The Golgarothiad - The Greatest Orc Tale Ever Told Chapter VI: The Tragedy of Zinon, son of Zeus

The defeat of a large portion of the Ebonstone was to lead several of those who had gone south, to plead for reinforcements was to prove to be one of the greatest humiliations for the entirety of the clans. Once news reached the tribes in the north, a year of mourning was deemed appropriate by all, even the Demontongues present.

The age that followed, was one without many conquests or much doing on the part of the Ogres. With Andmurn the highest of the high and hardly a proper warrior as he founded what was effectively, the first city in the area, and naming it Golkrok or ‘Golgroc’s Mount’. Others preferred to found a city farther north-west named Kulghar, after the fallen chieftain, believing Andmurn’s refusal to hunt down the forces in the south to be cowardice. Thus, were the sons of Golgroc split in two again, though if bloodlessly and far less passionately than before.

Dying nine years after this defeat, Andmurn was entombed in a specially built necropolis made of wood that soon rotted, and fell apart with his remains then buried beneath the dirt of his temple, instead. With a simple engraving to mark his final resting place, as a new shaman, who had been his pupil selected to succeed him.

The trouble was that, while he had been a faithful follower of the great god, Andmurn had spurned any sort of equal religiously, and jealously guarded his prerogative, as the ‘last shaman of Golgroc’. Hating to share the position, he had hardly prepared his successor who was the last true follower of the old god, and who was soon found wanting, as head-shaman. Replaced with a follower of Lokrinn, by Melvar Demontongue, so that the corruption of the Ogres continued apace with nary a dissenting voice, as all had grown weary of the passiveness of Andmurn.

Peace dominated in this age, not only the humans in the south, but those in the valley of Vydarok who contented themselves with trade and farming. Forgetting as it were, the terrible price that had been heaped, upon the Elves by their ancestors the Ogres favoured entrenching themselves there, and exchanging what they grew with the locals.

Dolthorian in the meantime, contented itself with the ancient lands of Arenia, Mackenya, Nexos and Thespaliona. Annexing them, bringing unity and peace to those lands, and a sense of brotherhood it is said though, it was not to last beyond two kings; Pelagius and Phaedros, his son. The kingdom was one with proper roads, ones of stones far more polished than those, utilized frequently by the armies and merchants. The kingdom was mayhap the jewel of the entire Dorian world, before the age of Dolthorian. Something which the kings, of that land were more than aware of, and immensely proud of, given how eagerly they rejected all talks of alliance with others (outside of marital ones), their neighbors.

If Mackenya was intent upon hurrying along, to its inevitable disaster, Dolthorian was not. Pelagius took proper stock, of his number of allies, and those he did not have links to, and sent messengers to Parrus in Thespaliona, just as he also did to the Illyvrian tribes south of the Lyvrian River. The ‘Wild Men of Illyvria’ they were dubbed, by the men of that age, even by the tribesmen who neighboured their lands. Others dubbed them, the ‘Monsters of Illyvria’, either moniker was well-earned, with a thousand of those tribes it is said rising up, at the call to arms of Pelagius. They knew him, from the time of their fathers’, or from their fathers’ fathers’ days, and had heard of how far and widely he had travelled. Of his great mythic quests, of his heroics in destroying the first great beasts, of bringing civilization to so many wayward tribes, in his assistance in pushing back the first Harpy invasions. It was thus with joy, and pride that the sons of Illyvrius the Savage held up their spears, their bows and their bronze swords, and called out as one that they meant to march thither, to fight by his side.

Pleased by this positive response, from the great tribes, the near-god also sent men wither to the lands of Lykia where, the great tribes there also arose at his call. All over both lands, and even those farther east, along with the great colonies of the Dwarves, the mines of the Komodians, all swore to fight against the Ogres. None had any great desire, to be destroyed by the terrible barbarians they said, who reigned down upon them, from the far north, with their crimson swords and spears.

