Savage (2 page)

A horn sounded. The Oclesh were retreating! Bazur, Rilug, and Oment chased the soldiers toward the gates, hoping to kill a few more of the bastards as they departed, but their retreat was properly planned. A group of Oclesh archers stood at the gates firing at the orcs, providing cover for their retreating soldiers. Bazur took an arrow to the shoulder, and then turned and watched Rilug fall. Rilug had been struck in the chest by a pair of arrows. Bazur pushed forward, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. They needed to clear the gates of the Oclesh archers or the enemy would just regroup outside the gates and attack again. With a loud war cry, Bazur ran toward the archers. An arrow whizzed past Bazur’s ear while another nicked him high, slicing his neck. The archers then scurried out the gates, joining what remained of the Oclesh forces.

Bazur was joined at the gates by Haguk. Together they lifted up the broken gates to create a makeshift barrier. Looking outside the barrier, Bazur could see that the orcs who’d stayed outside the gates had retreated to the woods, but they’d already done their job preventing the soldiers outside from offering reinforcements inside the gates. Obviously, the Oclesh leader had decided it was too close to nightfall to let the battle continue inside the stronghold. Bazur had no idea if the Oclesh soldiers would try again in the morning or if they were in full retreat. He suspected the latter as the force had not been a full squadron, and the orc warriors had taken a large bite out of their numbers in the battle.

Confident that the enemy was in full retreat, Bazur left Haguk at the gate. He went to check on Rilug, but it was too late for the orc commander. The last two arrows had done him in. Bazur looked around the stronghold: dozens of orc warriors and handfuls of villagers were milling around, but he was yet to see his parents. Filled with fear of what he might find, Bazur walked through the village toward his parents’ house. Many of the orc homes were on fire, or already burnt to the ground. Bazur found his parents’ home half burnt. The Oclesh torch had burned the roof off, but the walls were clay and only scarred by the flames. The door to his parents’ home was open. Bazur peered inside. The house was empty.

“Over here, Bazur,” said a voice from up the street.

Bazur exited the house to see Magoza, one of the female village elders standing against the side of a building. It was clear she’d been wounded. Bazur went to her. “Are you okay, Magoza?”

“Yes, it is only a small wound. But only thanks to your parents. When the attacks started your parents gathered all the elders too feeble to fight along with all the children not yet big enough to hold a weapon. They tried to protect us, but waves of soldiers burst through the gates and spread through the stronghold like a disease. They killed anyone they could find. Your father and mother held them off as long as they could. The ground is covered in the blood of the soldiers they slew before the soldiers killed them. The Oclesh soldiers were trying to break into the lodge to finish the rest of us off when you and the rest of the war party arrived.”

They are dead
, Bazur finally admitted to himself. It was a painful blow to his heart, but at least it seemed they had both died a warrior’s death. “Show me,” said Bazur. He ground his teeth as he followed Magoza to the lodge. True to her story, bodies littered the ground. His father’s body was beside his mother’s, which was filled with arrows. A mixture of sadness and pride overwhelmed Bazur. He had never known his father to be a warrior, but the bodies on the ground told of a fierce battle. One where both his parents worked together to save those who could not save themselves, namely the village elders along with the babies and small children of the stronghold who had survived due to his parents’ heroic efforts. “I never knew my father was such a fighter.”

Magoza shook her head. “That is because you were a headstrong youngster determined to become the fiercest orc fighter. You saw your father’s kindness and diplomacy as weakness. The truth was your father was always a strong warrior, but he chose a different path. He used his brains and words to help keep the peace between his people and ours. His words did far more for peace than any orc sword. That is why your mother loved him so. She saw the strength inside him. She understood how strong he had to be to do things his way.”

Bazur nodded. He loved his father, but he had always thought him weak, especially compared to the orc warriors of the stronghold. Something this cowardly human attack had only proved, yet his father had been anything but cowardly. Today he had been a true orc. Regret crept into his mind as he thought back to the harsh arguments he’d had with his father anytime he thought his father was being weak. Perhaps is had been Bazur who had been weak and not his father. Perhaps one could truly be a warrior with both weapons and words. He now wished he could have had a chance to apologize to both his father and mother for not seeing so.

“We can bury them properly later. However, with Rilug dead there will be a vote.”

Magoza was right. The death of the leader was a significant loss to the stronghold. The orcs would gather and declare a new leader as soon as possible. Once that was done, they would begin to care for the dead. Bazur knelt down and closed his father’s eyes. He then took the large dagger from his father’s hands. The dagger had been a wedding day gift from Shel to her new husband. The dagger signified his acceptance into the orc people. Bazur stood up and started heading toward the main lodge. It was time to declare a new orc leader.

