Akashi's Will

by Kaden Reed

  As the leader of his people, he was expected to preside over the festivities and impart his blessings upon the combatants. The Chief would also try to entertain their Chosen guests who would be selecting the Pledges, that would later go on to become Chosen themselves, from those that entered into the competition at the end of the ceremonies.

  Nearing the entrance to the platform the Adjunct spotted the lithe figure of the Handler. “Sharn,” waiting until she acknowledged his summons, he continued, “how goes the preparations for the event?”

  Sharn approached the group and saluted the Chief before addressing Morbash, “it goes well. We have more than enough beasts for the combatants to impress the Chosen.” She continued with enthusiasm, “we even managed to capture a white tiger. It mauled half of my crew in bringing it down, so I expect a good show today.”

  Whistling softly, the Chief could not stop himself from grinning at the thought of seeing a white tiger in action again. It had been a very long time since he even laid eyes on one, let alone actually fight it. “I am greatly looking forward to seeing that beast in action,” he turned to Morbash, “how many combatants do we have today?”

  “Nearly seventy, all told,” the Adjunct responded from memory, “they are getting warmed up in the lower levels.”

  Sharn looked surprised, “that many?”

  “We had quite a turnout of hopefuls last week,” Morbash answered, “we turned away a few dozen that were either too young, too inexperienced, or both.”

  Sharn grunted, “I will have to clean out the pens to get enough beasts for everyone. Even then, we will need to increase group sizes just so everyone has their opportunity to shine.”

  “Do what you must,” Suhgarod responded dismissively, “the Chosen will get their show either way.”

  Morbash and Sharn shared a glance at their Chief’s almost heretical comments. The Church of Cainan could be said to have just as much, if not more, influence than the Chief within the village of Krolkun Dar. If the wrong orc overheard their leader speaking heresy, borderline or not, they were not sure what would happen.

  “I will see to it,” Sharn saluted her Chief before dismissing herself to return to her charges.

  “My Chief-,” Morbash began before being interrupted by a booming voice that echoed within the hall.

  “Suhgarod!”

  A grin split the Chief’s face as he turned to answer the call, “Brugo!”

  Laughing boisterously, they strode across the room and embraced, slapping each other on the back vigorously.

  “It has been too long my friend!” Suhgarod declared.

  “Two years is not so long to be hunting the finest of game,” Brugo gave a sly wink as he gestured to the orc dressed in furs behind him.

  “Oh?” the Chief sounded surprised, “and who is this fare creature?”

  “Yaz,” she stepped up to stand beside Brugo and he slid his arm around her waist, “you are Suhgarod?” She continued after the Chief nodded, “I have heard quite a bit about you.”

  “Unfortunately, I cannot say the same,” the Chief turned to his friend, “I thought you were out hunting game?”

  “And I would say that I found the greatest catch of them all,” Brugo laughed boisterously.

  “How did you meet?” Suhgarod asked curiously.

  “Now that is quite a tale,” Brugo responded eagerly, “I was pursuing a bear, had been tracking it for nearly two weeks and knew I was getting very close.”

  Yaz broke in, “you were never that close.”

  Frowning, Brugo continued, “I was tracking it back to its cave when I came upon Yaz here.” He gave her a squeeze, “passing through the valley with a deer over her shoulders. As soon as I spotted her, I was ensnared. She was the most enchanting creature I had ever seen.”

  Yaz smiled unabashedly, “you were quite easy prey.”

  Returning her smile, Brugo continued, “try as I might, I could not get her out of my mind. Within a couple of days, I gave up my hunt of the bear to pursue the wiliest of adversaries of them all.”

  “He followed my trail back to my family’s hunting lodge,” she smiled at the memory, “and apparently spent a few weeks watching me go about my routine.”

  “I was trying to work up the courage to talk to her,” Brugo laughed.

  “I have seen you face down a rampaging cave bear with nothing but a knife,” Suhgarod laughed, “and you balk at talking to a woman?”

  “Not just any woman,” Brugo responded emphatically, “the woman. The one I have dreamed about for as long as I could remember.”

  Yaz blushed slightly, but continued, “enough of that. Tell him how we finally met.”

