Elena looked over at Elden.
“You’re welcome by the way,” said Elden.
“For saving me from Gorgon Bartok?” she asked.
Elden briefly stared at her. Then as if he remembered what he was supposed to say, he shook his head in a distinct expression of indifference to her.
"No, you should be thanking me, because of the special part of history you shall witness. My people, the orcs, have made an epic journey through fire and ice, but have been slaves to elves and men. Now," he said pointing to her, "you have the privilege to watch history forever changed, as my people, the orcs, become the masters."
CHAPTER 13: ZILES
Elena – Creek County, Oklahoma
As terrifying as she found Elden, somehow she had been able to sleep. Elena slept until rough hands grabbed her. She screamed as she felt something touching her face. She opened her eyes and saw another orc standing in front of her with its rubbing her forehead. The orc held a pair of scissors in the other hand.
Elena’s knuckles landed against the orc's temple, as she struck out in terror. Falling back on Chance's training, she threw a vicious round knee to the orc's mid-section. The creature stepped back from her strikes and kicked her away. Elena was not a striking expert, but she could tell that the orc had held back as he struck her.
Both stood there looking at each other in the space the kick had just created. The orc did not look like Bartok but looked more similar to Elden. His muscles were not as large, but he appeared to be very strong. He wore black tactical style-pants, a "wife-beater" muscle-shirt, long hair that was pulled back, that showed his long pointed ears, and the sharp teeth that came up from his mouth. He did not currently have his weapon or his tactical kit on him. He had it stowed on the floor away from her. Elena noticed that he did not wear the black tactical gloves the way Elden did. He wore blue surgical gloves on his hands. There were blotches of blood, visible on the blue gloves.
"What have you done to me, freak?"
The creature stood still. Elena could see the anger in the creature's face, but the longer she stared at him, she did not see animal-like animosity that Bartok possessed. Elena could see a frustration on the orc's face. He did not appear to want to kill her, but he had a grimace on his face. She understood he wanted to tell her something.
She raised her hand and touched her head where she had fallen. The area was now numb, and her fingers traced the wound like it was not her own. She ran her fingers down her face to her lip where she had been cut as well. On both areas, she could feel stitches sewn into the wounds. Driven by curiosity, she tapped both of the numb areas with her fingers. The areas felt cold to her touch.
"I'm sorry," started Elena.
“No, I am sorry. We orcs are not renowned for our bedside manner. My name is Ziles. I am a proud member of the Sons."
Elena curiously looked at Ziles. The grimace disappeared and the orc smiled. His smile was more intimidating than his grimace because it exposed his predatory teeth, but she knew the creature's intent.
“May I finish, elf-daughter?”
Elena nodded, and the orc came forward. Ziles’ hand immediately touched her wounds, and he began to trim the stitches.
“We have changed the bandage, and the cuts are healing. We would have treated your injuries earlier, but at the time, we could not stop. We applied an old orcish remedy to your wounds, and I stitched up the cut. My hands may be rough, but we were thorough.”
“How do you know all this?”
"Because I'm the medic."
"But, where did you get all this knowledge? Bartok is wandering around looking like an 80s slasher monster, and you are tending to wounds. How do you appear to know so much about medicine?"
“Because,” he said leaning forward, and looking side to side before speaking, “my training is a lot better than his.”
“How so?”
"Because my brother, Elden Orkenkind himself trained me."
Elena shivered at Elden's name. For a split second, she thought to ask if he taught him to goose-step too. But, she trembled again in fear, as she contemplated making that statement. Nervously she nodded in acknowledgment of what Ziles had said.
“He seems,” she paused and sighed as she grasped for the right word, “thorough.”
An awkward and terrifying laugh came from her captor.
“Yes, the big brother can at times be a little...intimidating.”
Elena tried to laugh, but her eyes bulged as she tried to force a smile.
“There is no reason to fear, elf-daughter, you shall be treated as if you were one of our own.”
"But, don't you eat your own?"
“You are right Elvinmeyer. Orcs are known for, among other things, their acts of cannibalism. But we are not those orcs. We are the future. We are the Sons."
"I had heard Elden say that name, the ‘Sons', when he was watching me and gave his…manifesto. Who are the Sons?"
“Who are the Sons?” asked Ziles. He tapped his finger against his lips as he thought about the question. “The most important group in the history of my people.”
CHAPTER 14: ZILES’ DEPARTURE
Elena - Creek County, Oklahoma
Elena woke to Ziles’ hand pulling at the bandage on her face. His red eyes stared at her, and she was able to stop herself before she screamed.
“Elf-daughter, I must change your bandage before we move," he said as applied a new clean bandage against Elena’s face. He pressed the gauze to her face, and then came in close, and placed both of his hands on her shoulders. His eyes came in close to hers.
“Elena, do not leave Elden’s side. Do not try to run away.”
“But I want to be free.”