Worried over the rising power of the great demons, from Jotunvheimr, notably of Kenerros and the Queen of the ice realm, Helva the Half-Corpse devil, the rulers of Olympos conferred their blessings upon Pelagius. Even Zeus who detested the son of Prometheus, conferred upon him, his sincerest blessings in the mortal realm, anything to be rid of the demons. Who had sent their followers hither, to wipe out and desecrate the temples of the lords of Olympos, with the followers of Zeus crying out to him for aid. Angered by the Ogres, the storm-god refused to directly interfere, sent Hermes to warn the possessed Kulghar of the dangers, of continuing as he was doing.

Laughing in the face of the messenger, the Ogre chieftain sneered at him, “Depart from here little godling, here we be men. We are mighty, with our deities here to seize all that thee hath, thy squealing means little for thou shalt soon be upon thy knees, pleading for thy life.”

Infuriated by these outrageous words, the Olympian departed to report them to Zeus, who bore his anger for some time… that is until he espied a beautiful maiden, amongst the Illyvrians; the chieftain of a tribe’s daughter, Pellonia. Descending down to the tribe, he took her just as she was in the midst of gathering wheat for her tribe. It was the task of the women, to do so with Pellonia having a tendency to wander off sometimes on her own, with this particular day Zeus turning himself, into a piece of wheat, slipping up beneath her dress before he took on the shape of a man.

Her screams were heard, with her father hearing them, going to stop it when the shaman informed him, of how it was Zeus. Aware of his own daughter’s beauty, Acanthus the chieftain, being a dishonourable lout keen for glory and a proper successor stood where he was. Allowing his daughter’s violation, as she screeched for aid, crying to her father for aid, Acanthus in response did naught. This act is one of the great evil deeds of Acanthus, who had no wish to be evil, yet he began his descent at that moment, as he abandoned his daughter to the storm-god.

After the god had done his terrible deed, she was left a broken woman, weeping with her father thanking the god, and requesting to be made a king in gratitude for her. To which Zeus agreed, as he had Hermes guide the mortal and his people to the great hill of Adoniófos, where twelve other tribes of the Illyvrians had come together. Supported by the gods of Olympos, Acanthus was crowned king. King of the Adoniodii he dubbed himself, to the dissatisfaction of a great many, of the united tribes though they did not resist him, for they feared their demonic gods too much.

As to the great man’s daughter, she great large with Zeus’s son, unhappily so she became a fragile, broken thing who drew the irritation of her father, and even more so, his new wife. Who longed to be rid of the young woman, and to have her own future children favoured, in her stead by her husband. Pellonia fell into a great mourning after the birth of her son; she loved her son yet felt herself to be unworthy of her love, Leonidan who she had hoped to marry. A hunter’s son, he was a magnificent young man, full of strength and kindness, and familiar with old lore. These feelings in mind, she threw herself into the Lyvrian-River, where she drowned with her people naming the river after her, in the days after her death.

Full of sorrow for her passing, Acanthus blamed Leonidan who full of grief left with his father, the two of them headed north to where Arenia had once been. There they joined, with many of the survivors of that kingdom, and aided them in the fight against the Ogres. As they showed them, how to hide in the forests, in the woodlands and retreat from the monstrous tainted ones when necessary.

As to Acanthus, as king he raised his grandson, the great son of Zeus to be his heir, with the boy a foot-taller than most men, and far, far greater in spirit and cunning. He was also capable of healing, far faster than any other mortal man. Zinon was able to recover from a sword slash, or a smashed bone in a matter of minutes, so that many were awed and frightened by him, when he fell down a ravine and broke his legs. His legs healed in a matter of minutes, so that by the time Akakios his friend, returned to report the incident, all knew what had happened. Few believed, however Acanthus did and he felt gleeful that his heir, should be so great.

Queen Yanna though, felt only resentment that nothing she did, could garner the same approval from her husband, and being black of heart in time began to scheme Zinon’s death. She attempted multiple times whilst he was still young, all of her attempts failed though. With Zinon reaching manhood, with the queen fearful for her own two sons’ and their claim to the throne, she turned then to Hera, the jealous wife of Zeus.

