by E. M. Hardy
Isiah sighed in relief. Sure, Kurdan casually threw out the condition that he’d butcher the orclings that refused to do well in his proposed school. It was still a far better option, however, than wholesale slaughter without even being given a chance.
The young boy continued grinning to himself as he leaned back and savored the freedom of skipping class, unaware of the agent studying him discreetly from a coffee shop across the street.
Chapter 20
The chieftains eyed each other warily, worried that this might be a trap of some kind. If the Boneseeker chieftain wanted to, this would be the perfect opportunity to wipe out all the chieftains in one cut of the axe—just like what he had done to the former great tribes.
The chieftains were given no choice, however. The Boneseeker was the last Great Tribe left after the fall of the Goretusk, Stonefist, and Fleshripper tribes. Ironically enough, the Boneseekers only had a few dozen more orcs than the other smaller tribes around the forest. Their power, however, far exceeded the might of what each minor tribe could muster. The Blackstone tribe had thought the Boneseekers weakened after the battle, sending a small warband of a dozen orcs to attack their village. Not one returned to the Blackstone village, which in turn was razed by a Boneseeker warband.
The message was loud and clear: any tribe that caught the ire of the Boneseekers would suffer for its mistakes.
The minor tribes could have, of course, banded together in sufficient numbers to overwhelm the Boneseekers. In fact, the orcish tribes could have overrun much of the land if they simply united and marched out of their forests as a unified force. Their brute strength and tough bodies coupled with their prolific breeding capabilities would have allowed them to accomplish this.
They were too short-minded, though. They would submit if beat down hard enough. They would merge with another tribe if their warriors were defeated badly enough in combat. They would, however, always be on the lookout to exploit any weakness they saw in each other. No great tribe could launch a major attack without another great tribe preparing to attack it. Even if one tribe won a great victory, the losses it incurred would mean that the other tribes would converge on the weakened tribe and gobble it up to pieces. Even when one great tribe managed to defeat all the other great tribes, it would eventually bleed out from the losses and end up consumed by the minor tribes. This was how orcish society had functioned for hundreds upon hundreds of years.
The Boneseekers, however, did not conform to that cycle. Their fighting forces were largely intact, and they grew even larger by absorbing the remnants of the Goretusks, Stonefists, and Fleshrippers into their ranks.
Strangely enough though, Chieftain Kurdan did not immediately march out to subjugate the other minor tribes. No, he invited the chieftains to meet in neutral territory—something he called a conference. Few chieftains heeded his call, believing that Kurdan would use the opportunity to kill them and claim their territory for his own. They focused their efforts on raiding their neighbors, attempting to subjugate enough orcs to form a great tribe of their own, one strong enough to counter the Boneseekers. They would only end up making Kurdan’s later conquests much, much easier. However, the chieftains bordering the Boneseeker territory decided to attend Kurdan’s so-called conference. After all, Kurdan had saved them and their people with his timely warning about the Fleshrippers marching out for their villages. Perhaps this chieftain had other things in mind rather than straightforward subjugation.
Still, that did not change the fact that the chieftains felt some degree of anxiety over their situation. They walked in with two escorts each, eyeing each other with suspicion as they sat on their respective tree-trunk stools. Kurdan sat patiently, eyes closed in meditation as his own escorts hovered over him. On his left stood Gnadug, the Axe crossing his arms and glaring at any chieftain that dared meet his eye.
And there, on Kurdan’s right, stood Alyon: the only human in this collection of suspicious orcs. The blind she-priest did her best to stay composed, her unseeing eyes covered by a black strap of cloth as she hid her quivering limbs behind patched robes.
Kurdan opened his eyes when the sun set over the horizon—the appointed time for the conference to begin. The handful of chieftains who had answered his call turned as one to him, anxious to hear what the chieftain of the last remaining Great Tribe had to say.
“Do you want power?” said Kurdan in a low tone that conveyed supreme confidence without resorting to threats or intimidation.
