[Queen of Orcs 02] - Clan Daughter

by Morgan Howell

  “My chest says you’re wrong,” said Kovok-mah.

  “Let us depart,” said Zna-yat. “Dargu has forsaken us. That was always her plan.”

  “Thwa! I don’t believe it! I’ll wait for her.”

  Zna-yat’s face colored, but his voice was even. “Then I’ll also wait for Dargu.”

  After daymeal and a brief rest, Dar returned to work with the other servants. She was conscious of their eyes upon her. I’m an outsider and a thief. Hoping to win acceptance, she hoed diligently. It wasn’t overtaxing work. Dar had tilled the soil since childhood, and the rhythm of hoeing had a soothing familiarity. As Dar gazed upon the abundant fields and felt warm earth beneath her feet, a sense of peace came over her. For the first time since the soldiers arrived at her father’s hut, she was safe. The fear that had been her constant companion was gone. She had food and a place to sleep. All she needed to do was work willingly. Accustomed to toil, Dar thought it was a fair price for serenity.

  Dar worked past sunset and was hoeing one last row when she smelled something burning. She looked about and spotted a large bonfire at the far edge of the field. The shadowed woods behind the fire made its flames seem especially bright. Foul, black smoke drifted by.

  “Ugh!” said Dar. “What are they burning? Animal carcasses?”

  Theena shot Dar a puzzled look. “What are you talking about?”

  Dar pointed to the flames, which had grown until they rose above the treetops. “That fire over there.”

  Theena gazed in the direction Dar pointed. “I see no fire.”

  “Oh, no,” said Dar softly.

  “What? What’s the matter?” said Theena. “You look like you’ve seen a spirit.”

  “I’m just tired,” replied Dar. “I’m seeing things.”

  “We’re almost done,” said Theena. “You’ll rest soon.” She resumed hoeing.

  Dar resumed work also, but the vision didn’t go away. Every time she glanced up, the fire was still burning. Gradually, its flames died down. As they diminished, Dar discerned something within them. There was a blackened post and crumpled against it was a charred form. Dar saw a bent head and torso surrounded by flames. She averted her eyes.

  By the time Dar returned to the compound, her serenity was shattered. Dar had been shown something terrible, but she had no idea toward what purpose. All she knew was there was a power abroad that wouldn’t let her be.

  The following morning, Dar awoke to the sound of the bolt being drawn. Theena yawned close by. “Dar, who’s Thwa?”

  “Thwa’s not a name. It means ‘no’ in goblin talk.”

  “Well, you kept repeating it in your sleep. Don’t you remember?”

  “No, but I remember having nightmares.”

  Theena gave Dar a sympathetic look. “You’re safe here. Soon, such dreams will leave you.”

  Will they? wondered Dar, but she replied, “I’m sure they will.”

  Dar helped Theena with firstwork. Afterward, the two women went to the servant hall for porridge. When Dar sat down, an elderly man leaned across the table. “You’re not the only one who’s seen a goblin. I saw one in the woods close to where you hoed yesterday.” He grinned at Dar’s stunned reaction, and waited a long moment before he added, “Of course, I was a lad.”

  Dar struggled to regain her composure. “A lad?”

  “Not all the goblins were run off in the wars,” said the man, obviously pleased to have an audience. “A few remained. They caught a bull goblin in our very woods.”

  “What…what did they do to him?” asked Dar.

  “What you always do with goblins—have a roasting.”

  “They burned him?” asked Dar, her voice faint.

  “Alive,” replied the man with a grin. “And, oh, what a stench it made!”

  “Gunthar!” said Theena in a scolding tone. “Don’t talk of goblins to Dar! Look at her! She’s gone all white!”

  “I thought the tale would please her,” replied Gunthar.

  “Well, you thought wrong,” said Theena. “Dar has nightmares and she…” Theena paused and gave Dar a strange look. “…she sees things, too.”

  “Well, if she sees a goblin, she needn’t worry,” said Gunthar. “We know what to do.”

  Six

  The next day, Dar worked in a field that bordered the woods. Around midmorning, she thought she heard a low voice coming from the undergrowth. She worked her way toward it. The voice called again. “Dargu.”

