Becoming the Orc Chieftain

by E. M. Hardy

  “Yeah,” whispered Bernabé, eyes downcast. “We all have you to thank for. If you didn’t shove us out of the way, flipping and kicking like mad, we’d have all been ugly smears on the sidewalk.” To his credit, he didn’t try to compete for Olivia’s affection this time. Isiah saw the sadness in his eyes, as well as frustration and admiration. It lasted all of three seconds before he broke out in a smirk. “Anyhoo, I’mma leave you two to chill for a bit while I get more grub. Your mom’s chicken pops are dee-lish!”

  Isiah was confused at his friend’s sudden retreat, at least until he saw the look of defeat in Bernabé’s eyes. Realizing his intentions, Isiah called out to his friend who had the wrong idea about the whole situation.

  “Hey Bear, wait up. Hand me my crutches, will ya?”

  A confused Bernabé stopped in his tracks, no doubt wondering why Isiah squandered the opportunity he was being given.

  “C’mon, man. It’s getting cold out here, and I’m hankering for more of mom’s rolls.”

  Bernabé rolled his eyes and groaned in disgust as he shoved Isiah’s crutches into his arms. “There. Do you need help getting up?”

  “Nah, I’m good. Just gotta… pick myself up here… aaaand… good to go! C’mon, let’s get us some grub!”

  Olivia just flattened her mouth at all the love being thrown around. Bromance was very much alive, and she was doing all she could to not groan out loud and roll her eyes. She herself was pretty oblivious about the true meaning between the two young men’s interaction with one another.

  ***

  The trio walked inside the kitchen, preparing to gorge themselves on the generous spread on the table, when they froze on the spot. The scene before them was tense, far from festive, as Isiah’s father stormed through the house in a hurry. What really caught Isiah’s eye, however, was the distinctive bulge under his father’s jacket. Isiah’s father caught his son staring at him in bewilderment. He glanced once at the front door, then tore his gaze away and forced it back upon his son. Bradley Hunter strode through the kitchen, gently laid his hand on Isiah’s shoulder, and opened his mouth to explain.

  “I understand. It’s alright.” Isiah uttered the words quietly, with no trace of heat or accusation in them. He mustered up a smile as he wiggled a crutch at his father. “Not like I’ll be going anywhere in a hurry anyway.”

  Isiah’s mother nodded curtly toward her husband. She compressed her lips and made no effort to hide how displeased she was, but she understood. This was one of those times where duty called and had to be answered ASAP. Bradley nodded at Isiah, squeezed his shoulder for good measure, kissed his wife on the forehead, and shot out of the house.

  Isiah glanced at Eddison, who was busy tapping on his cellphone. When Eddison looked up and met Isiah’s questioning gaze, he nodded in silent agreement. Isiah could only sigh and shake his head, realizing that Eddison’s dad was also being called up for whatever emergency they were dealing with.

  “Um… I’m sorry if I’m being rude, but what the hell was that all about?” Olivia said as she stared pointedly at the living room door.

  “Military stuff,” murmured Isiah. His mother shot him a warning glance, and he simply nodded. “Dad can’t talk much about it, but we understand that it’s important.”

  “That’s… that’s just sad,” whispered Abigail in an uncharacteristically subdued tone. “Can’t it wait? I mean, his son just got back from the hospital.” Her boyfriend sidled up to her and gently squeezed her into a hug.

  “Comes with the job,” replied Eddison as he donned a sad smile of his own. “Just have to learn how to live with it.”

  “But still…”

  “Alright, kids,” interrupted Isiah’s mom with forced cheer. “We still have a party going on. Let’s leave all the glum stuff for later and focus on having fun, shall we? I mean, the food isn’t going to eat itself!”

  ***

  “There go our dads again,” Eddison said, sighing and shaking his head as he sat beside Isiah on the backyard bench.

  “Yeah,” replied Isiah listlessly, sighing just as deeply as his friend.

  They enjoyed a moment of silence as they sat together on the terrace, digesting both the food in their stomachs and the somberness in their souls. Eddison shifted a little in his seat before breaking the silence.

