Fight, Brex.
Do not accept the world’s victory.
Survive.
Brex woke with the sun shining in his eyes.
Laying on his back and still wearing the traditional garb for the rites, the orc rolled his head to the side, grunting as he felt warm, rough sediment below him. He’d been moved to the edge of the encampment. He heard the shuffling of footsteps and saw that his fellow clan members were circling around him. Adrenaline shot through him as he realized that he was the focus of everyone’s attention.
The orc felt the lone pocket in his clothes, feeling both rings. Kotak must have figured it was better to exile the magic with the sorcerer than to try and destroy the enchanted rings.
He traced the circle with his gaze, turning to look between his legs at Kotak, who stood between Brex and the path down to the savannah.
“On your feet, gor-sha,” the chief commanded, and Brex struggled to stand. His head throbbed with pain and he still felt dizzy. Despite knowing he’d been out for hours, the orc felt like he’d had no rest at all. His stomach growled for a meal and his throat shrieked for water.
He scanned the circle of orcs around him, spotting Tiyash to his right and the shaman just behind Kotak.
“It is regrettable that the clan must punish you with an extra stipulation in your rites, Brexothuruk.” Kotak spoke with the volume to address the entire crowd, even if his words were technically directed to Brex. He spoke with authority and conviction, but Brex saw that his hands were trembling and his shoulders were bunched together underneath his cloak. “But now we begin. Brexothuruk, son of Grotuk, you are a gor-sha, a child in the eyes of the clan. Today, you are fated to become an adult or face your end in the hunting fields. As chief, I have altered your condition for rejoining the clan, due to your attempt to use arcane power to influence our leadership: Return with the hide of the bloodmane or you will be in exile.”
Whispers and gasps flew out of the mouths around him. Fears and rumors confirmed: Brex had been intending to influence Kotak with sorcery. Unforgivable to some. No doubt many of them were whispering that he’d been doing the same thing to Chief Grotuk for years.
“You may choose your weapon,” Kotak bellowed, and the crowd fell silent.
The burly warrior from Brex’s ill-fated training approached him and the sorcerer felt guilty for forgetting his name. He held out an axe, a spear and a club. Brex meekly slipped his hand around the spear, though he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to use it.
The warrior retreated and Kotak spoke again. “Provisions for your journey have been provided by your fellow clan members.”
Tiyash stepped over, concern on her face. She held Brex’s bag tight at her waist and spoke quietly to him when she was within reach.
“I grabbed as much as I could when they told me. I put in some traps, but it’s mostly food. And I packed your enchanting plate.“
“…Thank you, Ti,” Brex said, his words edged with an empty monotone.
She shoved the bag’s strap into Brex’s hand and looked at him with desperation. “Come back,” she whispered, before turning around and melting back into the crowd, her head held high.
“And lastly, a blessing from the shaman to invoke the mountain Guardian’s favor on your rites.”
The shaman stepped forward, draped in elegant, pricy fabrics and twirling her hands and arms to dance some sort of message as she moved toward Brex. The sorcerer held his spear and bag close to him, trying not to scowl too much.
I’ve seen more of your Guardian than you ever will, he thought.
But as she moved closer, touching Brex’s shoulder, she whispered in his ear.
“I had a vision yesterday, gor-sha. A Guardian came to me and warned me of your treachery. So I told the chief to be wary of you.”
Brex froze while she swirled around him.
“It is a shame you had to prove us right.” She danced away from Brex and took her place beside Kotak.
The chief boomed again. “Your rites begin now, gor-sha. Go forth and prove you know the ways of the orc. Return a part of our clan, or never allow your shadow to darken our home again.” He made a grand gesture and stepped to the side, parting the way for Brex to exit the encampment.
Brex shrugged the bag over his shoulder and held the spear tight in his hand. A hundred pairs of eyes watched him disappear down the path to the savannah, and Brex felt the stare of each.
Brex stood in a field of tall grass, hundreds of strides away from the encampment. He felt empty and limp, almost shocked that his body was still standing, that he hadn’t yet collapsed into a pile of disjointed flesh and bone.
He didn’t feel real, like a person should. He didn’t feel like an orc.
It hadn’t worked.
