“Humun gooklak!” H’ruk shouted drawing his weapon.
“Put sword away!” Gash shouted, turning and pointing an accusing finger at the angered orc. “Or you challenge?”
“If you weak,” H’ruk growled at Gash.
The other two orcs backed up a couple steps at the possibility of a challenge, Trogla grabbing Mara’s arm and pulling her away as Gash turned to fully face H’ruk’s angered form.
“Why you go to save un-orc?” H’ruk question him. “He not matter. His death nothing. Tell me. Or I know you weak and I challenge.”
Gash glared at him. Tossing his axe aside, he tensed his body in preparation for a fight. He knew it was no idle threat. He wasn’t sure he could beat H’ruk in a fight, but he would not recant his words. The example, he felt, had to be set, or they would never understand. H’ruk’s hand gripped tightly the leather-wrapped haft of his sword, his thick arm tense, ready to strike.
“My death nothing?” Gash asked him.
H’ruk did not answer.
“You call me half-blood, un-orc once,” Gash continued. “Then you come to save and to serve. You weak for this?”
Again, H’ruk did not answer.
“I risk life to save other who once same as me to you. Tell me where is weakness.”
H’ruk just stared at him. Gash stepped closer to him until H’ruk’s blade pressed up against his belly.
“Tell me,” Gash told him, “or strike.”
Everyone stood tense and motionless. H’ruk gripped his sword tensely as he stared into Gash’s constant scowl. Time seemed to stand still. The captain stood watching the situation carefully, his mind focused and ready, though any looking upon him would suspect him of no more than casual interest. Mara was quite the opposite. She stood tense, both hands on her staff. Her mind bounced between wanting to jump to Gash’s aide and it not being her place to interfere. At last, H’ruk spoke.
“No weakness,” he said, sheathing his weapon, though his glare did not relent. “You true orc. I no challenge.”
The two humans and orcs let out quiet breaths.
“But you explain,” H’ruk added, pointing to the captain. “Because he, not orc and neither she. And me tired of treating them like they orc.”
“He show more strength and honor than any orc. They too,” Gash told him, gesturing towards the knights. “And she. You swear loyalty to me, but you not know it. You challenge instead of ask. She ask and still not understand. And still, she walk into death. She stronger than any. None of them un-orc. If you doubt, you fool. Stay and watch…or leave.”
With that, Gash turned away and began walking towards the town, picking up his axe along the way. Mara stared after Gash in heavy thought as the other three moved their eyes from Gash to H’ruk. The captain glanced at him only a moment before turning to the knights still waiting behind the hill.
“Double time to Galantria, Men,” he told them as Mara moved to join Gash. “Get those wounded there as fast as possible. I will follow in behind.”
The knights complied, moving around the hill at a quickened pace, being careful not to make the journey too hard on those they carried. The captain then turned and followed. Grak then moved down the hill, following the others. H’ruk’s eyes moved from him to Trogla who looked upon him with slight fear, unsure as to how she should be towards him. Finally, she looked away in shame and began moving down the hill. H’ruk stood there for long moments, considering his choice. At last, he moved to follow the others.
**************
“Orcs!”
The cry went out before they even entered in through the gates, which were only partially finished, leaving a wide gap, now blocked by carts. By the time the six of them had pushed their way past, the streets had been deserted, doors and windows had been closed, and the ends of crossbows and arrows pointed out from everywhere. The six looked around as they walked, wary of every eye upon them, their grips tense on their weapons.
“Why are these people afraid of just three orcs?” Mara said quietly. So quiet were their surroundings that the only sounds were their footfalls on the cobblestone and their shallow breaths exiting their lungs.
“These people have good reason to be afraid,” Joseph responded. “Up until recently, this area was thought to be safe from attack. But since the orcs’ ravaging of the Northlands, they have been preparing in case the same were to come upon them.”
The four orcs looked to the captain in surprise.
“What orcs?” Grak spoke. “What ravage? What you say?”
“I’m surprised you haven’t heard,” Joseph responded as he continued to look around. “I would have thought your clan went to join them.”
“Who?” Trogla asked. “Tell us what you say.”
“This really isn’t the time to discuss it,” Joseph responded.
He then felt a hand on his shoulder, halted his pace, and turned to see Gash staring down at him. He looked to the orcs and saw them staring at him, a look on their faces that conveyed a desperation for the knowledge he possessed.
“The orc clans in the Northlands have united,” Joseph told them. “They have been laying waste to the land there for months.”
Joseph observed the surprise and shock on the faces of the three orcs and suddenly realized the unbeleivability of his statement in their minds. All who had heard the news had thought it strange, but no more than that. It escaped him why they stood so in shock.
Trogla quickly looked to her kin and spoke in her native tongue.
“This cannot be true,” she said in disbelief. “H’ruk, the clans could not have united, could they?”
“No,” H’ruk responded in the common tongue. “It not true. He lie.”
“Who do you think we faced on the battlefield not seven days past?” Joseph questioned him. “You cannot tell me that was only one clan of orcs.”
The orcs looked at each other in confusion, fear clearly displayed on their faces.
