[Queen of Orcs 02] - Clan Daughter

by Morgan Howell

  As lies went, Zna-yat’s was childishly transparent. He couldn’t have mistaken Dar, for he saw clearly in the dark and she had addressed him in Orcish. Dar concluded that Zna-yat was neither accustomed to lying nor good at it. Nevertheless, she was disturbed that he had lied at all, for she had believed that orcs were incapable of such deception. Once again, she was forced to reassess her beliefs. If Zna-yat was capable of lying, then he was capable of treachery. He might not confront her openly; instead, he might choose to use a blade in the dark. That possibility worried Dar, but it didn’t terrify her. She had grown used to danger. Zna-yat was just another threat among many. The trick is never to be alone with him.

  Dar’s ruminations were interrupted when Kovok-mah and Duth-tok pushed through the foliage. Each bore handfuls of mushrooms. Dar welcomed the food, but worried about the risks undertaken to gather it. “It’s dangerous to seek food in daylight,” she said.

  “It’s safer than taking washavoki food,” replied Kovok-mah, giving Dar a meaningful look.

  “From now on, I won’t need to take it. They’ll give it to me.” As Dar tore Theena’s skirt and blouse into rags, she explained how they would disguise themselves as cursed ones and how she would collect offerings along the way. When she finished, the two orcs looked confused.

  “Dargu, you have strange ideas,” said Duth-tok.

  “This will work,” said Dar.

  “Are washavokis so foolish?” asked Kovok-mah.

  “Hai,” said Dar.

  Kovok-mah curled his lips into a grin. “Then we are fortunate, indeed.” He regarded the rags and wrinkled his nose. “I’d like to wash those before we wrap ourselves with them.”

  “That is wise,” said Dar. “Zna-yat will complain less.”

  “You understand him well,” said Kovok-mah.

  Dar doubted it. “Where will you wash them?”

  “There is stream nearby.”

  “I’ll help you,” said Dar.

  Dar still had hopes that she had misread Zna-yat, and she wanted Kovok-mah’s impressions on the matter. However, when Duth-tok accompanied them, she chose to postpone that discussion. Kovok-mah led the way along slopes that were so heavily wooded that Dar soon stopped worrying about being spotted. A short walk brought them to a stream that tumbled down a hillside. Its clear water flowed cold and swift over bare rocks. Kovok-mah knelt down and began scrubbing the rags. Duth-tok and Dar helped.

  Dar did her best to wash the rags, but it soon became obvious that the orcs wished to cleanse away scents that she couldn’t detect. As they persisted in scrubbing cloth that seemed clean, Dar thought uneasily about her own odor. She didn’t need an orc’s nose to know both she and her clothes could stand washing. Dar excused herself and walked upstream to scrub her garments and bathe. She removed her clothes and tended to them first, scrubbing and rinsing them repeatedly. Afterward, she bathed. The icy water quickly chilled her, and Dar was soon shivering violently. Yet, she continued scrubbing as if she could somehow cleanse all the washavoki from her.

  Dusk found Dar walking down the road disguised as a cursed one. The bell atop her newly made staff jangled with each step. Dar’s brand was covered with a rag. Against her nose pressed another, which she had smeared with clay the color of dried blood. Rags were also wrapped around both her hands, so that one appeared entirely fingerless and the other seemed to be missing two. After dark, the orcs would venture forth in similar disguises, but only Dar’s could withstand scrutiny in daylight. Thus, only she could get food.

  After sneaking about for so many days, it took some time for Dar to get used to walking openly on the road. It helped that there was little traffic. The hills were sparsely populated, and Dar walked a long while before she encountered a small holding. It lay at the end of a dirt path leading into a hollow. Dar walked toward it, striking the ground with her staff to announce her approach. She still was a fair distance from the buildings when a stone flew over her head. Dar stopped walking and saw that the stone thrower was a boy. He was accompanied by a woman. The boy stooped to gather more rocks, but he didn’t throw them.

  “Stay away,” the woman shouted. “I’ll leave you bread.”

  Dar bowed and began backing down the path, keeping an eye on the boy. As she retreated, the woman advanced until she reached the road. There, she laid a blue-green object on the ground, then hurried away. Dar waited to examine the offering until the woman was gone. It was half a loaf of bread, covered with mold. As Dar bent to pick it up, a stone hit the ground in front of her. A second struck nearby. Dar grabbed the bread and hurried off.

