The equally abnormal orc heard the dwarf’s explanation and considered how to reply. The pair didn’t make any movements, just remained wrapped in silence. Fangdarr smiled at the small dwarf, baring his bottom fangs. “I know where one is,” he replied smugly.
Cormac gave a short chuckle. “Well then, what’re we standin’ here for?” Another chuckle came from the dwarf. He tossed the chieftain a large pouch. As the orc looked inside, he spotted a large amount of salted meat and bread. Cormac knelt beside his pack, searching until he found the map he was looking for. Unrolling it on the ground, he looked up to the towering orc. “C’mere, lad,” he commanded Fangdarr.
Fangdarr was a proud chieftain, who didn’t like to be commanded, but his scowl faded as soon as it had come. Cormac was a newfound friend and ally, and as much as his pride would scold him for doing so, he knew he could not hope to subdue the dragon threat alone. Therefore, he complied and knelt next to the dwarf.
The dwarf chuckled again, noticing that the kneeling orc was still taller than he was standing. He simply shook his head and redirected his attention to the map. Cormac pointed to their current position along the edge of Lithe Forest. “We’re here, lad, just outside the Lithe. This be where yer clan sits.” He pointed to a southern section of the forest. Fangdarr had spent much time with maps and could follow along easily. “Now, ye could’ve gone through yer clan’s territory, but now ye got a dwarf with ye. Yer kin won’t be takin’ too kindly to a dwarf walkin’ along yer side, don’t ye be doubtin’.”
Fangdarr nodded his agreement. He knew he could never be seen with a dwarf by any of his clan members. If he did, it would be impossible for him to remain chieftain. He might as well never return home.
Cormac continued with the map. “So, we’re needin’ to go around. Leaves us with two choices. First, we can go straight south o’ Tarabar and take the Tusks all the way across, or we can go through the center of the forest, then south near the human lands.”
Fangdarr considered both choices. He was a bit apprehensive about letting the dwarf know he had allied with the trolls who inhabited the mountains. Cormac was a friend, but he was also a dwarf of Tarabar. News of such an allegiance could jeopardize their friendship. Yet, he needed to be honest with Cormac.
The ebony orc stated, “No mountains. Path too treacherous.” He pointed to the far south-western edge of the mountain range. “Dragon around here.” He then traced his gigantic finger along a path from Crepusculus’ expected pit west through the mountains to a river inlet that led to the farthest western point of the Tusks, a small distance from the drake’s location. “Hell’s Throat the way in. I can’t go through mountains.”
The cunning captain caught Fangdarr’s bluff, drawing a curious gaze from the dwarf. “Who’s to say an orc can’t go through the mountains?”
Fangdarr sighed. “Zharnik clan allied with Raz’ja, chieftain troll. Those troll’s mountains.”
Cormac nodded, knowing what the alliance meant. He cast the issue aside, knowing it was not the time to create problems. “Alright then, so we go through the heart of Lithe Forest, around the land o’ yer clan. We’ll run into the human settlements along the western edge of the woods. They extend all the way to the coast. It’d be best to avoid them, if we can. They ain’t ones for orcs, sure as stone. I may need to drop in to Riveton for supplies, but we’ll see how long the journey be. It’ll take a while to reach the mountains by the coast, but there shouldn’t be too much hassle compared to a route through the Tusks.”
The orc was grateful Cormac didn’t bring up his allegiance to the trolls. He truly appreciated the dwarf’s companionship and did not want to lose such a valued asset to his task. Grunting his approval, Fangdarr rose from his crouch. His ally placed the map back in his pack and slung it over his shoulder.
“Where’s yer bear, orc?” Cormac asked.
Fangdarr snuffed and pointed to a tree far behind him. The dwarf squinted to see clearly and laughed aloud. “Bahaha! Never thought I’d see a beast sit like a man, sure as stones,” exclaimed Cormac. The pair smiled and walked over to Bear, watching it sleep with its back still against the tree, its bottom paws clenching and unclenching with each satisfied breath.
“Bear, up,” Fangdarr said to his furry pet. The large grizzly simply yawned and rolled over on its side.
