Siege of Morkul
Chapter 15
The Final Chapter
Marekki had been silent as long as she could, before she inquired, “So where are we going?”
“Mor Khazgur,” Don replied.
“Where’s that?.” Skordo asked.
“It’s in Western Skyrim,” Don explained, “King Cameron wanted a neutral meeting point, somewhere outside of the Daggerfall Covenant and outside the Aldmeri Dominion. Skyrim is held by the Nords, who are aligned with the Ebonheart Pact, though Western Skyrim is independent as Wrothgar is. It’s about as neutral as we get, I’d say. Mor Khazgur being an Orc stronghold, King Cameron thought that might be some comfort to you.”
“There are orcs in Skyrim?”, Marekki questioned.
“There are Orcs everywhere!”, Skordo proudly told her.
Nal nodded, and said, “There are few here, but yes.”
By midnight they had reached the inlet on the Northern coast of Western Skyrim that met the river that led to Mor Khazgur. It was a long journey. At places they were forced to get out, pick up the long boat, and carry it over the shallows. The Bosmer longboat was light and small. Barely large enough to handle deep water, but not sturdy enough for the open ocean. It was adept, however, at traversing rivers. The waterfalls also proved a challenge, but with some planks they were able the slide the longboat downhill around the fall, and then rejoin the river.
Eventually, the river became a stream near the stronghold, and it was simply too shallow for anything but a row boat. They lashed the longboat to a sizable boulder. They packed the supplies for the journey home into bags in waterproof skins, and then tucked them under the benches. Don stayed with the longboat, while the rest walked to the stronghold.
It was a short walk.
The place was not so much a stronghold as a mine with some high mountains in the back and high fences in the front. Skordo declared, “Not much of a stronghold. Explains why there were so few orcs left here.” He laughed.
Chief Abzug smirked, and then added, “Doesn’t much compare to home.”
“Marekki expects the cold keeps everyone but orcs away,” she said.
“Come along. We’re almost here,” Nal prodded, leading them around the fence and then up to the gate.
Two orcs met them at the gate.
Nal bowed and then introduced them to each other, “Chief Urzikh and Mine Overseer Thulsgreg, I am pleased to introduce Chief Abzug, Captain Skordo, and Attaché Marekki.
Marekki bowed, accepting her new title instantly and enthusiastically. She greeted the Mor Khazgur orcs, “This one is pleased to be welcomed into your sprawling stronghold.”
Chief Abzug also bowed and told them, “As are we.”
Skordo followed suit, and bowed to them as well.
“Please accompany us to the mine,” Chief Urzikh requested, and the waved them toward the entrance.
“The mine?”, Chief Abzug questioned nervously.
Marekki also questioned this, “Would the longhouse not be more suitable for dignitaries?”
Chief Urzikh addressed Chief Abzug, “King Cameron awaits you inside the mine.”
Skordo and Marekki exchanged concerned looks. Chief Abzug's suspicion was written all over his face, but they had come here for a reason.
Nal walked toward the mine.
They could protest. They could even insist they hash this out in the longhouse, but they were all three tired. They had endured a siege for a year now, and if the end of this stood in the mine, one way or another, then they would meet it.
Skordo squared his shoulders and then followed Nal. Marekki trotted behind him. Chief Abzug limped behind them, failing to hide his crippled leg. Chief Urzikh and Thulsgreg followed.
King Cameron was indeed inside the mine. He was, in fact, not too far from the entrance, close enough to make a quick escape actually. He stood between Zhasim and a large boulder.
King Cameron bowed to the orcs and their khajiit attaché, as did Zhasim, the King’s own personal khajiit attaché.
King Cameron greeted them, “It is good to finally meet you in person, Chief Abzug. And this must be Marekki and Skordo. Zhasim has said good things about you. I appreciate you conveying my messages.”
Zhasim smiled at them and nodded in confirmation.
“Thanks,” Skordo replied curtly.
“We are honoured,” Marekki responded with a deep bow, stretching her forelegs out toward the king and arching her back deeply toward the ground with her tail up pointing toward the ceiling.
Zhasim blushed at the lavish display. It had been years since he had seen a khajiit bow so deeply to anyone.
King Cameron pressed on, “Now to the business at hand. I have sent about a dozen message, 12 to be exact, in one short year. That is a lot of correspondence for someone I have not had relations with,” King Cameron winked, and then added, “I hope to change that today.”
Marekki giggled. The orcs were stone faced.
Zhasim pulled a scroll from his messenger satchel, and then handed it to Marekki.
Marekki took the ribbon on the scroll in her teeth, and carried the scroll to Chief Abzug.
Chief Abzug glanced at King Cameron, annoyed at the pomp and circumstance, but he diligently took the scroll from Marekki. Marekki was so proud as she trotted back to her place. Skordo grinned, holding in a laugh.
