"I swear I didn't take it!" Gergar said, and he hated how whiny his voice was. He was an orc, he should have been able to fight! Cold sweat trickled down his spine, and his hands trembled as he held them out in surrender. 

"Then you won't mind me searching your pockets," the other orc said, before he added, "before I tear you limb from limb."

Gergar didn't like the sound of either of those things.  So, he did something that in his later years he would have judged the members of the Red Scar Clan for doing. He took the diamond out of his pocket and held it up in front of his face.

This time, the crows made more noise than ever; their caws, screeches, and screams echoed around the trees. Their wings flapped with reckless abandon, churning up dead leaves and other deitrius from the forest floor.  Soon a cyclone of dirt surrounded the two orcs, but neither acknowledged it. The Clan Leader's son didn't appear to notice it at all, while Gergar had other things on his mind. 

"Hand it over," the Clan Leader's son demanded.

Stubborn as a mule, Gergar didn't obey. Instead, he placed the diamond onto his tongue and swallowed. Now, if Morga or someone else in his clan had swallowed an object of unknown origin, he would declare that they'd lost their mind. Back then, Gergar had felt like he didn't have much to lose. An unexpected coldness seeped into Gergar's veins as the diamond worked its way down his throat and into his stomach. It didn't seem possible, but he could have sworn he felt it inside him, pulsing in time with crows' flapping wings. 

"What have you done?" the Clan Leader's son asked, his voice full of disbelief. "Why would you do that?"

"Now you have to wait a few hours for me to shit it out," Gergar replied somewhat smug, not adding that the other orc also had the option of cutting him open to get at it. There was no point in putting ideas into his head. 

"No... you don't understand..." The other orc no longer sounded angry. His voice trembled and he took a couple of steps away from Gergar, but there was nowhere for him to go. There were no exits or pathways, just a wall of agitated crows. 

"I don't understand what?"

"The devils have a hold of you now." 

At this, the crows made more noise. Gergar couldn't tell if they were pleased with the revelation or concerned. Either way, their reaction made his knees feel week with fear, and he was almost glad that he was already sat on his arse in the dirt. This time, the Clan Leader's son seemed to finally notice the birds as his skin blanched and his eyes widened so much Gergar thought the eyeballs might drop right out. 

Gergar didn't know if he believed those words of devils, but the Clan Leader's son certainly did. Either that, or he was a way better actor than Gergar would ever be... and that was impossible, right? 

"Devils?" Gergar said. "Don't be ridiculous. Just let me be on my way. I'll mail the diamond to you when it comes out."

The other orc shook his head. "I can't let you go. Not because of what you've stolen... but because of what you might unleash."

"That sounds ominous." Gergar got to his feet and took a few steps away from his opponent. He felt taller, somehow. Stronger. He flexed his arms. Was it just his imagination or were his muscles more toned than they had been earlier that day?  

"I must exorcise you of the devils!" 

That was the only warning Gergar got as the other orc raised the axe that had been strapped onto his back and sent it careening down towards Gergar's skull. Panic filled him. Fear bounced around in his skull, sending messages of dread throughout his body. In his mind's eye, Gergar imagined his head splitting in two. He dove out of the way, not wanting to make it a reality. The crows cheered and jeered; they were the most engaged audience Gergar had seen in a while. 

Undeterred, the other orc and his axe came for him again. This time there was no escape. There was nothing Gergar could do but watch as the weapon came closer and closer to his face. 

'Lift your hand,' a voice said in Gergar's head.

'Do it! Do it! DO IT!' a chorus of other voices added, and the crows provided a disharmonious background melody.

With no other options open to him, Gergar lifted his hand. Something so cold that it felt hot shot out of his palm and collided with the other orc. 

"The devils... are here..." the other orc said, as he strained to get the words out before whatever shot out of Gergar's hand shot into him. Blue scorch marks littered the Clan Leader's son's flesh. His skin fizzed and steamed. 

Staggering, he took a step towards Gergar and held out a hand towards him, as if he thought his opponent would save him. Not sure of what to do, Gergar shied away from it. Why would he help someone who had just tried to split him into to two with an axe? 

While Gergar didn't do anything to comfort the other orc, he did watch, unable to look away. Before his eyes, the scorched flesh hardened and cracked. The other orc screamed in agony, the sound echoing throughout the forest and no doubt through the ages. The hardened flesh split and tore, dropping away from the orc's body and falling to the ground in vile chunks. Bile rose in Gergar's throat as he watched, but the crows appeared to enjoy the show as they jostled against each other for a better view. 

Soon, the Clan Leader's son was just a mess of exposed muscle and bone. Steam rose off him in the cold air. Strange noises came from his mouth, but if he was trying to talk, Gergar couldn't understand the words. Gergar's own skin crawled and his head swam. Had he done this?

The thing that used to be an orc dropped to his knees, sending another agonised scream out into the wilderness. 

"Devils..." he managed to say, his voice ragged and tired.