  Returning to where the orcs were hiding, Dar served the moldy bread with the mushrooms. By the time the meal was finished, it was dark enough for the orcs to leave the woods. The waning moon cast little light, and the bell warned off anyone who was curious about the travelers on the road. Thus they passed uneventfully beyond the hills into country where small peasant holdings alternated with wild lands.

  Dar spent the day sleeping in the woods until it was time to get food. She visited several holdings, and the evening meal was more ample, though less edible. Dar felt awkward proclaiming that such garbage was Muth la’s gift, but the orcs didn’t complain.

  When it grew dark, Dar and the orcs continued their journey. The moon had yet to rise, and Dar could see little more than the pale dirt of the roadway. No light shone from any hut’s window and the landscape was wrapped in shadow. Thus, when Dar turned a bend and saw the fire, it immediately caught her attention. She halted. “Do you see anything unusual ahead?” she asked Kovok-mah.

  He peered down the roadway. “Thwa.”

  Dar sighed and resumed walking. “I thought so.”

  The vision persisted. It burned on the roadside, and Dar could avoid it only by making a detour. There seemed little point in doing that, so she said nothing and continued onward. The blaze didn’t seem illusory. As Dar neared it, she felt heat. The flames lit the road, creating long shadows behind the travelers.

  Dar felt Kovok-mah touch her shoulder. “You see something,” he said.

  “Hai,” whispered Dar. “It’s a…”

  “Don’t tell me!” said Kovok-mah. “Muth la is revealing this to you alone.”

  Eventually, they were so close to the fire that Dar broke out into a sweat. Against her will, her eyes were drawn to the blaze and the crumpled figure it contained. As Dar began to weep, the flames faded into cool darkness.

  After the vision departed, Dar had the impression that she had undergone a trial. Almost immediately, the sadness and fear that had oppressed her were replaced by calmness. She interpreted this change as evidence that she had passed the test. Dar’s new tranquillity persisted through the night and into the following morning. When they stopped to rest at dawn, Dar fell asleep easily. She awoke totally refreshed in the late afternoon and glanced about. Kovok-mah was gone. He’s probably foraging, she thought, wishing that he hadn’t left.

  Dar waited for Kovok-mah to return, and when he didn’t, she decided to scout the road ahead. The farther she traveled from Garlsholding, the less sure she was of the way. Dar covered her brand, then ventured out as an ordinary traveler in hopes of encountering someone who could give directions.

  The early-summer sun lingered in the sky, and the tops of the trees that flanked the road glowed green-gold in its light. The winding road appeared little used, and Dar encountered no one. She walked until the sun sank lower and the empty lane was shadowed. Dar was about to turn back when she heard someone running toward her from the direction she had just come. Worried that she was being chased, Dar was about to hide when she heard the runner break out laughing. The joyful sound put her at ease, and she decided to speak to whoever approached.

  Soon, a young man dressed in hunting clothes appeared. When he spotted Dar he let out a gleeful whoop and sped toward her. “We caught one!” he shouted. “We caught one!”

  “Caught what?” asked Dar.

  The man stopped, eager to tell his story. “We
was huntin’ boars with the hounds when we saw it walkin’ through the woods. We loosed the pack on it. Killed five dogs and nearly killed Tarl and Gam afore Sav clubbed it. What a fight!”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Dar with a rising sense of dread. “What did you catch?”

  “A bull goblin! The first one round here since Grandpa was a boy.”

  “Did you kill it?”

  The young man grinned. “Not yet. I’m gettin’ folks so we can roast it proper.”

  “I’d like to see that,” said Dar. “Where is it?”

  “Up the road a jog. We dragged it there and tied it to a tree.”

  Dar hesitated only a second. Then she thrust her dagger into the man’s chest. The move was one Sevren had taught her—a quick uppercut under the ribs and into the heart. The man stared at Dar with a look of surprise, mouthed some soundless words, and collapsed. Dar watched him die. The guilt she felt for his slaying was more than balanced by her concern for Kovok-mah. The orc was innocent. The man was not. Suddenly, Dar’s visions of fires made terrible sense. All she could hope was that they didn’t show the inevitable.

