The Nameless Vale

It was three rises before that Boric saw the smoke drifting into the air like a slow, exotic t'skrang dance. Each rise brought him to another valley, with the smoke's source seemingly slipping out of reach. This rise, however, was different. As he followed the ancient road to the hill's crest, a grizzly scene assaulted his senses. Laid out in the valley, was a settlement of sorts. There was nothing settled about this vale now. What were once lively homes had been converted by Brother Fire to waist high ruins.

"The problem with Brother Fire," Boric said aloud, "is that he serves all with equal fever."

None seemed to hear his comment as Boric started his descent into the vale, stopping along the way to attend to the bodies that looked whole enough to still offer a glimmer of life. None did. He began to work his way through the village center. He passed a well whose walls had crumbled under the raider's steeds, Sister Water now bleeding into Brother Earth - striving to reach Fire for battle, but defeated before she could arrive. Boric continued his task, searching the ruins of the vale. After a time, how long he could not recall, he began the task of gathering the dead in the village square, setting them one beside the other until there was no more room, then piling the bodies atop the first. When complete, he reached into the pouch at his belt, and withdrew the final ceremonial gem, given to him by his mentor, so many years ago. By now, had things been different, he would have been making his own...but things were most definitely not different.

As he held the stone in his cupped palms, he blew a bit of Sister Air onto the stone and spoke the words of power, weaving, with his voice, the threads of magic to the facets of the gem. Ever so slowly, the gem came to life, a glow of Brother Fire stirring deep within the heart of the gem while Sister Water formed on the surface. With a final thread, and a sting of blood, he tossed the gem onto the towering stack of ruined bodies.

Brother Fire began deep within the pyre, fed by Sister Air blowing briskly past Boric's head. Very little time passed as Brother Fire engulfed the entire mass of wretched victims, licking at the edges as a dog might lick his lord's hand of scraps in the fellowship hall. Now and again, Brother Fire would move to merge with Boric, but Boric shrugged off the attempts for he knew it was not his time to join his brothers and sisters.

As he stared deep into the soul of Brother Fire, Boric felt himself slipping, once again, into the familiar discomfort of his memories...

Boric stared into the funeral pyre watching the fire lick at the edges of the logs that supported the body of the clan's chief. Tears ran down his granite gray skin as he wondered in disbelief at the misfortune that had brought him here. The chief had taken a boar's tusk to the thigh - a deep gash, to be sure, but nothing that he had not recovered from hundreds of times before.

As the lead apprentice healer, and the chieftain's favorite son, the village healer, a kindly old woman named Bendthra, called upon Boric to tend to the chieftain's wound.

Without cause, the chieftain was unconscious when the village hunting party brought him in. Immediately, Boric set to work. He bound the wound, and gave the chieftain strong drink, but inexplicably, he did not recover. A fever set in, and soon, the chieftain was drifting into and out of a fit of delirium. Boric called upon Bendthra, but her efforts were of no avail.

At length, the chief's health fell from him like a shroud in the wind, and he passed away. It was Boric who was to set the pyre, with the first of the ritual stones given him by Bendthra.

As he prepared the first thread, there was a stir in the crowd behind him. His concentration broken, he turned to see who would break the rite of passage, and found himself coming face to face with his brother, Garak.

More human than ork, Garak stood near eye to eye with Boric, who was short by orkish standards. Behind Garak a crowd of followers seemed to appear out of nowhere - mostly the younger clan adults. All were murmuring of deception - murmuring of murder.

Garak turned his face to the assembled clan, a general to the wind of his enemy, and spoke. "What is this?! My father lies dead by the hand of my brother, and you all stand idly by!? You let the man responsible for the death of the greatest clan chief who ever lived escort him into the great beyond? Fools! All of you! Can you not see? Boric was the named heir, yet he could not wait for control!

"I tell you this! This ork is no brother of mine! Not when he murdered my father...my chief...my hero!"

More of the crowd started to chime into the agreements, being swept into Garak's powerful charisma. Boric looked furtively to where his wife and children had stood moments before, and found them missing.

Garak continued, "Before the elders of my clan, I hereby bring this charge against Boric. I charge that he killed our honored chief intentionally in order to seize control of the clan!"

With this the crowd roared, orks surged forward, whether swept away in the charisma of his brother or no, they seized Boric; all the while, crying out, so loud and long that it began to sound as if...

...the fire crackled. A particularly loud pop brought Boric out of his reverie. Boric looked through sad, tearing emerald eyes, watching as the ritual neared its completion. The fire, having consumed all remains with magical heat, began to recede into the gem, leaving behind scattered trinkets and bones, ash and dirt; anything too sturdy to burn. For a moment, that was all there was, a large circle of ash and little else, centered around a glowing red gem. Ever so slowly, the gem sank into Brother Earth. When completely gone, a great rumbling rose from Brother Earth as a waking giant, and the ground upon which the ash and trinkets remained started to turn inside out. Turning over and over, plowing itself into fresh fertile soil, taking the remains of the village's inhabitants into the ground they died protecting. Sister Water began to mix from deep within Brother Earth, creating the marriage of clay and mud.

When all was done, a freshly plowed circle now lay in the center of the ruined vale, and in the center of the field stood a birch sapling. The only reminder, the only testament of the heroes and villains, the women and children of this vale whose Name was not known. A vale that fell to the greed of men - men who would one day themselves, join the Brothers and Sisters.

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