Donnello stood and pointed towards a tall wooden gate, one which faced a steep cliff. “On the other side of that gate is the Marigold Chasm, the only known land-path in and out of the Ashlands of the Alakuum. It will take roughly a day to pass through the chasm, but when you reach the other side you will come to another large wooden gate manned by a small contingent of my men. I suggest you stay here for the night, and while you have the time, visit the quartermaster to gather provisions for your journey. Water is essential out there; no matter how much you think you will need, take more. Also, you will need clothing that will protect you from the wind. Every gust carries little flakes of ash that will slowly dry out your skin until it cracks and you have a hundred bleeding wounds.”
“What about payment?” Ulam asked, unsure how much money Amantius and Nilawen had with them. He knew he could cover his own costs, but there was no way he would be able to afford provisions for the group.
Donnello made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Do not worry about payment, Master Ulam. I am more than happy to help you and your companions. Just promise me that if you discover what happened to your race that you will inform me, either in person or by letter. I have only ever known one other Orc, who visited around twenty-five years ago. She was a huntress searching for one of her people, a false prophet of some sort. She stayed here for a few weeks before going west through the Marigold Chasm, never to be seen again. Only the Gods know what became of her or the false prophet she hunted.”
“Do you know anything about the false prophet?” Ulam asked, having never heard of an Orcish prophet before. He was too embarrassed to admit that, despite all his research, he still knew very little about Orcish culture or religion.
Donnello shook his head. “Your people are rather mysterious to outsiders, I am afraid, and their disappearance magnifies that perception. I know the Orcs worshipped a different set of deities than Humans, however. In fact, I am sure you have seen the temples in the Sanctuaries you have visited. As for the false prophet she spoke of, I have no information for you, unfortunately. With that being said, I have enjoyed our time together, and…”
A false prophet appears around the same time my people vanished, Ulam pondered as Donnello continued to speak, though his mind was shut off to the old commander’s words. Those two must be connected in some way. Could I be as well?
Donnello bid the trio farewell and then returned to governing, sending one of his personal assistants towards the quartermaster with orders. After Donnello disappeared behind a row of homes, Amantius stood, stretched, and brushed off blades of grass that had stuck to his legs.
“I don’t know about you two,” Amantius started, “but I think I’m going to spend some time at those public baths before we go. Might be the last chance to be clean for a very long time.”
The Marigold Chasm was aptly named; stalks with golden petals grew plentiful on each side of the narrow passageway. Not missing on the opportunity, Nilawen fashioned a coronet from the flowers, lacing it through her hair. As they walked through the narrow channels she picked enough flowers to make a second one, laughing when both Ulam and Amantius refused to adorn the floral headdress. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little bit of fun from time to time.”
Ulam grunted as he turned to face her, a perpetual frown carved into his face. He had been squinting the last few hours, not only because of the sun but also because flakes of ash started blowing into the chasm from the other side. He took the ring of flowers into his hand and stretched the stems as far as they would go before placing the crown over his head, bringing a smile to Nilawen’s face.
“Why?” Amantius asked as he shook his head.
Ulam grinned, his tusks gleaming in the sunlight. “Because now you are the ugly one, Brother.”
They pushed further, until at last they came to the outpost at the end of the Marigold Chasm. Twin flags bearing the symbol of the Emberi Empire danced in a steady wind atop the gates as a few soldiers hid from the sun under massive canvas tents. Unlike their comrades at the Crescent Fort, they did not wear armor, instead electing to don lighter vests and trousers made from thinner materials. An oblong building was attached to the gate, which Ulam presumed to be the barracks, with a well located directly outside. Though he could not see past the gate quite yet, he could already feel a foreboding sense of isolation. The silence hanging over the area was deafening, and the lack of activity magnified the growing dread tenfold. As he stared at the gate Ulam could not help but felt like he was placing a sentence of banishment upon himself.
“Hail!” One of the soldiers shouted from the base of the gate, though the confusion on his face was obvious. “What are civilians doing in the Marigold Chasm? This place is off-limits unless special permission is obtained from the commander of the Crescent Fort.”
“We have permission,” Amantius said as Ulam