The Queen of the gods had long planned for Zinon reaching adulthood, and well-familiar with the youth she had maintained an eye upon, sent a message to her good-sister Amphitrite. The Queen of the Seas was powerful and mighty, not one to be trifled with even by mad-Poseidon, and were it not for his trident she might have conquered, her husband. However, in this instant, it was Hera who made use of her, turning her through cunning against the half-god to show him the truth of how his mother had died.

Young, brash and full of the hot-blood of his father, he had been well-trained in arms was filled with wroth, and swore vengeance for his beloved mother. He refused to heed, the counsel of the shaman Kulkos, who was a follower of Vecate the Black, or ‘Hekate’ as the Aecheans know her. The old man wished for him to forgive, his grandfather and beware the might of the Furies, who had hounded more than one king to his doom, over kin-slaying.

Zinon waited for a hunt, where he feigned affection for the old man, bringing to his attention as they galloped near the river Pellonia. A place that made Acanthus uneasy, since he had always forbidden his grandson Zinon to visit there so that he had grown to detest the place, as it reminded him too much of his long-departed daughter.

A daughter that Zinon was keen to remind him of, telling him that she had thrown herself, into that river, only thence did he lure the old man, nearer to it. It is said by some that he drowned, him in the river, however surely that is nonsense. All know it is easier, to run a man through, from behind and to dispense the body into the river, in place of wrestling and struggling with them.

Dead, with the throne now open to Zinon, who attempted to seize it, unfortunately he had not properly planned out his murder. Lo, his people rejected him as king favouring Yanna’s lover Vlassis, who led the people against Zinon claiming him to be a kin-slayer.

Haunted by his crime, as much as the fury of his kindred, and hunted from Illyvria into the lands of Arenia, he sought out Leonidan. The man whom, his mother had loved so ardently, and whom had in the days since the death of Pellonia, become a buckler for the people of Arenia was chased out of the great cities, they had once been lords of, and into the woods and mountains.

Zinon wandered the land for some time, lost and alone it seemed. Banished from the only home he had ever known he was to be haunted by the Furies.

The first home he sought to make for himself in the foothills to the south, were to be struck by Komodians who descended down from the mountains in great numbers. This tribe known as the ‘Black Tribe of Vilkasse’ was among the foulest that ever lived, and made to boil the youth’s newfound family and friends alive before him in great black pots or in holes they dug and filled with oil and soup. The soups and oils with the cadavers they fed to the nearby Erde-Wyrm Vilkasse who greatly enjoyed the feast.

Zinon sought to rescue those who had taken him in, only to be mesmerized by the shadowy-eyes of the chieftain of the Komodians, Walton. Those eyes reflected back to him his dastardly sin, so that he stood frozen unable to move as the tribe he loved called out and screamed to him for assistance. When all was at an end, the Komodians withdrew back behind their gates and their revered Wyrm rounded upon Zinon commanding him, “Begone from this place Son of Zeus, for thou hast no place here. Defeated twice now thou hast been, and so battered thou must ride south-east. That is if thou dost wish for the means by which to avenge thy honour against those who deprived thee of thy dishonour.”

Not without some measure of cunning, Zinon was to make as though to leave but full of rage he was to return later in the day when the great Erde-Wyrm, by this time inebriated by the mixing of wine and beer that the Komodians had discovered with the blood and oil of those boiled. He was to taunt the great drake who infuriated in turn sought to give chase whereupon he made to cross a great pass that led up the Vilkasse-Mountain. Zinon having taken refuge further up the mountain was to drop down from a great height with his spear forged by Hepheastus before his encounter with the Komodians thrust downwards. In this manner he severed the head of the beast from its shoulders, though not before it spoke a terrible curse.