  Dar glanced about to insure that no one was observing her, then entered the woods. Kovok-mah rose from the undergrowth. “Dargu, ma nav fwili sa ther.” Dargu, I am pleased to see you.

  Typically, Kovok-mah’s words fell short of expressing his feelings, but Dar appreciated the depths of his joy with one glance at his face. He gazed at her with such intensity that she felt momentarily overwhelmed. Still, she had the composure to reply. “Mer snaf.” I also.

  “What happened to you?” asked Kovok-mah, continuing to speak in Orcish.

  Dar replied in the same tongue. “I was caught.”

  “Did washavokis punish you?”

  “Thwa. They showed mercy because they wish me to work for them.”

  “I’m glad you’re safe,” said Kovok mah. He paused a long moment. “What should I do, Dargu?”

  “You can’t stay here. Washavokis are cruel to urkzimmuthi. I’ve seen terrible vision.”

  “Hai, we must go.” Kovok-mah’s face grew sad, and he was silent a while. “Are you happy with washavokis?”

  Dar realized that Kovok-mah was asking if she wished to remain behind and knew, if she said yes, he would disappear forever. I could live in peace and safety. Dar quickly dismissed the idea. I told Kovok-mah I’d get him home. “I’ve been treated well,” she said. “But this is no place for me.”

  The sadness left Kovok-mah’s face. “Are you certain?”

  “Hai. I’m different from them.”

  “You’re also different from us.”

  “Hai,” said Dar, “but I must follow my chest.”

  “I’m glad you’ll guide us.”

  Dar heard the sound of a distant bell, then someone was shouting her name. This is the wrong time to flee, she thought. I can’t go unprepared. “I have to go,” she said. “I’ll join you soon.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as I can. Look for me each evening.” Then Dar dashed from the woods and ran over to the servant who had called her name. Before she could explain her absence, the woman pointed to a ragged man on the road. He bore a staff that jangled a bell each time it struck the ground. “A cursed one’s coming,”

  “Cursed one?” said Dar.

  “Someone with the rotting curse. Have you not heard of it? People lose fingers and toes, then hands and feet. Faces, too. The cursed are hideous.”

  Dar could see that the man’s face and hands were wrapped in dirty bandages. “How horrible.”

  “Run and get some food. Something from the slop pail will do. Leave it by the road so he’ll go away.”

  “Just don’t get near him,” said Theena.

  “Aye, make him keep his distance,” said a servant. “Throw rocks if you need to.”

  “Mind you don’t kill him,” said another, “because then the curse will pass to you.”

  “Now hurry,” said the first servant. “And come back here when you’re done.”

  Dar ran off on her errand. She was glad to do so, because she wanted a closer look at the cursed one. It seemed a perfect disguise for her and the orcs when they resumed their journey. It would permit her to get food without stealing and insure people kept their distance. As Dar hurried to the kitchen, her mind was already awhirl with plans and focused on the road ahead.

  For the rest of the day, Dar learned all she could about the surrounding country. She made her inquiries sound casual—the kind of questions any newcomer might ask. Based on her conversations, she decided a northeastward route to the mountains would be best. Though less direct, it avoided villa
ges and was lightly traveled, for it passed near a ruined goblin city.

  Having determined a route, Dar had to obtain rags for disguises, a bell, and her daggers. Doing so required thievery, and getting caught would cost her dearly. The bell came from a harness. Theena’s spare skirt and blouse could provide the rags. Dar planned to take them last. She felt guilty about stealing from one with so little, but cloth was scarce and her need was great. The daggers presented the greatest problem, for stealing them would involve the most risk. Yet Dar was unwilling to travel unarmed or face Zna-yat without self-protection. Before Dar could regain her weapons, she had to find out where they were. She pondered the problem late into the night.

  The next morning, Dar approached Hunda as he was leaving the servant hall. “May I have a word with you?” she asked.

  Hunda halted. “Aye, what is it?”

  “Where I come from, only women without virtue go about without daggers.”

  Hunda looked confused. “What?”

  “It marks them as unwilling to defend their honor.”

  “So? Why tell me this?”

