Chapter 1: A New Beginning (Part 2)

‘My sister and I were always very close and she has told me much of the struggles and battles she faced in my absence back in these days. It is my honour to introduce you to her and tell you her tale as well since being my sister, is part of my Heritage, part of what made me the orc and Warchief I am today.’

In the main camp of Gargen's Clan, things are not good. His orcs are leaderless, Gabriella is brotherless for her brothers are gone on their adventures, her father is dead and they are still at war.  Gabriella, overwhelmed by grief looks for her mother but the red drake is up north dealing with the matters of her kin. Gabriella is truly alone.  She knows the orcs will now turn to her for leadership since she is next in line with her brothers being away for the title of Warchief. She does not want it. She only wants to continue her daily life of wandering the camp, taking in the beauty of all the things around her and train to be stronger for her brothers. How can she do these things with everyone looking to her to lead?

She weeps over her Father's body in the small stone room used for preparing the bodies of the greatest warriors that have fallen in battle. There are torches on each side of the room and a table of stone and wood where the body is laid until the funeral preparations are complete. This process usually takes days, sometimes weeks so the room is enchanted by shamanic magic to preserve the body. She knows that the funeral is only days away and it will be her duty to burn the body that he may return to the elements and his spirit moving on to the next world. She hears a knock on the great oak door and she regains her composure as she goes to answer it.

"Greetings young Gabriella are you well?"

"No Drak'nar, I am not. My father is dead, my brothers are gone, and now I am to burn my Father's body and assume his leadership while they are gone. I am alone with a huge task before me and I do not know what to do." She cries as she says the words looking away from the orc to try and hide her tears and shame.

"Fear not young one. I will be here to guide your choices and help you lead. I too am in charge of the ritual as chief shaman. I hear you have the innate skills of your mother so I will leave the fire part of the ritual to you that you may honour him. I will do the rest"

"Thank you Drak'nar. I will do my best but I still wish this never happened. It is too soon and Galnorath should be here to take his place not me. Any word of where he might be?"

"None. I have sent word out to have our people look for him but we can spare only a few as we are still at war. I fear too that he is not ready to hear it either and will not return until he proves himself worthy of the title. You know how proud he is."

Gabriella turns away, "Men! I will never understand their silly pride! He should be here attending the funeral, becoming the Warchief and not off in some distant place on a fool's errand! He is already a good warrior and probably one of our best yet his silly pride is holding us all back!" She can go on she knows but what will be the point?

"Young Gabriella, I know this plagues you and you feel that you aren't ready for it, nor do you want it. The case remains however that it IS happening and if you let these feelings toward your brother cloud your judgment, he may not have a clan to return home to."

She glares at him but she knows in her heart that he is right. She still has her fears and her anger but with a sigh, she calms herself. "Fine. So be it. I will lead our people to the best of my ability but know this shaman. The moment my brother Galnorath returns; HE is the Warchief!"

The shaman gives her one last look. "As it should be Warchief Gabriella. Now I must see to the preparations for the funeral. I trust that you are okay now?"

She cringes at hearing the title, "I will be fine Drak'nar. You may go." For a few more moments she stands in silence then with one last look at her Father's body, "I hope I have your strength and your wisdom Father. I fear that I will need it greatly in the coming days." She shuts the great oak door and retires to her room, satisfied now that she can get some sleep.

She awakens the next day to find that nothing has changed. The pain is still there and the burden she knows the day will bring. She decides to grab her sword and go outside to train. She goes up to the practice targets and swings her sword with the brutality of her brother Draknathar. He had taught her the brutal and savage ways of the orc and she finds it is most effective for unleashing her anger. After an hour passes, she finds herself still angry so she leaves and heads to the training ground.

"Warrior! I seek a breathing opponent to train with!"

The young warrior looks at her in confusion. ‘What is the chieftain's daughter doing here and most of all why would she bother to want to fight a low ranking grunt?’ The warrior keeps the thoughts to himself however and accepts her challenge. The warrior clutches his axe in preparation for her oncoming assault. She charges at him furiously swinging brutally and savagely as Draknathar had taught her. The warrior parried and dodged each blow. He knew Draknathar was no good with a blade and apparently he passed that on to Gabriella. On the next blow the warrior disarms her and dares to pummel her in the face.