“Well might thou slay me son of Zeus! However, victory shalt only bring about further grief for thee and thy name is to be forgotten or otherwise spat upon!” Vilkasse the Erde-Wyrm cursed ere the hero sneering departed for the south-east.

It was therein the south that Zinon was to spear in hand and the skull of his enemy pulled by oxen cart was to find his way into the capital of the Kingdom of Mackenya. There he was welcomed by the people, who were astonished by his arrival. Requesting the aid of the sorcerer Arlvas who was said to have slain many a dragons through the arcane arts and had since retired from the world, to study in a great tower in the city. He had established himself there at the invitation of the King, who had always treated him well so that the Tigrun sorcerer felt himself to be indebted to him.

Retired also from the practice of the arcane, he had taken up painting which had always been a passion of his. Lovingly drawing together images of great scenes from the histories of his people, those of the Dorians and also of the Elves and Dwarves, he was the finest painter in the history of that nation.

Zinon was to make his presence known to those within the city, whereupon he was urged to present the dragon’s skull before Arlvas who took the sight of the dragon’s head as well as any man could. Amazed and impressed he was to throw himself forward with all the pride of a son of a King, so that the sorcerer irritated could not help but complain when men were sent to find him. The messengers having been sent to find him by the fearful people of Mackenya so that he was by the time he arrived to find the hero in a great fury, so that he was to throw himself before the young man pleading with him as he did so. “Do not be angry, son of Zeus for the people here are goodly and true and though short of temper hath never known so ferocious a youth such as yourself!”

The youth in question was to reluctantly give in even as he was to answer that he had need of armour forged from the dragon’s skull. This puzzled the sorcerer who informed him that he knew no smith skilled enough to assist in such a task.

“I need it that I might retake the throne that is rightfully mine!” Zinon bellowed at the old sorcerer who detecting the presence of the Furies was to hesitate to help the young man, for he like all reasonable men feared them so.

Shadowed by the knowledge of their presence he was to commune with the gods later, and to offer up a small sickly pigeon to Hepheastus who counseled that Zinon be sent to the King while he took up the dragon’s skull to forge from it the armour and arms that the hero necessitated.

The armour and blades that he crafted were among the finest of that age, though they were not the finest that Hepheastus was to make in the whole of his lifetime. The smith was to later dub them the ‘ugliest of my works’ so that sorcerer kept these facts to himself. Flawed though they were in the eyes of the god they were beauteous still to behold and even more impressive to wield as Zinon was to discover.

He was to once satisfied that the sorcerer would consult with the local papás of Hepheastus on how best to garner the smith-god’s attention to get him to do more work, and if not some other smith to work with Arlvas to forge the finest armour Doria had ever seen he left. Away he went to escape the Furies for a time, doing so with more than a little difficulty as they tore a crest of blood through the summer as he moved from farm house to farm house. He was to live as a brigand for a short time, as everyone who housed him came to an unfortunate end due to the Furies.

It was upon his return to the city that having gathered a thoroughly dark reputation in the countryside that he took up a cloak and new name that he encountered to his amazement therein the bazaar the loveliest of Mackenya’s flowers. Her name was Calista and she was the princess of the city, and of far finer features and flaxen-hair than any other maiden that had ever lived there since the days of Calypsa.

Where Calypsa had chosen her husband with care from among the finest of Mackenya’s youths the lady Calista was to when Zinon made to steal her away, come to believe him the only man for her. Of a foolish nature she believed the entreaties and oaths of love of the man before and charmed by him did not pay heed to the warnings of those around her. The two would meet every night for a number of days before Zinon swore to gain her father’s approval. So that he went straightaway to the man’s palace when he learnt who she was that he might present himself as the young maiden’s suitor.

When he heard how the hero wished to pledge his troth to her, the monarch was astonished and bewildered. He had heard of what had happened in the north and was distressed to hear that the warrior had found his way into Mackenya. Terribly apprehensive over him and how the Furies continued to torment the young man, he was to address the youth in the most severe of tones that the young man was to ever hear. “It must be said warrior of the north that all know what has happened to thine grandfather and how he met his untimely end. How could a man agree to pledge his daughter, she who is as the finest pearl of his realm to a man tormented by the Furies?”

