by RW Krpoun
Without hesitation the Orc thrust the stump at the Samurai’s face and an arterial pulse of hot grayish blood jetted into Derek’s cheek. The blood missed his eyes, but the unexpected maneuver threw him off and his return stroke did not decapitate his foe as planned, although it was fatal. Worse, the blade wedged itself between two vertebrae, forcing the Ronin to abandon the katana and draw his wakizashi.
Shad blasted a second Orc off its feet with a pair of black and silver bolts of arcane power; he was getting two missiles per spell, but he figured that was based upon his level. Plucking another coin from his harness he hit another just as it closed with him, the bolts doing terrible damage to the Orc, who had already been wounded by an arrow. Drawing his sword as the Orc fell to its knees, Shad severed its head with a pair of two-handed strokes that felt like he was chopping wood.
Jeff dropped two of the Orcs wounded by Shad’s initial spell and then hung his bow on a nearby branch before moving forward with his swords in hand. Fred had beaten the Orc leader to death in a titanic engagement and Derek was blitzing through the last foe still standing.
“That was quick and kinda gross,” the panting Ronin mopped at the blood on his face, his eyes glowing.
“Much like my sex life,” Jeff agreed, moving among the fallen to ensure they were dead.
“I burned through my non-Undead combat spells,” Shad announced glumly. “Those kids better have rich parents.”
“These guys weren’t as tough as they looked,” Fred observed as he used a fistful of snow to scrub blood and brains from his club.
“We’re a lot higher level than we were in the Prison,” Shad pointed out. “And you need to hang a little further back, being our medic and all.”
“Plus they’re basically primitive hunters,” Jeff added absently as he searched bodies.
“Wait…what?” Shad stopped checking the edge of his freshly-cleaned sword and stared at the Shop teacher.
“They’re hunters,” Jeff repeated, moving to another body. “Semi-nomadic, travel in extended family groups.”
“And raiders, too, right?” Shad persisted.
“Not really. They mostly stick to themselves.”
Shad looked at Derek, who was using rice paper to clean his katana’s blade, and then back to Jeff. “So, what, you’re saying we just jumped a bunch of…what the hell are you saying?”
“They’re reclusive types, like to live deep in the timber, away from everyone else,” Jeff finished searching the bodies and passed a kerchief filled with coins to Fred. “Do you suppose their weapons would have value?”
“Don’t change the subject!” Shad snarled, sheathing his sword. “You identified them as Orcs, and the assumption is that when you say ‘Orc’ you mean a tough, evil, aggressive creature. Now I’m finding out these guys are just…organized hermits?”
“Yeah, sort of. They like to stay out of the way. I’m guessing they were trading in that village,” Jeff stepped up onto a wheel hub to peer into the cart’s bed.
“So we just did a bandit attack,” Derek said slowly. “With us as the bandits. This is not cool.”
“It’s not how we operate,” Shad agreed. “I’m not against a fight, but I want to be clear of the why.”
“They had kids,” Jeff shrugged and hopped down.
“I would have been willing to buy them back if I had known these Orcs weren’t stereotypical bad guys,” Shad shook his head. “Look, when you are the repository of specific knowledge you need to keep us informed.”
“OK,” Jeff nodded. “Although you were ready to get stuck into the Tek the first time we met them.”
“But I didn’t start anything,” Shad countered.
“It’s true,” Derek agreed. “He never needs much excuse, but he always has a reason.”
“Exactly.”
“It might not make sense to a sane person, and a lot of times it can be summed up as ‘Shad is a violent bigoted asshole’, but there’s always a reason,” Derek continued.
“Did I ask you? No? Then shut up.”
“So now what?” Fred grunted. “We got a bunch of dead Orcs who might not be really bad people.”
Derek sighed. “Dump the bodies in the trees. If the question comes up we can claim they insulted my honor.”
“That will work?” Shad was surprised.
“Enough to keep us out of jail. I still am not really cool with what we just did.”