  “I envy your family,” he said. “You, your mom, your little bro and sis…they take these calls so much better than mine. I’m betting mom and Shay are throwing a hissy fit back at home, tearing into ice cream tubs and raring to rip my ears out with whining and moaning. Doesn’t help that my dad’s not as touchy-feely as yours.”

  Isiah chuckled. “You mean he doesn’t make out with your mom or slap her ass in front of other people?”

  Eddison shuddered. “Okay, maybe dial the affection back down a bit. Jeez, I did not need that image stuck in my mind.” He shuddered once more for good measure before settling back in his seat. “Seriously though, it’d be nice if he would at least spend a little more time just hanging around with us, you know? Maybe be a little less of a stick in the mud sometimes. He could take a page from your dad’s playbook, bring us out and chill after he gets back from these calls. Maybe then it wouldn’t bum my mom and sis so much.”

  “And you?” Isiah countered, giving his best friend a sideways glance while doing so.

  “Me? Huh. Now that you mention it, I’m really not that bummed out about it. I just got used to it, I guess. I’m more worried about mom and Shay than I am about myself. Guess I’m not the touchy-feely type myself… must’ve gotten it from dad.”

  “Please,” interrupted Isiah. “Have you seen yourself when you’re around Abigail? You’re just as gropy and icky as mom and dad!”

  “You’ve got a point there, Superman,” joined a feminine voice as she handed out cups of ice cream toward the two boys. “Lover Boy here is all hands when nobody is looking. I’m not complaining though; makes me feel nice and loved.” Abigail winked as she sat down on the bench beside Eddison, making space for herself by bumping him away with her butt.

  “Oh my god. Please don’t tell me that stupid nickname is going to stick.” Isiah dug his face into his palms, groaning in disgust.

  “Hell yes it’s going to stick!” Abigail shot back with a smirk. “Jumping in front of a moving van; shoving the poor, innocent civilians out the way; and then living to tell the tale? Yeah, that’s about as Super as you can get!”

  “Superman doesn’t get his bones smashed into a thousand itty, bitty, little pieces.”

  Abigail laughed and waved his objections away. “A minor technicality. What matters is that you got us out of a pickle, superhero style. And so Superman sticks!”

  Isiah chuckled and turned to Eddison, preparing to complain about how his best friend’s girlfriend wouldn’t stop harassing him. Isiah’s chuckle died away as he took in Eddison’s intense gaze, which roved up and down Isiah’s body.

  “Yeah,” Eddison said with finality as he shrugged to himself. “Weird how things turned out that day.” Eddison shifted in his seat, studying Isiah with greater intensity. “I never told you this before, but I’ve seen someone else get hit by a car. This was way back, I think when I was six or seven. Some poor schmuck that wasn’t looking both ways before running out into the street, trying to beat the traffic light. Saw her head hit the asphalt so hard, her skull split open and spilled her brains all over the street.”

  Abigail gasped before clamping her lips down into a tight frown. “Eddy, I don’t think this is the time to—”

  In a rare show of defiance, Eddison ignored the girlfriend he normally doted on and barreled ahead, his eyes glued to Isiah’s. “I saw your head slam into the concrete the same way as that woman. Same force, same angle, same impact—probably even more. She hit her head on hot asphalt, the squishy stuff inside was all over the place. My best friend’s head slams into a solid concrete sidewalk and I’m still able to swap stories with him, confident that he�
��ll make a full recovery after a couple of weeks. This, after he does some mysterious ninja kung-fu crap to kick me, my girlfriend, and the rest of my buddies out of harm’s way.”

  “Taekwon.”

  “Huh?”

  Isiah smiled sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. “If you’re going to lump me in with martial artists, at least go with taekwondo. You know, Korea numbah wan and all that.”

  Eddison just stared at his friend, not comprehending what he was talking about. Abigail, in the meantime, glowered at Eddison for a few seconds before huffing and shaking her head as she turned her attention to Isiah.

  “If you’re trying to distract someone with memes, at least use the correct meme—and one that hasn’t been dead for a couple years now.”

  Eddison’s head flapped between the two of them. “Wait, what?”

  Abigail rolled her eyes and playfully smacked Eddy on the shoulder. “Never mind.” She turned her attention back to Isiah with renewed interest. “But Eddy here does have a point. You were a complete wreck, Zeyah. We were all shaken, yeah, but you should have seen Bear and Livy after the crash. I thought that was bad enough, but Eddy believes that it could have been much worse—should have been much worse.”

