The Tide of Change

[Duffy]

“Mountains.”

Duffy slapped Leopold across the back of the head.

“Oh, snow too.”

“How did you manage a mercantile empire for a hundred years with that keen intellect? Look closer.”

Leopold rolled his eyes and counted the number of peaks. He frowned. There were seven last he checked, each named by the orcs after the founding chieftains of the great tribes. He counted gain, then dropped his jaw as the sun rose above them and brought Berevar into daylight.

“Okay, you have my attention.”

Duffy could sense Leopold’s reservations. He produced a map from the pouch on his hip and unfolded it slowly.

“I used the Orrerry to track down the cartographical studies your father ordered of the Ayhark Tundra.” He handed it to Leopold, who took it with a raised eyebrow. “The mountain ranges were of particular interest to Gregory Winchester.”

“He was a bit obsessed, if I remember correctly.”

Long before Leopold had returned to Scara Brae, his father had smallholdings all over Berevar and Salvar. When the family fell apart, Leopold had inherited the ruins of the Winchester Rose and buried most of his father’s possessions in the basement of House Winchester.

“Ignoring the fact that you broke into my home and robbed me…this doesn’t explain why a whole mountain’s vanished.” He bit his lip and held the map up to the skyline.

“Look at the names.” Duffy smirked.

Leopold read them aloud and re-read them when he realised something was wrong.

“Druga, Hun, Felt, Otto, Drammen, Klimt, and…” The named mountain was ominously absent from the horizon. Leopold handed the map back and folded his arms across his chest. “Okay, now you’ve really got my attention.”

“Funny, isn’t it. How that name keeps coming back to trip us up. What do you remember about him?”

Leopold tried, but remembered only a drunken haze and a rather unfortunate incident with a landslide that left him the last side of yesterday for months. He hated himself for not recognising the connection before now.

“Apophis, cute bastardisation of a culture he tried to obliterate. I’d hoped he had died long ago, but now it makes perfect sense.”

Leopold reached into a vorpal realm and produced a cigar. He dispelled the vault and bit the end off with his teeth. As bourbon would freeze in this cold, he turned to the next in a long line of crutches to calm his nerves. He held it between his teeth and stared where the mountain once was with a smouldering hatred.

“Hiding right under my bastard nose.” He clicked his fingers and the cigar ignited. Tobacco and cinnamon filled the air. He took a deep drag and exhaled quickly.

“They all had talents stretching the imagination. From what we know of the Forgotten Ones, his was to reshape reality.” Duffy clicked his neck and took several steps forwards. “I’m not sure why he chose to reveal himself now, but I’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.” He pulled up his trousers and tightened his belt.

“Apotheosis…” Another plume of smoke filled the air.

“The Last of the Tyrants.” Duffy let the words ring in the air before he descended the slope and began the long march north.