Roderick and Gorlana Pt. 04

"I..." her strained whisper broke and then suddenly she squeezed his hand tight and then ripped her hand away, scratching over his skin as she did so. He sucked in a breath at the intense pain, but his heart raced and he could not help but cherish the extra life it sparked through him.

She spoke with an angry coldness now "Why do you refuse to talk to Torvrul again? Do you simply wish to lay down and die out here?"

"I requested to talk. Why do you refuse?"

"The high chieftain does not hold private council with subjugated prisoners at their demand," Gorlana whispered like a recitation.

"Then I will stay silent and await my ransom,"

"You'll freeze out here and die! Are you that stubborn?"

Roderick paused, "I know for a fact that you know what it's like to be held captive. I remember how brave you were in the face of those men. How could you expect me to act any different?"

"Stop!" she rasped, and grasped his shoulder, shaking him briefly and digging in her claws painfully. "Don't talk about that! We are NOT treating you like they did-..."

"I know," he whispered, "And I see your honour for it. But I will not betray my country or my army's secrets for my life."

"We are not demanding specific intelligence. I could justify giving you shelter, warmth, if you only gave simple open conversation,"

"I would do so with you. Alone," he said, then scoffed a quiet single laugh, "I've wanted that for so long I think I'd wager my life for the chance. Perhaps that's simply what I'm doing now."

"Fool," Gorlana whispered in frustration.

There was a long silence, despite the breeze she was close enough for her scent to permeate through him and he simply lay and cherished it while he could. The mix of emotions he sensed from her was as tumultuous as his own, and he was too transfixed by it to bother trying to tease out what she might be truly feeling. He only wanted to bask in how... perfect it was. He almost wept a tear. It was not as he had feared. It was different from Darganya. There was no strangeness to the aftertaste, no cringing of his subconscious behind the upfront attraction. No feeling of a recipe altered or impure in its ingredients. It was never simply an orc that he had missed. It was her.

Suddenly he felt her lips tickling his ear and her pointed ear within his hair, her scalp pressing ever so lightly against his, and he realized how close she was.

"Stubborn fool," she breathed softly, trembling again.

He tilted his head back, almost nuzzling his scalp against her, yet she did not pull away. He felt the warmth of her soft chest press against his back and her breath shuddered across his cheek. They pressed against each other more strongly and their cheeks touched. She trembled again and then suddenly he felt a tear drip off her eye and land in his, mixing with his own. He winced and squeezed his eyes shut, their shared tears falling further on to the cold dry earth beneath him.

"Ask for me again," she pleaded, barely audible.

Roderick smiled and let out a long breath of relief. "May I... have an audience alone with you, high-chieftain?"

"No, tomorrow! Ask again through Torvrul, you ox!" she hissed quietly, and grabbed his shoulder and gave him a small shove.

Roderick gulped in embarrassment but noted that her hand hadn't left his shoulder.

She sighed across his cheek, "You haven't asked in over 2 days. Ask again. I will relent."

He cautiously placed his hand overtop of hers again on his shoulder, "Okay. ...Thank you, Gorlana." he risked turning his head towards her, knowing her lips were not far.

Just before he thought he was about to reach her, she pulled away. Suddenly her body heat was gone from him and he sighed in disappointment.

"Don't," she warned, her shaking voice with an edge of coldness again. "We are not among your noseblind humans. You will put us both at risk with your foolishness. Carthala already smelled you. If you think to try and woo me into letting you go... I will not be used."

"What? Gorlana no. If you can smell it surely you can tell I'm not faking my feelings for you. I've never stopped thinking-"

"Quiet!" she rasped and suddenly he felt her claws on his neck, "The guards are not far. Even if your feelings are true. Then learn to stifle your scent, or better yet give up what hopeless ideas you have about me."

Even with her claws clenching fearfully on his neck he replied levelly, "If that's what you want then why are you here? Why do you care?"

She shook and her strained half-sobbing voice muttered bitterly, "If I was wise I would have you killed, rather than having you risk my honour and my life if you spoke of us."

"I won't," he promised. "I couldn't bear your death now that I've-"

"Shhh!" she hissed and released her claws from his neck with a shallow but burning scratch. "We've spoken too much already. I was a fool to come out here. But I will continue to be a fool and give you audience if you ask. That is all I came to say."