It didn’t work because I tried to put the idea of my victory in his mind. Nothing to back it up. Nothing to explain how. I just wanted him to believe it, but the truth would have been exposed eventually.
Something rubbed up against his open palm, and he felt a surge of adrenaline shoot through him. Something had found him, caught him unaware and he had mere seconds to cherish before the end came.
But it was just a stray blade of grass.
It took him a few seconds to realize he was already breathing heavily.
The orc swallowed, hiked his bag further up his shoulder, and strode on.
It was a stupid plan, he told himself. You should have spent more time listening to Tiyash, or talking to that warrior. He felt another twinge of guilt for forgetting the orc’s name, then wondered if he would be so easily lost.
Tiyash would remember him, for a while at least. But if they decided to pack up the encampment and move…there wouldn’t be anything left of Brex. That would be the end of his family, cut short by poor life choices and aggressive wildlife.
I miss you, grandfather.
He had stopped walking again. Somewhere along the way, he just planted his feet and stared at the horizon, allowing himself to fill with longing. It was oddly refreshing to be out in the savannah with no one else to bother him. It offered him even more privacy than his own tent, where he would have to worry about people walking by or listening to his conversations.
His stomach growled, pulling him from his thoughts. The orc bent on one knee and rooted through his bag, finding some dried meat and fruit, packed by Tiyash. He took out enough for one meal and gnawed on it as he kept walking. By the time he was picking the pieces out from between his teeth and his tusks, the sun began to touch the horizon.
The day had come and gone so quickly, the rest of the world content to speed along while he kept his own unfortunate company. The orc looked in his bag again for food. Enough for one more day, two if he rationed it.
Even so, with the sun ready to disappear behind the hills in the distance, he was going to need to find shelter. A quick scan of the immediate area showed him a natural rock formation in the distance that he could hide within when night fell. It took over an hour for him to reach it, the first stars of the night sky popping out from behind the black when he arrived.
Brex found a crevice that seemed large enough to fit him and keep him away from the eyes of predators.
Even through all of this, he couldn’t shake that empty feeling. He felt as though someone, maybe Kotak, had taken a chunk of him and chained it to what was left, so that he’d be pulling his own dead weight wherever he went.
His stomach growled again, no longer satisfied with his snack, and the orc took out a more generous portion for a meal, laying it all out over his enchanting plate. He couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing the food laid out over the glyphs. Finally using a plate for its intended purpose. “Now that’s how you’re supposed to do it.” That’s what Chief Grotuk would have said, for sure. But thinking of him only made it worse. It made him weaker, and made that weight he pulled even heavier.
Brex put a piece of fruit into his mouth, tasting the sugar crusted on the outside of the dehydrated slice which soon gave way to the remnants of juice locked away inside. Each piece looked dead and wrinkled, but hid its own unique, sweet flavor.
He wasn’t sure when the tears started, only that he knew they had come when he wiped his cheek and nose as he ate, occasionally sniffling as he continued his meal.
“Why so glum, little orc?” a familiar voice asked.
Brex looked up to find the Guardian’s brown, muddy form a dozen feet from him, its face seemingly contorted in an attempt at sympathy. Brex wished he could have been surprised. But he’d been waiting for the Guardian to reappear and gloat about the deal they struck before.
Except the Guardian didn’t seem interested in that. It simply brought itself up to Brex’s crevice and sat cross-legged, looking back at the orc.
“Tell me.” It reached out and put a hand on Brex’s knee. “Tell me why you’re so sad.”
“You don’t know?” Brex asked, his tone tinged with melancholy.
“It does not matter whether I know. It matters whether you speak.”
The orc couldn’t stop himself from sniffling as he replied.
“My grandfather died four days ago.” He heaved a stuttering breath, trying to hold himself together. “H-he was in poor health for a while. The rest of the clan, they were ready for it. But I…I never was. You’re never really ready for someone that close to depart.” He brought his hand to his nose and made a monstrous, ugly snort as he rubbed it. “And then, when it happened, I barely got to say goodbye. Just a few minutes alone with him. They said his mind was going, that he didn’t have any sense. And when he was finally gone, they started caring about who would be the next chief and stuck me in a room…a-and then I had to deal with this.” Brex grabbed the fabric of his clothes, worn for the rites. “This stupid tradition.” The orc swallowed again.
