by Ian Rodgers
Enrai offered her the bowl, and Dora took it eagerly, devouring the meal.
“There’s more of it if you want,” the Monk said, seeing as she was almost finished with the first serving. She nodded and passed the now empty bowl back to him.
“Have there been any new developments?” Dora asked before he left the room.
Enrai shook his head. “Everything is quiet. There was some commotion when another caravan stumbled across the remains of the Greysliver Caravan, but no suspicion has fallen on us. After all, how could three people, one of whom was unconscious until now, possibly wipe out thirty or so men?”
“Can you bring Ain with you when you return? I think we should discuss our plans for venturing into the Sprawling Jungle,” Dora suggested after pushing away her dark thoughts involving the now-dead backstabbers. Enrai nodded.
“I’ll just be a minute,” he claimed, before slipping out. When he returned with Ain in tow, Dora folded her arms and pouted at the Monk.
“You took three minutes to fetch my soup and my friend. How very slow of you, Enrai,” Dora said, before she broke into a grin. Enrai laughed, and Ain smirked.
As she ate her second bowl of soul – slower, this time – she listened to the information the pair had gathered during her unconsciousness.
“Right now, the weather is still tolerable. It’s late summer, so the humidity, while bad, is not too high, since the season is almost over. We might also have to endure monsoons if we stay here too long. Spring and Fall are the rainy seasons here in the jungle,” Enrai said, recounting the information he’d obtained.
“Local wildlife shouldn’t be a problem either, as long as we get a guide,” Ain added. “There are some poisonous plants and animals around here, but the latter won’t bother us as long as we don’t bother them. It’s the non-toxic monsters we’ll have to be on guard for.”
“Can you give us an idea of what sort of animals we’ll encounter?” Dora inquired, and the Grand Elf nodded.
“Let’s see, I was told there are small colonies of Dryads and Trents. Those live far from civilization, though, so it’s unlikely we’ll stumble across any unless we do lots of harm to the jungle’s flora as we pass through. A few packs of Crimson Apes dwell in the area near Argyne, as well as herds of Terrhino in the flatter regions. Alarune and Mandrakes, of course, and a few copses of Nomad Trees here and there,” Ain said, taking a quick breath after reciting the short list of creatures. “Of course, those are just the most common ones. We could run into all sorts of monsters out in the Sprawling Jungle.”
“You mentioned something about a guide,” Dora said, tapping her chin with the spoon.
“Yes, there are a few orcs who act as guides for the various travelers, though finding one who’s fine with Ain tagging along may be difficult,” Enrai said with a frown. “There was one person who seemed interested, but that was because we mentioned you were with us.”
“Me?” Dora asked, confused.
“Yes, Ain and I were talking with each a couple of well-known guides, when one of them perked up at the mention of your name. After asking if the Dora we knew was the same one who worked for the Yellowmoon Menagerie, he then told us to look for another orc by the name of Tarn Yellowmoon. Supposedly, he’s the best guide around, even if he is getting on in years,” Enrai replied.
“Yellowmoon? Could he be related to Scarrot?” Dora wondered aloud. Her two friends nodded.
“Possibly. We asked around after that, and apparently the last name of Yellowmoon belongs to a fairly well-regarded orc tribe that does a lot of deals with the various merchants and travelers who frequent the border. Not sure if this Tarn fellow is related to your boss or not, but apparently your name is known in conjunction with his, so it might be something to look into tomorrow,” Enrai said.
Dora pursed her lips and sunk into thought. Scarrot had never mentioned having family. Nor had any of the Menagerie’s workers said anything about them, either. And if he was from a clan, why had Scarrot been a slave as a child? Too many questions swirled about in her head, and she sighed, annoyed that she had this pop up. Wasn’t her life complicated enough?
“I’ll be fine enough to walk around on my own tomorrow,” Dora declared. She raised a hand to forestall any comments from Ain or Enrai. “I know my body, and I’m a Healer.”
“Alright, then,” Ain said with a nod. “We’re going to go visit Tarn Yellowmoon, in that case?”
“Yes, that’s the idea,” Dora agreed. “I want to meet with him. And, hopefully, hire him as a guide, if he really is as good as they claim.”