Chief Abzug read the scroll. He rolled it up, and clenched it in his fist. Seething, he replied, “Had you offered this last year instead of laying siege to my stronghold, I may have accepted it,” he shook the scroll in the king’s face, and then continued, “The Wood Orcs never wanted to leave Malabal Tor in the first place. We might have welcomed a trade deal. We might have even agreed to house the Wood Orcs in the time it took to hammer out a peace deal. Especially if it meant,” he quoted the scroll, “ ‘acquiring adjoining land for the Wood Orcs to expand into’.” Chief Abzug tossed the scroll onto the ground. Marekki grabbed it before it hit the floor. He railed at the king, “But you have taken so much from us in the last year, this pact cannot repair our peace!!”
King Cameron sneered at him, and then replied, “You attempted to grab much from us. Your people cut a swath through our precious Valenwood, violating the Green Pact!”
“Orcs don’t follow the Green Pact!”, Chief Abzug interrupted.
“And encroaching upon protected forest,” King Cameron finished.
“We needed land to farm and build on,” Chief Abzug advocated for the Wood Orcs.
King Cameron scowled. He opened his mouth to speak again, but then relented. His expression softened. He responded, “Perhaps it was a bit bold of us to round up the survivors and then drop them on your dock.”
“They deserved to die in battle,” Skordo told him.
Chief Abzug sneered at King Cameron, and responded, “And they did. We managed to evacuate the very young, the very old, and the gravely wounded, but the rest of the Wood Orcs stayed and fought with us. Not many remain to return to Malabal Tor after a year of your siege.”
“We understand you have your losses,” King Cameron offered, “For those who wish to return, we have islands without trees and beaches that we are willing to negotiate upon. Your people had lived on the delta and the adjoining shore for many years. We can discuss those.”
Chief Abzug challenged him, “And if we refuse? Then what? You kill us?”
King Cameron turned to Chief Urzikh, and said, “You can show him now.”
Chief Urzikh told them, “There’s a little formula I perfected for mining. It’s called the Stonemelt. I based it off a formula I learned from the elves that they used for siege breaking.” She turned to her quarry overseer, and told him, “Pour the Stonemelt formula over this boulder.”
Chief Urzikh took a few steps back. Everyone moved away from the boulder, too.
Thulsgreg stepped up to the boulder, poured a few drops onto it, and then hurried away.
The boulder sizzled and crackled before crumbling into a mound of gravel.
King Cameron smirked, and then informed Chief Abzug, “Chief Urzikh can make enough of this potion to dissolve your entire Stronghold,” and then he leaned toward Chief Abzug, and quietly told him, “Though I imagine all we need is enough to dissolve the pillars of that root cellar of yours, and the entire stronghold will collapse into itself.”
Chief Abzug gasped and turned pale. Skordo and Marekki were also visibly upset. Nal was openly sympathetic, though he said nothing. Even Zhasim had a pitied look on his face.
Chief Abzug grimaced. His orc pride demanded a fight to the death for threatening his people and his home. However, as a leader, he couldn’t ask the remaining soldiers to die such a sudden and anti-climatic death, nor could he leave the children, the elders, and the wounded to be slaughtered in Orsinium and beyond. Chief Abzug nearly choked, but he swallowed his pride, and responded, “Fine. We’ll trade you our echatere meat and cheese for that Stonemelt formula and adjoining lands in Malabal Tor for the Wood Orcs. No more fighting. Deal?”
Zhasim glanced at the scroll, and back at King Cameron, and then asked, “Did we offer the formula?”
King Cameron shrugged, and replied, “If it means we can all go home, yes.” King Cameron looked at Chief Abzug, and told him, “It’s a deal.”
Marekki returned the treaty scroll to Chief Abzug. Chief Urzikh handed him a quill. He signed the treaty scroll, and then handed it directly to King Cameron. King Cameron accepted, and then signed the treaty himself. At last he turned the treaty and quill over to Chief Urzikh, who signed the treaty as an impartial witness.
Everyone walked outside, and into the longhouse for a drink. Zhasim whistled, and a crow flew to him. Zhasim told the crow, “Tell Beladess the peace treaty has been signed, and show her this as a token.” Zhasim attached a small Bosmer royal seal to the crow’s leg. The crow cawed in acceptance, and then flew off to Morkul.
Epilogue
They arrived back on the Morkul docks at dawn on the third day.
General Shebakh had indeed chased the Wood Elves from the camp all the way to the Frozen Fleet. They had tried to bunker down in the wrecked ships, but they did not have the same tolerance for the cold as the orcs. In exchange for returning them to their non-frozen Wood Elf fleet to treat their frostbite and hypothermia, the Wood Elves surrendered. Shebakh had also asked for seeds and tips on growing some of the plant traps, just in case. The Wood Elves were impressed, but also appalled. They told her to ask Bela. Bela laughed, and refused.
