by Ramy Vance
Terra smiled as she straightened and folded her arms. "Are you talking to me too? Do I get to be part of the family as well?"
The shaman unwrapped her face, revealing a mangled and broken countenance. "The orcish dinner table is not one of whispers and polite manners, not for us old ones. If you wish to continue sitting among us, you will have to show that you can have your skull knocked in and not lose your wits."
"What do you propose?"
The shaman pointed at Grok. "There is only one recognized leader of the orcs, but it is unspoken among the young of our tribe. They have forgotten our ways, but we have watched for hundreds of years, waiting for the chance to lead the horde back to glory."
Terra and Cire exchanged glances. She wasn't sure if she had heard right. From what Cire had told her, orcs didn't have the extremely long lives of elves, gnomes, or dwarves. They lived about the same length of time as humans.
"Yes, you heard us correctly, chok-al-yurezth."
Cire leaned over to whisper to Terra. "That means ‘little children.’"
The ground shook again, calling their attention back the shaman. "Only a shaman can lead the orcish people, and until now, I have not seen one worthy in all my years."
Terra sighed with relief. She had never wanted to lead. It had been thrust upon her, and she had tried to do the best she could. She was ecstatic that someone was going to take this weight from her.
The shaman smiled, her lopsided face somehow managing to convey something like joy. "You aren't off the hook yet. Leadership is more than just brains. The shaman, and the tribe by association, has always had a Hand. For years, Grok was mine. Now you are to be Cire's."
Grok stepped forward. "This is not a simple thing. The Hands are trained in the most dangerous Path, that of the Lost. We bestow upon them the primal rage of our ancestors, allowing them to draw even more strength from themselves."
One of the elders leapt from the podium, landing with enough force to shake the earth, and approached Grok, holding two collars in his hand. He slipped one over Grok's neck.
The shaman continued, "These collars will evenly distribute Grok's power between you two. If you can defeat her, you will be the new Hand, and she will train you in the Path of the Lost. Do you agree to our terms?"
Terra glanced at Grok, who seemed to be unable to contain her urge to fight Terra. It was seething through her skin, and her smile was fierce. She was looking forward to a fight. "I have one condition," Terra said. "If I win, Grok doesn't just train me. She also trains the last Traveler, Anabelle."
The shaman’s smile widened, her face looking even more broken than before. "Who are you to make demands of me?"
"You may be comfortable with your position, but I command the twelve tribes, and it's my generally cool attitude that's going to keep me from razing your wrinkly asses to the ground. I get that you’re probably all strong as hell, but I have a fucking horde, not just the memory of one."
One of the councilors doubled over laughing, holding his gut as if he thought it would burst. "You've picked a Hand with a lot of fight in her. Hopefully she'll be able to make up for the meekness of your shaman."
The shaman nodded her head. "Agreed. If you can beat Grok, you will both be trained. On one condition. Grok will receive seventy-five percent of her power. You will receive twenty-five percent. And it is up to the winner whether or not the loser lives or dies."
Terra cracked her knuckles. "All right. Grok, any last words before I pound the shit out of you?"
The elder crossed the space between Grok and Terra and handed a collar to Terra. She slipped it onto her neck as Sarah walked up to her.
Sarah placed her hand on Terra's shoulder. "Good luck. A lot is riding on you." Then she went over to Roy, who only glanced at her. "I already knew this was happening," Sarah said. "My network runs pretty wide. This was the only way, and if I’d had my guy let you know about Grok, you would have pulled the plug."
Roy nodded as he scratched his beard. "Yeah, I figured it was something like that. Feels like I'm getting the short end of the stick recently–people trying to put me in my place even though I'm not putting any restrictions on them."
"No, it's not like that. Sometimes things need to happen fast, and you're leading a whole goddamn war. We’re trying to make things easier for you and everyone else. All you have to do is—"
"Trust you? I do. I'm just complaining because I'm a tired... Fuck, I'm just tired. I appreciate you making the call. Let's hope it doesn't end with Terra dead."