The sudden question caught the chieftains by surprise. “Of course,” shot back Torgan of the Woodbreaker tribe. “What orc doesn’t?” The other chieftains grunted out affirmations in their own way.
Kurdan nodded before continuing. “What are you willing to do for your tribes to grow powerful enough to stand on their own?”
The chieftains furrowed their brows in confusion, not entirely sure where Kurdan was going with these questions. One chieftain, however, was quick with his simple reply. “Anything,” replied Zorag of the Rockfall tribe, his face set in a stony expression of defiance.
Kurdan nodded once more, his mouth set in a solemn grimace as he eyed Zorag. “Anything, huh? Priest, step forward.” Kurdan turned toward Alyon as he uttered the command. The she-priest gulped and obeyed, bowing her head as she took a tentative step forward.
“What if I told you that the secret to my tribe’s power—the power that allowed me to break apart the Stonefists, the Goretusks, and the Fleshrippers—lies in the humans that this one leads?”
“Are you mocking us!?” roared one of the chieftains as he shot out of his tree-trunk stool, knocking it over. Chieftain Kargan of the Bonegnasher tribe locked his furious gaze upon Kurdan’s eyes. “Say your threats, make your demands, or unleash whatever trap you have planned out for us and STOP WASTING OUR TIME!”
Kurdan hoped that the chieftains would voice out questions, doubts, maybe grumble a little bit. He was disappointed by the fact that the chieftains lived up to his expectations. This was why he shot out of his own stool and charged over toward Kargan, shoving his face right in front of the chieftain. Kargan remained defiant, not willing to budge one step.
“You are the perfect example of what keeps orcdom from achieving greatness,” growled Kurdan. “A dumb, stupid beast that cannot think beyond its own useless pride and arrogance. Do you want to remain a dumb, stupid beast? Then by all means: walk away and wait until your doom comes to you and your tribe. Do you want the power I am offering? Then sit down and let me finish.”
Kargan glared for only a moment longer before his frown transformed into a grin. The chieftain grunted and nodded in satisfaction before righting his stool and sitting on it. Kurdan turned around as well and returned to his own stool, eyeing the other chieftains seated before him.
“You want me to get to the point? Fine. This one,” he said, gesturing to the she-priest who did her best to remain stoic despite the waves of contempt and malice being sent her way by the hostile orcs. “Leads the human slaves within my tribe. Instead of tormenting the slaves as we have done in the past, I have tasked the humans with farming food for my tribe. They are also responsible for observing the world around us, discovering ‘truths’ that helped my tribe flourish. Take for example this particular tool,” Kurdan said as he unslung the crossbow from his back and set it down on the ground before the chieftains. They pretended to give the weapon a cursory glance, but tales from the survivors of the Great Battle recounted how these unassuming contraptions of wood and orcbone were able to put down a blood-crazed orc with a single strike.
“With the power of my orc warriors and the support of my human slaves, I could simply wipe out every single one of your tribes along with the other minor tribes. I could eliminate most of your warriors and force the survivors to integrate into my own tribe. I have the power to do this.” Kurdan raised his eyes to meet the alarmed looks of the chieftains, their escorts fingering their weapons. This did not concern Kurdan though, for the Snipers hidden
among the trees would make short work of them all if they chose to attack him.
They did not.
“You are learning to control your anger; this is good,” grunted Kurdan in satisfaction when he saw the chieftains and their escorts stay their weapons. “This is very good, because I have no desire to eliminate your tribes. No, my ambitions run far deeper than simply spilling more orc blood until there is none left to spill. As do my fears.”
Kurdan’s admission caught the chieftains by surprise. “Fears?” blurted Gunaak of the Bloodfist tribe. “You stand above all of us, able to destroy any tribe that dares oppose your rule, and you speak of fears?”
Kurdan threw his head back and barked out a mean-spirited laugh. He kept laughing even as every orc in the conference watched him with growing concern. Even Alyon couldn’t help but wince at the mockery in his laughter.
