[Queen of Orcs 02] - Clan Daughter

by Morgan Howell

  The warm, moist air bore a scent that Dar had never experienced. It was at the farthest reach of her perception—elusive, yet primal and compelling. Dar breathed deeply. Her senses heightened, and she felt energized. She brushed her hands over Kovok-mah’s broad back. His skin was cool, but she felt the heat beneath it. The scent intensified. Dar’s head swam with its fragrance.

  Kovok-mah turned, his eyes radiating warmth. “Dargu,” he said, tenderly voicing her name as both plea and promise. He didn’t ask her why she was there or what she wanted. Dar realized why. He can smell what I’m feeling! She sensed that he understood those feelings better than she did. Her thoughts were ambivalent, yet her essence bespoke yearning. She surrendered to that yearning.

  “I’m here,” Dar whispered, “because I followed my chest.” Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed Kovok-mah. She could only reach his breastbone.

  “What was that?”

  “It was gesture,” said Dar. “It means…” She paused, groping for a neutral word, but the Orcish language wasn’t suited for equivocation. “…it means I show love.”

  “I don’t know this gesture.”

  “Then show me your own,” said Dar. “I am mother. Treat me as one.”

  Kovok-mah placed his powerful hands upon Dar’s shoulders and gently drew her toward him. His fingers drifted over her skin as lightly as a breeze. The same hands that had crushed a man’s throat with a single squeeze caressed her with exquisite delicacy, awakening her body. There was no urgency in his touch, only gentleness and reverence. When Kovok-mah lifted Dar from the water, she was uncertain what he would do, but she was unafraid.

  Kovok-mah carried Dar to a mossy spot and set her down. Dar lay on her back as Kovok-mah settled beside her. She glanced below his waist and, to her relief, saw that he was no larger there than a man. Kovok-mah caught her looking and smiled. “Dargu, we are not blessed.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We may not thrimuk, but I may give love.”

  He won’t tup me, thought Dar, uncertain if she was more relieved or disappointed. Then Kovok-mah’s lips drew her attention. He didn’t exactly kiss her neck—the tip of his tongue was more active than in a human kiss—but the sensation was distinctly pleasurable. It became even more pleasurable as his lips traced a trail to her breasts. They lingered there. He sucked in her nipples and caressed them with his tongue. Dar felt a warm glow spread through her body. Then gentle fingertips replaced Kovok-mah’s tongue as his lips traveled down her belly.

  Dar was surprised when she guessed where Kovok-mah was headed. She had never heard of a man doing such a thing. He’s not a man. Then she felt Kovok-mah’s tongue between her legs. She had never experienced such pleasure in her life. Warm, tingling ripples washed from the center of her body. All her senses became more intense. Kovok-mah continued licking and the ripples became waves. Soon, Dar was arching her body against his face. The waves grew stronger. Their intensity became overwhelming. Dar writhed. She cried out in ecstasy. The feeling slowly subsided, leaving Dar limp and blissful.

  Kovok-mah lay back and gently pulled Dar on top of him. As their bodies pressed together, Dar sighed with contentment. She kissed Kovok-mah’s chest, then slid along him until she reached his lips. “This is called ‘kiss,’” she whispered. She kissed his mouth.

  Kovok-mah smiled. “I like this kiss.”

  Dar kissed him again.

  “Are you happy?” asked Kovok-mah.

  “Can’t you smell it?”

  “There is no scent for happiness.”

  “But there’s one for love.”

  “Hai,” said Kovok-mah, “but love and happiness are different things.”

  “Tonight, they’re not,” said Dar.

  Eleven

  Life had taught Dar to associate passion with abuse and surrender with degradation. Once she had learned that lesson, she fought all desire, even in herself. If Kovok-mah had been a man, if he had pressed his attentions, or if Dar hadn’t felt in control, their union by the pool never would have happened and the feelings it released in Dar would have remained suppressed. Lying naked with Kovok-mah, Dar wasn’t inclined toward contemplation. The newness and wonder of her experience precluded that. Yet she was aware that something unexpected and special had happened. She sensed it would cause complications, but she pushed those concerns aside and savored the moment.