“It…not possible,” Trogla said.
“Why?” Mara asked, her attention finally grabbed. “What does that mean?”
Not another word was said, for at that moment a regiment of soldiers rushed out of their hiding places and were upon them faster than they would have thought possible. The three instantly shoved aside their worry and drew their weapons as they prepared to battle their way free.
“Hold!” the captain shouted, holding out his hands and turning every which way on his one good leg, “Hold! These are my prisoners! Do not engage them!”
The soldiers stopped an arms breadth from the group who had instinctively moved to a position with their backs to one another.
“What madness is this?” demanded a voice.
Joseph turned to see a man in studded leather, a beard thick and blonde upon his hard face. Joseph recognized him and hobbled over to him.
“These orcs are prisoners of the Knights of the Realm, Captain,” he told him. “They are not to be harmed.”
“Interesting to allow prisoners to keep their weapons and walk unbound.”
“If you’ve seen my men, you’ll realize we are in no condition either to bind them or take their weapons.”
“Well, I am in a position to do so,” the captain of the guard replied. “Hand over your weapons, orc scum, or you’ll be run through.”
“Take from our hands if you can,” Grak snarled at the soldiers in front of him. The other two orcs were equally determined to keep their weapons. Their muscles tensed, their brows dove down into ferocious scowls, their weapons shifted into positions to strike.
“Grak.”
Grak looked to Gash.
“Put weapons away, all of you,” Gash told them.
All three orcs looked to Gash with stunned looks.
“Now,” Gash ordered.
Bewildered and still staring at their leader, the three of them slowly lowered their weapons and reluctantly put them beneath their belts.
Gash then turned to the man with whom Joseph had been convers
ing and offered his own weapon.
“They keep their weapons. You take mine. We don’t fight. No one dies.”
The captain did not even hesitate.
“Think to feign nobility so your scum kindred can kill us while our backs are turned? Don’t insult me, pig dung.”
H’ruk started towards the man but was halted by Gash’s free arm.
“Don’t be a fool, Captain,” Joseph instructed him. “He is their leader and he is offering you a fair trade.”
“Fair my spit.”
“You might take them in a rush, but not before they put half your men to the sword.”
The captain leered at Joseph and then looked back to Gash who still held out his axe for the man to take. Everyone stood tense, the orcs’ hands still tight on the handles of their weapons, and Joseph’s on his.
At last, the Captain sheathed his sword and took hold of Gash’s axe with both hands.
“I’ll expect that handed over to my men in good condition, Captain,” Joseph instructed him.
The captain merely passed him a glance and then looked to Mara.
“What about this girl?” he asked. “Is she one of your prisoners?”
Trogla’s hand instinctively went to Mara’s shoulder.
“No,” Joseph replied. “She is our ally, and she is not to be touched.”
Mara’s eyes darted to the knight. Though her face did not show it, her mind was in slight shock at his words. The captain of the guard observed Trogla’s hand on Mara’s shoulder. He needed no more than that to make his determination.
“Take them to the jailhouse, men,” he ordered. “And lock the girl up with them.”
He then turned to face Joseph as he lurched Gash’s axe onto his shoulder.
“You don’t rule this city yet, knight.”
Joseph merely returned his words with a hard look.
Cautiously, the soldiers escorted the four orcs and Mara down the street. The captain of the guard watched them go and then turned back to Joseph.
“I had a high amount of respect for you knights until late,” he told him, “You fancy yourselves the peacekeepers of the realm, yet here I find you protecting those you swore to eradicate. The more I know of your order the more I question it.”
“We have no intention of ruling anyone,” Joseph replied. “We are peacekeepers as you say.”
“Oh? ‘He who wields the sword rules the land,’ as they say. A commander Lance of your honorable order will be arriving soon. Why don’t you ask him about it? And while you’re at it, have a better explanation for your orc friends than you gave me.”
“You let me worry about that, Captain.”
The captain merely gave a smirk and a grunt as he walked away.
*************
Trogla stared out the window of their cell at the rippling waters of the ocean that lay not two miles away. The sun glistened brightly upon its surface and the orc woman stood captivated by its beauty.
“Not ugly,” she whispered.
“You won’t see it,” H’ruk told her, speaking in his native tongue.
Trogla turned to see H’ruk pacing in front of the bars of their prison. He had been doing that since they had been locked in over an hour ago.
“Why you say this?” Trogla responded in common.
“Do you really think the humans will let us go?” H’ruk asked her. “They will do whatever they can to try and kill us, or they will keep us caged hoping to crush our spirits.”
He gave one of the bars of their cell a punch as he continued to pace, the bar resounding with a clang. Trogla looked to Gash who stood standing near one wall with his arms crossed.
“That not true, is it, G’uar?” she asked him.
“Not the knight,” Gash responded.
“You are a fool if you think you can trust him,” H’ruk shot angrily at Gash. “He is the same as the rest. They are all deceitful un-orcs.”