“This human you see before you? This she-priest that is my captive? She is but one of millions,” Kurdan said, still shaking his head. Alyon straightened up, concerned at Kurdan’s abrupt change of topic. “Like us, the humans are busy warring against one another, ready to destroy their neighbors and take more territory. We like to think of them as weak, but we have never openly opposed the humans in their lands. We do not attack the fortresses they set up around our forest, and we do all we can to avoid their patrols. We fear their mages that rain down fire, freeze us on the spot, choke the air out of our lungs. We fear their knight brigades, which can ride us down and bury us in an avalanche of horseflesh and enchanted steel. We fear their swarms of soldiers, which can surround us and bury us with their numbers.
“Answer me this: what happens when one of the human kingdoms manages to unify their kind? What happens to us when millions of humans act as one and turn their attention to the pests that infest the forests near their borders, raiding their caravans and settlements?”
The chieftains scowled and grimaced threateningly, but none dared to voice out the answer that they knew.
“Yes, we are not as strong as we like to think we are. This thing you see before you?” Kurdan said, kicking at the crossbow at his feet. “This will only do so much against a hundred knights, thundering toward me on their massive war steeds with swords enchanted by their mages and armor blessed by their gods.
“This is why we must become stronger—far stronger than we currently are, in the shortest amount of time possible. I do not know when the humans will unite, or even if they will unite at all. What I do know, however, is that the first of us to unite will be far more powerful than the other. And even if we manage to defeat the humans, there are the threats beyond the lands that surround our forest. Dwarves in their mountain fortresses, elves in their own enchanted forests, dragons in their volcanoes, kobolds in their underground tunnels, merfolk and nagas in their aquatic clutches. Who knows? There may even be threats beyond this world that we do not understand. There might be billions of humans on another world far away that would love nothing more than to conquer our world when given the opportunity.”
“Hey,” interrupted Isiah, irked at what Kurdan was suggesting. The chieftain ignored his outburst as he met the unsure gazes of the other chieftains arrayed before him.
“I come to you with a proposal. I will share with you the secrets that have allowed my tribe to grow strong. Farming food, crafting weapons, training your orcs—I will freely share these with you. My warriors will come to your aid if you are threatened by your neighbors, and I may even aid your own warriors if you decide to subjugate those same neighbors.
“In exchange, you will come to my aid should I call for it. You will implement the same practices that have strengthened my tribe—no matter how loudly your orcs complain. My own Axe,” Kurdan said, gesturing to Gnadug, “challenged me over my decisions to use the humans to grow food instead of tormenting them to their deaths. He nearly killed me, but I defeated him in the end. It was within my rights—no, it was my obligation to end his life for losing to me. I spared his life because I needed him to do greater things in my name. Without him, my tribe would have weakened significantly.” Gnadug stood a little straighter, a little prouder, with Kurdan’s praise.
“You will not like what I tell you to do. Even if you obey, you will have to overpower the orcs in your tribe that disagree. However, what I have in mind are not whimsical wastes of time. The changes I applied transformed my tribe from one that the Goretusks would have easily wiped out into one that instead wiped out the Goretusks. Power is what I desire, and power is what you shall have—if you obey.”
Finished, Kurdan crossed his arms and waited for the chieftains to make up their mind. It didn’t take long for them to do so.
“I agree,” said Torgan of the Woodbreakers. “You will have my cooperation.”
Zorag of the Rockfalls snarled and spat. “I will obey.”
“I will join you in this, if only because you have the power to destroy my tribe if I do not,” grunted Gunaak of the Bloodfists.
“I know power when I see it,” said Kargan of the Bonegnashers in a flat tone. “I too will join you in this plan of yours.”
Kurdan smiled as the last chieftain gave his assent. “Good. Our first order of business: getting you the human slaves we will need for all our tribes.”