  Before Dar and Kovok-mah left the moonlit courtyard, they bathed again, washing one another with playfulness and sensuality. Afterward, Kovok-mah led Dar through the dark back to their room. She snuggled within Kovok-mah’s arms to sleep, but found herself wide awake instead. Her head was awhirl with questions and one of them dealt with language. Kovok-mah called what we did “ura zul”—“giving love.” Dar wondered if “zul” truly meant “love,” and if the word was as imprecise as the human expression. Men both “loved ale” and “loved women.” Tupping was called “making love,” though love often had nothing to do with it. Was “zul” similarly vague? Dar had told Kovok-mah “Mer valav zul”—“I show love”—but she was uncertain what she had actually communicated. More important, she was uncertain what she had truly meant.

  Do I really love an orc? Having never loved a man, she had no standard to compare her feelings. The only man she had ever kissed had been Sevren. That impulse had felt natural. So did the desire aroused by Kovok-mah and the intimacies that followed. Yet a disturbing thought arose that those urges weren’t natural at all. Have I done something wrong? For a while, joy and shame warred in Dar’s mind. Velasa-pah told me to follow my chest. That’s exactly what I did. Dar knew that the same women who would be outraged and disgusted by what she had done also tupped soldiers for a few roots or a pillaged dress. I’ve sided with the orcs, she concluded. It’s what they think that matters now.

  Dar returned to the essential question: What were her feelings toward Kovok-mah? After some introspection, she came up with a list of things that she knew were true. I enjoy his company. I care about his feelings. I trust him. I like the way he treats me. Dar liked him touching her, and she had especially liked what he had done by the pool. Maybe that’s love. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

  The next morning, Dar quickly discovered that the other orcs had “wise noses.” Kovok-mah’s and her scent declared their attraction as clearly as if they had made a formal announcement. No one said anything, but the orcs didn’t hide their reactions. Lama-tok and Varz-hak looked surprised. Duth-tok seemed pleased. Zna-yat appeared neither; he looked concerned. Dar was taken aback that her innermost feelings were so readily discernible. She sniffed the air trying to catch the elusive scent she had detected in the pool, but her sense of smell was inadequate to the task.

  Zna-yat’s reaction bothered Dar, and she sought an opportunity to speak with him privately. It came soon after she announced that they would leave Tarathank that night. Zna-yat went to search for additional food, and Dar followed him. She approached the orc as he foraged in an overgrown courtyard. “Was this once garden?” asked Dar, trying to sound conversational.

  Zna-yat looked up. “Hai, very long ago.”

  Dar walked over to him. “Have you found anything to eat?”

  “Very little. Weeds crowd good plants out.”

  “I suppose you can smell good plants.”

  “Hai.”

  “You once said you could smell my fear,” said Dar. “What did you smell this morning?”

  “You’re asking me to be impolite,” said Zna-yat.

  “Why?”

  “No one mentions obvious scents.”

  “Scents aren’t obvious to me. Please tell me what you’ve noticed.”

  Zna-yat bowed his head. “I smelled atur about you. Duth-tok spoke of this scent.”

  “It marks love, doesn’t it?”

  “Hai.”

  “And Kovok-mah has this scent also?”

  “For many days.”

  “I think I smelled it last night,” said Dar. “Before then…Well, I had no
idea.”

  “Mothers ignore this scent when it doesn’t please them,” said Zna-yat. “I thought you were doing same.”

  “Kovok-mah never said anything.”

  “It wouldn’t have been proper for him to speak.”

  “But you knew how he felt,” said Dar.

  “Hai.”

  “I feel stupid,” said Dar.

  “I’m stupid one,” said Zna-yat. He bowed his head. “Forgive me, Dargu. I didn’t understand.”

  “You looked concerned this morning. Why?”

  “I think Muth la has chosen difficult path for you.”

  Dar sighed. “Perhaps so. How does one become blessed?”

  Zna-yat seemed flustered by Dar’s question. “Blessed?”

  “Hai. I think that was word.”

  “For couple to become blessed, both his and her muthuri must approve.”

  Dar blushed. So “blessed” must mean “married,” she thought, wondering what Zna-yat surmised from her question. She was too embarrassed to ask and turned to leave. “Thank you, Zna-yat, you’ve been helpful.”

