Fight for the Broken Land Pt. 02

The village folk were gathering around the man who had arrived earlier that day with a horse and a prairie schooner. Now that the evening had come the top of the wagon had been lifted and it created a construction of some sort. A background scenery for the display that was about to begin.

Shining gold-shaded mirrors were multiplying light from tens of gigantic candles that illuminated the entire setup. The man himself was waiting patiently in front of his theatre for the last of the audience to find their places. The summer evening was warm but dark.

Everyone was excited but the smallest children were even scared of the crimson looks of the man. On top of his head was a head ornament like which they had never seen before. It was made out of wolf's skin and the ears of the skinned beast could now be seen on the traveller's head. The headpiece combined with his grey beard and bushy eyebrows gave him the wolfish appearance he had aimed for.

Then the story began. With a loud but ominous voice, the visitor told them a great tale of two armies facing each other. While the story was told, skillfully crafted miniature figures and their shadows were dancing against the schooner's uplifted white canvas. The most perilous parts were emphasized by sparkles of fire and small banging sounds that seemed to come out of nowhere as the storyteller waved his hands.

The spectators applauded whenever some grand event took place on the stage. Women gasped and children screamed out loud to some of the special effects. An angry murmur from the mob rose when at the end the traitorous general of the opposing force ran like a coward and was able to escape behind the great river Dechelon.

When the show was over the visitor revealed his true purpose. There was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the men of the village. They could join the forces of the Bara-Ur tribe and its great chieftain Raz-ul, the victorious commander of the battle at the Takagiwa plains. Soon enough there was a long queue of men, young and old, asking for further instructions from the storyteller.

In the midst of the audience, there was a grey-hooded figure and two young boys who had also followed the show with great interest. Seth had been forced to use his hands to shut the mouths of his two young companions as they had been listening in rage to how their father Damoran had been humiliated in the story. Even Seth himself was a little taken aback learning that the government's army had been defeated.

And what happened after? At least the story told that Damoran escaped so Seth figured his main mission prevailed. He should get boys back to their father - but where? And if recruiters like this were roaming the land then maybe Bara-Ur troops would not be far off. It could be dangerous to start asking questions about where to find Damoran.

Pondering on it all Seth spied at the man with the wolf hat. He was vividly complimenting all the men joining Bara-Ur's cause and telling them how endless riches would wait for them in the end.

Finally, the recruiter called it a night and told the people to get some sleep. In the morning he would continue his journey to the next village and the recruitees could march on to find the Bara-Ur troops and further on to war!

As the man was dismantling his gear and shutting down his candles Seth approached him. At first, he welcomed Seth warmly, and looking at his tall but thin frame told him that the army would accept the more slender type of men as well. But when Seth insisted on knowing more and more about where the government's army continued from the Dechelon river the wolfman became more suspicious by every passing minute.

Finally, he refused to give any more info. He admitted that he had a vague idea of where to find the troops but was not allowed to discuss them with a stranger and two young pups. This left Seth a little choice and in a whisper, he made a threat that it would be unhealthy for the storyteller not to tell him everything he knew.

Rising to his full height the wolfman did offensive movements and barked,

"Do not threaten me, boy!"

His message was fortified with sparkles of fire crackling between them in the air as he was making theatrical gestures with his hands toward Seth. Being afraid that he would burn them all alive Marius and Girou jumped away in haste.

But Seth was not scared. His heavy oak staff seemed to come out of nowhere and calmly he stuck it into the ground between them. As the staff rooted itself, something slithered against the back of the wolfman. He was only figuring out what was happening when he was tightly bound against the wagon.

On the side of the wagon, the long-dead grey and old boards had started to grow sprouts and those were rapidly encircling the storyteller. Growing up fast they were soon several inches thick and the wolfman had no chance against them.

"Your childish magic tricks won't save you here, fool," said Seth sternly and continued, "Either you tell us everything you know or the village people will need an axe to cut your lifeless body off from the wagon in the morning."