  Isiah mentally groaned. It was pretty easy to derail his best friend’s train of thought, especially if he could angle it toward some sort of geopolitical debate that’d send him off on a tangent. Abigail, however, was like a crocodile: once she latched on to an idea, she wasn’t going to let it go without a fight.

  Eddison, surprisingly enough, came to Isiah’s rescue. He gently laid his hand on her arm, catching her attention. He shook his head, a lazy smile on his face.

  “Y’know Abby, funny how you mentioned Superman earlier. Dude kicks ass and takes names on a regular basis. Dude likes his privacy though, doesn’t like announcing his identity to the entire world.” Eddison scrunched his face inward in a frown. “At least from what I remember in the comics I read. Not entirely sure what’s what with all the latest timelines. I think there was one where he was the bad guy and he—”

  “Oh no,” Abigail shot back with a glare. “I came into this discussion with the intent of backing you up. Don’t you dare turn this whole thing around and ask me to just let it go—not when you’ve got me all riled up like this!”

  She turned her glare toward Isiah, who inched back a bit from the fuming girl. “So, what’s it gonna be, Zeyah? An alien from another world? Radioactive ninja that bit you in the ass? Mysterious chemical that gave you superpowers? Or maybe secret supersoldier program?”

  Isiah chuckled nervously, trying and failing to hide his reluctance. “Um… how about we just go for the bit where I got very lucky and reacted out of pure instinct?”

  Abigail rolled her eyes. “Fine. Be that way. It’s not as if we’re your friends or anything like that. No big deal there. I’ll just go over there, stew on this little mystery of yours. We’re just your friends after all. It’s not like we’ve got your back or anything like that, or we’ll protect your secrets to our dying breaths or anything.”

  Isiah groaned and slapped his palm into his face. Yes, Abigail was definitely on his case now.

  Then he remembered the last thought he had before the incident with the van. He was arguing with Kurdan on whether he should divulge his relationship with the orc to his friends or keep it to himself. Besides, Abigail had a point. His friends were tight, always covering each other’s backs. He was pretty sure that any one of them were put in his position, they too would jump in front of a speeding car while knocking everyone else to safety.

  Isiah swept his gaze between the two people in front of him. Eddison was doing his best to placate his pissed-off girlfriend but was clearly as eager as she was to learn the truth. Abigail kept swatting away her boyfriend and was clearly intent on guilt-tripping Isiah to the moon and back.

  He inhaled deeply, loudly, which caused Abigail and Eddison to cease their bickering. They turned to him as one, their eyes shining with expectation.

  “Might as well call Haz, Bear, and Livy over. If I’m going to do this, I’d rather save my saliva and spit it all out at once.”

  ***

  “Do you trust your father?”

  Isiah blinked in surprise, caught unaware by Kurdan’s sudden question.

  “Where did this come from?”

  “I find your father’s behavior strange,” thought Kurdan. “He was the most eager for this celebration of yours, even more than your mother or siblings. He obviously dotes upon you all. I find it distasteful, but it is one of those human things about you that I do my best to ignore. And yet with one call upon that slate of his, he walks away from this celebration of yours without fully explaining why.”

  Isiah rubbed his fatigued eyes with the balls of his heels, taking a moment to unstick the cogs that gummed up his tired brain. He suddenly realized his eyes had gone dry from staring too long into his laptop’s screen. He glanced at the clock in the lower-right-hand corner, revealing that it was almost eleven in the evening. The past two hours had flown by with his concentration focused entirely on noting down how prisoners of war were managed throughout the centuries.

  He was only half-aware of his work, though. He was still reeling from the questions that his friends bombarded him with. Hasan was doubtful, Olivia was shocked, Eddison was wide-eyed, Abigail was smug, and Bernabé… well, Bear was Bear. Olivia and Eddison had to knock him in the head to get him to stop pestering Isiah to give them a demo of his powers.

  Then he remembered what Kurdan was asking him.