Cormac remained laughing his dwarven heart out, still not over the bear’s initial position. He stepped up to Bear and poked its face. The disgruntled grizzly awoke abruptly, disturbed at the slight touch to its face. Teeth bared, the beast growled at Cormac and looked to its master. Fangdarr calmed his companion down by patting the air. He turned to the small dwarf, and chuckled. “No poke Bear.”
“Aye, took a notice to that one, bahaha!” the dwarf’s usual humorous response came. “Sorry, bear, didn’t mean to offend ye.” Cormac stuck his hand out to let the dwarf sniff him. The beast approached him, letting the captain rub its ears, drawing a moan of approval. “What’s yer name anyway?” he asked Fangdarr more than the bear.
“Bear,” the orc replied. The dwarf nodded, clearly attempting to hold his laughter behind his grin. After a few seconds, his resolve deteriorated, causing an outburst of laughter that startled Bear again. Fangdarr shook his head and smiled. It was going to be an interesting journey.
After the trio concluded their brief preparations, they set off into Lithe Forest. Cormac and Fangdarr discussed much over their initial trek. They made steady progress through the beginning of the forest, in no rush to reach the dragon. As the sun faded below the horizon, the party stopped for the night and set up camp. Unlike Fangdarr, Cormac brought a bow with him to gather food.
The dwarf handed it to the orc. “Ye know how to shoot?”
Fangdarr nodded, accepting the bow. “I go hunt, you watch Bear.”
Cormac laughed aloud at the absurdity of keeping an eye on a pet grizzly bear that was larger than he was. His cheerful mood was welcomed by the orc, who had already disappeared behind the brush. The dwarf laid out some blankets in the small camp, even one for Bear. He walked around the encampment, gathering branches to start a fire.
After a while, Fangdarr returned to his companions, carrying three arrows by the shaft. At the end of each arrow was an impaled creature. He tossed them to the ground in front of Cormac who began removing the arrows from the carcasses. “Arrows be valuable,” stated the dwarf. After freeing the creatures from the objects that had rid them of life, the dwarf tossed a rabbit to Bear, who needed no prompting to begin eating.
With a pair of squirrels remaining, he looked at the orc. “Er, say orc, how do you like yer squirrel?” he asked of Fangdarr, curious about how orcs eat.
The chieftain laughed. “We don’t eat like Bear,” he responded, drawing a chuckle from Cormac.
“Aye, wasn’t sure. Bahaha!” He skinned the pair of animals and began cutting out what meat he could. The resourceful dwarf grabbed a nearby stick and began jamming it through the small pieces of meat. After the skewer was prepared, he handed it to Fangdarr who held it over the fire. The dwarf prepared his own skewer of meat and began cooking it next to his ally’s.
Orc and dwarf sat next to one another, thinking to themselves. Fangdarr thought it ironic that Bitrayuul had joined with Tormag long ago and now it was he who was joined by a dwarf. As the orc chomped down on his cooked meat, Cormac’s expression seemed to change as if realizing something. “Oye, Fang?” the dwarf started.
The orc looked over his skewer. “Mm?” he grunted in response.
“What do ye want in yer life?” finished the dwarf. His lips slurped around the succulent meat as he spoke.
The question caught Fangdarr off guard. It was the first time anyone had ever asked him something like that. As such, he had never given it thought. In the moments he thought of his answer, Bear had wobbled over to the orc and rested its head on his lap. He dropped a hand over his companion’s ears, rubbing the nooks the animal could not easily scratch. Fang stared at his hand, riddled in s
cars from countless encounters. A customary sigh slipped through the orc’s wet lips.
“I never wondered that. Used to want to be great warrior with glorious tale. So, fought many battles. Killed dozens, hundreds. I carry scars to prove it,” he said, raising his hand from the bear to stare at them more intently. “I became youngest chieftain of clan. Led my people proudly. But, now, want something else.”
Cormac listened as the orc’s reflection played out. He was appreciative of the orc’s openness. It was rare—nearly unheard of—for a dwarf and an orc to converse as equals.