"Yeah, let's hope."
Terra took a step toward Grok. She felt an energy surge through her body unlike anything she'd ever felt before. The world around her seemed lighter, and her body didn't feel like it had any substance. She could do anything, there was no question about it. Was this how Grok felt all the time?
Grok and Terra circled each other. "You feel that, don't you?" the orc asked. "You aren't like other humans. They don't keep getting stronger like you. They don't have the screaming anger in their blood. Anabelle didn't either. I had to put it there for her. You were wise to ask for her to be taught as well, but it isn't going to happen. You aren't walking away from this."
"You’re right. I'll be dancing on your grave."
"So brave for someone whose heart was racing a few minutes ago."
"You tortured my friend. I'm going to enjoy this."
"So will I."
Grok pulled two axes from behind her back and tossed one to Terra.
As the human reached out to grab the axe, the orc surged forward, axe high above her head. She brought it down fast, attempting to cleave through Terra's skull.
Terra's arm went up faster than she thought was possible to move, almost as if her body had anticipated the attack before she registered the orc’s movement.
She stepped back, pivoted, and leaned forward, locking her axe with Grok's.
Grok held her own, pushing back against Terra while smiling cruelly. "You fight like an orc, and I don't mean with our passion. How did a human who'd never been in a fight learn how to move with such intention?"
The orc then leaned forward and headbutted Terra, causing the human to stumble back. "Did that filthy creature who calls himself a shaman share our memories with you?"
She leapt into the air and kicked Terra in the face. “He’s not worthy to call himself one of us, filling your head with the ancestral memories of orcs too weak to keep from being forced into slavery."
As Terra retreated, Grok rushed her and slammed her fist into Terra's nose. The human crumpled to the ground. "You aren't a Hand," Grok taunted. "You're not even a limp dick."
Terra rolled over, grasping her nose. It was gushing blood, and her face was swelling. Twenty-five percent of what Grok had was nothing. Deep down Terra knew that, but it didn't matter at that moment.
Blood that was as hot as hell pumped through Terra's veins. She slammed the ground, sending a small quake through the earth. Then she sprang up and slugged Grok in the face with everything she had for each moment of self-doubt, every wince, and the many instances she'd listened to orcs talk shit about Cire and didn’t say a word. All of it was channeled into that punch.
Grok's legs buckled, and she went to one knee. When Terra's fist connected with the orc’s jaw, it created a sonic boom that rippled through the ground as if someone had pulled a massive hoe over it.
The orc touched her jaw, holding it tenderly, her eyes wide with shock. "No technique. Animalistic. Pure force. And without any magic..."
Grok got to her feet as she rubbed her jaw. She took a step forward, firmly planting her foot on the ground. "I extend a formal challenge to you. No tricks. Nothing fancy. Place your foot beside mine, and we go at it."
Terra stepped up to Grok without hesitation. She put her foot beside the orc’s and raised her fist. There wasn't time to think this through, but Terra knew the orc had been fighting for years. Maybe this would even the playing field.
Grok swung and Terra raised her arm, ab
sorbing the attack as the orc threw a punch with the other hand.
Each blow hit Terra like a freight train. She thought her arms were going to break from the force of Grok's attacks.
But then there was an opening, a split second as Grok was preparing for another strike and an open spot between the orc's arms. The ribcage.
Terra jabbed, pouring her heart and soul into that punch. It connected, and she felt ribs crack.
Grok coughed up blood as she leaned forward.
Terra slightly relaxed. The next thing she felt was Grok's knuckles slamming into her forehead.
The world went black for a second as Terra swayed, then came back into focus. She saw Grok's fist coming at her and ducked, then reached up, grabbed the orc’s arm, and struck her elbow, breaking it.
Grok screamed, and in a fit of pure madness, slapped Terra in the face with her limp, broken arm.
