behind him. Mup’ha-Sa charged past in a storm of flying debris, overtaking the terrified Chaos champion and turning him into an inch-thick paste under his enormous weight.
“Yeah, take that!” said Ini-Go, a little less enthusiastically than before. “Fear the mighty fencing prowess of eh-skink chief Ini-Go!”
