Twisted Fate (Orc Destiny Volume I) (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (12 page)

That thought alone gave him more pride than any other
achievement in his life. The fact that she trusted him, even with her own life,
when she walked towards death with her head held high. Humans were not dumb. Nor
were they weak. They had discovered a life that was better than the lives of Orcs.
He owed Jen more than her life and a bag full of wealth. He owed her more than
his own life. There was nothing he could give the girl that would repay what
she had given him. He hoped one day he would be worthy of the trust she put in
him now.

With the coming of morning Gnak repeated his routine of the
previous day, preparing Jen her food and drink after lashing her to a tree. But
this day, it was his turn first to rest. Laying upon the ground, refusing to
remove his armor, he turned to face Jen. He watched as she laid down too,
giving him one quick grin before she curled up in a ball and closed her eyes. His
eyes never closed. He did not dare go to sleep. If he did they would kill her,
or him, or both. Of that he was certain. Instead, he kept one blade out of his
belt and in his hand as he lay there for half of the day just watching her
sleep, the girl who had opened his eyes to reality.

When midday did come, it was again time for Korx to rest. Today
the Orc seemed more his normal prideful and cocky self. He was mentally
preparing himself for Catunga, Gnak could tell. Korx moved in a way filled with
pride in himself. His every action said he was not afraid. He even laid down
and went to sleep, showing those with him that he was not afraid of them. Not
that it mattered. Gnak could not kill Burl without waking the slumbering Orc,
nor could he free Jen without killing Burl. Still an impossible situation.

It was only an hour or two before nightfall when Burl rose,
and thrusting his head towards the trees behind them, he motioned to say he was
going to relieve himself. It was the only opportunity they would get. Waiting
for Burl to disappear from sight, he quickly and quietly untied Jen and shook
her awake.

“You go now. Run. Hide. I find you.”

She nodded to him, a determined look on her tiny face, before
she darted off into the trees back the way they had come the previous night. He
watched her go until she too vanished, and began to prepare the scene by hiding
her retreating tracks with tracks of his own. Taking his blade to his forehead
he sliced it several times in a crisscrossing pattern, letting the blood pour down
his face. Cuts upon the head always bled out of proportion to the wound. Then,
picking up a large rock, he pressed it into the newly formed wound, coating one
side with blood. Setting it upon the ground a few feet away, he laid down,
closing his eyes, and waited.

More than a quarter hour passed, and Gnak thanked the
heavens for every passing second, but as he knew they would, his passing
seconds ran out. Returning to camp, Burl sounded the alarm with a yell,
stirring Korx who arose to inspect the scene. Taking a sharp kick to the back,
Gnak feigned stirring groggily, grasping at his head with squinty eyes as he
rose.

“Where tiny human?” Korx demanded.

“Not know,” Gnak replied, looking this way and that,
continuing his role.

“How human go?” Korx demanded again, as Burl simply stood
watching the exchange.

“Not know,” Gnak repeated, then decided his answer was not
enough. He needed to buy more time. “Used magic, throw rock,” he added.

They both stared at him a long moment before Korx took
action, bending low where the girl had been. He peered all over the ground, his
head snapping back up, his face only inches away from Gnak’s.

“No trail. Tracks gone. Magic too?” Korx questioned, his
tone seething.

“Tracks gone. Human gone. Need new sacrifice,” Gnak replied.

Korx wasn’t buying it and Gnak knew it. He watched as his
rival walked around their little camp, eyeing the ground, searching for a clue.
It was only a matter of time before he found her fleeing tracks. Instead of
giving him a chance, Gnak had another plan. He followed Korx’s lead and made a
show of looking for tracks himself. He was sure to beat Korx back to the trail,
and when he did he pointed to the ground and turned to his peers.

“Human no go easy. I go get. Bring back. You go camp.”