Watching with awe, the boys realized it was Seth who was making the sprouts grow. And whatever the wolfman had used to make up the fire sparkles was not nearly enough to stop Seth and his oak staff. The storyteller, despite his charisma and dangerous appearance, was not a brave man. One of the growing branches started to encircle his throat and he spilled out everything he knew about the whereabouts of the two armies.

-----

Sataya nuzzled herself closer and closer to her man. Smelling his skin and kissing his shoulder. Enjoying his strong arm holding her tight onto his side. The smallish and dark cabin was not that private and she knew Damoran's sister and her family members were sleeping on the other end of it. Even so, she lusted for Damoran's touch. He was clearly in his own thoughts and it was easy for her to feel his burden and sorrow.

The defeat against Bara-Ur and the humiliation at the government meeting after it had not been the worst part. When they finally reached Damoran's home, they found out that his father was dead and his sons missing. At his father's grave, he had gone all silent and grim. Not telling her anything of his plans. Just a simple statement that she could come along but only if she was willing to ride for several days.

He had abandoned the last of his guards and told them to return to the city barracks. Then he rode into the woods. The trip to find this cottage had been exhausting to Sataya. She was more accustomed to lavishly furnished bedrooms and steamy bathhouses but on the way she had had to sleep on the ground with Damoran. She had endured it all to keep him company and regretted none of it.

Compared to the last two nights she had slept out in the wilderness the modest bed of the cabin was more than comfortable. Without asking an approval she reached for his manhood and gently started stroking it. Feeling its weight in her small hand.

This broke Damoran from his trance. With an exhale he turned more into her and kissed her tenderly. His hand cupped her buttocks and Sataya could feel fire in her core. The man had been a customer and the common rule was not to fall in love with one but she could not help it. There was nowhere else in the world she'd rather be than in the arms of Damoran. Wherever it would take her in the future.

She rose on top of him and in the silent darkness she made love to him. Grinding her hips into his. Feeling his hardness penetrating inside of her. As it became more and more pleasurable they locked their lips to muffle their cries while they came.

In the morning Damoran's sister Sina offered Sataya some porridge with a smirk on her face. Telling Sataya inaudibly that she and Damoran had not been as discreet as they had thought. But it was a friendly gesture and Satay could not miss the opportunity to ask Sina what had her brother been like while growing up.

While they ate they shared stories about Damoran and it was easy for Sina to see that Sataya was in love with her little brother. Likewise, it was easy for her to decide that she liked Sataya as well. But what was her brother thinking, that was harder to say.

Damoran had stormed into their childhood home with beaten horses and with this beautiful dark-featured woman. Hearing about the death of her foster father Grok had made Sina sad but she also had a feeling that Damoran was not there only as the bearer of ill news.

And the morning had proven Sina's instincts right. Damoran had asked his brother-in-law, Sina's husband, to help, and at the far end of the cabin's yard, almost in the forest, they were digging something furiously. Sina's children asked Damoran what they were digging for but he just grunted that they would find out soon enough. Sina already had an idea of what could it be but even she could not be sure of it.

She had a vague memory that Grok had done something similar more than a Decade earlier. Now that she thought of it the whole incident had lots in common with the present day. On the eve of some common enough day, the grey mage Balior had appeared at their hut with great urgency. Sina had seen the mage only once before that evening and she remembered Grok sending Balior away empty-handed.

But at the latter time, everything had been different. As soon as Balior had explained his business Grok's face had hardened. Then, without a word, he had gone digging in the same place that Damoran was digging now. After that, Grok wished his farewells to Sina and his mother and traveled out with Balior to save his son.

Sataya, Sina, Sina's husband, and the children had gathered around Damoran when he finally pulled a sturdy and large leather parcel from the hole in the ground. Sina's son let out an audible sound of amazement when the item was revealed from its cover. The steely and large battleaxe of the Andurians was on Damoran's hand.