  “I’m honored to aid you however I can.”

  Zna-yat watched Dar push her way through the weeds that had long ago conquered the garden. Soon she was gone, and only her scent remained. The fragrance of atur hung heavily in the still air, leaving no doubts about Dar’s feelings. Zna-yat pitied her.

  It was late afternoon before Zna-yat managed to get Kovok-mah alone. Once he did, he hustled his puzzled cousin into a chamber where they wouldn’t be overheard. “Dargu spoke to me this morning,” he said, watching Kovok-mah’s face closely. “She wanted to know about blessing.”

  Kovok-mah’s expression turned uneasy. “What did you tell her?”

  “That muthuris must approve,” replied Zna-yat. “I want to know what made her ask that question.”

  “I acted properly.”

  “My neck bears Dargu’s mark, which makes her nearer to me than kin. So, I ask you again—why this talk of blessing?”

  “I said we couldn’t thrimuk because we weren’t blessed.”

  “So, you planted seed in her chest,” said Zna-yat. “Did you not think it might grow?”

  “She came to me. How could I deny her?”

  “Yet you’ll have to deny her eventually. Your muthuri has wise nose, and she won’t be pleased by what it smells. You cannot oppose her. There’ll be no blessing. You must have known that.”

  “Hai,” said Kovok-mah. “I was both happy and sad. Soon, I’ll be only sad.”

  “And Dargu will be likewise. You’ve been unkind.”

  “I followed my chest.”

  “I understand,” said Zna-yat. “Your muthuri will not.”

  “I don’t blame her. I scarcely understand it myself,” mused Kovok-mah. “At first, Dargu was just some amusing washavoki. Different, but strange like all washavokis.”

  “Muth la guides Dargu,” said Zna-yat. “Perhaps Muth la guided you as well.”

  “Hai. This is Muth la’s doing. That’s why Dargu fills my chest. She smells strange, she’s not pretty, and yet…and yet…” Kovok-mah’s voice trailed off. He looked miserable.

  “It’s too late to undo last night,” said Zna-yat. “Whatever sorrow it will bring has already been un-loosed.”

  “Should I tell Dargu what awaits her?”

  “Thwa,” said Zna-yat. “Let her be content awhile.”

  Twelve

  Dar felt that she had been sent to Tarathank to fall in love with Kovok-mah. Believing that she had, there was no reason to linger in the city, so she told the orcs they would depart that night. Yet, when evening approached, Dar regretted her decision to leave. Her newfound passion imbued the ruins with an aura of romance, transforming everything. Overgrown streets became picturesque, and deserted buildings felt tranquil. The idea that she would never visit the pool again seemed unbearable.

  Zna-yat was preparing the final meal before departure when Dar grabbed Kovok-mah’s hand. “Come,” she said, tugging at him. Kovok-mah rose and followed her. In the hallway Dar whispered, “Let’s bathe before we go.” It was more a demand than a suggestion, and Dar was confident that Kovok-mah wouldn’t refuse. As she hurried to the pool, she felt gripped by aching need.

  At the courtyard, Dar shed her clothes and ran naked into the water. There, she impatiently waited for Kovok-mah to join her. When he entered the pool, she flung her arms about his torso and planted kisses on his chest. Kovok-mah sensed a desperate edge to Dar’s desire, and he sought to ease it. He lifted and held her so that they were face-to-face. “Dargu,” he said softly, “there’s no need to hurry.”

  “But we must leave soon.”

  “Everyone will be patient.”

  “Do you think they know why we left?” asked Dar, blushing at the thought.

  “This path is new only to us,” said Kovok-mah. “Many have traveled it since Muth la made world. Everyone understands.” He smiled. “I have time to give you kiss.” Kovok-mah puckered his lips and gave Dar a noisy peck on the nose.

  Dar giggled. “You’re silly.”

  Kovok-mah proceeded as slowly and tenderly as he had the previous night. After he brought Dar to climax, she moved to lie on top of him in a state of contentment. Kovok-mah said nothing, but gently caressed her back. After a while, Dar lifted her head from his chest. “Am I very different from urkzimmuthi mothers?”

  Kovok-mah had been expecting that question. “You are like them in many ways.”