Without waiting for a reply he grabbed the pair of bags and
his helmet, and ran from the camp, leaning low as if to watch the trail. Gnak
sprinted ahead, knowing that Jen would not be far. She was so small that even
sprinting she might have gone two or three miles in the time since she left. Even
so, he watched as her trail passed beneath him, in case she veered off the
course they had taken the previous night. One mile and then two passed beneath
his feet and still he ran on. Their plan had worked, she was free, and he was
free to take her home.

Knowing he had to be right on her tail he veered around a
hill, his eyes on the ground as a blood-curdling scream caused his head to jerk
up. Not fifty yards ahead stood Korx, holding the screaming form of Jen by the
hair in one hand, his blackened iron blade pressed to her throat.

“Look, find me!” Korx shouted as Gnak grew nearer.

“Give her,” Gnak demanded.

“Is mine. Is sacrifice,” Korx replied.

Gnak watched as Jen struggled, her screams tearing at him as
she grasped for her attacker’s hand, trying to take the weight off of her hair.
Tears streamed from her eyes, and there was nothing he could do. If he moved to
attack she would be dead in an instant.

“You have troll. Troll is sacrifice.”

“Troll dead. This one better.”

That was it, there was nothing he could do. Both he and Korx
had gambled and Korx had won. If he let Korx win, at least Jen would survive a
few more days. Those days might give him a chance to free her. But he could not
return home without a sacrifice. To make it to the end of Catunga, Korx would
have to prove Jen’s magic, but Gnak knew he could torture it out of her,
proving her worth. In order to be his equal at the end of the ceremony he would
have to bring an equal sacrifice. His options were limited. Watch Jen die now,
or delay and hope for a chance to save her in the days to come. He would not
let her die.

With shoulders sagging, he looked into Korx’s eyes for a
long time showing the other that he would not be dealt with so easily. Then, without
a word, he turned and stalked off to the south. He needed a plan.

That entire night after losing Jen had passed without a
moment of rational thought. So angered with Korx and himself was Gnak, that he
stomped a path deep into desert, wading through mile after mile of sand without
mind of where he was going. He hated who he had been, he hated who Korx was, he
hated that his people were so caught up in their ways to see what they were missing
in the world.

On and on he stomped, mile after mile through the sand over
dune after dune, flies and fleas biting at his flesh as his anger and pain
enveloped him in a mind-numbing fog. He would have likely stormed on forever,
had it not been for the obvious sign that he had wandered somewhere that
perhaps he should not have.

Before him, atop the dune he climbed, a pole was thrust deep
into the sand. Atop the pole was the eyeless head of an Orc. The face was
rotting, and had been in the sun for days so he did not recognize it, but
assumed that it had been another, like he, that faced Catunga. Climbing the
rest of the way to the summit, he peered beyond and found the reason for the
head.

Just beyond the dune was a small oasis. Surrounding the
oasis was a makeshift wall, and all around were small buildings made of whatever
materials the owners had managed to scavenge to build them. The sounds of
screams and laughter, the clank of a hammer on iron and more issued from beyond
the walls, and Gnak knew he had found a goblin city.

Where there was a city, there was a king. Where there was a
king there was a way to the final ceremony of Catunga, but thinking ahead, Gnak
saw another opportunity.

Striding down the side of the dune he grew nearer and nearer
the city, and watched as dozens of armed and armored goblins of various shade
and size poured out from its gates. They waited for him to near, wanting him to
come closer. But he knew goblin tricks. They had weapons that threw tiny
spears, and he would not be foolish enough to come within range. Instead, when
he knew they would hear him clearly, he dropped both of his weapons and shouted
across the distance.

“Bring me king. We talk. If he want kill after, he kill. I
no fight.”

Dozens of goblin heads turned this way and that, their
mouths parting as sounds issued, but from here he could make no sense of any of
it. Minutes passed and eventually a pair of the goblins retreated inside as the
rest simply stood watching him, talking amongst themselves. A quarter hour
later and an oddity issued out from the goblin city. A strange cart with spiked
wheels pulled by two sand boars rolled into sight, a goblin wearing a crown
guiding it from the city. The king was dressed in odd fabrics in more bright
colors than Gnak had ever seen before. His fingers glittered with jewelry, and
even the cart he rode was decorated with that which goblins considered wealth. The
soldiers surrounded their strange little king and as a unit they moved towards
him. He had never seen such precision from goblins before.