Chapter 21
“Alright, class. That’s the signal,” said Mister McDonald, back from his suspiciously-shortened sabbatical leave. “Let’s take this seriously now. No goofing around. Marlow, Pembrooke, put those phones away and get with the program.”
Isiah sighed, pushing himself off his desk and joining Hasan and Eddison. Eddison pulled down the cover on his classroom door’s window before sliding the deadbolt in place and bracing himself against the door. Isiah and Hasan worked together to pull nearby furniture toward the door: Hasan dragging the lighter teacher’s desk, Isiah shoving a heavier cabinet in place. In case of a real shooting incident, Isiah would tip over the cabinet to block the door. In this drill, he simply leaned into the cabinet. Once the desk was in place, the trio of boys joined the rest of their classmates as they tipped over their own desks to face the door, creating makeshift barricade they could take cover from behind.
Mister McDonald knelt beside his students, impatiently glancing at his watch and muttering about the good old days when schools didn’t need to practice shooter drills.
“Hey, Zeyah,” hissed Olivia. “We’re going to my place for gaming night. You coming, or you’re going to duck out on us again?”
“What?” whispered Isiah back, “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Oh c’mon,” chimed in Bernabé, eyes narrowed at Isiah. “You’ve been pissing us off these past weeks, hiding in the library or in your house. It’s like we’ve suddenly become haram to you or something like that.”
“Seriously, Bear, stop using words you don’t know,” cut in Hasan, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.
“You know what I mean, Haz. Anyhoo, you in or out?”
Isiah wanted to groan out loud. Kurdan had it in his mind to pull another raid, this time on a significantly-populated human settlement, and he needed to study up on how to manage larger groups of imprisoned humans. The idea of helping orcs enslave his own kind used to grate on him. He held images of adults and children being worked to the bone, women given over to be violated at will, all while everyone was starved and confined in prisons.
Kurdan, however, didn’t do that. Sure, Alyon’s people were made to labor in their farms and studies, but Kurdan ensured that the orcs left them alone to tend to their tasks. He followed what Isiah researched about serfdom, tying laborers to their land in exchange for safety and security. Their hours were decent, and they were given their own land to work and live in. The orcs trained for war while the humans laid out the foundations of society. Was it ideal? Hell no, it wasn’t—but it was far better than what the orcs used to do to their captives.
It was a lie that Isiah kept telling himself, convinced that it would become morally
acceptable if he repeated it enough times.
“Yeah,” Isiah said as he nodded to his friends. “I’m with you.”
***
“So… why’d you skip class a couple days ago?”
Isiah choked on his soda as Olivia dropped the bombshell on him. He turned around, catching the curious gazes his friends leveled upon him.
“What are you talking about?” babbled Isiah, reaching for the tissue that came with his drink. He was lucky they were walking on a relatively empty street, otherwise he would have sprayed soda on whoever walked in front of him.
“Really?” Abigail said, frowning as she crossed her arms. “You’re still going to play dumb after doing a spit-take? I mean, that’s like the most cliché way of admitting guilt out there.”
“My girlfriend has a point you know,” nodded Eddison, closing his eyes and scrunching his lips out in that annoying duckface he made when he’s being smug about something. “Your mom came by our place yesterday to chat with my mom. She was surprised when you came home last Wednesday bringing home dinner for your family after class. ‘Such a good boy,’ she said. ‘So considerate,’ she said. Dude, you told us you were home sick that day.”
Isiah grimaced at his stupid mother and her big, fat mouth. “Uh. I can explain?”
“Oh, you better,” shot Olivia with narrowed eyes as she bit down savagely on a particularly soggy fry with as much menace as she could. “You didn’t even invite us!”
“You know we’d have gone along for the ride,” said Hasan as he nibbled on a fry of his own. “It just feels weird the way you’ve been drifting away from us these past few weeks. It’s like you don’t want to hang anymore.”
“It’s not like that,” Isiah mumbled, sipping on his soda to buy some time for him to think up a reply. “I… there’s just this thing on my end.”