The Guardian’s unwavering face kept still as it listened.
“Everywhere I go, I keep finding these little things, reminding me of what I don’t have. What I’ve lost. What was taken from me,” Brex said. “Sometimes it’s my fault, sometimes it’s just bad luck. But grandfather…he kept things going for me. He kept me happy. He was the only one who looked out for me. And I still don’t understand what he said to me before he died.”
The Guardian simply nodded, waiting a few long seconds to make sure that Brex was done.
“Perhaps,” it said. “You do not need to understand his words. Perhaps they simply needed to be heard.”
Brex scrunched up his face, still sniffling. “What does that even mean?”
The Guardian’s muddy face turned to a bemused smile. “It means they are for another time.”
Brex sighed, slipping another piece of fruit into his mouth. “I’m thinking of leaving in the morning. Just going to the city. Our deal is done at sunrise, isn’t it?”
The Guardian nodded. “You’re not certain about going?”
“No,” Brex said, the taste on his tongue reminding him that there was still someone back at the encampment who wanted to see him again.
“Then leave that decision for tomorrow. For now, allow yourself to grieve.” The Guardian gestured toward Brex, who looked down at himself and his plate, but the orc saw nothing special. When he looked up, the Guardian was gone again.
The orc grumbled, “Stupid Guardians.” He stashed his plate back in his bag and unfurled the blanket over himself. The night sky had washed across the savannah, covering it in darkness.
He looked into his bag, angling the opening so the moonlight could give him a faint idea of what was inside it. Underneath a few pieces of meat, something glimmered.
A plain gold ring, that Brex knew was enchanted with a severing spell.
He glanced at the sliver ring on his finger, then felt for the other one, meant for Kotak, in his pocket. The orc plucked the silver from his finger and put it back in the bag, taking the gold ring out.
Instead of wearing it, Brex just held it in his hand and closed his fingers around it, feeling it press against his palm.
Brex used his other hand to tug his blanket up to his shoulders and then laid back, putting his bag behind his head and his spear at his side. He let himself think of the first time that he used that severing spell, gathering fruits and spices for a dinner with his mother, father, and grandfather all together.
And for the first time in four days, he allowed himself to stop and feel the loss. He let himself look back at the weight that he was dragging along.
Brex started to drift toward sleep, his mind circling around a mixture of thoughts and dreams of a family out of reach. And without thinking about it, that weight grew lighter and lighter.
Until it was small enough to carry in his pocket.
Brex awoke in the morning to the sound of a lion’s roar. Loud and close.
In a panic, he pulled the blanket off his body and put the ring in his hand on his finger. Brex sprang to his feet and grabbed his spear, eyes darting around his surroundings for the source. While crouched down and against the rock, he spotted it.
A lioness. No, three of them. One must have made the sound, and they were each staring in the opposite direction of the orc, but Brex couldn’t see what they found so interesting.
Slowly, each of them relaxed and started slinking off toward a watering hole nearby. Brex considered waiting until one of them was alone and attempting to set a trap, until he reminded himself that there was only one lion he’d be allowed to bring back to the clan.
Of course I had to go and screw it up like that, he thought. Still, Tiyash mentioned something about the bloodmane and the other lions on the savannah. Maybe if he followed these three, from a safe distance of course, then he might have a chance at isolating the bloodmane somehow. He grabbed his bag and tightened the grip on his spear, steeling himself for a long hunt.
As they started to move away, the orc found himself wrinkling his nose in disgust. A glance around the rock formation revealed that the lionesses were enjoying a healthy carnivore’s breakfast. The sight of it nearly caused Brex to retch, but he kept himself focused on the lionesses instead, making sure to stay downwind of them and follow out of earshot. When the group paused, Brex hunkered down in the tall grass, digging through his bag. Tiyash had managed to pack a small jar of face paint the color of dry grass, and the orc quickly applied it to his forehead and cheeks in thin strokes.
He tracked the lionesses for what felt like miles, though he’d never been gifted with endurance. They crept up to the watering hole, and Brex clumsily climbed up a nearby try to watch. At first, there was nothing special about the place, and the orc feared he’d have to climb down all too quickly after the struggle to get in the tree just to follow the pride further.