“Sounds like a plan!” Enrai said with a grin and a loud clap of his hands. “Now, how about we leave you to recover some more? There were a few more stores and places Ain and I wanted to look at for information before we delve into the jungle.”
Dora sighed, annoyed at her momentary frailty, but waved off her two companions. As they left, Dora sunk back into her thoughts. Could this older orc be a lead on Scarrot’s life? Plus, there was a faint hope that this person could tell her more about her own orcish heritage.
When she had spoken with Surd – a flash of pain at the memory of the half-orc who’d betrayed her ran through Dora’s heart – she had realized she knew nothing about orc culture save for the secondhand knowledge she’d scrounged up from various sources like Holt and Rindel. One had been Scarrots closest friend since young, the other a gnomish scholar. Even Uldo and Reesh knew more than her! And they’d never left the Cracked Land before!
“What a ridiculous situation,” Dora muttered. She proceeded to look around the rented room. “What the Hells am I going to do in here while I rest? Oh gods, I’m bored!”
∞.∞.∞
The next day finally arrived, much to Dora’s immense relief. Being cooped up in the inn had not been fun. However, after stepping out into the muggy air of the unnamed border settlement, the half-orc began to regret leaving the comfort of her room.
Ain and Enrai had understated the humidity, and this was apparently, in the words of the locals, ‘mild.’ Mild! She was dripping with sweat after only a few minutes! She could only shiver when she envisioned the state she’d be in after entering the jungle proper.
“This is the place,” Enrai claimed, gesturing towards what could only be described as a hut. It lay on the outskirts of the town, and was inhabited by only one individual: Tarn Yellowmoon, allegedly the finest guide for the Sprawling Jungle.
Dora took a deep breath and knocked on the flimsy wooden board masquerading as a door. A few seconds later it creaked open, revealing a worn, battered, and very dark green skinned orc.
The half-orc blinked in surprise. She’d never seen an orc with such dark colored skin! It was practically black! His hair at least showed his age. It was grey with streaks of snow white, and crudely cropped short. The elder orc’s eyes were sharp, though, and the amber orbs regarded Dora first with suspicion, then with surprise, and finally cautious hope.
“You three are the ones who want to hire me for a trip down to Argyne?” he inquired, and Ain nodded.
“We are. You are Tarn Yellowmoon, correct?”
“That is so. Come inside. We’ll discuss matters in a more comfortable setting than my doorstep,” Tarn said, inviting them in.
The interior of the hut was just as ramshackle and unimpressive as the exterior, but gave off a cozy, well-loved feel. With just a cursory glance, Dora could tell Tarn had lived here for a long time, and made it his home.
“So, I understand you wish to forge a path through the Sprawling Jungle to reach the colony of Argyne,” Tarn began, bringing over a wooden tray with four mugs of tea.
“That is correct,” Dora confirmed, gingerly taking a seat on a rickety stool. When it didn’t collapse under her weight, she sighed in relief and accepted one of the steaming cups of tea. She took a tentative sip, blinking in surprise at the taste.
“Mint tea?” she asked softly.
“Ildora urm, as it is called in the orcish tongue,” Tarn
said, nodding his head. “The mint plant was brought to the Sprawling Jungle by the elves during the attempted occupation. It is one of the few good things that came about as a result, in my opinion.”
“Scarrot used to call me ‘Ildora,’” Dora murmured, voice quiet as she recalled somewhat happier times. “I didn’t know what it meant until a year ago.”
“I see,” Tarn said solemnly, passing two of the cups to Enrai and Ain. He showed no bitterness or antagonism towards the elf in their group, treating him as just another guest. He then took the fourth and last mug of tea and sat down in a simple wooden rocking chair.
“I had heard about his disappearance. Most people in the Cracked Land have, by now. He was a well-known, if not well-liked, figure. Many orcs in particular have divided opinions on him,” the elderly orc noted.
“You and he have the same last name. Are you perhaps related?” Dora inquired, trying to hide her eagerness for an answer behind a sip of the admittedly tasty tea.
“We are part of the same tribe, the Yellowmoon,” Tarn stated. “Though that is why he lives in the Cracked Land, rather than down here.”
