Duke Grandfather- The Whole Story

by James Maxstadt

  “I grabbed her. Abandoning my weapon had surprised her, and I took a good, deep cut, but I got her. From there, it was easy. She was fast, but not nearly strong enough to break my grip. I pulled her to me, trapping her arms between us, and squeezed. She fought on, for as long as she could, but her breath eventually went away and she sagged down. I held on for a minute, in case she was faking, then lowered her to the ground gently, and howled my victory to the sky.

  “The darkness came on me immediately after, and I collapsed as well. The last thing I remember seeing is Lara’s lovely face, inches from mine as I went away.”

  “So you lost?”

  “Lost? Me? Of course not. By the next day, I was fully recovered and ready for my next battle. There was no contest from there, and two days later I was crowned champion, leading the Wulfonson clan to glory again.”

  He stopped and sighed.

  “But it wasn’t to last. And it was my own blindness that led to it.”

  “Oleg,” I said.

  He nodded. “Oleg. He always had grandmother’s ear, whispering in it. Plans for how the clan could survive and thrive. Plans that always worked out. We would have moved to the city long before we did if it wasn’t for Oleg. In time, Grandmother came to rely on him more than any other. There were those who insinuated that he was the true leader of our clan, that he bewitched Grandmother somehow, but they never spoke like that in my presence. Not twice, anyway. To me, Oleg was the true champion, doing what needed to be done to keep us alive and safe.”

  “But they were right, weren’t they?”

  “After the battle with Lara, I began to court her. She was everything that an orc could want in a mate. We laughed together, and we fought together, reliving our match more than once. I’m not ashamed to admit that I was deeply smitten with her.

  “Until the day that I saw them together.”

  Wulfonson’s voice grew low and heavy. His brow furrowed as he recounted what was obviously a scene of great pain.

  “I couldn’t believe it at first. Their heads were together and they were whispering. I thought at first it was over some surprise for me. I stayed around the corner and listened, even though I knew I shouldn’t. It was hard to hear them, but I did pick up on their laughter, and then the words that made my world reel. Poison, fool, plot.

  “It took me a minute to put it together. Lara used poison on the tips of her claws when we fought. That was why I passed out, not from loss of blood. And from his reaction, Oleg, knew of it! They had been playing me for a fool this whole time! There was no love from Lara for me.

  “I lost my temper and stormed into the chamber. Oleg gave a frightened squeal and tried to get away, but I grabbed him. Lara jumped to his defense, smashing me in the jaw as hard as she could. But she didn’t have her weapons, and her blows were meaningless. I hit her, driving her away from me, and started to strangle my own cousin, my once best-friend.

  “The next thing I knew, I was hit from behind, hard enough to stagger me and make me release my grip on Oleg’s throat. There were four of the largest orcs of our clan behind me, and they beat me with clubs until I went down. I inflicted my share of damage on them as well, but eventually more arrived and they overcame me.”

  He sighed and picked up his dog, cuddling him in his huge arms before he continued. I was beginning to see why he was so attached to the thing. Having been betrayed as he was, it was comforting to have something so loyal to him. I stared at it, but it’s eyes never changed from the limpid brown to that glowing red I saw before. Maybe whatever had done that to the dogs really was gone.

  “And Oleg?” I asked.

  “He told Grandmother that he came across me attempting to force myself on Lara. When he tried to intervene, I struck her and then attacked him.”

  “And your grandmother believed this?”

  He shrugged. “As I said, Oleg had her ear. Also, Lara backed up his story, complete with sobs and tears. Between that, and the fact that it ended up taking eight others of our clan to subdue me, some of who I hurt badly, yeah, she believed him.”

  “And that was it.”

  “Yeah,” Wulfonson said, “that was it. They chained me and carried me away, out into the wilderness. They left me there, I assume hoping another fire-drake or something would take care of me. Unhousing out in the wild is different than here in the city. But I broke the chains. I probably could have at any time, to be honest, but after what Oleg did, and hearing the tone my grandmother used when Unhousing me…I didn’t care to.”