“You and me both.”
The argument started afresh once the bodies had been dragged into the brush and snow kicked over the bloodstains and drag marks. “That’s an Orc-built cart, and those kids are witnesses,” Shad pointed out. “We have serious problems.”
“Maybe not,” Derek rubbed his chin. “I talked with them. Those kids are Hanni, non-persons.”
“I thought you couldn’t sell commoners?”
“Yeah, well, apparently this was more a trade than an outright sale, and Hanni don’t count.”
“What would Orcs want with kids?” Fred mumbled.
“Food,” Jeff shrugged. “They’re not picky about meat as long as it fresh.”
“OK, now I’m not feeling so bad,” Derek shook his head.
“I never felt bad,” Shad shrugged. “Non-Humans and Turks don’t count.”
“Or Tibetans and gingers,” Fred agreed. “They have no souls.”
“We’re still left with the fact these guys are not hated,” Shad waved to the distant village. “And they probably left that place less than an hour ago. And we certainly can’t return the kids.”
“It wouldn’t matter if we did,” Derek sighed. “The next Orc trading group would get them.”
“So what do we do? Are you sure the honor story will fly?”
“We’re over-thinking this,” Derek said thoughtfully, studying the village. “That’s a border village, too small for a Samurai to be in residence. Master-less or not I’m still noble, so I think if we just walk in like we own the place, get directions, and leave, we won’t have any problems.”
“I wonder if the local ruling family knows their minions out here are trading with the Orcs,” Jeff mused. “This could be a tax-free income stream.”
“A good reason for them to keep their mouth shut,” Fred grunted. “What is in the cart?”
“Pottery goods, cloth, blankets, salt, flour.”
“I wonder what the Orcs were trading in return?” Fred muttered.
“What do we do with the kids?” Shad studied the four: all were uniformly thin, poorly dressed, and terrified.
“Take them with us as servants,” Derek shrugged. “Once clear of the area we can pass them off as Hiemen, not that anyone will care.”
“Great.” Shad stepped up to the children. “These are your names: One, Two, Three, Four. You got that? Good. Remember your new name, do what you’re told, and we’ll get along.”
“Years from now those kids are going to have mixed feelings about this rescue,” Jeff observed to Fred, who nodded.
The Talons stashed the kids in the cart before setting off for the village. The village itself was a neat cluster of log buildings with steep roofs shingled with terra-cotta tiles, the whole encircled by a well-maintained ditch and a broad stake belt.
The people were a mix of races, all uniformly lean and aged by copious amounts of very hard work on a limited diet. Their clothing looked vaguely oriental to Shad, albeit if the Orient included Minnesota winters. There was an absence of clothing colors other than a streaked fading brown, which the warder guessed they made by boiling the cloth with butternut bark.
Children ran at the sight of the approaching blood-stained men, and the pair of guards at the bridge of the ditch straightened and fingered their naginatas, shrugging their shoulders within their padded armor tunics.
Jeff offered a polite but aloof greeting and made inquiries about the surrounding area before the Talons proceeded into the village along the graveled main street. “Litam is a major city to the east, about three days’ travel” he
said quietly for those who hadn’t overheard the conversation.
“That’s our best bet,” Shad agreed, keeping his voice down. “The guards certainly recognized the cart.”
“Do we want to buy provisions?” Fred mumbled.
“Not here,” Shad decided, eyeing the locals as they walked along the street. Women were dragging children indoors, and one of the entry guards was trailing them, joined by two more men shrugging into padded tunics and armed with yari-style spears.
“I thought this was a rigidly-enforced culture of distinct class roles?” Jeff muttered to Derek.
“That’s what I’ve got in my head. This is my first real visit, remember?”
“It’s just that these commoners don’t look all that servile.”
Shad hitched his sword scabbard slightly forward. “Border areas should breed tougher peasants, as well as attracting the less lawful types, but I get the distinct impression a lot of these folks don’t like seeing men in dresses.”
