Malakai: Prologue

Prologue

The Fortress City of Khazad Gurum could never be described as calm. Everyone seemed nervous, as if from every hole in the rock an army of Orcs would spring. It was widely believed that all orcs were evil, and for a long time, so believed Malakai.

Malakai, as a young dwarf with barely a beard, was small. Of course, as a dwarf you’d expect it to be so, but even for a dwarf of his age he was considered quite short. He never fought with his hands. He didn’t play with others. He was, for lack of a better word, a shame. His father, named Mordekai, did his best to reform his son. Every gift that Malakai received was a weapon. Axes and swords and hammers, all things that Malakai lost in the end.

He didn’t misplace all of them, however. Malakai had an elder brother, three years his senior. His brother, named after his father, was Mordekai Junior. Malakai took pride in the fact that he could often insult his brother, outsmarting him with witty retorts. The case was ever too often, however, that a beating from Mordekai Junior would follow.

Indeed, Malakai had no talent for fighting. He found no glory in wrenching steel out of the guts of an enemy that didn’t even take any intelligence to kill. He found no satisfaction in beating smaller dwarves to a pulp as his brother did. He knew his short-comings well. Malakai was a humble dwarf, with many books.

And also a good many secrets.

Malakai lived, as it was mentioned before, in the fortress city of Khazad Gurum. Khazad Gurum is the northernmost city of the dwarves, bordering with a vast Orc territory in Northern Elesar, built into the side of Mount Gurum. Under the city are many caves and tunnels, secret and unexplored sectors of the undercity rumored to be inhabited by Orcs and Goblins, even foul Dwarves turned to half dwarf, half orc creatures. It was here that Malakai made his haven against bullies and fools, bigots who had no business associating with one so pridefully different. Malakai gathered up the makings of a laboratory, where he would study. He studied alchemy, mythology, and religion. He studied the Elves, the Gnomes, even the Orcs and Goblins and Giants, learning all he could about them and their languages. Before long, he could read and speak in a good many languages. The wisp of a beard had become fuller, though still he was adolescent.

It was in this time that he met the one who would become his first, and best, friend.

He had been messing about with chemicals that he knew to be explosive, in an attempt to synthesize a firebomb that would cause such a bright flash that it would blind any who saw it go off. It was during the test that Malakai first saw him. In a great cavernous dome, which now resembled the surface of the moon due to furious testing of Malakai’s bombs, Malakai intended to test his latest “flash” bomb. As yet, none knew of Malakai’s secret hobby. He lobbed a glass bottle of powder, around which a lit fuse had been tied. He turned the other direction, and there was a brilliant flash that, even from behind, bounced off of the walls of the cavern to almost blind him. In the flash, he saw a figure. After the flash, he heard groaning. He recognized it as orcish. Blinking away the spots in his eyes, he noticed a grey figure, slumped over in the dark, clutching it’s eyes.

“My eyes!” It cried in orcish. “I’m blind!” Malakai could do naught but look on in shock for a moment. It was an Orc. For many seconds, he didn’t know what to do. The Orc was male, and much taller and broader than Malakai, and yet it had done nothing to harm him while his back was turned. Further inspection revealed that the Orc was unarmed, and quite young. He knew from his research that this orc could be no older than thirteen, and yet it appeared as old as he was himself.

Malakai knelt to the orc, and spoke in orcish. “Let me see.”

“My eyes! Your potion… I’m blind!”

“Let me see them.” Malakai repeated softly. The Orc looked up hesitantly. From looking at the orcs eyes, Malakai could not gather whether the Orc would be blind or not, but he saw no malice in it’s eyes. “Who are you?” Malaki inquired.

“Who are you?” it retorted. “You’re a dwarf… You’re going to kill me! You’re going to restore my sight just so I can watch you rip out my heart…”

“I would never do that!” Malakai said, insulted at the notion. “How revolting…”

“How can I believe you? I’ve seen you make fire and thunder…”

“You mean my bombs?” Malakai faltered. “You’ve seen them?”

The orc was silent for a moment. “Yes… but I dare not tell anyone. If I returned without your head, my father would assume me a traitor. So I report nothing.”

Malakai was sympathetic. “Well,” he began jovially. “I suppose, if it makes you feel better, my father would do the same. I come here so that he does not find me.”

“You are a disgrace?” the Orc said suddenly. Malakai was taken aback. He thought for a moment before forming his reply.

“Yes.” He said finally. The Orc smiled.

“Then you are like me.” The two laughed for a moment. “I am Shoord.” Said the Orc.

“I am Malakai.” Said Malakai. “How’re your eyes? Can you see yet?”

Shoord blinked furiously. “A bit…”

“Then I failed. I’ll have to build a brighter flash-bomb.” Malakai laughed.

“I don’t doubt that the same stuff in bigger quantities would make a brighter flash.” Noted Shoord hesitantly.

“You’re well read.” Noted Malakai.

“You leave all of your books out when you leave!” Shoord said.

“You read my books?” Malakai asked hotly.

Shoord nodded. “And afterwards, I put them back on their shelves. Without me, you’d have lost every single one of those damned books!” After a brief pause, the two laughed again.

Since that day, the two met regularly in their caves, to experiment with new minerals yielded by further exploration of the caves under the city. Shoord proved to be a very intelligent Orc, and a good friend. Shoord would bring raw materials and books from his people’s own records, and from them Malakai would make sense, and brew drafts of medicine, poison, ointments, oils, and most commonly, explosives and combustibles. One day, even, Shoord brought a great tome of Orcish magic. They poured over it together, trying to make sense of the runes.

“One day we’ll be wizards!” Shoord would often say. “Then we won’t need firebombs!”

“Aye,” Malakai would reply. “but think… Wizards with firebombs…”

They would look at each other and say in unison “Magic Firebombs!” and laugh.

And together they poured over the book, until at last Shoord had to leave early. “I must return this. It was dangerous to bring this here… it is important to my father. He would have my skin if he found that I had taken it…”

“Very well,” Malakai said, disappointed but content knowing that his friend would return tomorrow.

The next day, Malakai returned to the light of what he thought was a torch, and the sound of coughing sobs. He turned the corner just enough to see who was there. In a pool of crimson blood, lay the body of Shoord. Malakai’s books had all been taken, his lab stripped and destroyed. He ran to the side of his friend, who lay on his back, blood pouring from a wide gash in his gut.

“Shoord…” Malakai managed weakly. He looked to his broken table desperately, hoping for something he could use, but everything was gone.

“Malakai…” Shoord coughed blood. “I’m so sorry… My father…”

“Shoord, you’re going to be alright. My friend… Don’t die, you can’t die…”

“Malakai… Run. My father… has your notes… he has your fire and thunder, my friend. He… took the bombs.”

“He did this… He did this to you?”

“Yes… Please, Malakai… Run… you must...”

“We were going to be wizards, Shoord!” Malakai choked on tears. His only friend lay dying.

Shoord smiled weakly. “Magic Firebombs…” and the light left his eyes. Malakai felt Shoord’s hand go limp in his own, and he wept for the death of his only friend.

That night, the Orcs finally poured out of the mountain, lobbing fire and death into the masses of panicking dwarves. In the confusion, Mordecai junior was slain by an Orc, his father engulfed in flames.

And Malakai fled, swearing that he would indeed become a wizard. And behind him, Khazad Gurum became a ruin. It’s ruins still stand.

Ten winters Later...