  “Um, my dad works for the military.” Sensing Kurdan’s confusion about the term, he went on to explain further. “It’s something like how your Axe, Gnadug, manages the warriors in your tribe, except organized and on a much larger scale. Think the human soldiers that you… that we fought during the raid on Greenhold. My dad is something like one of them.

  “The work he does is secretive, so I’m not entirely sure what he does. Heck, I doubt he even tells mom what he gets up when he’s called out like this. What I do know, however, is that he takes his work very, very seriously.” Isiah smiled to himself as he continued his mental explanation to Kurdan. “Besides, he more than makes up for it when he gets back. He always brings gifts or takes us out, giving us time whenever he can. He’s a good dad, despite these occasional hiccups.”

  “Huh,” grunted Kurdan. “That is a strange thing you say, considering that he looks at you as a hunter does prey.”

  “What?” Isiah blurted out loud before reigning in his surprise. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You know that we orcs are ambitious. We are always scrutinizing those above us, watching out for weaknesses to exploit. At the same time, we are constantly on the lookout against those below us, strengthening ourselves and shielding our weaknesses. I would not have become chieftain nor continued being chieftain if I could not grasp these fundamental truths.

  “Your father looks at you the same way that an orc does when he is stalking the target of a challenge. It started while you were pretending to heal in this hospital of yours. Your father studies you with keen interest whenever you are busy looking at something else or talking to someone else. He did the same earlier this evening, when he put his lips upon your mother’s brow while glancing sideways at you. He is trying to find a weakness, a vulnerability. What disturbs me the most is that you refuse to acknowledge this. I see what you see, Isiah, and you normally identify threats as soon as they present themselves to you. But this instance, with your father, you are willfully blinding yourself.”

  Isiah inhaled deeply through his nose as he shook his head. “Kurdan, you’re being paranoid. My dad’s not sizing me up; he’s just worried about me. That’s the look any parent gives their children when they’re not sure what’s going on.” Isiah took another moment to think about his words, and he shook his head in sadness. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you don’t get it, though. It’s no
t like your people put much value on relationships—much less family. It is all about dominance with your lot.”

  “That is not true… at least not all the time,” Kurdan replied with a cooler tone in his voice. “I plan to raise my young to grow strong. I will beat the lessons of war into their bodies, and I will inflict the thirsts and the hungers of the forest upon them. I will carve the lesson of ambition into their minds, so that they will eagerly embrace any opportunity to increase their strength. Do not say that I have no love for my unborn orclings, for I am eagerly waiting for the chance to raise a brood of my own.

  “This is why I am warning you now, Isiah Hunter: your father sees you as prey, and you must be wary of him.”

  “And I’m saying you’re full of it,” shot Isiah back, vocalizing his thoughts instead of keeping them penned within his mind. “I’m his son, Kurdan. He’s been there for me when it counts. He trained me, he guided me, he helped pick me up when I’ve been knocked down. He is not spying on me like I’m some sort of… of challenge to him!”

  “Believe what you will,” Kurdan snapped back, “But that will not change what is happening around you. Hope that when your father strikes, either you or I will have the strength to survive whatever he has planned for you.”

  Chapter 26

  Kurdan’s growl of displeasure rolled through the humid morning air as he inspected his new slaves. A little more than five hundred in all, ranging from farmers and bakers to priests and soldiers. His forces had even managed to capture a handful of mages, one of which he had personally forced to surrender at the point of a crossbow.

  Bartholomew and Alyon stood to his left, their brows furrowed in sympathy as they took in the sight of hundreds of prisoners corralled within the human quarter of Kurdan’s tribe. Gnadug and Urul stood to his right, surveying their chieftain with worry. They thought he would be pleased with the outcome of the raid, which brought in hundreds of slaves and dozens of wagons of loot while only costing a few dozen orcs in turn. The tribes were roaring Kurdan’s praises, the naysayers quickly converted by the undeniable results of Kurdan’s plans. Kurdan guaranteed that the new slaves would mean enough food for the rest of the tribes, which in turn meant that the orcs could focus on adopting Gnadug’s new training programs. Once the new farmlands were cleared up for crops and livestock, the orcs would be able to break and bend their bodies to emulate Gnadug’s elite forces. In fact, he was already identifying potential Snipers, Pikers, and Berserkers to integrate into the Boneseeker ranks once the farms went up.