  “How am I different?”

  “Your claws are flat, your eyes are different color, your nose is round, and your body is…” Kovok-mah searched for a proper description. “It is like youngling’s.”

  “How?”

  “You are light…delicate.”

  “Are my breasts like urkzimmuthi mother’s?”

  “Hai.”

  Dar’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”

  “Urkzimmuthi mothers don’t cover breasts, except when it’s cold.”

  “Am I too short?”

  “Some mothers are your size.”

  Knowing that Kovok-mah would answer truthfully, Dar had difficulty asking the next question. “Am I ugly?”

  “It doesn’t matter to me.”

  “So I am.”

  “Dargu, sight of you brings me joy. I care not what others think.”

  Dar kissed Kovok-mah. “Then, I don’t care either.” And, for the moment, she truly meant it.

  Dar’s hair was still damp when she led the orcs from Tarathank. The surrounding prairie spread in all directions, gray under a rising moon. The Blath Urkmuthi—Cloak of Mothers—formed black silhouettes on the near horizon. Dar didn’t try to follow the overgrown road. Instead, she pushed through the tall grass, taking the most direct route to the mountains. The stay in the city had interrupted the cycle of traveling by night and sleeping by day, and Dar was tired even before they started. It was still night when she called a halt to sleep.

  When the sun rose on the empty countryside, Dar decided that it would be safe to journey by day. The mountains were close, and there was little chance the orcs would encounter a force they couldn’t overcome. “Throw away your rags,” she said, tossing her fake bandages upon the ground. “We’ll travel openly.”

  For the orcs, abandoning their disguises marked an occasion for celebration. Zna-yat grinned at Dar as he ground his rags into the dirt. “We’ve escaped death because of you,” he said. Then Zna-yat bowed his head to Dar, and the other orcs did also.

  “Dargu said we’d become wolves,” said Varz-hak, “and we have.” He leaned back and howled. Lama-tok joined in.

  “We should call her ‘wolf,’ not ‘weasel,’” said Lama-tok.

  Kovok-mah smiled. “She’s too tiny to be wolf.”

  Dar responded by grabbing Kovok-mah’s neck and pulling his head down to kiss his lips. Duth-tok, who had never seen a kiss before, laughed. “This weasel is so fierce that she bites Kovok-mah’s face.”

  “That was �
��kiss,’ not bite,” said Kovok-mah.

  “I think she’s tasting him,” said Lama-tok.

  Dar licked her lips. “He’s sweet and juicy.”

  All the orcs hissed with laughter, except Kovok-mah, who looked discomforted. “Did I say something wrong?” asked Dar. The question made the orcs hiss louder.

  “Sons cannot be sweet and juicy,” said Kovok-mah in a low voice, “only mothers.”

  Dar turned bright red.

  Upon the road, the presence of the other orcs inhibited Dar, and she was more reserved around Kovok-mah. Yet restraint only increased her yearning. The feeling she identified as love seemed like a form of hunger that was never satisfied. Kovok-mah’s nearness didn’t ease it. Rather, it had the opposite effect. Dar assumed her scent made her feelings obvious, but Kovok-mah made no advances. The lack of aggression, which had initially put Dar at ease, began to make her insecure.

  When Kovok-mah’s passivity began to feel like rejection, Dar learned how quickly love became unhappiness. He’s changed his mind. He’s ashamed of giving love to an ugly washavoki. That idea made her miserable and withered her confidence. She became unsure how to behave around him and too embarrassed to ask. Dar responded to her unhappiness by pushing herself physically. She set a pace that was punishing—though only to herself—in an effort to purge her misery through exhaustion.

  By hard walking, the travelers reached the foothills of the Blath Urkmuthi in two days. These rose abruptly from the plain like a rocky coastline on an ocean of grass. The irregular wall of stone that towered behind them was a bleak and imposing barrier. No vegetation softened its crags, whose bare limestone resembled the folds of a crumpled cloak. Dar ascended a stony hill to get an unobstructed view. When she reached its summit, she didn’t like what she saw. The way looked hard and unforgiving. “I hoped for something better,” she said.

  “This is no evil place,” Zna-yat replied. “These mountains sheltered our foremothers when washavokis fell upon us.”