  “Then you came here,” I said.

  “Eventually. Wandered around some, fought a bear or two, and didn’t really care if I lived or not. But eventually, I wandered this way, and I’ve been here ever since.”

  “And your clan?”

  “They came, too. As a matter of fact, they made it here before me, and set up a nice compound in Orc Town. I see it every now and then, but I stay clear. It’s not my home.”

  I nodded. “Well, looks like you found a pretty good substitute.”

  “For now.”

  Silence fell and we sat in it until it became uncomfortable.

  I cleared my throat. “Well. Time to head out of here. My bed’s calling my name.”

  He nodded without looking up.

  “See you tomorrow?” I asked.

  “I’ll be here.”

  I left, walking home through the dark and thinking. I was still amazed that Wulfonson shared all that with me. And shortly after Sarge began treating me like an actual person, too. It must have been my week to be charming or something.

  But I didn’t like what I heard. I hated it when someone got set-up by somebody else, like I hated all bullies. Yeah, Wulfonson was huge and freakishly strong, but that didn’t mean that someone couldn’t bully him in other ways. Like a trusted, sly, manipulative cousin, perhaps.

  I didn’t know anything about the Wulfonson clan, other than what he told me. Now I was curious and wanted to see the compound for myself. I’d head home, sip an ale in front of the fire and think.

  Tomorrow, after a good night’s rest, I would take a little trip to Orc Town.

  It wasn’t hard to find the Wulfonson compound. Wulfonson, the one I knew, must have been being humble about his folks, because from what I could see, they were very well-off. Their compound was huge, with no less than three store fronts, all of which were done up in a way that would attract the finest of buyers.

  The first was for commercial stone-work. If you needed a new façade for your business, they could do it. A new wall for the Lock-Ups? They’d done that too, and if you could believe the posting, the Wulfonson’s had even done work for his Majesty himself, which kind of crossed over between that business and the one right next door.

  That one was residential stone-work. They’d fix fireplaces, walls, foundations, chimneys and any other part of your home that was stone. I could imagine that a large part of their business came from the other non-human races, since there weren’t many humans who would let orcs have free run of their homes. They might allow in a dwarf or two, but orcs were almost certainly out of the question.

  And finally, the third business, which is the one that really caught my eye. This must be where Wulfonson’s parents worked. It advertised itself as a decorative stone-work shop, but really it was art. This stuff up there with the clay I saw being worked by the woman with living hair. It was incredibly life-like and detailed, and included everything from statues of knights in armor, to fantastic beasts, to grinning gargoyles suitable for any rain-gutter.

  I walked in, peering about me in fascination. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the work that goes into some of it. The shop was a working studio as well as a sales space, and there were two orcs, male and female, working on two separate pieces near the back.

  “Hello there,” the male called out, staring at a small block of brilliant white stone set on a stand in front of him. “Be right with you.”

  I
actually flinched as he raised a hammer and struck a chisel, sure that he would send the whole thing crashing to the floor in a million pieces. Instead, a small sliver flew off, and he used the chisel to smooth the line.

  “First mark!” he said, setting down his tools and approaching me, his fangs moving upward in a smile. “I was all wound up for it and didn’t want to miss my chance. Now, what can I do for you?”

  “Incredible work,” I said, still gazing around while I shook his hand. There was strength there, the type that spoke of hands that held and used heavy tools all day. He wasn’t a huge orc, but he wasn’t small either. Around my height, but much thicker through the legs, arms, chest and shoulders than I was.

  “Thanks. A lot of it is done by my wife. That’s her, concentrating over there.”

  He indicated the female, using some sort of rough black cloth to smooth the back of a stone head. When it turned toward me as she worked, I almost gasped. It was a perfect representation of Wulfonson, right down to the fangs jutting up from his lower lip and the furrowed brow.