To Gergar, it seemed like he was about to say something else, so he stepped closer again. After all, what possible damage could this thing cause him now? Gergar had never seen anyone wear the expression the other orc wore at that moment. It was doubtful that any had ever seen it. Even in wars, death didn't visit like this. Usually, Death showed up in a rush, did its thing and then pissed off. At that moment, it was taking its sweet time. Savouring every second. Revelling in the orc's suffering.

It didn't seem right to Gergar... But what could he do about it? He wondered if he should point his hand towards the orc again. Would it make a difference?

He had nothing to lose, so he tried it anyway.

Blue power shot from him like a lightening bolt and, within the blink of an eye, the other orc was whole again.

Weird.

But then came the laughter. Deafening, inescapable laughter.

"Who is that?" The newly whole Clan Leader's son asked, and Gergar was surprised that he'd heard it. Gergar had thought it was the weird disembodied voices and, so far, only he had been able to hear those.

'Time to make a choice,' the voices said.

"What choice?" The Clan Leader's son asked.

'Not you,' the voices replied, before proceeding to ignore him. 'You need to choose who survives. One of you will not walk out of this alive.'

"I can't decide that," Gergar said. Stealing shit was one thing, deciding who lived and died was quite another. "There has to be another way."

'No, there doesn't,' the voice said.

"In that case I should live," the Clan Leader's son said. "I'm important. My Clan needs me! This guy is a nobody. A thief, a liar and a coward."

'An interesting argument,' the voice said. 'Any response?'

"I... Er..." Gergar couldn't think of a compelling argument. He hated being put on the spot like that. There were probably thousands of reasons why he deserved to live too, but his mind went blank. All he had was instinct. No words, just a need to survive.

He held out his hand for a third time. Light shot out of his palm with enough force to send him flying backwards. He collided with a tree trunk, coming to a stop in time to see his lightning bolt hit the other orc and for him to start to fall to pieces once again.

The other orc grunted, and opened his mouth as if to speak...

... and then there was a loud pop and what remained of the orc exploded. Gergar raised his hood in an attempt to avoid the bloody rainfall. Meanwhile, the crows dove into it, appearing to relish the gore than now coated their feathers.

Gergar had made a choice. He had taken his first life. Guilt tugged at him, but he buried it. In the future, it would raise its ugly head when he was deep in his cups and lost in the light of a campfire, but that was a worry for another day.

"What the fuck?" Gergar asked, even though there was no-one else there. No-one except the things in his head and the crows bathing in blood.

Gergar stared at his hand in disbelief. What had just happened? How had he done that? His hand looked the same as it always did, but Gergar knew better than to trust his own eyes. He could feel something within him. Something powerful. 

'We can help you,' the voices said. 'Just keep us fed. Keep us happy.'

Gergar ignored them, instead choosing to continue his journey through the forest. The crows followed in his wake. 

*****

Dazed, he stumbled through the trees, unable to pay attention to any of the sights and sounds that surrounded him. Had this been a normal day, he might have noticed the tell-tale signs of battle from a mile or so away. As it was, he plodded out of the forest and nearly stepped right into it. The only thing that stopped him was a thorn snagging on his wizard's cloak.

He wrenched the cloak out of the plant's grasp before looking at the battle that raged ahead of him. Orcs fought against ogres. Warriors from both sides fought hard and, from where Gergar stood, there was no clear winner. 

Right ahead of him stood a particularly large orc who was facing off against an even larger ogre. The orc didn't seem to stand a chance. 

'Raise your hand,' the voices sang in Gergar's head. He didn't want to obey them. Not really. As much as he wanted to save the other orc, he didn't want to help these things that he'd already started to think of as devils. 

The duel continued, and the orc was tiring. His movements were clumsy and it was clear that he didn't have long. 

'Go on, raise your hand! You know it makes sense!'

Gergar faltered. Once more couldn't hurt, right?

But he didn't do it. To do it would take him on a slippery slope. He had to stay strong. He was about to turn back and hide in the forest when the voices sang in chorus: 'if you don't do it, we will.'

Before Gergar could register what was happening, his hand was in the air, the palm aimed at the ogre. Just like before, a blast of freezing power launched from his hand and crashed into the target. This time, however, was different. This time, the ogre disintegrated almost instantly, leaving nothing but an odd smell on the breeze. 

'The more we feed, the more powerful we become,' the voices sang, their song foreboding. The crows cawed again, this time Gergar thought he could hear disappointment in their song. Perhaps they wanted another show. Or more blood and meat. 

"Thank you!" the battle weary orc shouted. "I don't know who you are, mysterious traveller, but you have saved my life! Tonight I insist you feast with the Red Scar Clan!"

Gergar was about to refuse, but his stomach growled. One meal couldn't hurt.

"Tell me your name," the orc said.

Gergar looked down at his torn cloak, wondering what to say. It wouldn't be wise to use 'Gergar' again now that name would be wanted for murder. "Snagthorn," he said. "My name is Snagthorn... the Mystic."

"Well met, Snagthorn the Mystic! I am Norgretch the Merciless."

Snagthorn looked from the forest to the battlefield. Here was a place he could belong. A new beginning was on the horizon. Forever was waiting.

'You'll have to keep us around now, 'mystic',' the voices said. Snagthorn did his best to ignore them.