"Have you learned nothing from your Father or your brother Galnorath? You have rage girl but rage alone is not enough! If you truly seek to honour them then REMEMBER WHAT THEY TAUGHT YOU!!!"

This warrior had heard the stories of his brave and honourable Warchief and the custom of him teaching his eldest son personally. He knows too that young Galnorath had favoured his little sister and trained her better than that. The rage subsiding from both warriors he extends his hand to help her back on her feet. She takes it reluctantly embarrassed to have been beaten so easily by the grunt.

"Come with me! I think that you must see something."

Gabriella has little choice as it is either follow him or risk him telling everyone how easily he had beaten the Warchief's daughter. They wander to the far side of the camp and approach a tent. She knows this tent well for it was her Father's war tent. She remembers always sneaking in as a child and seeing how her Father prepared for battle. His maps are still there untouched. His armour on a stand at the far end of the table and his sword embedded in the ground in front of the armour.

"You see this? This is how your clan honour your Father before the ritual and they still look up to their Warchief for strength and courage. You however look only to your rage and your grief! We all grieve for him but we remember his teachings, how he inspired us and how he would be the first to risk his life for anyone he called a brother. That is your legacy, and what it means to be a true Gargen. Let go of your rage and let his spirit and his courage run through your veins. If you are to lead us, even only temporarily then you will need it."

With a slight bow, the warrior leaves her to ponder his words. He was right she knows as much as she hates to admit it. She sits at the table and thinks a while longer and realizes that she has that same silly pride as her Father and brothers.

"I guess that happens when you grow up among men," for the first time since her Father's death, she smiles.
She leaves the tent with a renewed strength and resolve. The warrior had taught her a valuable lesson. She now knows what she must do. She walks through the camp to where Drak'nar is making the preparations for the funeral.

"I am here to help. We must proceed with the funeral in haste for we have a war we need to win."

In her heart she did not want to speed up saying goodbye to her Father forever but she knows that he would want his clan to survive and thrive more. To survive, she knows she would need his strength, his courage and his ability to lead the clan to victory. This ritual can provide that for her as her Father's spirit ventures to the next world. She helps Drak'nar with everything she can and by the following day, the preparations are complete.

"Thank you Drak'nar, for hastening the preparations. Now we should rest for tonight we will need all of our strength."

She nods to the shaman as she retires to her room, confident that everything will go as she has planned. She wakes that night to war drums as the clan gather in honour to bid their Warchief a final farewell. She quickly changes into her ceremonial robes. They are red with a gold trim and it flows over her like a dress that fits her perfectly. She breathes a sigh as if trying to find her courage for the ritual and she proceeds out of her room. She meets Drak'nar as she leaves and the two proceed to the funeral. The gathered orcs part to make room for Drak'nar and Gabriella as they proceed to where the Warchief's body lay.

Drak'nar is the first to the body and he opens the ceremony.

"STORM, EARTH AND FIRE! HEED MY CALL! FOR TODAY OUR WARCHIEF'S SPIRIT RETURNS TO YOU!"

The shaman raises his arms as if calling the elements to surround the body of the Warchief.

"Storm, a mix of thunder and lightning, I call on you!"

The clouds grow dark and thunder rumbles as a great lightning bolt strikes the body of the Warchief and forks into four other chains, each shocking the torches around were the body lay.

"Earth, ashes to ashes and dust to dust, the body returns to the earthen state!"

The ground trembles around the body, softening the earth. Then the shaman nods to Gabriella and she takes some of the earth and sprinkles the earth on the body from head to foot.  
"FIRE! May it consume the body and release the spirit of our Warchief, my Father! Let it burn with his courage, his honour, his love for me and his clan! Let his strength become mine as I take the mantle of Warchief until a time where my brother returns to fulfill his role! May his spirit be with us all!"

She taps into her mother's dragon blood and spreads her red wings. With a mighty dragon roar, she breathes her mother's fiery breath over her father's body and watches as it burns, returning to ashe. The crowd of orcs roar as they sense the spirit of their Warchief depart and they disperse, knowing that they need to rest. Tomorrow there will be battle, and war. Gabriella watches as they all leave and she let her gaze fall to the ground

"It is done."

She weeps.

Gosh I love your stories!

One question - would "she takes some of the earth and sprinkles the earth from head to foot" read clearer along the lines of "she takes some of the earth and sprinkles it on the body from head to foot"?

Great work!

You are right that does sound better. Done and thanks again for the feedback.