Before they got too close the procession stopped, and Gnak
took that as his cue. Removing the pack from his back, he undid the buckles
that held the flap on top secure. Reaching in, he pulled forth a fistful of the
small pouches within it and threw them over the heads of the soldiers to the
king’s feet.

“Hear me, king. I come, no fight. I buy you help. I pay you
this,” he thrust out the entire pack. “And talk you where get much, much more.”

He watched as the king looked down to one of his soldiers
who pulled open the strings on several bags and emptied their contents into the
sand. Several oohs and aahs followed. Then Gnak continued.

“You hear me. We talk. You no like, I go
or
you kill.
No matter. You like, you help. I talk you where get more.”

Again he raised the bag as he concluded, showing his
meaning. The goblin king stared at him for a long moment, his fingers drumming
on the rail of his cart, each of them sparkling in the sun.

“You come, orcsie. We talk,” the king replied, and with a
pull on his reins he turned and left with half of the soldiers. The other half
approached warily, surrounding him. His weapons were collected, though not
returned, and he was led into the goblin city. The city gate, made of both iron
and wood, slammed closed behind him. He doubted any living Orc had ever seen
past its walls. But that was not what was important.

The trip through the city made him feel uneasy. Everywhere
goblins bounded around to look at him and poke at him. They clung from poles
and stood in shops in what seemed some sort of trade area. Items were exchanged
here and there, and he watched as he walked, guided through the city. Goblin
women paraded their scantily covered bodies through the streets, the men giving
them the metal disks before disappearing behind the closed doors of the
buildings. Goblin children ran to and fro with no thoughts of pride or honor,
simply doing what they wished. Meat hung from racks, and great casks of drink
were stacked under canopies, as somewhere in the distance an odd tune was
played that carried through the streets.

Taking in as much as he could, he admired the goblins. They
seemed to be a happy race, though he had killed dozens in the past. Probably
more. Everywhere items were being sold or created, and in one tented hut he
even saw something he recognized. Hanging from a rack were tiny jointed men
carved from either wood or bone, he couldn’t tell. One of them was an Orc with
dark skin and proud features. From its joints small strings were attached and
at the other end a pair of handles kept the strings from becoming tangled. Within
the shop a goblin made a pair of the small carved men fight with swords as a
gathering of goblin children cheered. Gnak grinned wickedly.

Though it was obvious they paraded him around to show him
off, eventually they arrived at what he presumed to be the home of the king. It
was a tall building that appeared to have been built with more thought than
most within the city. Its walls were made of some sort of square-ish stones,
all the same earthy red tone, and they appeared to be held in place with a mud
like substance that had seeped from between them in some places before drying.

Opening a great door upon the building, the guards parted
and allowed Gnak entry. Even here he realized he was not going to be alone with
the king. As he entered, near half a hundred of the small spear-throwing
weapons were pointed at him from every available place along all four walls. At
the center of the room sat the king in a tall chair covered in cushions and
carvings. Before the king sat a table large enough that Gnak could not reach
him across it. Beyond that was a stool for him to sit upon.

Without a word the goblin king beckoned towards the stool,
and Gnak took a seat, tossing the bag of metal disks and stones onto the table
as the door to the street outside closed. Still every weapon pointed at him.

“Tell me orcsie, what is it that you wish to purchase?” the
gaudy king asked, staring at him intently.

“I want catch giant,” Gnat replied to a room filled with the
sound of many suddenly taken breaths.

“A giant….” The Goblin king leaned forward and rested upon
his elbows, his hands facing one another. Matching up his hands, finger to
finger, he drummed them upon one another over and over as he pondered.

“I suppose you want it alive?” the king questioned further.

“Alive, yes.”

“A big giant?”

“Big, yes.”