Trogla looked to Gash and then to Mara who sat in a corner adjacent to Gash. Mara looked up at her and Trogla could see the same edge in her eyes that ran through her veins at being locked up in a tiny cell of stone and iron. Only Gash and Grak seemed unaffected. Solemnly, Trogla looked away from Mara and moved to sit on the edge of the wooden bench upon which Grak had chosen to lie. The four of them sat in silence for long moments, the only sound being H’ruk’s pacing steps.
“I do not understand,” Trogla finally spoke in orcish. “H’ruk, how could the clans have united?”
H’ruk stopped his pacing and turned to face the worried female. His anger subsided as he went into thought about the matter.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“But you were with the clan before Gurak took us from the north,” Trogla stated. “Do you not remember anything from that time?”
“I was only a child,” H’ruk stated as he continued to pace. “The only things I remember were constant battle and war. One clan was always challenging another for some reason. I don’t see how they could have united at all, much less in so short a time.”
“What it mean, if the clans unite?” Gash interjected in Common.
H’ruk just gave him a grunt and looked away.
“You don’t know?” Trogla asked her leader.
“He wouldn’t know,” Grak stated. “They didn’t talk about some things around him.”
“For good reason,” H’ruk threw in.
“You tell him, Grak?” Trogla requested, ignoring H’ruk’s comment. “You understand it the best.”
Grak sat up and faced Gash.
“The old ones among our clan talked about it as if it was a real threat about to happen. But none of us believed it. They talked of the clans in the north being in constant war. You know the ways of our clan. It was the same with most orcs. Everyone was grasping for power. No one was content to stay where they were. They were always challenging, even inside individual clans. And no clans could keep peace. No orc would stand to be captured and be a slave to someone else. We’d rather die fighting. There was no chance for peace. Ever.
“But they said that if the clans ever did somehow unite, it would be an army too great and strong to stop. It’s been said of the orc:
Never has Sylrin seen such a creature.
Never has it trembled so as at the orc’s birth.
A strength that could crush a mountain.
A number that could cover the hills.
“Now you know why we think we are so strong and why we thought you were so…worthless.”
There was silence a moment as Gash thought about Grak’s words. The orc had shown an intelligence and depth of thought unlike most of his kin. He had not known much of him as he was always up while Gash slept. He only knew that Grak kept watch for many long nights, sometimes talking with H’ruk, other times by himself. Where he received his knowledge Gash could not guess, but he was nonetheless thankful for it, and all the more confused by it.
“How many are there?” he finally asked.
H’ruk had stopped pacing and now stood facing the bars with his arms crossed. He turned his head to the side, as if to look in Gash’s direction, but falling far short. Grak and Trogla gave each other uneasy glances. H’ruk, solemn and in the most subdued tone he had uttered since being caged, replied with a single word in orcish.
Roughly translated, it came out to be:
“Beyond number.”
Gash merely gave a snort.
“You know us better than to think we would lie,” Grak confronted him.
“That not mean you know what you say,” Gash retorted.
Grak nodded at Trogla.
“How old do you think she is?”
Gash looked to Trogla who sat staring at the floor.
“She is at least two years younger than you, G’uar,” Grak answered for him. “She has been ready to bear children and so to mate for ten. If she mates, she will probably have at least five little ones. It is not just that there are so many. It is that we breed so quickly, even faster than t
he humans.”
“If the clans have united,” H’ruk continued the thought, “they could cleanse the face of Sylrin of all living things. There would be no army that could stop them.”
“Cleanse of all un-orcs, you mean,” Gash shot at them. “So why you afraid?”
H’ruk was about to respond, but Gash halted him.
“No lie!” he told him. “I can see it on faces. You afraid. But afraid not mean weak. But why you afraid? You join and you live.”
“I would not lower myself to serve those fools!” H’ruk replied with a spit to the floor. “That is why Gurak took us from there.”
“What you mean?”
“He was weak,” H’ruk replied, disdain in his voice. “He would not admit it, but he left the clans in the north because he knew he could not defeat them. They would have overwhelmed him and destroyed him. So he chose to start his own empire as every orc does. Only he went far away to the Forbidden South, where none of the others would go. We thought he was taking us to the Valley of the Beast Teeth, but he took us to those endless plains instead. We only went with him because we were not as strong as him and he would have killed us if we refused. The males did not want to become weak and the females did not want to die. If we went back to the Northlands, we would be the lowest of the ranks. Even a scout would be above us.”
“There is another reason.”
Gash looked to Trogla. She looked to Grak for approval. Grak nodded in reply. Trogla then turned to look up at Gash.
“Since you killed Gurak…” she began hesitantly, “…and since we caught up with you and have talked with the humans…we are not sure anymore what an un-orc is.”
“Bah!” H’ruk spouted with the wave of a hand as he continued to pace.
“If the clans wipe out everything in Sylrin,” Grak continued Trogla’s thought, “they will kill off the un-orcs as well. We, even H’ruk, think it’s bad.”
“Not for the same reasons,” H’ruk commented.
“We always thought it bad,” Trogla added, “but like H’ruk, we thought it was because it did not make sense. What’s the use in killing un-orcs? They are not worthy of death. Now Grak and I have a different reason.”
Half-Orc Redemption Page 18