Ziles looked at her smiling and nodded in agreement. He grabbed her bicep, softly, but she could feel the strength in his hands. Ziles looked left to right, and again his face moving in close to hers.
“Elena, do not leave Elden’s side.”
“Speak of the devil,” whispered Elena softly.
She pulled back from Ziles grasp, in a semi-fetal position. Her skin crawled, as the giant orc warrior stared at her. The two orc warriors stared at each other. Elden looked to his left and his right and then began to converse in a harsh, percussive language. They lowered their voices, but they could not hide the percussive sounds. Then, the style of their words changed, into was a fluid and beautiful form. Elena looked wistfully, as she thought she might understand what they said.
“Mind yourself, elf,” said Elden. “You are intimidated, and you have not even seen me angry yet. Don’t test me, or the world will be short one tyrant.”
She was visibly shaking as she stood up. Elden reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Do not test me,” he said. “Stay with me and you will survive,” he spoke in a hushed tone.
Elena pulled back from Elden and was curious if she had heard compassion in his voice. Her eyes searched for compassion in the orc's face. Elden's face seemed soft, but as if he could read her thoughts, he became angry, and raised his hand and pointed towards the stairwell. She nodded and then walked up the stairs. At the top, they looked out and saw the darkness of the night, illuminated only by the stars. Bartok was waiting for them. He stood bent over and was rubbing his hands together as if deep in thought. He still wore the burlap bag, and his weapon was crudely strapped to his back.
Elena and the orcs moved out into the night. She was surprised at how her eyes adjusted to the darkness without any assistance. Maybe she was an elf after all? Bartok lead, Ziles pulled rear security, and Elden stayed in the middle. Elena had no tactical training, but she thought it was odd that Gorgon Bartok was in the front, when it was apparent that Elden knew the route. Had Elden manipulated the situation, so that he could keep his eye personally on Elena?
They continued walking in the darkness. She knew they had been walking for hours when she could feel the warmth of the sun rising. In her heart, she knew what was about to happen. Even though she was new to r
ucking, she could feel all the individuals anxious for rest. She was afraid she had fallen asleep standing up, but could not always be sure if she was awake. Suddenly, she saw Elden walk toward Bartok who stopped walking and listened to the information that Elden told him.
Something pricked her ears.
“What is that?” she asked herself. An image came into Elena’s eyes, but she could barely believe. She rubbed her eyes, and then stared again. “Is that a Larry Bird jersey?” she asked herself.
Elena looked back at Elden, Bartok, and Ziles. Ziles continued to pull rear security and Bartok flapped his arms widely as he debated with Elden.
“No way,” she said to herself, and she looked again. Her mouth gaped open. There was a man sitting on top of a four-wheeler. He had blonde hair and red beard and was wearing blue Jnco-style jeans and a Larry Bird Jersey. Beside him, was a black man a wearing similar style of jeans, but with a flat-brimmed Houston Astros hat, and an Astros jersey. The apparent Astros fan, had a machete, which he slung back and forth clearing out a path for the Celtics fan.
Now, was her opportunity. The cellist looked back at her enemies, and then slowly began to crawl away from her position. Slowly at first, but excitement started to push her faster. The orcs continued to argue.
“Go, go, go, go!” she whispered to herself. Now, she sprinted. The two men almost jumped out of their skin when they saw her. Their mouths gaped open, and they looked at one another.
“Why are you going this way?” asked the Astros fan.
“I’ve been kidnapped,” said Elena.
“Yes, I know, but why aren’t you going south?” asked the Astros fan.
“What?”
Something yanked Elena by her hair. In an instant, she was pulled onto the four-wheeler. The Astros fan pressed his machete up to her face. “Ssshhh,” he whispered as she screamed.
“Help me!” she cried out
.
“You’re coming with us!” screamed the Celtics fan.
She pushed the Celtics, fan, and he rolled off the four-wheeler. As the gangster fell back, he yanked at Elena’s hair. Elena could feel the pressure on her hair. Suddenly, the pressure was released even though the hand still remained in her hair. Elena reached behind her head and felt this hand.
There was a masculine scream behind her. She turned around. Gorgon Bartok stood over the Celtics fan with a machete in his hand. The Boston fan was on his knees clutching one arm.
“What is happening,” she said, and again, she reached her hand behind her head again. A severed hair fell from her head.
In a morbid obsession, she watched as the hand fell to the ground. Looking up, there was Ziles, who roughly grabbed her and threw her to the ground.
“Elf-daughter, I told you not to leave my side!” he whispered. “Now, you must learn what the Sons are capable of.”
CHAPTER 15: GREENOAK
Chance - Creek County, Oklahoma
Chance woke to the aggressive barking of a dog. He looked around him and realized he had walked until he fell asleep the night before. He felt an instant shock of shame for falling asleep on the job, then a sense of gratitude to his tracking dog, Butch, who continued to bark. Black fur stood erect on the back of the enormous beast's neck.