As Terra flailed, the orc grabbed the back of her head with her good arm and pulled the human's head to her, smashing into it with her broad forehead.
Terra stumbled and fell on her back.
Grok leapt and brought her fist down on Terra's chest.
The human coughed blood as Grok straddled her, her eyes mad with blood rage.
The orc punched Terra in the head, and the only sound in the arena was that of bone breaking bone, followed by a much thicker sound.
Terra lay still.
Grok hit her again.
Cire stepped forward, drawing his dagger, and Sarah grabbed him by the shoulder. "Wait." He looked from Sarah to Terra, his eyes narrow with pain and anger.
He turned when he heard Grok hit Terra again. Then again. And again.
Blood pooled from Terra's nose and the cuts on her face. Both eyes were swollen, and her jaw was broken.
She reached up and swung at Grok, but the orc caught her hand and bent it back, snapping the wrist so that Terra's hand hung like a swollen piece of fruit from a broken branch. Her screams filled the arena.
Grok slammed her head into the human’s, knocking out five of her teeth. Then there was only the sound of Terra gurgling.
"Do you yield?"
Terra's face hardly resembled anything human anymore. Her nose was pushed to the side, and her eyes were gone. Her left cheekbone was crushed, causing half of her face to sink in. When she tried to speak, only a faint wheeze came out.
"What was that? I can't hear you?"
Terra wheezed again.
"Let me get closer. Whisper it in my ear, okay?"
Grok leaned over so Terra could whisper. Instead, the human lunged up and bit the side of Grok's face. She pulled back as the orc tried to get away, tearing off the Hand’s ear and a five-inch patch of skin.
The orc stumbled backward, holding bare muscle on the side of her face.
Terra stumbled to her feet, swaying until she fell back down. She vomited blood and teeth, then forced herself back up and raised her fists.
Grok stared at Terra and nodded before turning to the shaman and the elders. "She's your new Hand." Then she walked away.
Cire, Blackwell, and Roy rushed over to Terra. Cire barely caught her before she hit the ground.
The shaman boomed, "Take her to my chambers. Accommodations have already been made."
The sand swirled around Terra, forming a golem that picked her up and sped between the columns in the arena.
Cire, his eyes still flashing with anger, turned to face Sarah. "How did you know Grok wasn't going to kill her?"
Sarah folded her arms. "Don't come at me like that. This is what you two wanted. All I did was deliver. You should have known it wasn't going to be pretty."
Cire whirled and glared at the shaman. "Take me to her. Now."
The shaman dissolved and reappeared in front of Cire. "A shaman without a Hand is nothing, and a Hand without a shaman is dead flesh." She touched Cire's shoulder, and both of them dissolved into fine sand.
Roy looked up at the remaining orc elders. "Uh, do we have to stay here? I'm kind of on a tight schedule."
Terra opened her eyes. Her entire face hurt, but she managed to sit up. The room was too dark for her to see, but she didn't need to. She could hear Cire praying by her side.
He stopped. "The lights are out because of your eyes. We had to regrow them, and most of your face as well. The damage was extensive, but you won't have anything worse than a few scars."
"Did we win?"
"You won. There are trials I must face alone for the transfer of power."
Terra laid back down. She wanted to talk to Cire but could not keep her mind focused. "I don't remember anything except getting punched a lot."
"You ripped Grok's ear off with your teeth."
Terra smiled and winced from the pain. "That's pretty sick. Do you have your trials soon?"
"Yes. Very soon."
"Will you stay here just a little bit longer?"
Cire took Terra's hand. "For as long as you want. Nothing will get me to leave your side except your words."
"Good. Just keep singing. Please."
And he did.
Chapter Seven
Terra slept for nearly three days, dipping in and out of consciousness. She did not dream. There was only a feeling of heaviness on her eyelids that gradually disappeared. At times she would wake, looking for Cire. Sometimes he was there, others not, but never without first kissing Terra's forehead and telling her he was leaving.
