Swamp of Death

CHAPTER 48

Under the dim lights of a small campfire, Moorg was persistently trying to comprehend the secrets of the amulet. Lying reclined on his wolf's warm body, he was examining every bit of it. Earlier, he noticed a several small slots appeared on it. All empty, except for one, which was now filled with that part he stumbled upon in the village of the wild orcs. Goblin tried to remove it, but it was permanently fused with the amulet.

He noticed a small engraved symbol of something quite similar to the mouth. It lit every time he would hear that voice. But no matter how hard he tried, the goblin could not understand it. Medallion was still for some time now, but Moorg was too impatient in his curiosity. He wished the voice would talk to him constantly, that was a sure way to learn the language. True power of the amulet was yet to be unlocked, and Moorg wanted it all. But the first step was to become able to communicate with it.

Goblin tossed a couple of logs onto the fire, lighting the entire den in an instant. Wolf budged in enjoyment, but remained asleep. Moorg smiled, looking at it. Tired animal deserved to rest. A few sips of the ale felt good on the goblin's parched throat, before he returned to inspecting the amulet. There had to be a way to activate it. So far, it seemed that medallion acted mostly on its own behalf. Coming to aid whenever he needed. Saving his life on a few of those occasions. But how would it know? Unless the goblin had the connection with the amulet, he didn't even knew existed.

Moorg tried to remember what were his doings right before the medallion would activate. What were his thoughts? His feelings. Sometimes it was out of fear. Sometimes, when he was excited, when the adrenaline rush kicked in. It was always followed with a few seconds of memory loss. Goblin's mind would go blank, once the waves of energy begin rushing through his body. And it was at that moment, the amulet would come to life. Granting him the strength and the power.

Moorg almost jumped out of excitement, surely he was right. He had to be. He was on the track of finding a way of making contact with the medallion. Goblin closed his eyes, slowing his breathing, until it became steady and flat. He remembered being a boy, and all of the lessons his father taught him. It certainly came to aid now, as he managed to empty his mind. Instantly, Moorg felt the tingling sensation spreading through his every nerve. Medallion was awake.

Silent, incomprehensible voice, at first sounded as if it was coming from a distance. Somewhat eerie, almost frightening, but Moorg was now ready for it. There was no way he was going to let it slip, without learning at least something from the amulet. Goblin remained extremely concentrated, to the job ahead. New failure was unacceptable, he was resolute to solve the mystery.

The voice was becoming louder, with every passing second. Moorg realized it was the same message, the same sentence, repeating over and over again. Still, he couldn't understand the meaning. Voice was now so close. It felt as if the words were coming from within his mind, stabbing him like a dozen tiny daggers. Louder, bit angry now, the voice became impatient. Moorg was in pain, but not giving up.

"I don't understand." goblin growled "Speak in my tongue, damn you."

"Help me master." Eerie whispers petrified Moorg, but his wish was finally granted.

"Help you with what?" the goblin had to think fast "Who are you? What are you?"

"But it's me master, why are you not..." voice seemed confused "You are not master Toorg."

"I am Moorg, his son." the goblin was quick to say "Before he died, my father entrusted me with the medallion. With you."

"Yes, I sense master Toorg in you." amulet said after a couple of seconds "Master Moorg, please help me."

"How? With what?" goblin asked "I don't know what to do. It seems we are both in need of help."

Medallion wasn't answering. Suspense was painful, almost as much as the transference of magical energy. Moorg was able to maintain the flow, but he knew there had to be a limitation to it. He couldn't hope to last forever. Besides, he was already getting tired. His muscles were burning, he was feeling stiff and numb. Goblin was afraid to move, fearful to disrupt the connection.

"Save me, master. Come and save me." the silent voice disappeared in the distance.

Moorg could hear a clear echo. Sound was spreading, as if it came from the depths of some canyon. Surely it was a clue, just like one from his father's vision. He needed confirmation.

"Where are you?" Moorg yelled.

"In a dark, deep hole." amulet said painfully "Among the orcs, and death...The dead surrounds me."

Moorg couldn't endure the strain any more. Connection with the medallion broke, as he fell exhausted on his back. Goblin was satisfied with the progress, but at the same time worried because of it. It was quite strange, hearing the amulet begging for help, sounding like a person. Strange, and yet not surprising at all, considering the amount of power surrounding it. Medallion was yearning to become the whole again, and Moorg was there to fulfill its wish. Tired, the goblin sat closer to the fire. Before he could head back to the orcish village, Moorg had to take a rest.

               Still, there was lots more to learn from the amulet. Although goblin made significant steps to ameliorate himself, to understand the magic, he was still miles away from mastering the secrets of the medallion. And assembling it back together was a good way to start. Moorg wasn't thinking of any consequences. He was focused only on the prize. The desire for having and controlling this incredible power, was stronger than anything. A thought which the amulet implanted in the goblin's mind, without him even knowing. Finding every lost piece wasn't Moorg's idea. Medallion was the one pulling every string. Goblin was just a tool, a vehicle. A puppet obeying its every wish.