Then another figure emerged from the tall grass on the opposite side of the watering hole. Large and fierce, highlighted by scarlet at the face and chest.
The bloodmane.
Yet, even at this distance, it walked with its head bowed, simply stepping forward for a drink. It lowered its head and slipped up to the edge of the water, meekly drinking while the other lions stood up and padded over toward it. One of the others gave an audible snarl and the bloodmane snapped its attention to it. The rest soon joined in, snarling and hissing at the bloodmane, which backed away from the water as the others attempted to surround it.
The bloodmane roared at the three lions in front of it, but they were unfazed, all of them roaring back and causing the bloodmane to turn and run in the opposite direction. The other lions stood and waited for a moment, then returned to the watering hole for one more drink, then dispersed.
Brex was so dumbfounded by the event that he nearly lost track of his target. He descended from the tree and spotted its scarlet fur, following out of earshot and downwind once more. If the bloodmane didn’t have a pride to belong to, then why did the clan fear it so much? There was no discounting the number of orcs that the bloodmane had killed, but he couldn’t say for sure whether it was more or less than the clan members that fell to hunting prides.
Paying closer attention, the orc noticed that the bloodmane was dragging its feet and heaving its breath, and it was headed for another watering hole in the distance. Graciously, perhaps for the lion, it was unattended. Even at his current distance, the bloodmane no longer looked strong and fierce, but tired and wiry, possibly malnourished.
Brex realized his opportunity.
While the bloodmane crept away and lapped at the water, the orc dug through his bag and pulled out a large strip of dried meat and a length of thin rope. He worked as quickly as he could, kneeling next to a nearby tree, focused with intensity on performing the steps. First to lay, then obscure, the rope in a decently-sized circle around the meat. He let out some slack from the rope then fumbled his way up the tree to sit into a crook between branches, leaving his spear at the base of the tree.
He could feel his heart threatening to push its way out of his chest. All he needed was for that lion to step inside the loop he created, then he could jump down from the tree and hoist it up by the rope.
And then kill it.
The prospect filled Brex with apprehension. He’d never actually killed anything larger than a rabbit before, and those were always animals that Tiyash had caught. He’d never learned how to properly skin and kill a large animal, mostly because he was off reading a book about catalysts and Resource instead.
There was a sound of a crack, and Brex focused himself back in the moment. Now was not the time to debate the ethics of hunting with himself. The bloodmane had finished its drink and was walking back toward him, curious to see where that scent of meat was coming from. It stepped closer and closer, spotting the dried food at the center of the trap and tilting its head quizzically. Apparently finding nothing wrong, it moved in range and bent its head down to gnaw on the meat.
Brex shifted his weight and gripped the rope tight, ready to jump.
Another loud crack.
The orc found the branch tilting forward from under his feet. He lost his footing, falling on the opposite side of the branch of the lion. In the few seconds as he fell, he saw his trap work, if only for a moment. The loop tightened around the bloodmane’s leg and pulled it upward, the lion letting out some awful sound like a mix of a snarl and a groan.
But then the loop slipped off the lion’s paw, losing the counterweight for Brex’s descent. He didn’t see where the lion managed to land, or if it landed at all, instead getting only a glimpse of the ground coming to meet him. The orc did his best to roll, but only served to put most of the impact on his left shoulder and arm, pain shooting from the contact point through most of his left side.
He stumbled to his feet as best he could. He didn’t hear any cracks, and nothing felt out of place, there was simply quite a lot of pain. Brex spotted his spear, left discarded by the tree trunk, hearing the sound of something kicking up dirt from behind him.
He leapt toward the spear, within reach in one, two, three steps. Keeping his left arm close to his body, he grabbed the spear with his right hand.
When he turned back toward the lion, he saw it digging its claws into the ground as it started running toward him.
Wait for the leap, then roll, he told himself. Wait, then roll.
It was closing in on him, but he only tightened his grip. He’d have to roll to the right so as not to risk damaging his left side any further.
The bloodmane bent down for a split-second, then launched itself at the orc, jaws wide and ready to tear into his green flesh, but Brex threw himself to the right. He failed to keep his legs close to his body, though, and the lion’s claw snagged his left foot, drawing blood in its swipe.