On the third day, Terra finally woke and managed to stay awake. She searched her dark room and saw someone standing in the corner.
The shaman stepped out of the shadows. "For as long as you live, you are an orc. You've proven yourself far beyond what any of us could have imagined. I had hopes for you and Cire, but to be honest, I did not think either of you was going to survive."
Terra forced herself to sit up. "I don't know if I should be pissed at you or thank you."
The shaman chuckled. "In all cases with our trials, a little bit of both is good."
"You said you weren't sure Cire was going to survive? What did you mean?"
The shaman took a seat on Terra's bed, looking almost matronly. She reminded Terra of a tired mother, one who had tended to her children for far too long. "Your trial tested the limits of your physical body. His trials have tested the limits of his mind. A shaman is nothing without a tinge of madness, and he was quite sane before we started."
Terra tried to get out of bed. "What did you do to him?"
"What had to be done. Stripped him of his name. Drowned him in the memories, anger, and sorrow of our ancestors and the tribespeople. He is more connected to our history than any living orc other than me."
"Then what does he have to recover from?"
"It is an arduous process to absorb so much pain from so many. It breaks the mind. Then the mind has to reform, make itself anew. You may call him Cire still, but I doubt he will answer to anything other than his new name."
"Which is?"
"Shaman. And now I can return to my own name. He has taken my place. I wish you both the best of luck. The two of you will lead our people well. I have no doubt of that."
There was a knock on the door. The shaman looked over her shoulder as Cire stepped into the room.
He had lost a lot of weight, his muscles having been stretched and burned down to leanness. His entire body was covered in what looked to be ash, his face smeared with the stuff so that he had a ghostly complexion from which his intense eyes burned. "We have business to attend to," he said.
The shaman bowed and left the room. Cire stepped farther in.
Terra noticed the difference instantly. The timidity was gone, and the insecurity had vanished. Her friend had been replaced by a man she did not recognize. He was dark, angry, and powerful. "Hey, Cire."
Despite the foreign eyes, a piece of Cire shone through when he smiled. "I've thought of you night and day."
He rushed over and threw his arms around Terra, who tried not to wince at the pressure on her bones. "It was alm
ost all I could think about."
"What did they do to you?"
"Bathed me in anger and purpose. We will talk about it some other time. I am still trying to understand what happened, but for now, we must meet with everyone. Roy wants reports from all of us. Apparently, Abby has upgraded all our HUDs so we can speak to each other over longer distances."
"Wait? Roy, Sarah, and everyone else didn't stay?"
Cire shook his head as his eyes bored into Terra's. His new intensity was a little off-putting, but surprisingly, extremely attractive on him.
The orc took Terra's hand. "You've been out for a couple of days. No one could abandon their missions, and it sounds as if things are moving about on the Dark One's side. Our crisis has been averted. We must help the others now. Are you ready?"
Terra looked under her covers. "Uh, hardly. Apparently, I had to be naked to heal all the way. I’m assuming that was your idea."
"No, but I am not complaining. That isn't a concern, though. No one will be able to see."
"Do you want to crawl in here with me?"
"And give the illusion that we haven't faced death? No, but I will once the call is over."
Terra nodded. She liked whatever had happened.
Cire raised his arm, his HUD lighting, and Terra did the same.
A message appeared on the HUD, stating that they were waiting for the other members of the chat.
Roy appeared in Terra's room first.
She nearly jumped out of bed. It looked like Roy had teleported into the room, but on closer inspection, Terra could see he was a hologram—the most impressive hologram she'd ever seen. Completely lifelike, even casting a shadow.
Roy smiled when he saw her. It was the first such expression she'd seen in a while. "Good to see you awake. I thought Grok was going to take the chance to kill you."
Grok appeared next, leaning against the wall near the door. "Arrangements have been made for me. I don’t plan on breaking my agreements."