  “So, there I was one day. I finally decided to just talk to her and let the arrow fly to find its mark, or not,” he said quietly, “I watched her walk out of the lodge with her bow and quiver so I knew she was going on another hunt. I followed her, waiting for the perfect time to approach.”

  Yaz smiled at the memory as Brugo continued, “I stalked her for most of the morning when she emerged into a clearing. I figured this was my chance, so I cautiously approached her. Just when I walked into the clearing, my foot tripped a wire and bam.” He emphasized his actions by clapping his hands together loudly, “I was suddenly yanked off my feet and found myself dangling a dozen feet above the ground.” Brugo burst into gales of laughter at the memory.

  “You trapped him?” The Chief asked in surprise, “Brugo? The best hunter this village has ever known?”

  Smiling like the cat that got the canary, Yaz answered, “he is not such a great hunter to go unnoticed by me.”

  “You see Suhgarod,” Brugo was grinning from ear to ear, “she is perfect.”

  The Chief laughed so hard tears started leaking from the corners of his eyes, “she is very much the perfect mate for you my oldest friend.”

  He invited the companions to join him on his private platform where they could recline and enjoy each other’s company. Asking Morbash to see to it that food and drink were sent up, the three continued to exchange tales on the intervening years.

  According to Yaz, her family were independent traders that, although welcomed in many villages and tribes, were not affiliated with any through bonds of blood. He made a note to inquire about her family at a later time. If they could be won to join his village, it could be quite a boon.

  “My Chief,” a quiet call came from near the entrance to his platform.

  Looking past his friend, he made out the form of Morbash, “yes Adjunct?”

  “The preparations are complete, and the coliseum has been opened to the public to claim their seats,” Morbash answered succinctly.

  Grunting as the vestiges of the afternoon spent in pleasant conversation was sucked out of the room to be replaced with the harsh demands of his station, the Chief asked, “and the Chosen?”

  “The escort we sent out to them has made contact,” Morbash replied, “the party is expected to be arrive imminently.”

  Grunting again at the news, the Chief nodded at his Adjunct, “please see to it that my friends here get good seats in the stands with as much food and drink as they can hold.” He continued after Morbash acknowledged the instructions, “then escort the Chosen to join me here.”

  The Adjunct saluted his Chief and gestured for Brugo and Yaz to follow him out the door.

  Brugo got to his feet but hesitated before departing, “Suhgarod, my old friend, you do not need to be alone here with them.” He nodded at his new wife who returned the nod, “we would consider it an honor to remain and help to keep the guests entertained.”

  Desiring the comfort of the familiar, Suhgarod wanted nothing more than to relent and allow his friend to remain by his side. But he knew it would be a mistake. The Chosen had little regard for his people besides the benefit of more warriors to join their cause. It was not unheard of for them to make an example out of someone that offended them. The Chief did not desire for any more of his people to be nothing more than a casual de
monstration of the Chosen’s power. Shaking his head, “no Brugo, this I must do alone. Go and enjoy the festivities. We will celebrate around the fires tonight.”

  “As you wish my Chief,” Brugo saluted once before he and Yaz followed Morbash out of the door.

  Sitting in silence, he watched as his people filed into the coliseum and began taking their seats. The raucous celebration already well underway in the stands. The Chief envied his people’s freedom to be able to enjoy the spectacle. Their straightforward lives had an allure that he could not dismiss. He wanted nothing more than to lay down the burden of leadership and allow someone else to shoulder it instead. Perhaps they would do a better job of it too.

  “My Chief,” Suhgarod just managed to clamp down enough on his reflexes to restrain from jumping out of his seat at the abrupt noise behind him. Unsure how much time had passed while daydreaming, he glanced at the stands and saw them completely packed.

  “Chief?” his Adjunct asked as Suhgarod stood up and turned around to address him, “are you well?”

  “Yes, Morbash,” the Chief answered, “I am well enough.”

  “The Chosen have arrived,” Morbash said, “should I send them in?”