Just as Brex was recovering out the roll, still laying on his back, he saw the lion coming back at him. Instinct took over and he gripped the spear with both hands. When the lion dove at him, he shoved the spear’s pole between the lion’s jaws, forcing them open.
This close to the lion, Brex could feel something resonating between them, as if their conflict was manifesting in the space between them.
The bloodmane pushed back, growling, its teeth digging into the spear’s wood, splinters curling themselves away from the lion’s teeth. Brex’s entire left side lit up with pain and the orc howled out in agony, his left hand losing its grip.
That loosening grip turned into an unintended feint, and the lion eased up its pressure a little, confident in its kill. The spear broke into two pieces and the orc kicked his leg up into the lion’s belly. The bloodmane flinched and Brex gave another shove, kicking the lion over onto its side, forsaking his spear and scrambling to his feet.
Without a proper weapon, Brex was convinced that running was the only option now. He just had to make it to that patch of grass outside the watering hole and blend in to lose the lion. He sprinted toward safety, but heard a tremendous roar from behind him not even halfway to the grass.
He dared to turn around and instantly regretted it.
The bloodmane was gaining on him, quickly closing the distance between them.
He brought his arm up to shield him from his inevitable end.
There, on his right hand, subconsciously slipped on his finger at the first sign of danger in the morning: his gold ring with a severing charm.
The lion was sprinting at him now, a dozen feet away from the tree.
The tree he had fallen from, with the branch that had nearly broken off after supporting his weight.
Gambling his life, the orc gestured toward the branch and fell a tug on his senses.
The branch slid from its place in the tree and hurtled down at the snarling lion.
Its thickest end collided with the bloodmane’s skull and sent the lion tumbling to the ground, coming to rest over the bloodmane’s back.
He slowly lowered his hand, his heart racing.
Brex collapsed to his knees, heaving his breath and trying to recover. But the job wasn’t done. He still had to kill and skin it. Brex stumbled over to the remains of his spear, taking the top half, and approached the lion.
It was unconscious, but still breathing. That was a hell of a smack to the head, and there was no telling how long the thing would be knocked out, but Brex could see its belly rising and falling with each breath.
With a grimace, he reached out with his hand to grab its head so he could slice the throat.
He felt the buzzing vibration of another sorcerer nearby, right against his hand. Brex glanced about himself, searching for another living soul.
Maybe the shaman had followed him out here, just to watch him die. Or there was another sorcerer nearby who could help. He searched his surroundings, looking for someone, anyone.
But he was alone with the unconscious lion.
That meant–
“Correct, little orc.”
The Guardian pulled itself from the tree, made of bark and branches this time.
Brex furrowed his brow, but said nothing.
The Guardian folded its fingers together. “Your gut is right, Brexothuruk. The lion has been touched by sorcery.”
Brex pursed his lips, looking at the lion again. With his hand on its skin, he could feel its heartbeat, the warmth of its body.
“But…wild animals can’t learn sorcery. That’s nonsense.”
“Also correct. But what do you know of this beast? A red mane, foreign to his kind. Seemingly unnatural strength despite the lack of a proper diet. A reputation for punishing the hubris of inexperienced warriors.” The Guardian knelt on the other side of the lion, placing its fingers on the fallen branch and merging with it seamlessly.
Brex felt along the lion’s side. “The other lions despise it. They won’t even let it drink at the same watering holes without scaring it off.”
The orc tensed up when he felt cold metal on the lion’s skin. Dropping the half-spear, he parted the fur with both hands, taking a closer look along the lion’s spine. “That doesn’t make sense,” he said.
All along the lion’s back was a line of hardened metal: plain, cold silver. The lion’s skin had crept over it, attempting to cover it up, but there wasn’t quite enough to close the gap. And as Brex’s finger touched the silver, he felt that telltale vibration within him.
“Is it…fused to the bone?”
The Guardian nodded again. “This creature, whether truly leonine or some artificial imitation, is a denizen to our lands. A visitor for years. He should not belong here, and if he stays, he will die. If not by your hand, then by the claws of those you would call his kin.”
Brex curled a few strands of the bloodmane’s fur around his finger, looking closely at the scarlet fibers. “Where did it come from?”
“That I do not know. I can tell you that he entered from the East, in the direction of the city that you find yourself drawn toward, though I cannot say it was his home.”