  “Wow.” I hoped that would be taken as simple appreciation for the artistry. I wasn’t quite ready to reveal that I knew their son. Not until I got more of a sense of who these two were, and how they felt about him. “Who is he? He looks fierce.”

  The male laughed. “Oh, one of our heroes. You know how it is. He’s not spoken of much anymore. It’s actually a private piece, an indulgence for our own home. But now, what can I do for you?”

  As he spoke, he leaned on a large piece that I hadn’t taken notice of. I now saw that it was a sculpture of a fire-drake, so fierce and alive that I swore it could draw a breath and roast us all at any moment. A fire-drake, exactly like the one Wulfonson killed.

  “Well, I’m looking for a gift for a friend,” I lied. “Something nice, but not too large or expensive. I saw your work while passing by and wanted to take a look.”

  “Hmm…we might have something. We have pieces of all sizes, and can do special order. What type of thing does your friend like?”

  “Almost anything. It’s more about the work for him, you know? Something different, that everyone else doesn’t have. Is it alright if I poke around? If I see something, I’ll shout out.”

  “Sure, take your time. I’ll be back over there. Let me know if you see anything.”

  He nodded and returned to his work, while I took my time going about the shop, looking at all the pieces. They really did do amazing work, and there was another thing that I discovered. Wulfonson may have been Unhoused, but he was not forgotten by at least two orcs. There were several representations of him in various ways. From his face adorning the side of a drinking vessel to a statue of a huge orc with a hammer, ready to face down any and all challengers.

  “You really do amazing work,” I said, as I moved around the shop.

  “Thanks,” the male responded, but the female, Wulfonson’s mother, remained silent. I glanced at her and saw that she was still concentrating on the bust she was working on, but her face told a different tale as she looked at it. It was obvious to see the pain that she felt as she regarded the face of her son.

  “Let me think about it and get back to you.” I said. Suddenly, I felt like an intruder and didn’t want to be there any longer. I learned one small piece of information anyway. Wulfonson was gone but not forgotten.

  Wulfonson’s father was gracious in hearing that I wasn’t going to buy anything today, another sign of the worthy business orc that he was. I took my leave and stepped back out onto the street.

  Only to collide with a short orc as I did. He really was small, even a little scrawny, and since I hadn’t been watching where I was going, I ran right into him, knocking him to the ground.

  “Oh, geesh! I’m sorry!” I reached down to help him up.

  “No problem, pal,” he said. “Accidents happen.”

  Remembering Wulfonson’s story, I kept a hold of his hand and shook it. “I really am sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

  “Really, it’s not a big deal,” the orc replied.

  “No, I have to.” I still didn’t let go, although he tugged at his hand. “My name is Carl Livington, and I’d really like to do something, Mr….?”

  “Wulfonson. Oleg Wulfonson. And I really need to move on, now.” He yanked his hand away.

  I thought it was him, but wasn’t sure what to do now. I could grab him, drag him back to the Stews and to Wulfonson. With his size I was pretty sure I could do it, even without having to knock him out.

  Then, another orc came around the corner. She was a female, and was much more formidable than Oleg was. Her whole demeanor suggested a willingness for battle, almost an eagerness. And she vibrated with restrained energy. Every move, whether it was a simple step, or the turn of her head was quick and precise.

  Lara, the she-demon. She of Wulfonson’s regard and acrimony all at once.

  “Is there a problem?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous, and then she was suddenly there, stepping around me with a fluid grace that I rarely saw. She took up a place at Oleg’s side, but slightly in front of him. If I were up to no good, I’d clearly have to go through her first.

  My half-formed plan to grab Oleg evaporated. I’d encountered orcs by the dozen by that point, and this was only the second one to ever give me pause. While there was no sign of the gauntlets that Wulfonson spoke of, I still didn’t relish the idea of trying to take her on.

  “Not at all,” I said, feigning a smile. “I was trying to make up for my blunder. Mom always says I try too hard! Guess she’s right.”