When Bazur and Magoza entered the lodge, they found the other orcs were already arguing and petitioning one another, looking for votes for their chosen leader. An orc stronghold leader was an autocrat. His word held absolute power and would dictate the lives of the entire stronghold. Choosing a new leader was no easy task, especially now that they were at war.

Dalthu found Bazur. “Where have you been?”

“Seeing to my parents,” said Bazur. He wished he had more time to pay them their respects, but the vote was a pivotal moment for any orc stronghold. “What is happening?”

“So far it looks like there are three serious contenders. Uram, Haguk and Snagluk. I doubt many will support Uram.”

Bazur glanced around the room. Many of the orcs had started to separate into groups around their chosen leader. The crowds around Haguk and Snagluk were large, while Uram’s was significantly smaller. It did not surprise Bazur. Uram had been one of the most vocal orcs about not going to war. Now that the Oclesh army had attacked the stronghold, no one wanted peace. Haguk was one of Bazur’s friends, a smart and powerful orc, but likely too young to be considered by the older orcs. Many of them would likely vote for Uram if not Snagluk. Snagluk was one of Bazur’s least favorite orcs. His ill temper and attitude toward Bazur had long been an issue, Snagluk hated and distrusted humans and Bazur, with his human father, was human in Snagluk’s mind. When Rilug had been leader, it had not been a serious issue. Now with him gone, it could be a different issue.

“Should we stand with Haguk?” asked Dalthu.

Bazur shook his head. He would be proud to stand by his friends, but today, with the cowardly attacking of women and children, anti-human sentiment would be running high. Snagluk would not be the only orc looking at Bazur as if he were an outsider. “You can. But everyone here knows Haguk is my friend. Standing with him will not help him win votes.”

“Not all think like that,” protested Dalthu.

“Enough to make a difference. No, Dalthu, I shall vote for Haguk when the time comes, but I wouldn’t be helping his cause by standing with him. I cannot. Haguk must not be seen as a human sympathizer. He must stand strong. He must stand without me.”

Dalthu shook his head but walked away from Bazur to join those surrounding Haguk.

Yakha, one of the stronghold elders, came around and handed Bazur three small sticks of wood. Each stick of wood was painted a different color. Yakha explained, “Yellow for Uram, blue for Haguk, and red for Snagluk.”

Bazur palmed the three sticks and waited his turn. At the front of the lodge sat a wooden box. One at a time each orc walked up and placed the stick of the color of his or her chosen leader in the box. Orc society was very respectful of its elders and the voting was conducted by age. The oldest orcs voted first and then on down to the youngest adults. As one of the youngest adults in the room, Bazur would be among the last to vote. When it was his turn, Bazur walked up and dropped his blue stick in the box. Besides being his friend, Bazur thought Haguk would make the best leader.

When all the orcs had voted, Yakha and another elder started pulling the sticks from the box and sorting them into three piles. Bazur watched the piles as they grew. As he suspected, the pile for Uram was small, and the piles for Haguk and Snagluk were growing at a similar pace. Bazur couldn’t tell which pile was bigger. It was going to be a very close vote.

Yakha placed the last stick in its pile and announced the results. “By three votes, this council has elected Snagluk leader.” Bazur sighed. Again he would have to prove all over he was worthy to be called an orc to his new leader. Life was going to be harder. He would have to swallow his pride often and accept insults. But he resolved to show his worth. He’d earn their respect.

A cheer rang out among Snagluk’s supporters. Snagluk strode to the front of the lodge to join Yakha. “I vow to be the strongest leader Lagvon has ever known,” said Snagluk. “I shall lead us to glory.”

“What of the Oclesh army?” asked Hagluk softly. “We know from our scouts that a second wave of their army is heading our way. They outnumber us five to one. There is no way to stop them.”

“We shall head north to the stronghold of Larnow,” said Snagluk. “There we will fight the humans.”

As much as Bazur disliked Snagluk, he did respect the new leader’s decision. The stronghold of Larnow was much farther into orc lands. It was questionable whether the armies of the Oclesh would dare march that far into orc lands.

“Take what food and weapons you can carry,” said Snagluk. “We leave in the morning. Tonight we build a funeral pyre for the dead.” Snagluk then called Bazur forward. “Bazur, you are half-human. With the death of your mother, you no longer have a connection to this village. You are no longer one of our people.”