"Okay," he whispered back, gulping in resignation.

He waited hopefully to hear her voice again but only felt her scent fade and barely a sound of scratching feet and hands over the leaves and needles on the ground behind him, and then finally nothing but the cold silent night again. Despite the sting of her final words, her scent had still been like a soothing balm, and his cracked lips smiled. He curled up against the wind, his muscles flexed in a resistance to the cold, with a new warmth pulsing through him, and a sure knowledge that he had the strength remaining in him to endure. For her.

...

Valessa squinted up the slope, shivering from the high mountain breeze, but perhaps from excitement as well. Darganya let her down off her shoulders.

"Well? What do your sharp human eyes see?" the orc-woman asked.

Valessa gave a smirk, "The scouts are correct of course. Some snow perhaps, but only a dusting."

"A risk still. Do you think they will make it?"

"Risks with everything Chieftain. It's one we need to take, but I think we will succeed. Do you have doubts?"

The pine needles of the sparse trees around them crackled under Darganya's boots as she leaned her hips with a nonchalant shrug, "No more than usual. I will trust your Andralians, if that is what you imply. As long as you trust my orcs."

"If they will follow your command, then yes. Do you smell doubts on me?" she asked with a curious smirk.

Darganya chuckled and leaned close to Valessa's sleek red hair with a deep sniff. "No. Barely a whiff. I'm not sure whether to be surprised or not."

Valessa giggled, "Oh to read thoughts as you can."

Darganya snorted. "I do not smell your thoughts. Only your feelings. Your emotions. I will never know the number you are thinking of, or even the exact reason for your hate, or love, or fear or pride, only that it is there."

"I suppose that's reassuring. Still I feel like if we win our peace I would very much like to employ an orcish sniffer for my court in Andrapolis."

There was a hint of doubt in Darganya's eyes but she smirked nonetheless.

Valessa sensed she might have overstepped herself, and gave a more sobering sigh, looking up the slope again at their forces. "If you wish to change your plans, Darganya, this would be the time to do so. I would not begrudge you choosing a safer path as long as it does not put my soldiers and I in danger, but if so, you should do it now. If you backed out after this, it might get... messy."

Darganya snorted, "I can tell you do not intend to question my courage or honour Princess, but know that I have no desire to run away. If I had left to join Iringoll as we had planned, perhaps that would be safer, but I would be simply one more clan joining under her glory. With this. My name may be remembered truly."

Valessa smiled at her new friend who returned it mischievously with a wide toothy grin.

"I meant no dishonour, and I'm glad to hear it. Speaking of dishonour though. Do you truly not hold it against me that this was in motion already?"

Darganya shook her head, "I could not deny that in your place I might have done the same. And now, with the hope it grants us, I dare not decry it."

Valessa nodded, "I apprecia-... You honour me with your words chieftain." she corrected herself to a more 'orcish' response with a dignified nod. "I hope many warsongs are sung of your deeds."

Darganya laughed, "If you continue like this, you may end up in one yourself."

Valessa gave her a tight-lipped smirk, "At this point, I'm just trying to get my fiance back."

The tall orc looked down at her and winked, "A thrilling warsong for one to move such armies for her mate." She gave a snort. "And I had thought you didn't deserve him... We orc women perhaps have a thing or two to learn about prowess."

Valessa raised an eyebrow at her and gave a cute shrug with a grin. "Let's get going."

They both looked across the slope to their organizing forces with a determined stare and set off.

"Come," Valessa called back, and the bear cub followed closely at her heels.

...

"At this point Darganya is likely of no concern, at least not in the near future," Carthala said with a shrug. "Let her go Gorlana, your inexplicable fury at her can wait until you see her again."

Torvrul, walking behind them, agreed, "If she is anywhere near, it would be in too small of numbers to pose any real threat, but our scouts have redoubled backwards and spread out, and still they report nothing of consequence. They certainly have moved, but it is not Northwest as we do. Our camps remain well-guarded. I do not think we will be hit with a sudden ambush to free their Lightbrew."

"If you really want to know what they're up to, perhaps you should ask him," a nearby chief shrugged.