The fire cast glimmering shadows on the dark-skinned orc, shaping around his mouth as he continued speaking. “Driktarr closest friend now that Bitrayuul gone,” speaking of his dreadful axe as if it was its own entity. His voice was full of sorrow. Yellow eyes gleamed in the twilight, hiding their own emptiness. “Did not think he would stay with Tormag. Thought my brother would choose to stay with me. I want him at my side again. Join me in battle. Chieftain expected to conquer dwarf and man. But I do not want to conquer them. Mother knew I loved fury of combat but wanted me to fight right ones.
“Sometimes I want to leave clan, explore world, meet humans and elves. I am not typical orc. Mother raised me and Bit to be better. Different than orcs who only live for war. I want a mate and be accepted for orc I am,”
There it was. The proud orc, so full of life and bloodlust, only wanted peace.
Cormac nodded to the tormented orc as his speech concluded. “Lad, yer a good orc, don’t ye be doubtin’. I see meself in ye, sure as stone. I’ve seen me family killed, me friends pass, me enemies die. These old eyes have seen all ye have seen, and I know the demons that be hauntin’ ye. But ye stick to yerself and keep searchin’ for that peace. Ain’t sayin’ it’ll be easy. Promise ye it’ll be the hardest damned thing ye’ll ever do. But if ye want acceptance ye just need to prove ye deserve it.”
Fangdarr listened to his dwarven friend, hoping he was right. Already he had made a new dwarven ally by being himself. The realization that he could still be a great warrior and not bring harm to innocent creatures was truly life-altering for the mighty orc. The Zharnik clan had pushed Fangdarr to kill humans and dwarves who wanted nothing more than to live in peace.
Cormac clasped the orc’s tense shoulder, feeling the stress weighing him down. “Fang, ye’ll get yer peace. Ain’t a doubt in me mind.” Fangdarr’s tight shoulders slumped as he heaved a heavy sigh. Moisture collected in the orc’s bright eyes, and a single tear broke away and rolled down his black face, sliding around his protruding bottom jaw toward his chin. Peace would come.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EXPOSURE
Piercing sunlight stung the sleeping orc’s eyes. Fangdarr rolled to his side with a hand raised to shield himself from the harsh rays as he scanned the small encampment for his two companions. With them nowhere in sight, he considered where they might have gone. They were still only a day’s walk from Tarabar, where it was unlikely an attack would be made against them. With a stretch of his dormant muscles, and a yawn to shake off the last bit of weariness, Fangdarr rose from his makeshift bedding.
Birds sang in the cool morning air, giving the worried orc a sense of tranquility. He truly doubted anything was out of the ordinary. Yet, he could not help but realize how much he cared for his companions. A slight chuckle hummed in his throat. Much had changed since his departure from his clan’s village.
Nearby commotion broke the chieftain from his stupor. Barefoot, Fangdarr padded his way through the dense brush with minimal sound toward the disturbance. To the abnormally large orc’s credit, he completed the hushed path through the brush without so much as alarming a single nearby bird. Commotion still strong in the air, Fangdarr poked his head out, seeking the source. Too many battles had the orc chieftain fought to let his ever-present guard be lowered. His muscles relaxed in an instant, however, when he saw the cause of the noise.
Cormac floated on a small lake, clearly enjoying himself, except for the continual splashes from the large grizzly bear as it stomped around the shallow water. A devious grin found its way to the hidden orc, a plan coming to mind.
The stark-naked dwarf remained floating on the water, the sunlight shining down upon him. Fangdarr gave a minor look of disgust. The orc was unfamiliar with seeing a dwarf lying naked in the open, and he surely wished he had died with that still being true. He felt the sight deserved a proper retribution.
Blissfully distracted, the dwarf, began singing an old dwarven folk song. Fangdarr concealed his laughter as he snuck out of the brush and tiptoed his way along the shore to where the jolly dwarf’s clothes were. Bear caught his master sifting through the sand, clearly trying to remain unnoticed. The orc silently raised a finger to his mouth, motioning the bear to keep quiet. Bear cocked its head to the side, confused at its companion’s gesture, then went back to its merry splashing, interrupting the dwarf’s singing by causing him to have to spit out a mouthful of water.