“Why was he a slave? Did you sell him as a child, or was he kidnapped?” Dora demanded, before flinching when Tarn shot her a scathing look.
“The Yellowmoon used to be a large and powerful tribe. We were the official border guard tribe, serving the High Chieftain of Graz Tur Yenod as the first line of defense along the borders between the jungle and the rest of the world,” the old guide revealed. “But our glory days are in the past. We lost a tribal challenge to our rivals, the Greysliver tribe, and for a few years they took control of our duties and our territory.”
Dora gasped while Enrai and Ain grimaced at the mention of Durmod’s last name.
“One of the terms of our defeat was that the son of the Yellowmoon’s chief be sold as a slave to Annod Bol. We were in no condition to protest, and so Scarrot was sent away all those years ago. We feared we would never see him again,” Tarn said with a weary, sorrow filled sigh. He then smirked at his guests. “But then he returned.”
Tarn’s expression turned fierce, and bloodlust burned in his eyes. “He’d made a name for himself as a slaver, serving the most ruthless of the Tower Lords, Kaderick Krave, the recently deceased Domerick Krave’s father. Under him, Scarrot grew powerful, and he used his wealth and prestige to aid the waning Yellowmoon, and overthrow the Greysliver tribe. Then, about fifteen years ago, he descended into the Sprawling Jungle, and in the halls of Great God Grendal in Graz Tur Yenod, challenged the Greysliver tribe to an honor duel. He won. And with that, the Greysliver tribe was shattered and broken. He spared no one. Women and children, sold to the other tribes as servants. Every adult male became a slave. Some escaped, of course, others eventually freed themselves, but the damage was done. The Greysliver tribe was broken and dead. The Yellowmoon had its revenge.”
Dora gulped silently as she watched the old orc’s eyes gleam with vindictive joy. A memory, half buried in her mind, surfaced. Fifteen years ago… she remembered that had been when her mother had had a fight with the man who she barely remembered as her father…
‘Was that it, mom? Was what he did the reason you turned your back on him?’ she wondered sadly.
The Monk and Spellsword were also looking at Tarn worriedly, taken aback by his vicious glee as he told them of another tribe’s fall from grace.
“So, why didn’t Scarrot come back and become chief of the Yellowmoon after all that?” Enrai asked after a quick sip of the tea.
“He had no desire to rule. And another chief had already been selected, so he’d have had to fight for the right to lead. He seemed content to live in the Cracked Land as a free orc,” Tarn said with a shrug. “Personally, I think it’s because he found love, or something like that.”
“But anyways, I hope that satisfied your curiosity, Lady Dora,” Tarn said, glancing at the half-orc in the room.
“It did, thank you,” Dora said with a stiff nod of thanks. She then shook her head to dispel any lingering thoughts about Scarrot Yellowmoon and focused on Tarn. “What would it cost to hire you to guide myself and my two friends through the jungle? And what sort of time frame are we looking at?”
Instead of answering, Tarn put his cup down and rose from his rocking chair and grabbed a sheet of parchment out of one of the nearby drawers in the dresser. He laid it down on the floor in front of Dora. The Healer realized it was a map!
“This here is a very simple and crude map of the Sprawling Jungle,” he revealed, showing her the inked surface of the parchment. Enrai and Ain leaned in to get a closer look as well.
“As you can see, it only shows the bare basics, and not much of the terrain. In a perfect world, we could go from here,” he pointed at a tiny dot of ink, “to here, in a month.”
The second splotch he pointed at was bigger than the first, and had words written under it: “Argyne,” followed by “Colony of Varia.”
“However, there are a lot of twists and turns that would turn one month into three easily if we’re not careful,” Tarn explained. “The best way to get to Argyne is to reach the Kolwine River, travel it down till about here, then leg it the rest of the way to the colony.”
“Why not follow the river all the way to Argyne? It looks like it empties into the Agate Sea nearby,” Dora inquired, unsure of why the older orc wanted to get off halfway and walk the rest of the distance. She could see the Kolwine split into two tributaries near where he proposed to get off, one of which connected to the south-west coast of the Dreadlands, right next to Argyne.