  “I’d like my daggers back. I feel naked without them.”

  Hunda grinned. “You don’t look naked.”

  “Please.”

  “They’re mine now.”

  “You don’t wear them,” said Dar.

  “And neither will you.”

  “But you have no need for them.”

  “I keep them handy,” said Hunda. “Be off, and speak no more of this.”

  Dar left feeling satisfied. As head servant, Hunda slept in a shut bed. It was the only private space within the servant hall, and no servant approached it without his leave. Dar guessed her daggers were there. If I’m right, I’ll take only one. It’ll make the theft less obvious. Even with that precaution, Dar knew she should depart the day of the theft.

  At daymeal, Dar surreptitiously studied Hunda’s bed. Enclosed by carved wooden screens, it looked like a large box. With the exception of the long dining table and its benches, the bed was the only piece of furniture in the hall. Hunda retired to it after the midday meal, while the other servants napped in more humble places. Most dozed on the benches or the tabletop. Dar joined Theena in the barn, where—too anxious to sleep—she waited for a chance to take her dagger.

  Her opportunity came when it was time to resume work. Dar hung back and waited for the servant hall to empty. Then she dashed to the shut bed, and crawled inside, closing the screen behind her. The bed’s interior wasn’t totally dark, for its screens were perforated to admit air. All of Hunda’s possessions were scattered about the enclosed space. Dar tried not to disturb them as she groped about for her daggers. She had just found one of them beneath the mattress when she heard two people enter the hall. Dar peered through the screen and saw that one of them was Hunda.

  Perhaps he wants something from here! thought Dar in a rush of panic. If Hunda opened the screen, Dar knew of only one ploy that might save her. She undressed and lay back, expecting discovery any moment. Dar wondered if she could fake desire. From what she knew of men, she doubted much acting would be necessary. Submission is all they want. She shuddered at the thought of it.

  Through the screen, Dar heard Hunda’s voice. “She’s not here. Let’s check the fields.”

  When the hall was empty, Dar quickly dressed, took the dagger, and slipped out of the bed. After insuring that no one would see her, she rushed into the barn. She took the bell from its hiding place, then stuffed Theena’s spare clothes beneath her own. They made a bulge. I’ll have to hide everything in the woods. Smoothing her skirt as best she could, she hurried to work.

  As Dar neared the field, Theena hurried over to her. “Where were you? Hunda’s looking for you.”

  Before Dar could answer, her anxious look made Theena suspicious. “What’s that under your skirt?”

  “Nothing.”

  Theena grabbed at Dar’s skirt. Dar jumped out of her reach, but as she did, the stolen garments fell to the ground. Dar picked them up immediately.

  “That’s mine!” said Theena, sounding both angry and hurt.

  “Theena, please understand. I didn’t want to take them, but…”

  “Thief!” shouted Theena. “Dar’s stolen again!”

  Dar saw the other field hands staring. Then two dashed toward her.

  Dar bolted for the woods. As she sped across the wide field, she could hear Theena right behind her. She assumed others were also giving chase. Dar reached the trees and crashed through the undergrowth. A dozen paces into the woods, she halted to lift her skirt and draw her dagger. She turned and brandished it at Theena, who froze at the sight of the weapon. “I’m sorry, Theena,” said Dar. Then, seeking to win her sympathy, she added, “I don’t want to hurt you, but I escaped with other girls. Young ones who need my care. I have to think of them.”

  Theena continued to stare at the blade, too frightened to move or make a sound. Dar darted off. She had taken only a few strides when Theena began to call for help.

  Escape was Dar’s only concern, and she ran heedlessly. When her breath came in ragged gasps, she slowed down and heard the sounds of pursuit. Of all the ways to flee, this is the worst. They’re already chasing me and Kovok-mah won’t look for me until evening. Dar’s only recourse was to keep moving and hope the orcs found her before her pursuers did.

  The woods were far more extensive than Dar had imagined, and it wasn’t long before she was thoroughly lost. She continued wandering, afraid to call to the orcs for help. Toward late afternoon, the trees finally thinned. Dar headed toward the light and spied fields. They belonged to Garlsholding. Men carrying pitchforks seemed on patrol. They were headed in her direction. I’ve walked in a circle! Dar hastily retreated.