  The Chief almost sighed in resignation but stopped himself at the last instant. Remembering that the Chosen had enhanced senses, he did not want to risk them hearing it and interpreting it as an insult. He would not likely be killed, but the punishment would be taken out on his people. Looking down at his hands, he wondered how much blood would be put on his hands by the time he was finally released from this world to join his ancestors on the Great Hunt.

  “Chief?” Morbash asked again, concern evident in his voice.

  “Yes, yes,” Suhgarod answered, “please send them in immediately.”

  Saluting his Chief, Morbash departed and returned with four human Chosen in tow a short moment later. Although the humans were minuscule when compared to the size of his orcs, they had learned long ago not to take that as a sign of superiority. The Chosen could easily kill a hundred of his warriors without taking a wound in return, “Chief Suhgarod, it is my honor to introduce you to Chosen Emma, the leader of this expedition.”

  A relatively small human woman with mousy brown hair stepped forward and offered him a hand in greeting. It was engulfed in his much larger hand as they clasped each other, “it is quite an honor to have four Chosen in my village.”

  Smiling up at him coldly, Emma replied, “yes, I imagine it is.” She released his hand and walked to the edge of the platform, “so can we go ahead and get this ceremony thing over with? I have a busy schedule ahead of me and don’t want to waste any more time here than necessary.”

  Although he had grown quite used to the arrogance displayed by the Chosen, Suhgarod had to bite back a venomous retort at the casual dismissal of his people. Taking a slow, deep breath he responded, “yes, Chosen. We have prepared a fine demonstration of our young warriors for you to witness and make your selections.” As he continued talking his voice gradually became steadier, “I have been told sixty-seven have entered the list.”

  Waving her hand absentmindedly, “that is fine. You can begin.”

  Grinding his teeth at the continued insults, Suhgarod strode to the edge of the platform and waved to the drummers on a platform positioned on the opposite end of the coliseum who began thundering furiously to quiet the crowd. After a few moments he waved his hands again and the drumming abruptly ceased. He shouted into the silence, “Krolkun Dar!” The crowd cheered raucously and Suhgarod let it continue unabated for a while just to annoy the Chosen.

  Eventually he held up his hands and silence reasserted itself over the crowd, “our people have long been relied upon by Cainan to fill his ranks with our warriors, our fighting spirit and our strength. We have come together again to undergo The Choosing. Sixty-seven of our finest warriors have entered the list to demonstrate their prowess for four of the Chosen who have come to bring those worthy into their ranks.”

  The Chief held his arms out to his sides and gestured at the four Chosen arrayed in the box around him and the crowd cheered once again, “may Cainan’s blessing fall upon the people of Krolkun Dar!”

  The crowd shouted the refrain at the sky above, “and his curse upon our enemies!”

  Sharn walked out onto the sand and addressed the crowd, “we have dozens of boars, a handful of bears, tens of wolves and even a famed white tiger for today’s events!” The crowd cheered at hearing the details of the spectacle they were about to witness. Sharn shouted above the crowd, “with your permission Chief Suhgarod, we will begin.”

  The Chief signaled to the orcs on the sand below. The drummers started pounding a steady rhythm as doors slid open and rows of warriors paraded onto the sands. When all were assembled, they saluted the Chosen in unison.

  Nodding at the assembled warriors, the Chief returned the salute and signaled to Sharn for the Choosing to begin. Most of the combatants filed back through the doors they had just come through. The predetermined handful remaining on the sand fanned out in preparation for the coming battle.

  Sharn strode out of sight and within moments a panel slid upwards and several boars took the opportunity to charge into the arena. Each creature was as tall as an orc’s thighs while standing on all fours and weighed a few hundred pounds.

  The crowd cheered on their warriors as they dodged on the sand, some narrowly avoiding disaster. For the entrants, winning was not more important than how you won. Many would time a dodge or a strike for the very last second in order to display their bravery and skill for the watching Chosen, who would select the ones that most impressed them. Every year there were always some warriors that cut too fine of an edge and ended up injured or dead themselves.

  Suhgarod’s stomach growled as he saw the boars carted off the field after the warriors slew the last one. It was customary that every creature killed during the Choosing would be a part of the night’s feast. A life lived at the edge of a mountain had taught his people to be frugal with nature’s bounty.