“Reminds me of Iraq,” Fred muttered.
“Yeah. We are neither loved nor welcome,” Derek agreed. “But we’re too tough to mess with.”
It was the work of mere minutes to traverse the village and cross the bridge over the ditch on the east side of the defensive works, and while the Black Talons were careful not to show any concern or uncertainty, they did not waste time.
When they were a good half-mile from the village, following the road as it wound between snow-dusted fields and pastures Shad motioned towards Jeff. “Talk to the kids and find out what they know.”
“I doubt they know much,” Derek shrugged. “Commoners seldom travel.”
“If they know one thing that we don’t, it’s time well spent.”
“True,” Derek conceded. “But maybe Fred should talk to them; he’s a parent, after all.”
“A lousy parent,” Shad made a dismissive gesture. “His kid being kidnapped is why we’re still in Never-Never land.”
The big man nodded thoughtfully. “True.”
“What was he supposed to do, put cold iron around her crib?” Derek scowled.
“I think that’s for pixies,” Jeff frowned in thought. “Or is it the Evil Eye?”
“Whatever. Jeff works with kids, and he’s a lying bastard, so he talks to them.”
“I’m not conceding anything, but embezzlement is not an honesty issue,” Jeff said with dignity. “No one asked about party funds.”
“Yeah, yeah, you were just playing your character, we’ve heard every excuse a dozen times. Get to it.”
“He is less scary-looking than Fred,” Derek mused, still on the selection process. “As a Samurai I would unnerve them.”
“Your being a pervert would unnerve them,” Fred grunted.
“So how does being a Samurai feel?” Shad asked without much interest, hitching his cloak a bit closer.
“Awesome, like being a gunfighter, only with a sword.”
“I was a gunfighter in the Realm,” Shad said thoughtfully. “That was pretty cool.”
“Every time I hear the word ‘gunfighter’ I’m reminded of Micah ranting about those books,” Fred muttered.
“They lost me early on,” Shad nodded. “Too offbeat.”
The trio trudged along in silence until Jeff rejoined them. “They seem like good kids,” the Shop teacher observed.
“Great. What did they tell you?” Shad asked.
“Not a lot as such-they spent their time hustling for their next meal. They lived with a small herd of non-person kids in an abandoned hut, got used for odd jobs. The locals have been trading with the Orcs for some time, and if they can catch any of the kids they sell off a couple. These four got grabbed two days early; usually they go into hiding when they get wind of an impending Orc visit.”
“Kinda like stray cats when you bring out the pet carrier to haul them off to get fixed,” Derek observed.
“What did the Orcs bring to the table?” Fred asked.
Jeff held up a grimy rock the size of a marble. “Sacks of this. The kids found a loose piece in the cart.” The Shop teacher grinned. “It’s iron ore.”
“Damn,” Derek breathed.
“What’s the big deal?” Shad frowned.
“This is an iron-poor region,” Derek reminded them. “Most of what iron there is, is bog iron, obtained by processing peat. The point is that iron ore is the property of the Emperor; it is an Imperial monopoly. The Imperials watch over iron ore the way the DEA watches over hydrocodone. ”
“Isn’t Minnesota a big iron-producing state?” Shad wondered.
“Yeah, world-class,” Jeff nodded. “But I think the ore is near the Great Lakes region, so we might be further west. Or maybe this isn’t a duplicate of Earth, or maybe we’re not even in North America. Minnesota isn’t the only place with bogs.”
“What do they use for tools and metal goods if iron is so valuable?” Shad studied the piece of ore.
“Bronze or tin. Iron and steel go into weapons and armor.”
“So the locals have found themselves an arms supply that the government doesn’t know about?” Shad rubbed his scar. “Again, I thought this culture was incredibly stable.”
“It was in Japan, but remember that the creation of the Isle included people from other cultures.”
“I saw a black girl in the village, and nobody seemed shocked at the sight of white guys,” Jeff nodded.