  Night fell, and a cloudy sky made it especially dark. Dar could see little more than tree trunks. Still, she kept walking until, at last, she spied a pair of yellow eyes in the gloom. “Shashav Muth la! Mer davagitav tha!” she said. Thank Muth la! I have found you!

  Silence.

  Dar felt puzzled and a bit frightened. “Asa nak fa?” Who is there?

  No reply. The only sounds were quiet footsteps and that of a sword being drawn. “Zna-yat?”

  The eyes moved closer.

  Dar heard the distant noise of someone running through the woods. The yellow eyes looked away. Dar heard the sword slide into its sheath, then Zna-yat’s voice. “Is that Dargu?” he asked in Orcish.

  “Hai.”

  “There were washavokis in woods,” said Zna-yat. “I thought you were one of them.” He called out. “Kovok-mah! I’ve found her.”

  Dar saw green eyes approach, and she moved in their direction. Soon, large hands gently grasped her shoulders. “Dargu, you’ve returned.”

  “Hai. I said I would,” said Dar, feeling such relief that it nearly eclipsed her shock at having caught an orc in a lie.

  Seven

  The remainder of the night was a haze of exhaustion. At first, Dar staggered behind Kovok-mah, relying on him to find a way in the dark. When she kept tripping, he lifted her to carry like a child. Dar was too tired to protest. They traveled that way until they left the trees and Kovok-mah set her down. “Which way should we go?” he asked.

  Dar could see little in the darkness. “Is there road?”

  “Hai,” said Kovok-mah, pointing into the gloom.

  “We must follow it,” said Dar. “When it forks, we will go right. Road will go through hills where we can hide.”

  Kovok-mah gazed into the night. “Hills are far away.”

  “You can see them?” asked Dar.

  “Hai. Unless we run, golden eye will rise before we reach them.”

  “I can’t run,” said Dar.

  “I’ll run for you,” said Kovok-mah. He knelt down. “Climb on my shoulders.”

  Dar was disconcerted by the idea but realized they wouldn’t reach the hills otherwise. She hiked up her skirt and climbed on Kovok-mah’s broad shoulders, placing a leg on eit
her side of his neck. He grasped her ankles, then rose. Dar felt as high above the ground as when she rode Thunder. She grasped Kovok-mah’s head to keep her balance, taking care not to pull his hair.

  “Are you comfortable?” asked Kovok-mah.

  “I’ll manage,” said Dar, not feeling comfortable at all.

  Kovok-mah spoke to the other orcs. “We must reach hills while it’s still dark. Follow me.” With those words, he commenced to run.

  Kovok-mah’s loping stride had an easy motion, and after a while, Dar grew accustomed to her perch. The road flowed beneath her, a dim, gray ribbon winding through shadows. The countryside was only a murky blur. As Dar sped through the darkness, she was mostly aware of Kovok-mah. Movement united them. She felt the pulse of his blood, the rhythm of his breathing, and the heat of his body as if they were her own. In her exhausted state, she imagined they had become a single creature, running wild in the night.

  At last, Dar became aware of black shapes rising in the distance. They entered the hills as the sky lightened in the east. Kovok-mah slowed his pace and left the road to pick his way up a slope and into trees. Dar remained on his shoulders until he gently lifted her from them. She was vaguely aware that the Embrace of Muth la was being marked. When the orcs sat down to sleep, Kovok-mah set her on his lap and folded his arms about her. He’s still warm from running, thought Dar as she drifted off to sleep.

  Dar awoke within a dense stand of undergrowth. It was late afternoon. She was lying on the ground. Zna-yat, Varz-hak, and Lama-tok sat close by, sound asleep. Kovok-mah and Duth-tok were nowhere to be seen. Dar studied Zna-yat’s sleeping face in a futile effort to discern what made him different from the others. Recalling the previous night seemed like trying to remember a fading dream. Did he really draw his sword, or did I only imagine it? It had been too dark for her to see the weapon. If he did draw it, what were his intentions? Though Dar made an unsettling guess, she was certain of only one thing: Zna-yat had lied to her.