“Oye! Ye keep splashin’ me, Bear, and I’ll dunk yer head in the lake!” shouted a disgruntled Cormac. He mumbled a stream of minor curses under his breath at the irritable beast who sought to destroy his relaxation.
Another splash.
In reaction, the dwarf fidgeted enough to sink below the surface. His tiny hands combed his beard off his neck as he spit out another mouthful of water. “Damned beast! Don’t ye know to never get a dwarf wet?” yelled the further angered dwarf.
After he had finished yelling at Bear, who sat on its butt on the shoreline, he noticed an unmistakable creature walking away from the lake. “Oye! Fang! C’mere lad, water’s cool against yer road-weary skin it is! Bahaha!”
Fangdarr stopped dead in his tracks, cursing himself for being spotted. Or cursing Bear, rather, for breaking the dwarf of his serene trance that would have allowed his ploy to go unblemished. He slowly turned to face the dwarf, who stood naked in the shallow water, fully exposed. It became apparent he had no care for modesty.
The orc—still carrying the dwarf’s clothes—became nervous and wondered why the dwarf had yet to charge at him angrily. Cormac noticed his silence and became suspicious. “Say, orc, what’re ye hol—” he started before noticing the pile of clothes in his friend’s hands. His clothes. The dwarf let out a long, drawn out sigh, steadying himself.
“Now . . . why . . . would . . . ye go . . . and . . . steal . . . me clothes, Fang?” he said, pausing between each word for effect.
Fangdarr looked at the crumpled bundle of clothes, then back to the dwarf. He was unable to think of a good response that would get him out of the trouble he was surely in. So, he did the only thing that came to mind. He smiled at the dwarf and ran into the forest, clothes in hand.
Cormac’s surprise made the dwarf jump a full foot out of the water, propelling water droplets from his thick, bald skull. “Ye yellow-eyed, thick-skulled, hairless, stink-breathed, too-tall orc! Ye best turn ‘round and bring me clothes back!” spat the enraged captain. He continued to mutter curse after curse as he stomped up the shore, still fully exposed in morning light.
By now Fangdarr was already back at their small encampment, a hundred bounding strides away. The devious orc knew his long legs would easily carry him much farther and faster than his distraught companion could hope to keep up. He realized his gag had been played out, so he sat down at the camp and awaited his friend.
Angry and naked, Cormac stomped with heavy footfalls through the brush, following the orc’s easy trail. Bear had just begun to roll out of its lazy slump and move to follow the small creature. However, when the beast’s head barely entered the dense copse of trees, a familiar scent faintly blew by. Head lifted in the air, nose leading, Bear took in the smell.
Stomp after stomp—rage no less diminished—the dwarf had reached the halfway point back to the camp, still following his playful friend’s trail of bent grass and broken branches. Despite living completely encased within a stone enclave, he was quite the tracker. It was very
uncommon for a dwarf to be comfortable in the forest, but Cormac was no typical dwarf. As captain of the Shield, the guardians of Tarabar, he had seen his fair share of the world through past skirmishes and envoy enlistments.
Like Fangdarr, the old dwarf was experienced and cautious. His guard was always at the ready. However, in that moment, with his old, gray eyes so full of heated anger for the teasing orc, he neglected to see his foot slip into a small noose of rope hidden beneath a terribly-obvious misplaced patch of grass. As the lasso snagged him, the nearby branch from which the trap had been set lifted free of its position, activating the snare.
With a yelp of surprise, the naked dwarf was dragged to a high branch and hung upside down nearly thrice his height in the air. His beard, having not yet dried from the late swim, hung stiffly over the face of the furious dwarf. Still, he continued his spit of curse after curse, each more dreadful than the last. However, none were directed at Fangdarr anymore, rather his unseen captors.
Cormac wiggled as hard as his stout limbs could muster, hoping to break free of the snare. When he realized his attempt was futile, he simply waited to see who or what had captured him.
Orcblood Legacy - Honor Page 9