  Dar grabbed the man’s ankles and dragged his corpse into the undergrowth. After hastily covering traces of the slaying with dirt and leaves, she dashed up the road. Dar had no way of knowing if the man had told others of the orc’s capture. Thus, she had no idea what she would find. The image of a mob hurrying to burn Kovok-mah alive lent speed to her steps.

  Dar heard the men before she saw them. She didn’t know how many hunters there were, but she heard more than two voices. Knowing that she would be outnumbered, she devised a ploy to put the men off guard. Dar left the road and entered the woods, taking a circuitous route toward the noise. Eventually, she caught a glimpse of men upon the road. Dar ripped open the front of her blouse, then ran noisily toward them, bawling as she did. As she neared the road, she could see an orc’s broad back. His arms were pulled backward around a tree trunk and his wrists were tied.

  Three men stared at Dar with astonishment as she emerged from the trees. They held stout spears. Two more men lay on the ground nearby, seriously wounded. Several massive hunting dogs, black and fierce-looking, milled about. “Help!” Dar cried. “A goblin attacked me!” She dashed past the tree, halted, and whirled about. “That’s the one!”

  It was Zna-yat who was tied to the tree. His clothes were torn, he was mauled in several places, and his head was covered in blood. Yet he was conscious and vainly straining against the ropes. Dry brush and branches were piled about his feet. He looked as shocked to see Dar as she was surprised to see him.

  “It’ll not hurt ye now,” said a man who fixed his eyes on Dar’s breasts. “Stay with us and watch it burn.”

  “I must revenge myself on it,” said Dar, drawing her dagger.

  Zna-yat grew agitated at the sight of the weapon, causing two of the unwounded hunters to break out laughing. The third seemed less amused and grabbed Dar’s wrist. “Don’t spoil our fun.”

  Dar lowered her voice to an intimate tone. “I just want a little piece of him. A finger, perhaps, so I can remember your bravery.” She moved closer and added in a breathy whisper. “You’ll be glad you let me.”

  The man grinned. “Take your finger, then.”

  Dar walked over to Zna-yat and whispered in Orcish. “I’ll cut ropes. Shout like it hurts.” She stepped behind the tree, where the orc’s wrists were bound with several coils of thick rope. As soon as Dar started to saw at them, Zna-yat bellowed. The men grinned and hooted. The rope, however, didn’t cut quickly, and one of the hunters soon became curious. “What’s taking so long?” he asked, walking to where Dar was still sawing at Zna-yat’s bonds.

  When Dar moved to block his view, he strode closer and saw her cutting the rope. “Hey!” he shouted, grabbing for his knife.

  Dar slashed his throat. After that, chaos ensued. Blood sprayed from the man’s neck. At the sight of it, the dogs sprang at Dar. Zna-yat broke free and grabbed a stout branch at his feet. A dog slammed into Dar, knocking her down. Another bit her ankle and tugged. Dar stabbed the first dog as it went for her throat. Someone screamed. Dar stabbed the dog again. Her dagger slipped between its ribs. Someone moaned. The dog pulled away, twisting the weapon from Dar’s grasp. A second scream. Dar kicked at the dog biting her ankle. The dog held fast. The pain was excruciating. Someone kicked her. Dar rolled. A spearhead penetrated deep into the earth, just inches from her nose. There was a sickening crunch. Someone fell upon Dar, knocking her breathless. A dog yelped, then whimpered. There was another yelp and teeth no long gripped Dar’s ankle. Then there was silence.

  Dar pushed a corpse off her and gazed upon a scene of carnage. Clearly, Zna-yat had used surprise to his advantage. All the men were dead. Two had their skulls caved in. The man who had lain upon Dar had a spear protruding from his back. Three dead dogs lay close by. Zna-yat stood above her, his forearm bleeding from a fresh slash. He seemed dazed. Dar slowly got to her feet. Her ankle was bloody and throbbing painfully, but she could put weight on it.

  “Did any washavokis escape?” asked Dar.

  “What?” asked Zna-yat.

  “Are all washavokis who saw you dead?”

  “Thwa. One ran down road after I was bound.”

  “I killed that one,” said Dar.

  Zna-yat stared at Dar in amazement.

  “We’ll be safe if we hide these dead washavokis and their dogs,” said Dar.