“Plus Japan didn’t have many outside threats due to being islands,” Derek pointed out. “And their religions added to social stability.”
“OK, so the natives might be restless,” the warder shook his head. “Great. We need to find out if this is just a local thing, a border thing, or widespread. They know much else?”
“Nothing of any real use. That could change with the context of questions as we get an idea of what we don’t know.”
“Well, we head to Litam, lose ourselves in the crowds, maybe find some gigs. And do some intensive reading. We need to have an idea of what those bundles contain soon; that ought to give us some insight into what the hell we’ve gotten ourselves into.”
“It seemed like a good idea after climbing all those stairs,” Jeff observed. “Of course, so did volunteering for the military.”
“We are not bright,” Fred agreed.
“Bright or not, we caught Cecil off-guard,” Derek reminded them. “If it hadn’t been for that damned boatman Cecil would be dead and we would be home by now.”
“That ungrateful bastard,” Shad shook his head. “And after we kept him from being skinned alive.”
“Think of this as bonus life,” Jeff suggested.
“I dunno about it being bonus,” Shad shrugged. “I feel older than dirt already.”
“We’ve seen some amazing things,” Derek pointed out.
“You keep saying that,” Shad held up a hand. “Mostly what we have seen is endless plains, boring food, and people or things that want to kill us. I’ll call it amazing when we find a place populated by horny female Elves who look like Kat Dennings.”
“That would be cool,” Jeff conceded.
Jeff bagged a careless young doe as the sun neared the horizon and the Black Talons made camp as he dressed it out. The four children, wearing blankets poncho-like, were rendered parasite-free by Fred and then put to simple duties which they undertook with gusto.
“You know, Four is a girl,” Derek observed as the Talons gathered around the fire to warm themselves and watch the venison cook.
“So?” Shad shrugged disinterestedly. “They’re around ten or so. What difference does it make?”
“Just an observation. We need to factor that in when we find them a home.”
“That needs to be sooner rather than later.”
“It is going to be harder than I initially thought.”
Shad looked up from the coin he was engraving. “Why?”
“It’s hard to disguise what they are.” Derek shifted uneasily. “Something is wrong.”
“We�
�re on an alternative world, so nothing is right. Spit it out.”
“What I have got in my head about the culture and society might not be accurate.”
“What?” Shad was startled. “Do you mean we can’t trust our class knowledge?”
“I think what our goat-loving comrade means is that it is based on social class,” Jeff turned the spit, sending droplets of grease hissing onto the coals. “His information is based on the Samurai viewpoint. I expect it is crystal clear about the Bushi, but less so about the commoners.”
“What about yours?”
The Shop teacher shrugged. “I’m at a disadvantage, too. You two are as well: you’re outside the normal chain of command.”
“Great.”
“We have an advantage of sorts: the kids.”
“You said they didn’t know anything,” Shad pointed out.
“Sure, but in the hours since the village I’ve been mulling over things and coming to the same conclusion Derek has: there is a disparity between my class knowledge, which is the way things are supposed to be, and the way things actually are. The kids don’t trust us: they’re unwanted orphans who were traded to non-Humans and then rescued by three strange men and a pervert. But they haven’t had much care or comfort in their lives, so once they start thawing we should get some insights.”
“Views from the upper and bottom class,” Fred mumbled. “That ought to help. Maybe we can use them for eyes and ears.”
Shad thought about this as he watched the shapeless forms of One through Four gathering deadfall. The children were uniformly thin, with fear and hardship stamped onto their faces. They weren’t Japanese, he guessed, perhaps Pacific Islander with a few ethnic diversions in the family tree. He felt a bit at a loss, as children seldom factored into his life save as the occasional obstacle or complication, although he was very fond of his nephews and nieces. “OK, they stay out of sight in the cart as we travel. Hang onto their rags when we get them better outfitted in case they need disguises. Hopefully we won’t need them, maybe this time will be a straight-forward operation.”