Gorlana finally broke her silence, "Torvrul continues to try to talk to him."

"Perhaps YOU should ask him."

Torvrul nodded, "He has been petitioning a private counsel with you again since yesterday. I was worried he was in fact going to roll over and breathe his last breath, but he has regained some spirit, enough to want to survive these nights. The autumn rains are coming though. We will need to shelter him or he may become too ill."

Gorlana kept a stoic face and tried to stifle her feeling of relief. They had finally suggested it again. She paused, and let the true feelings of trepidation at the idea of being alone with him well to the surface, then said. "Very well. If it is what will help our efforts, then I will grant him an audience. Even if it is undeserved."

"Shall we stop early?"

"No, we should keep pace. It will almost certainly rain this evening. We can do it then. The coming wet weather will likely slow us and we should make ground while we can."

"You said yourself, it's not a race. Traulch is likely having trouble catching up with us."

"That's fine," Gorlana said dismissively, knowing she was racing away from her Rechlinger lover, more than she was towards Orthanhall. "He will reach us when he does."

"Do you wish to reach Orthanhall without him? Worried that he will cause this congregation of armies to be boiled into all-out war, truly?"

"That is a valid concern, for him as well as for Zurgana's Rechlingers. This was the risk we both took when we used their strength."

"That female Rechlinger chief of hers..."

"Wulva?"

"Yes. It is suggested she and Traulch perhaps have a score to settle."

"You worry they will start their own battle without regard for us, or Zurgana?"

"Pfft, let the dogs kill each other."

"No. If they start, the battle will certainly spread."

"Open war at the steps of Orthanhall has not happened for generations. We will posture our armies to measure our strength and our honour, and that is all.

"It has been long since this much violence has boiled through the countryside before the moot though."

"We will have to see, and do our part to keep honour. With luck no more orcish blood will be shed than is needed."

Gorlana trudged along beside them, the soggy leaves sticking annoyingly to their boots, and the scent of autumn's decay, stifled by the cold, surrounded them. The low grey clouds seemed to permeate her mind, despondently wondering what Malgora would think. The dead queen, her beloved aunt, had insisted she saw no weakness in Gorlana and the quarter of her that was human. That she deserved a chance at the throne after she was gone, despite it. A part-human petitioner for the Goathorn chair who arrives at the moot with a Rechlinger horde and their chief as her mate, with a captive Andralian general besides? There was no precedent for so much of this. The histories of the bloodiest transitions had never seemed to arise from messes nearly so chaotic as theirs. Despite her time in the army, or perhaps because of it, she did truly want peace. For her brothers and sisters around her to prosper and build strong homes on stable ground unstained with blood. Yet she continued to tell herself that she needed to be willing to fight to achieve it. And, more importantly, she continued to tell herself that she needed to be willing to put her country before herself, and whatever it was that she desired, should she ever decide what that was.

...

Roderick winced as the guard re-tied the binds on his wrists to the central tent pole, tighter than usual. He wondered why they thought he might be more likely to try and break free while surrounded in a tent than out in the camp, but he suffered the pain in silence. His ears and his nostrils were at the ready, but other than the fact that he was finally in some degree of shelter, he could not determine much, other than that no one else had arrived yet.

She was coming though. Gorlana had finally agreed. After two more days granted, but still, it filled him with such a boyish excitement.

He sighed. What was he becoming? He was a general of Andralia. First General, he still had to remind himself. That alone should put his priorities beyond the witless fawning that his mind was stuck in. It was true that if he was going to talk, speaking with their General Springsnake was the best option to find out information for himself, but he knew that wasn't truly why he was doing this. He just wanted to be with his orc-girl again. Even for a moment.

She had been right though. Not her scent, or what he was sure he had detected in it, but her words, before she had slipped away in the night. It was foolish. Hopeless, to think they could be together again, given who they were now, and dangerous to let those feelings get out of control.

Simply because he wished he had followed her out of that camp a decade ago doesn't mean they could do the same now. Even if she agreed. Even if, despite his broken leg, they somehow escaped and were not killed for treason, likely having to leave either realm altogether, could he live with the shame of abandoning his duty, his army, his country, his... clans? Could she? Could he ask her to?