Angered by the refusal on the part of the King to give over the princess Calista to him, Zinon was to demand of him, “What must I do to lay claim to that which thou prizes above all else in this world?”

“What must thou do? Why bring me the heads of the coven of Harpies that have ruled over the nearby mountains and have endeavoured always to torment my people and steal away their children to sacrifice them to their fell she-demon Balara.” The King proclaimed impatiently as he turned away the hero who grinding his teeth departed to do just that, resolved to win the hand of the fairest lady that had ever caught his eye.

Ere his departure though, he feigned that he would need time to gather arms such as arrows and blades in preparation for the great quest that lay ahead for him. Departing for the nearby mountains he was to track the Harpies over the course of three weeks, whereupon he discovered them near the Caverns of Balara where their ancestors had worshiped the darkest of demons. It was therein that place that he was to slay them one after another.

His sword was swift and sharp, and he had little in the way for mercy. One of the Harpies in her last moments warned though that if he took her pendant, which he had eyed greedily he would condemn his line. “Bah,” said he, “What need hath I for a lineage if I claim she whom I desire and that which is mine by right and set aside the mad ravings, and torments of the Furies that hound me so!?”

“Yes, but just as it has doomed us to failure and victory to our enemies, so too shalt it be so for thee, Zinon!” The Harpy-witch warned with a great cackle that resounded throughout the caves deep within the mountains.

Seizing the necklace he was to make to leave with it, unthinking of the great tragedies that might await him should he cling to it. It was when he had returned to the city of Mackenya that he was to present it before the King. Disgusted by the sight of it, he was to have it thrown into a nearby fire that he might finish his dinner.

The second labour was one that was unavoidable and yet the young hero went some length towards complaining about it though the King attempted to explain himself. “My daughter is no longer here, Zinon,” He explained utterly miserable, “She was seized shortly before thine return, taken in the dead of night to the northern Tower of Argus. All who have gone thither have never returned.”

“What hast taken her?”

“The monster Argus,” the King informed him whereupon he turned away to give himself over to his weakness.

Departing for the north where the mountains were, he was to set out to defeat the monstrous Argus, whom he espied by accident whilst hunting a rabbit. Following him to a nearby cavern grotto, the warrior was to remain hidden in the foliage and was to go on to follow the monster as he came and went, eating rat and dogs raw. Such was the horror of his face, of his very being and stench of his long limbs and grey face and eyes that few who survived him were to ever bring themselves to speak of him thereafter. Zinon was no exception.

He waited until nightfall before slipping into the grotto to slay the beast with the sword gifted him by Hepheastus which he had dubbed Kokkónti, which means ‘Red-Tooth’. It was with this blade that he was to cut apart the monster that had haunted Mackenya for so long.

This accomplished he slipped into the caverns, and after slaughtering the beast’s four daughters that were in the midst of preparing Calista for sacrifice to their father, he untied her and returned her to her father but not before he had taken her to a shrine of Hera to be married.

When told of this just before his arrival, the King took this as a grievous insult so that he was to complain on the youth’s arrival, “Why have you done this thing? I had intended to give her to thee, and now you have taken her as your own without my blessings.”

“Thou would hath denied her me!” Zinon shouted back with equal might, and greater pride than her sire.

“If such be the case, thou shalt not hath my blessings but my curses! You will wander these lands, haunted still by the Furies and without purpose until such time as you learn to beg!” King Alkaios was later to in vengeance against the youth have the story of what had happened spread throughout his kingdom.

The result was that before the day was out the city had turned on the youth, and by the end of the month all knew and all shunned the cursed youth and his wife. Together they travelled the land, with the young hero doing his utmost to make a life for himself in this or that kingdom. Notably he was to take up with merchants who hired him to act as their escort from city to city, so that he in time after five years came to enjoy a comfortable existence.