In shock, Bazur looked around. Surely Snagluk was kidding. But in his heart, Bazur knew this was no cruel joke. It was Snagluk establishing his position towards humans, even half-blood humans, as the enemy. Bazur felt empty. First his parents and now the rest of his community were being ripped from his heart. Alone he truly was. From the groans and cursing behind him, Bazur could tell the decision was not a popular one, but as leader Snagluk’s word was final. Bazur was now an outcast among the only people he’d ever known. Bazur lowered his head, turned and walked out of the lodge. As he slowly walked away, orcs who disagreed with the decision reached out and touched Bazur on the shoulder, showing their remorse at his banishment. At the door of the lodge stood Dalthu and Magoza. Bazur faked a smile as he reached the last of his friends. Bazur had never imagined Snagluk would be so cruel. He knew Snagluk disliked him, but banishment? It was a severe ruling that showed the true depths of Snagluk’s hate.

Dalthu grasped Bazur’s shoulder and squeezed it tight. “Tis an awful dark day, brother.”

Bazur said nothing. He nodded and grabbed Dalthu’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze of his own. Of all the orc’s, he would miss his friend Dalthu the most.

“Where will you go?” asked Magoza.

“I have no idea,” said Bazur. “I’ve never thought about leaving before.”

“You won’t be welcome in any orc strongholds now, thanks to Snagluk. Go to the human lands. Humans are slightly more tolerant of half-bloods than orcs, especially if you have coin to trade.” Magoza dropped a small purse into Bazur’s hand. “It’s not much but it is all I have. If it were me, I’d head toward the badlands around Pera. Plenty of food and water if you know where to look, and the trading posts there don’t care what you are as long as you have something valuable. The coins will get you started. Take whatever coins your father had as well.”

Bazur looked at Magoza carefully. “You don’t normally carry coins around. Did you know this would happen?”

Magoza nodded. “The moment your mother died your place among the orcs was jeopardized. I didn’t know that Snagluk would become leader, but even if one of the other orcs had been declared leader, there would’ve been pressure to have you banished. Your mother was a very strong orc, and her father, when alive, was one of the most powerful orcs in the land. Because of Shel’s father supporting our trade with humans, your father was invited to stay in Lagvon. When they fell in love, Shel petitioned your grandfather to make sure the elders and the orc leader, Quilge, would allow it.”

Bazur remembered Quilge. The old orc leader had been a fierce and proud warrior, but he’d always treated young Bazur with kindness. Other orcs had been less kind. Childhood had been difficult for Bazur; he’d had to fight more than any orc child. Now it mattered not how well or bravely he fought or how many victories he earned on the battlefield. Bazur had tried throughout his entire life to prove he was the equal of any of the orcs, but now at the first opportunity Snagluk was sending him away. It seemed Bazur had never truly been of the stronghold in their eyes. Only an unwelcome visitor they had to allow to stay because of his mother. With her death they were removing him. Bazur partly understood, after all humans had just attacked the village, humans were the enemy. But even as he tried to justify Snagluk’s actions, Bazur could see the folly in the logic. Humans were not the enemy. The Oclesh were the enemy, they were the ones constantly raiding orc lands and now attacking defenseless women and children. It was the Oclesh actions which had drawn the orcs into the war, and now it was the Oclesh acting without honor that left Bazur without parents. The other orc strongholds still considered the kingdom of Azmarin their allies. No, this was not about all orcs hating humans; this was about Snagluk hating them. Bazur thought about what Magoza had said about the badlands surrounding Pera. Pera was a small human village in between the kingdoms of Azmarin, Draisha, Oclesh, and the orc province of Irri. The badlands were a large harsh place that divided the lands of men and orc. None of the kingdoms wanted the lands or to deal with the locals who lived there. Pera was a free-town. It owed no allegiances to Azmarin, Irri or the other surrounding kingdoms that bordered the vast wasteland, yet it had traders who did business with all. Bazur would take her advice. The badlands promised a life of hardship and welcome solitude, where he could grieve for the loss of his family. Azmarin offered suspicion and hatred, while Irri and all of Khara offered death thanks to Snagluk. “I shall pack and head for Pera. Thank you for your wise council, Magoza.” As Bazur walked away, he could not believe how quickly his life changed. That morning he felt alive and strong, like nothing could stop him, and now he felt alone and empty. His family torn from this world, his community gone. He no longer had anyone he could rely on. From here on, he was on his own.