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If Sataya had thought that the ride to the woods had been hard she was wrong. When the axe was up from the ground it was time to move on. This time to the east. And the ride was even longer though Damoran had to slow down or else he would have killed the horses. A few times they were able to sell their rides and buy fresh ones which helped them fight the distances of the land with speed Sataya had not known was possible.

She found out that her young body responded well to the seemingly endless ride and each day was easier than the one before. But she was more than happy when they finally reached their destination.

Huge snow-tipped mountains made a fairytale background scenery for the ancient citadel that looked like it was partially carved out of the cliffs. As soon as they stepped into the town and market areas around the main settlements Sataya could see that something was very different from the cities she had seen before.

A normal town or city could have an odd single orc or maybe even a few of them every here and there. But in this place at least half of the population was orcs. And half-breeds like Damoran seemed to fit into the buzz of the people as well. She had never thought about it but the orcs seemed to be running through their daily lives in a manner that resembled very much the ways of men.

Farmers were selling their products, a mixed bunch of street urchins were running around, and they even passed by a door that had to be a brothel of some sort. At the door of the brothel, there was a female orc with the most voluptuous body she had ever seen.

The size of her breasts was only a little shy of a ten-pound potato sack. Far larger than any human woman could ever possess. Sataya was not easily intimidated and she only laughed merrily when the orc prostitute whistled at Damoran and told him to "drop the skinny bitch and come in so that momma could show him some good time".

Damoran only curtly chuckled and nodded and continued past her. He was on a mission and had far less eye for the details than his female companion. At the heart of the city, he found what he was looking for. The house for the council of elders. Only a few of the elders were in there but Damoran explained to them why he had come. The elders had no idea what to do about it and no great desire to take any sort of action upon it.

"I am sorry traveller, but the next meeting of the elders will happen only in a fortnight from now. Maybe then you can present your case." an orc named Tallery told Damoran and seemed sincerely apologetic.

Damoran argued his case and insisted that the topic was urgent but Tallery and the others just shrugged and told him there was nothing they could do. Sataya could see her man was getting frustrated by it all but didn't know how to help.

A few tables off from the heated arguments between Damoran and the elders was an outside listener. Her eyes glinted friendly when Sataya noticed her. Smoking her pipe and swinging in her rocking chair she gestured to Satya with her hand. It was pretty evident she wanted to have a word with her and she went closer.

"Dear, could you please help me up from my chair? My old feet do not serve me anymore as well as they once did," she asked and Sataya obliged with pleasure. The orc's gray hair was bundled up on top of her head and there was something in her granny-like appearance that made Sataya immediately like her.

With Sataya in her other hand and an outworn wooden cane in the other, she approached Damoran slowly. For a moment Sataya wasn't sure if they would even make it. The orc may have been a hundred years old if not older. At first, Damoran and the city council orcs did not notice her but then she reached out for Damoran's arm and the discussion died.

Damoran looked down at the granny with perplexion. Her twinkling eyes stared back. From his point of view, she was tiny and ancient. But in his confusion he let her examine him closely anyway. The standoff was becoming comical when the granny reached up and was able to hold the tall adult man's cheeks.

The council members chuckled and Tallery stepped in,

"Mom, what on earth are you doing?"

But the orc lady did not respond to her son's plea. Instead, she closed her eyes as if searching for something in her mind and hummed loud enough for all of them to hear,

"Mmm, Andurian! You must be Grok's son!"

"You knew my father?" asked Damoran surprised.

The granny cackled a laughter, "Knew him? I was there helping his mother to deliver him to this world. There was a big boy if ever."

------------------

The very next day all the elders had been summoned to the irregular gathering. And even though it was unexpected most of them came gladly since they were eager to see the half-breed Andurian. General Grokon's son.

They did not have any formal structure of city government or elected leaders and all the people there were allowed to participate. But even so, it soon was evident to Damoran that certain figures there were in a position of power and those would make the final call.