  Zna-yat seemed distracted. He didn’t reply.

  Dar grabbed the ankles of the nearest man and strained to drag him into the undergrowth. “Help me!”

  Zna-yat finally spoke. “I’ll do this.” He lifted the corpse easily and carried it off.

  While Zna-yat disposed of the bodies, Dar retrieved her dagger, then limped about erasing signs of the struggle as best she could. A lot of blood had soaked into the dirt road—too much to eliminate completely. As Dar worked to conceal the gore from the struggle, its reality hit home. She began to shake from horror. I had to do it, she told herself. Now it’s over. It’s over. We’re alive. They didn’t burn him.

  When Zna-yat returned from hiding the last of the dogs, Dar was also done with her task. “We should return to others,” she said.

  Zna-yat grabbed Dar and swung her over his shoulder, just as he had the corpses. “I’ll carry you.”

  “Put me down,” said Dar. “I can walk,”

  “Thwa,” replied Zna-yat, striding toward where he had hidden the bodies.

  “You’re going in wrong direction,” said Dar.

  “I must get my weapons,” replied Zna-yat. Since Dar was slung over Zna-yat’s shoulder, she couldn’t see his face, but he sounded disturbed. His grip was firm and inescapable. Dar’s dagger was pressed against his torso, beyond reach. Dar realized the irony of her situation; she had risked her life so that she would end up alone with Zna-yat and completely within his power.

  Eight

  Zna-yat carried Dar only a short distance before he set her down in a small clearing. There was evidence of struggle everywhere. Dead dogs lay about, one severed in half. Blood was splattered on the trampled weeds. A matted trail marked where Zna-yat had been dragged away. As Dar surveyed the scene, Zna-yat searched the weeds. He found his dagger and sheathed it, but when he discovered his sword he didn’t put it away. Instead, he turned to face Dar. He still seemed agitated, and the blade trembled slightly in his hand. “I smell your fear,” he said.

  Dar said nothing, but she placed her hand upon the hilt of her dagger.

  Zna-yat moved closer. “You’re wise to fear me.”

  Dar wondered how fast she could run with an injured ankle. I can’t outrun an orc, she thought, recalling her ride on Kovok-mah’s shoulders. Nevertheless, she prepared to throw her dagger and try. For the moment, however, she remained perfectly still.

  “After I was caught, you were safe,” said Zna-yat. “Why did you come?”

  “I’ve had visions of urkzimmuthi burning.”r />
  Zna-yat said nothing. He simply stared at Dar as a mournful sound rose from deep in his throat. It grew louder, and Zna-yat’s trembling became more noticeable. He dropped his sword at Dar’s feet, then fell to his hands and knees. It took a while before he regained the composure to speak. “Muth la has entered my chest,” he said. “I’ve awakened from evil dream and see with open eyes. You’re wise and good. I’ve been foolish and wicked. I’m ashamed of your fear.” He lowered his head. “Bite my neck.”

  Dar knew that a bent neck was a sign of surrender among orcs, but she had never heard of one orc biting another. It seemed drastic, and she hesitated.

  Zna-yat didn’t move. “Please, Mother, leave your mark.”

  Dar remained uncertain. “What does bite mean?”

  “My life will become yours.”

  “That would be great gift,” said Dar. “Why would I deserve it?”

  “I was caught because hate made me careless. I had only one thought—to slay you. I planned to hide your body and say nothing. You saw evil in my chest and repaid it with courage.”

  “Why did you hate me so?” asked Dar.

  “I thought washavoki had no place with urkzimmuthi. I didn’t understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “When I threw you into river, washavoki died. Your life was Muth la’s gift. Now you serve her. Please, Dargu, allow me to undo my evil. Your bite would bless me.”

  Dar overcame feelings of awkwardness to kneel down and bite Zna-yat’s neck hard enough to leave a mark. As she did so, he sighed as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Zna-yat rose, and Dar had never witnessed such a dramatic transformation. His blood-covered face bore the reverent and peaceful look of one absolved. “Shashav, Dargu,” he said. “Shashav, Muth la.”

  Kovok-mah was visibly upset when Zna-yat returned carrying Dar. “Both of you are wounded!” he cried. “What has happened?”

  “We have fought washavokis and their dogs,” said Dar. “All of them are dead. We will be safe awhile.”