  “As I said, no problem, fella.” Oleg turned away and went into the store I just come out of. With one final sneer, Lara followed.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and got out of there, but I didn’t go far. Orc Town is full of passages between the buildings and compounds, and despite the name, all sorts of people passed through here on business. It wasn’t hard to find a place where I could watch the shop without being seen.

  I took up a post and kept an eye out. Soon enough, Oleg and Lara reappeared. They had their heads together, talking quietly as they walked away. Right before they entered the private part of their compound, Lara turned back and looked at the shop with squinted eyes.

  That couldn’t be good.

  “You did what?” Wulfonson’s voice was lower and growlier than I ever heard it, like a thunderstorm rumbling on the horizon, one that you know is going to be a deluge when it breaks.

  “I went to see your parents. I mean, I didn’t say anything, but I wanted to get an idea of who they were.”

  “Why?”

  “Because your story doesn’t add up. Not what you told me, but the reaction from everyone. I have a hard time believing that your clan tossed you out that way.”

  “You’re not an orc. What would you know?” His voice calmed, but with an almost sullen tone to it now.

  “I may not be an orc, but I can tell when someone isn’t happy. And your mother isn’t happy. You should have seen all of the statues with your face on them!”

  He didn’t say anything, but he also wouldn’t look at me.

  “There’s something else you need to know,” I told him.

  It must have been in my voice, because now he did look at me, eyes already narrowing. By the time I was done telling him about what I saw with Oleg and Lara, his expression was dark with fury.

  “Mom and Dad shouldn’t have done that. Now Oleg knows that they aren’t forgetting me the way they’re supposed to. There will be trouble because of it.”

  “Yeah, but it seems like your parents are a big part of the income over there. What are they going to do?”

  “To the outside observer? Nothing. But inside the compound they could make life very unpleasant for them. And if it was important enough to Oleg, he’d have Grandmother Unhouse them, or kill them, if it came to it, and damn the loss of money.”

  He said the words calmly enough, but slammed his fist down on a side table when he finished, wh
ich promptly fell apart under the assault. After that, silence reigned in the room.

  “Then we get them out of there.” The idea had been brewing already, I just hadn’t realized it. Whatever was going on in the Wulfonson compound, it was bad news. His parents, who obviously still loved their son, needed to be brought to safety.

  “You’re right,” Wulfonson growled, grabbing for his hammer. “Let’s go.”

  “Oh, no. Not you. You’re too noticeable. You go over there and they’ll kill you. Sure, you’ll take a few with you, but in the end…and then where will your parents be?”

  “You have a better idea?”

  “I might,” I said, hoping that I did.

  I waited until daylight the next day. Trying to get into an orc compound in the middle of the night would have been suicidal, and my altruism only extended so far. This way, I could approach the shop again, acting like a buyer returning to finalize his purchase.

  I had a stop to make first. Wulfonson’s parents looked to be in good shape, which was a good thing. They’d have to run, but if what I planned worked, it wouldn’t be too far. My friends agreed to help, and soon, I stood in front of the Wulfonson compound again.

  Things had changed. Instead of Wulfonson’s parents being the only two orcs in the shop, there was another. A large, although not nearly Wulfonson’s size, tough looking mug stood next to the door. He appeared bored, but still watched me carefully as I walked around.

  “Hey, you came back!” Wulfonson’s father greeted me warmly, but without the same effortless ease of the day before. His mother sat at her table, a new block of stone in front of her, staring at it vacantly.

  “Yeah, I thought I might look around some more.”

  “Have at it,” Wulfonson senior replied. “Take your time.”

  I walked around, pretending to peruse the items on display again, and casting occasional glances at the guard. He watched me, but then tired of it and went back to whatever wool-gathering he was doing before I entered.

  I picked up a small statue, one that was clearly of Wulfonson, and brought it over to Wulfonson’s dad.