The Furies which had been distracted for a time by their own vendetta against other more glaring sinners turned once more towards the son of Zeus, directed back to him by Hera. It was at this time that they drove him to such distraction that he neglected the guarding of his eldest son so that when one of the Furies came at him, he was soon found slain by a friend of Zinon, an old miner who had taken on the role of grandfather of a sorts. The boy was found with his head dashed against the rocks near the river, and was soon taken home where his bereaved mother was soon beside herself with grief. She might well have thrown herself upon the same rocks were it not for Zinon’s return home.

No less stricken, he soon realized what it was that had caused this and cursing the Furies he searched them out and was to challenge them to a duel on the mountain. This they accepted and as he rent asunder the flesh of the goddess, she vanished to reveal herself to be none other than Menelaus the miner who had followed him. Stricken with grief, and turning away he fled back to his home to find his wife having left him, for she had decided to take her son’s corpse back to her father, taking with her their only other child, their daughter Chara.

Infuriated and betrayed, Zinon hurried after her, only to go mad once more when he had caught up to her, it was near the home of the Harpies, the very same that he struck down years prior that they were attacked. He had in his ignorance of the place many years prior missed the daughters of the Harpies alongside a number of Ogres who had joined with them, in scheming an ambush against the hero who had years prior invaded their lands and speared many of their fathers and brothers to death. And so it was that in a fit of fury he struck a number of them dead with his sword, Kokkónti which none of the winged-witches could survive with the Ogres likewise struck dead in short order.

Lost in the madness of battle and driven-mad by the Furies, it was in this state that he struck dead the favourite of his children that he had named Chara, or ‘joy’ for she had been naught but a joy to him. It was then that the Furies left him, their madness deserted him and the Harpies deceased they could no longer menace him as he stood thereupon the road just outside the mountains where they had made their home.

Stricken with grief, Zinon fell to his knees clutching at his daughter’s cadaver and wailing and weeping brokenly. Never had such grief been seen in those parts’ so that the mountains echoed with his screams and the earth shrieked and echoed also. Such was the infamy of his cries, and the loudness of them that those mountains became known as Zinon’s Chasm for it was believed he had fallen into one of a sorts.

As to the princess she flew from there, believing her husband to have lost himself to madness, she brokenly fled back to her father who took her in at once. When he heard her tale he wept also, for he had aged a great deal and become broken by the knowledge that his daughter was out in the world with a madman without him to protect her from him. He took her in and wed her after the year had ended to one of his generals who cared for her, and fathered two sons upon her, whom she treasured to the end of her days.

“O Kokkónti what say thee? Taste the blood of he who slew the Wyrm Vilkasse, the Harpy Hellara and the monstrous Argus and know satisfaction at long last!” So that now at long last Zinon was to drive the blade gifted him by Hepheastus and enchanted by Arlvas through his chest.

His passing appeased at long last the Furies who had so long tormented him, with the hero to be remembered for centuries as a figure of pity throughout Mackenya. The women of the city in later years would follow after the princess whom he seduced in the laying down of flowers at the feet of his tomb, which read the following words:

‘Here lies the son of the lady Pellonia, Zinon the peerless son of Zeus hounded by Furies, the slayer of fell-drakes, harpy-witches and of Argus… a pox on the house of any who drove him to his ignoble end.’

This latter inscription was said to have been added later, though by whom has never been determined. It is said that it may well have been the Dwarf Kulkos who loved him as one might a son, others have proposed that it was done on the orders of the princess Calista or perhaps that it was one of the Olympians who did it.

Little does it matter for the curse that was cast by this inscription would bear fruit in the years to come so that Mackenya would undergo the loss of her royal house at the time that the Stjárgamen drifted into the shores of Aechea and Doria.

It was in the spring after Zinon’s passing that Calista gave birth to his son, Prince Hyllas who was destined to someday become one of Mackenya’s finest heroes…

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Also Crown of Blood has a new edition, with maps, character bios and more!