By the time Skordo and they rest arrived, the crow had delivered their message and the token. Yet Skordo was still surprised to see Bela unloading supplies from the Wood Elf fleet, and passing them to a line of Clay warriors that wound over the dock, under the bridge, up the stairs, and into the Stronghold.
Bela smirked at Skordo, and told him, “A little birdie told me you were in need of some provisions.”
“But why?”, Skordo asked suspicious.
Admiral Nal replied, “We’re allies, right?”
Marekki hopped onto a crate marked “eggs”, and thanked them, “This one is very appreciative.”
“Thank you,” Skordo awkwardly told them. Then he read the crate Marekki was perched on, and exclaimed, “By Malacath! We haven’t had fresh eggs in months!” He grinned.
Chief Abzug addressed them, “Morkul thanks you. We will have supplies to trade by the Summer months.”
Skordo walked along the line of Clay warriors searching for Ashaka. He did not see her, but he did find General Shebakh.
Shebakh was stone faced. He features were so sternly set, they threatened to crack under a slight breeze. Skordo could tell it was bad. He approached her.
“Ashaka?”, Skordo inquired.
Shebakh offered him a wilted smile, and told him, “I’ll take you to her.”
Skordo followed Shebakh to a stretcher just on the other side of the river.
Shebakh told him, “She made it all the way to the Frozen Fleet with us. Those Bosmer bastards never stood a chance.” Shebakh choked back a sob, and then continued, “We’re taking her to Lazghal so she can say goodbye.”
Skordo knelt over Ashaka’s clay form. She was so cold. It was hard to believe any life remained. Her soul gem flicked in her chest. It was dim, but it still held her light.
Ashaka’s voice sounded from the clay mask, still hollow like an oboe, “Skordo? Is that you? I can’t move any more.”
Skordo took her hand, “Hey, Ashaka. Shebakh told me fought like a storm atronach. You always were a force of nature on the battle field.”
“I took those blighted elves out left and right,” Ashaka reported proudly. Her voiced faded in and out as her soul gem flickered. She added, “The more that came at me, the more I mowed down with my old battleaxe.”
Skordo chuckled softly. Pride and grief swept over him in waves. Once he found his voice again, it came out rough with unshed tears, “Malacath will have a place of glory for you.”
“Is Morkul still standing?”, Ashaka asked.
“Yes,” Skordo assured her, “Morkul is still standing.”
“My home,” Ashaka said with a sigh. He soul gem dimmed. She continued, “My home is safe.” Her soul gem faded out. She was gone.
Skordo wept quietly. Shebakh embraced him, and they wept together on the bank of the river overlooking the battlefield and Morkul. There was grief, but there was also relief that it was all over.
After a minute, Shebakh released Skordo, straightened herself up, and then nervously told him, “I promised myself if I survived this... Skordo? Will you join me in the Longhouse?”
Skordo straightened himself up, and then replied, “Of corse, General Shebakh.”
Shebakh blushed. She corrected him gently, “It’s just Shebakh of the Mages Guild now,” she hesitated, and then asked more clearly, “and I would like you to join me for dinner.”
Skordo smiled sheepishly, and replied, “Well I guess there’s nothing wrong with having dinner with a member of the Mages Guild.”
Shebakh kissed him on the cheek, and then led him by the hand to the Longhouse.
“I’m not joining the Mages Guild,” Skordo asserted, “I’m a proud member of the Fighters Guild.”
“Some people are members of both,” Shebakh tempted him.
Marekki saw Skordo and Shebakh disappear upstairs hand in hand. “Finally,” Marekki shouted. She returned her attention to Nal, and said, “Marekki thanks you for your troubles, yet this one asks one more favour.”
“What?”, Nal asked.
“Send my regards to that sleek courrier Zhasim,” she requested and then yowled.
Nal laughed, shook his head, and then replied, “I’m afraid he’s married to a nice lass from Southern Elsewyr.”
Marekki hung her head sadly, her ears and tail drooping. She pouted and said, “She is a lucky one.”
The crow cawed.
Nal reported, “I know a merchant.”
Marekki hissed, “Kss. Marekki knows better than to cavort with travelling merchants. They have kittens in every town! This one prefers diplomats,” she opined, and then added, “or soldiers. Or a nice marine.”
Nal cast a sidelong glance. However he replied, “In the interest of diplomacy, perhaps we can send a few khajiiti marines to pick up the first shipment from Morkul this Summer.”
Marekki yowled again, jumped down from the crate, and then rubbed against Nal’s leg affectionately. She exclaimed, “You’re a gem!”
Once the provisions were off loaded, and the surviving Wood Elves from the camp were on board, the Wood Elf fleet set sail back to Grahtwood.
The End