Tallery participated with his mother. It seemed that he did not have that much status and the century-old orc granny was the real influencer of that family. It had been funny how it all went down the previous day.

She had examined Damoran and then when she had had the revelation of who he was, she had told them that there would be a gathering. Since it was the great Grokon's son who had asked for it. Her son had protested but she had simply overruled him. Then she had asked all those present at the city hall to start spreading the word that a meeting of elders was needed.

If Tallery was not that impressive the same could not be said about the sixtyish-looking one-eyed orc that sat in the middle of the fully packed meeting room. Even though he was no longer young he was still powerfully built and the eyepatch made his rectangular face look menacing.

As the discussion flowed on Damoran thought that the one-eyed orc could just as well have been their chieftain since everyone seemed to look at him after they had said something and whenever he spoke they all listened with great respect.

Most of the discussion revolved around questions about Bara-Ur. What was it, who was Raz-ul, and what was the black priest's role in it all? When it finally was time for conclusions the one-eyed spoke directly to Damoran,

"I fought with you father. He stood right where you are now standing and asked for the help of the remaining tribes to destroy the Javerdels. Hell, I was nothing but a whelp but I was in the last gathering when your father killed Raz-modan." after a pause he continued, "I have never seen a fighter like him. And I never will. May he rest in peace."

The start is good enough thought Damoran and felt his spirit rise. Maybe something would finally go his way.

"But," said the one-eyed, "When the orcs answered your father's call he left us hanging halfway there. The kingdom should have been ours. He had but to reach for it and we would have taken it for him. Imagine that? An orc sitting on the throne of men?" then he once more held a significant pause but no one dared to cut in the middle,

"But, sadly, he refused."

Even though it was news to Damoran that the orcs would have liked to see Grok as the ruler of the land he thought he understood what his father would have thought about it. Hundreds or probably even thousands would have died if the Javerdel armies, the army of the noblemen, and the three hundred orcs Grok had summoned had clashed with each other.

So Grok had decided to negotiate. To let the people choose their leaders. He must have known the men would never agree on an orcish leader and he had refused to become a despot like the Javerdels. He had saved them all and ended the bloodshed for that time.

And where had it led them? A mere decade later a civil war and the probable enslavement of tens of thousands of men and women by the Bara-Ur. Raz-ul potentially being a far worse tyrant than the Javerdels had ever been.

"And so, I must refuse you today, son of Andurians. My apologies, but I will not stand in the way if there is the slightest chance to get a fellow orc to rule us all.", said the one-eyed. An approving murmur came from the orcs. The few men who were present didn't say a thing.

The next morning when they started their long ride back to the capitol Sataya had to ask what would it all mean,

"They are not coming with us then?"

"No, they are not," answered Damoran and rode in silence. But that was not good enough for Sataya and she had to inquire some more,

"But what will you do then?"

Damoran did not know how to answer her.

-----

Huge logs of wood were burning in the fireplace trying to warm up the cold castle tower. The summer had not yet reached the north and it was uncertain if it ever would this year.

A man in a thick woolen cape was sitting on his table. Eating his food with irritation. And as he was in a bad mood those around him would surely know about it. The footman serving the food was first to experience the magistrate's foul temper as he was not fast enough to fill his tin cup of wine.

After some verbal lashes from his master, the servant hurried to fetch more wine as fast as he could. He was relieved to be dismissed from the room. Then there were only two of them. But the magistrate was sitting alone at the table. Eating his meal in silence.

Next to him, his chief of staff stood in attention. The chief of staff knew his master only too well and knew not to say a thing unless the magistrate asked him to. Taking only small and nervous sideways glances at the grey sparrows on the window shelf he waited for orders.

First, there had been only one. And even though it was odd that a wild bird would find its way into the castle it was not yet that odd that the magistrate would have noticed. But when there was another and a third one, and they just sat there staring at the magistrate, it became evident something strange was going on.