After the incident with Julie, Chance had gone home, gathered Butch, and prepared to find Elena. The stockbroker had taken great pride in his S10 Martin, but he abandoned his rigid rules for car care and threw the massive animal into the passenger side. Chance had left this proud possession abandoned on a country road, before shooting off into the woods with his dog.
The Sons were wise. They had transported Elena from one vehicle to the other so that law enforcement would be searching for the wrong car.
Others had chased the multiple cars the Sons and their allies had traded out, but Butch had provided the upper hand. The dog knew and loved Elena. She had played with him the entire time Chance and Elena had been dating. Others were frightened of Butch, but Elena had immediately befriended him.
Butch was not an average dog. He was massive and many who saw him thought he was a Rottweiler, but in reality, Butch was different. He was a species of dog from the other world. He had the black and red fur of a Rottweiler, but a massive head and frame that was described as "otherworldly." Thinking about that description of his dog made Chance laugh because it was accurate.
Butch's head faced up, into the trees.
Chance smiled and shook his head. That was all the evidence he needed of who it was. He pulled the backpack from his back and reached for a device. He grabbed a smoke grenade.
“Where are they, Butch?
The primeval dog pointed his head at one specific blackjack, and Chance tossed the grenade immediately and ran for cover as he did. It crashed into the ground, and an arrow shot past him and lodged into the tree he hid behind. Instantly, he raised his Famas and fired in the direction of the smoke.
“You know, you guys were never as smart as you thought you were!”
He could hear coughs, and a voice spat and then called back. "We have no intention of killing you, half-breed!"
Chance froze as he heard the words. He shook his head, and then raised his gun and shot back, gritting his teeth and cursing as he did. He stopped firing, slid back behind the tree, and reloaded his weapon. He pulled a grenade from his assault pack and, again, he drew smoke. Another arrow flew past him, and he threw his grenade. Another shaft almost hit him. The smoke grenade hit the tree, and he could hear the coughing, followed by the crash of someone falling from a tree. His eyes finally caught the outline of a slim figure, clad in green, with long blonde hair fall to the ground. Instantly, Butch pounced on the character.
Instantly, Chance felt thin legs and arms wrap around his body in a rear naked choke. Instead of one hand choking him, he felt the pointed tip of a blade touching the back of his neck.
“Call that beast off, or you will face certain punitive measures for your actions.”
Despite the situation, Chance could not help laughing at the unseen opponent's language.
“You want me to do what?”
The shrouded figure pressed the tip further into his neck and made his voice more threatening.
"I tell you what I want?" shouted a third voice.
Chance's eyes went to the voice. On top of the fallen figure was Asher Cries-For-War. He had his AR-15 slammed into the stomach of the elf.
“What do you want?” yelled the voice from behind Chance.
“I want you to let go of my man, or I'm about to blow Brett Michael's head clean off."
Chance could hear the figure behind him mutter to himself.
“What’s that?” asked Asher. He moved the lever on his weapon from safe to fire. "You must be a real big fan of modern art," said Asher, shaking his head in disapproval. “Because I am about to create a rendition of Picasso's Melting Clocks with this dude's brains."
The pressure of the Brazilian jiu-jitsu hold against Chance was released, and the figure stepped back.
"Alright, Asher, you win this one."
“No, Mr. Glam-Rock, I always win.”
"That's just great."
"I fight in three-to-one odds," said Asher.
"You brought your gang with you, I see," said the figure.
With that, Cries-For-War broke into a false falsetto and went through a rendition of the song, “Sweet Child of Mine.” Hidden voices began to laugh out.
"I'm sorry," said Asher, looking directly at the figure who had caught Chance. "I'm sorry, as in all I heard from you Welcome to the Jungle!"
“We are an ancient and proud people, Mr. Cries-For-War. I do not appreciate your comparison of our appearance to 80s glam rock." The figure stepped forward, knife in hand with fists clenched.
Finally, Chance turned around and looked at the figure who had caught him. The person had blonde almost white hair, blue eyes, and the long pointed ears like Elena. He had a longbow, which he wore around his shoulder, and another weapon, an assault
rifle, strapped to his back. He wore a tactical kit but his appearance was different from the Nomads. He wore a long green cloak, which covered most of his body. It was a juxtaposition of modern weapons and more medieval clothing.
"Are you done singing?" asked the figure.
"Yes, Greenoak. I know you're dangerous, and I know this is your boy," said Asher. "But, we have some things we need to hash out."
“What is this half-breed doing with you?”
"I am so shocked that you be so insulting, I mean people from your world are known for their great humility and respect for this world's people."
"Yes," said the elder Greenoak. "But the Council is composed of the great races of the Old World."
"Well, bullying one of my men is not going to win me to your side."
"What's wrong with him?"
“I was hoping you could tell me,” said Asher.
Greenoak locked eyes with Chance. Chance grimaced and looked away, breaking contact with him.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” said Greenoak, “but -”
“But it can only mean one thing.”
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