All this without even thinking of Valessa. What kind of fickle man was he? He had pined for her the entire journey he knew, despite trying to deny it. How could he dream of wanting anything more than a Princess? He knew she had floundered in her decisions, and riled his anger and frustration, but the passion of those feelings had their source in something true inside him. She was not truly a naive, pampered fop, despite his trying to convince himself of that at one time or another. She was an intelligent, resilient woman, with charm and wit, and beauty beyond imagination, who just so happened to also be the bloody heir to the throne of Andralia. And, by some inexplicable luck, he had somehow managed to capture her attention and affection. Any man in the realm would spit at him for even considering wanting anything else.

Could he somehow not be happy with that? Had he spent so much of his life feeling lovelorn that his mind resisted the chance at finding a stable, fulfilling relationship with Valessa? He had to pine for something truly impossible instead?

Gorlana was right. He had to grow up. Listen to his head instead of his heart, let alone anything even lower. Get over it and perhaps look for closure here, but that must be all. Lest he ruin their lives, and perhaps both realms while he was at it.

And yet, her scent...

He trembled as it hit him, hearing her enter the tent, unfortunately with several others as well. He stood straighter and held his chin up, breathing deeply, but trying to keep a clear head, if that was possible.

The loud din of the rain on the tent was all that filled the air, until Gorlana finally spoke, with a formal flatness, "General Lightbrew, we have granted you the unearned generosity of a conversation with myself, and the other clan chiefs."

Roderick gulped, "Well you've overdone your generosity then, I had only asked to speak with you."

"I will keep what company I please, and you will have no say in it!" Gorlana spoke sternly.

"A private negotiation between two leaders, especially Generals, is common enough," he said calmly.

"But that is NOT what this is. This is a captive and his captors. Shall I simply leave then?"

Roderick shook his head with a sigh, "No I'll take what I can get, I suppose." He sniffed, "At least you didn't bring any damned Rechlingers in here."

The other chiefs grunted with impressed looks and Gorlana scowled at them.

Carthala spoke up, "Your nose is sharper than I would have thought, perhaps you should thank us for blindfolding you if it heightens your sense."

"Why don't you take it off and we'll see if it makes any difference," Roderick suggested with a wry grin.

Carthala chuckled, "I like him already," she muttered. "You should remember, Lightbrew, that our noses are stronger still. My own especially being accustomed to a human, or a mixed one's scent, so I WILL smell a falsehood from you, and much more I suspect."

"And what is the name of this most talented orc-woman who stands before me so familiar with my scent?" Roderick asked.

Carthala grinned wide, earning a sour glance from Gorlana, "I am Carthala of the Fangrock hold. Third hand to the Springsnake."

Roderick's eyebrows rose, "A Southern Orthalian. From the Ramparts no less. Good lumber in the Fangrock area, your brothers and sisters are prospering well with new homesteads spreading fast. As long as we can keep the needle-gnats controlled. You and I are almost long-lost neighbours."

"You speak as though you can call Southern Orthalia your home?! You are a foreign occupier!" Gorlana rebuked.

Roderick shrugged, "Fringeland is a bit of a hop over those cloud-strewn mountains true, but it's right there as the birds fly. Granted Highquarry's a fair bit north of Fangrock, closer to Roancliff."

"Where did he say he's from?" one of the chief's spoke with acute interest.

"Highquarry. It's in his title, pay attention!" another whispered.

"It's a small village in the foothills of Fringeland." Roderick said with a short chuckle, "In any case. Well met Carthala. I think some of the first traders I ever saw as a child were from Fangrock in fact. Honourable men and women."

"Enough!" Gorlana said in irritation, "Yes we know this already," she said with a glance at the other chieftain. "Roderick of Highquarry, you did not request this meeting to flirt with my third hand. You are here, presumably, to speak useful conversation to me. What is it you wish to say?"

Carthala gave her a squint-eyed sour smirk, but stepped back.

Roderick took a breath, "What do you intend to do with me?"

"That is NOT for you to know!" Torvrul gruffly warned him.

"Well you already spilled the beans that you plan on ransoming me. The question is when, and how, and for how much?"

"We MAY ransom you. We keep the option open."

"And what will you ransom me for?" he asked.