The Black Shriving (Chronicles of the Black Gate Book 2) by Phil Tucker Page B

don't think that will stop him."
    "The question," said Tharok, rising smoothly to his feet, "is whether or not you will do as you're told. You are a proud warlord. You lead the Crokuk with cunning and respect. I requested your tribe because I had heard of how smart you are, how you are a capable thinker, how you are adaptable. So, Nakrok. You face your greatest test. Do you sense the tide of history turning against the old ways? Will you continue the endless cycle of kragh killing kragh, or will you help me turn our might against our true enemies, the humans?"
    Nakrok licked his lips in thought, allowing his gaze to roam from Tharok to Maur, from Rabo to Barok, and finally to settle on Kharsh before turning back to the young warlord before him. "The humans are allies of the Orlokor. They trade with us. They pay our clans with shaman stone to fight for them. They helped us establish ourselves along the southern slopes. It was with their help that we destroyed the Hrakar. Why should the kragh go to war with them? They have great cities, large armies, dangerous weapons. Why should we turn on them? For the sake of a few mangy Tragon?"
    "No," said Tharok. "Because they use us. They set us against each other. Human hands shape the current growing alliance between Tragon, the highland tribes and the Hrakar. Human shaman stone funds their war effort. Human smiths give them weapons. They prepare these kragh to come against the Orlokor and bring us down. Do you think they like how powerful the Orlokor have become? No! They used the Orlokor to smash the Hrakar ten years ago. Now they are doing the same to the Orlokor. History repeats itself. So, I ask you again, Crokuk. Will you act as the tool of the humans and kill your brothers, or will you unite with us, cease spilling kragh blood, and prepare to fight the true enemy?"
    Nakrok rubbed his chin. "You have said much tonight. If you are truly cunning and wise, you will know that nothing I say while surrounded by your men can be trusted. Let me return to my camp and speak to my chieftains in private. We will give you an answer come morning."
    Tharok stared deep into Nakrok's eyes. "Alright. Come morning, you either return to Porloc or you march with us deeper into the mountains. There will be no other choice."
    "Agreed," said Nakrok. "Tomorrow, then."
    And with that, he led his kragh through the ring of blades and disappeared into the night.
     

 
     
    CHAPTER SIX
     

     
     
    Audsley didn't know whether to feel terrified or elated. The dull and ever-present moan from the massive airshaft just beyond the platform played on his mind like the fingers of a demented bard on a lyre. Yet the prospect of exploring deeper into Starkadr, exposing its mysteries and learning its secrets, made him feel once more like the child he'd been when he'd first stepped into the Grand Library of Nous. This was what he lived for. This was his idea of adventure - no swords or screams or people being nasty to each other, but delving into history, learning truths that had been long suppressed, bringing to light ancient knowledge and being the first one to see wonders that had been lost from sight for centuries.
    "Audsley. Audsley!"
    The magister turned sharply to where Tiron was waiting, hands on his hips, glaring at him from the rear edge of the platform. "Um. Yes?"
    "What are you doing? Communing with the blasted thing?"
    Audsley looked down at the sword. He'd been trying to decipher the runes inscribed around its blade, but perhaps had let his imagination and excitement get away with him. Coughing and adopting a stern look, he leaned down once more and tried to understand the etched language. Aedelbert helpfully blew out another tongue of flame, and Audsley felt an intense pang of desire for his writing materials, his reference tomes, his study and the tools of his trade. All he had was his memory and intuition, and he feared it would not be enough.
    "Sigean." He shook his head at Aedelbert. "My least