“Because that stretch of the Kolwine passes through some unpleasant territory. Besides being where a rather ornery Urdrai dwells, some of the more savage orc tribes live around there, and it’s safer to just avoid them. And, of course, you don’t want to be on any river when the autumn rainy season starts. It’s a few weeks off, but the weather has been acting odd lately and I would not want it to suddenly pour on us when we least expect it. Better all around to get off when you can and walk in relative safety.”
“I see,” Dora mused. She could see his point and decided it would be best to listen to the expert. She nodded, mind made up. “How much would this cost us?”
“My services to get you down to Argyne would be ten gold each,” Tarn declared. Dora bit her lip while Enrai sputtered indignantly.
“Thirty gold for a one-way trip?! You’re crazy!” the Monk protested.
“Ten gold a piece will get you there safely,” Tarn argued. “Plus, some of the gold goes to buying space on the boat we’ll need to rent if we want to sail down the Kolwine, and it will be useful as a bribe for any corrupt border guards we come across. Not to mention it’ll pay for room and board in any tribe we happen to spend the night with.”
“Well, why can’t we keep the money and pay for ourselves?” Ain asked, brow creased in annoyed confusion. Tarn just laughed.
“You think they’d trust money that came from your pouches, mister elf? Not a chance! By giving me the money, I become your intermediary. The orcs in the jungle? They’ll trust another orc. They’ll trust that the money coming from my hands is legitimate. Not to mention I’m fairly well known in some parts. They won’t try and overcharge me. Or steal from myself or my employers. There’s a system in the jungle, children, that plays by different rules, and without knowing what they are, you’ll find yourself in heaps of trouble.”
“I don’t think we have thirty gold,” Dora said grimly. Reed had been generous, certainly, but not that generous. Thirty gold could buy a decent, hardworking slave in the Dreadlands, or a fine, well-bred horse! Hells, ten gold was more than most caravan workers made in a year!
“What about other items?” Dora suddenly asked, perking up as she remembered the bag of pearls the merfolk had given her.
“What do you have?” Tarn asked, arms folded.
“Pearls,” she declared. “White, pink, and even black.”
Tarn blinked, surprised, and licked his lip
s thoughtfully. “Yes. Yes, that might work as a substitute. How about… one white pearl is equal to one silver coin, and one pink pearl is worth one gold coin?”
“HA! Ah, that was a funny joke,” Dora laughed. “No, it’s one white pearl in exchange for five silver coins, and five gold coins in exchange for one of my pink pearls.”
“Not even if you were my granddaughter! Three silver for one white pearl, and two gold for a pink one,” Tarn shot back.
“Three silver for a white pearl, three gold for a pink pearl, and I’ll throw in a black pearl for ten gold,” Dora offered.
“Deal!” Tarn said with a grin, shaking her hand. He sat back down in his rocking chair, and pleased grin on his face. “Good to see you know the art of haggling, my dear. That is a proper skill for an orc woman to have.”
“You don’t live in the Cracked Land without becoming frugal, thrifty, and knowing how to talk down merchants,” the half-orc Healer said smugly. She didn’t know the exact prices of pearls, but she felt she’d gotten a good deal out of the older orc. Not to mention it had been fun bartering with him. She hadn’t done so in a while and it felt good. It did seem odd that he called haggling a vital skill for orcish women. Perhaps barter and arguing over prices was bigger in the Sprawling Jungle that she’d thought.
“We’ll leave tomorrow at dawn,” Tarn declared. “Be ready for heat, humidity, and mud.”
“We will be,” Dora declared firmly. Tarn smirked, as if he knew his new employers wouldn’t be ready, and he looked forward to watching them fail.
Dora huffed, and refused to prove him right.
Chapter 15: Into the green
Dora grimaced as she pushed a damp, errant lock of blonde hair out of her face. Traveling through the Sprawling Jungle was a chore and a half. Her whole body felt wet from the humidity, and the heat! Oh, gods, the heat! That just made everything worse!
The cooling charms and enchantments woven into her clothes only did so much to repel the oppressive climate of the Sprawling Jungle. They worked wonders in the Cracked Land, but the wet, soggy and humid heat of her current location negated a lot of her cooling magic.