  Standing, the Chief walked to the edge of the platform and saluted the warriors that just finished their match. Grinning, the warriors returned the salute and departed the sand to be replaced by another group. When the signal to begin the match was issued, Suhgarod returned to his seat.

  He glanced over at the Chosen Emma and had to tamp down his fury at her insult. She was sitting in her chair, head resting against the backrest and with her eyes closed. Gripping the armrests of his chair so hard the wood started to crack, Suhgarod managed to regain enough control to not fly into a rage at the insult this Chosen was giving his people. Not even bothering to witness the display of his warriors, as if they were so far below her notice.

  Gaining a semblance of control as he watched the next few groups face down their creatures, he eventually addressed Emma, “Chosen Emma, do you require aid?”

  Her eyes blinking, she sat up, “no Chief Suhgarod. I am quite well.”

  “Then why do you rest while my people fight for your approval?” The Chief barely managed to keep the scorn from his voice as he asked the question.

  Emma was quiet for a while as she watched his warriors fight below. Thinking that she must not have heard him, Suhgarod was about to ask again when she addressed him, “because it doesn’t matter.”

  Unable to control his reaction to having his people insulted so blatantly, the Chief growled, “we have given you our finest warriors for the last few generations. My people matter Chosen.”

  Finally turning to face him fully, Emma regarded the Chief coldly. Making up her mind she sighed, “no Chief, they don’t.” She looked out at the gathered crowd as they cheered on their combatants, “Krolkun Dar is just one village among many. Your people have never mattered.”

  The rage that was coursing through him dissipated at the honest answer from the Chosen. Leaving a cold shell in its place, the Chief grunted his acknowledgment of the truth, “perhaps not to you. But to me, my people are everythin
g.”

  They sat in silence as the matches continued throughout the evening below them. Perhaps it was out of respect to the Chief for standing up to her, but the Chosen’s attention did not waiver from the combatants as the ceremony progressed.

  Sharn walked out on the sand one last time to announce that the final match was about to begin. A dozen warriors made their way onto the sand as the door was opened and the fabled white tiger calmly plodded to meet them. It was easily a dozen feet long and as tall as an orc at the shoulder.

  Taking in the arrayed warriors, the tiger roared a challenge and charged the nearest one. Catching him by surprise, the warrior did not dodge in time and was disemboweled by the beast’s large claws. Seeing the danger, the assembled warriors slowly backed up from monster and regrouped at the other end of the arena.

  Grunting in dismay, the Chief was taken aback when Emma climbed to her feet and walked to the edge of the platform. With the casual air of someone going for a stroll, she jumped the thirty feet to the ground and approached the tiger. Unarmored and unarmed, the people of Krolkun Dar held their collective breath as they feared what would happen to them if one of the Chosen were injured or killed.

  The tiger let out a guttural roar as she approached. Lunging at her with a ferocious swipe of its claws, the Chosen seemed to disappear and then reappear at the beast’s side. The crowd gasped as she punched the creature in its side and the loud crack of breaking ribs echoed through the arena.

  Mewling in pain, the tiger limped away from the Chosen. Emma seemed to disappear again and reappear in front of the tiger. Gripping it on both sides of its head, she twisted its neck violently to the side until another loud crack could be heard. The tiger’s body crumpled to the ground and lay there twitching.

  A hushed silence fell over the crowd after witnessing the spectacle of one of the Chosen so casually defeating a mythical white tiger. The apex predator was regaled in legends by the people of Krolkun Dar as the pinnacle of martial prowess.

  The Chosen looked on the corpse of the tiger coolly before turning to the assembled gathering, “the warriors of Krolkun Dar have fought well and your people have much to be proud of.” Emma turned to the fallen orc that was still struggling on the sands. Walking over to him she again addressed the crowd, “Cainan has sent me with a special task for this Choosing.” She knelt in front of the fallen orc and pulled out a small vial from the pouch at her side. Handing him the vial, she gestured for the orc to drink it. After he did, she laid him back on the sand and started pushing the intestines that had fallen out, back in. As the crowd watched, after a handful of minutes the wound seemed to disappear, leaving the warrior intact and whole.