The orc winced. He didn’t want to know all this. He had to kill the lion and take its hide back to the clan so he could move on with his life. So he could–
Brex paused.
So he could what? Keep reading the same books over and over that he’s practically memorized? Keep eyeing Kotak from a distance with envy? Keep distracting Tiyash from her own duties and problems?
What was really left for him back at the clan, especially now that his grandfather had joined the ancestors?
Perhaps sensing Brex’s indecision, the Guardian interrupted his reverie. “Little orc, I have a request.”
He looked up at the Guardian, who was sitting on the fallen branch with its branch-like fingers folded in on themselves.
“And what’s that?”
“If, as I suspect, you intend to leave, then I would like you to take the bloodmane home.”
Brex narrowed his eyes. “Take it home? Like, carry it?”
“Not necessarily,” the Guardian said, leaning down and dragging a finger over the back of the lion’s neck. “There may be other ways to bring him with you. Some more efficient than others. Though, I’d prefer you take him back alive.”
“And if I choose not to honor this bargain?”
“This is no bargain, little orc,” the Guardian said. “This is a request, nothing more.”
The orc bit his lip, looking over the lion again.
Taking it home might mean finding whoever managed to combine sorcerous metalwork with an animal skeleton. That person might be wise beyond their years. That person might be dangerous. Potentially both.
Or that person might not exist. It could have been an accident. This lion could have attacked someone while they were working with the metal and somehow came into contact with it. But even though it seemed unlikely, Brex had to admit that the possibility was there.
“I suggest you make your decision quickly, orc,” the Guardian interrupted. “The beast will awaken soon.” It curled itself against the branch, its wooden body integrating completely until there was nothing but plant matter left.
Brex had been left alone with the lion.
The orc picked up the blade of his spear and brought it to the lion’s neck. “I’m sorry, but I have to do this,” he said. “It’s either you or me.”
He pressed the blade against the lion’s fur, his hand shaking. But even this close, he could feel that hum, that vibration reminding him that this lion was something more than its peers.
The orc winced and dropped the blade. “Shit,” he muttered. He couldn’t do it.
“All right, no time to panic,” he said to no one in particular. “Think about this. Think. I need to subdue a wild animal. What do I have on hand?” He glanced around and felt in his pockets.
Half a spear. Keep it trained on the lion when it wakes up? That’s a great way to get mauled.
A severing spell. Maybe show it he meant business by chipping off a piece of its ear? No, that’s just cruel–and a fantastic way to convince a lion he was worth killing.
Beef jerky and some dried fruit. A good peace offering if he can get it on his side in the first place.
Brex felt his pocket. Two silver rings. Connected to each other by sorcery.
The orc had originally intended to use them to convince Kotak he had already killed the bloodmane, to bend the chief’s will to his own by using illusions and telepathy.
But what if he could use them to convince the lion that he no longer meant harm?
It was a long shot, and it had its problems, but with so few options, it was his best chance.
He could use the spear to carve new glyphs, to change the spell from supplanting thoughts into exchanging them. Create an entirely new method of communication with an animal: Telepathy. With the previous spell still fresh in his mind, he only had to change one or two glyphs to make it work.
Brex took out his enchanting plate, still with crumbs from his last meal, and used the end of the spear to carve glyphs in a matter of seconds. Not his best craftsmanship, but nobody else was watching. In a moment, the glyphs lit up and folded themselves into the rings before disappearing.
The orc swapped out his severing ring for the telepathy spell, then held the other silver ring in his hand, looking over the lion. What was the best way to get this properly fastened to a beast like the bloodmane?
His eyes scanned over places for a ring. He could try piercing the ear with the severing spell, but that would probably wake it up and everything would be over before it started. Perhaps the tail? No, one good flick would make the ring slide off. The ring wouldn’t fit on any of the lion’s toes. The metal already fused to the lion’s skin was flush and had nowhere to create a link.
Just when he was sure he was out of options, Brex noticed the bloodmane was still drooling on the ground, mouth open.
The mouth. If he could get the lion to swallow the ring, he could establish a reliable connection. Well, for a few hours at least.
The final piece of the puzzle: How to get a lion to swallow a sorcerer’s catalyst without knowing it. Touching the lion’s throat while it was unconscious seemed like a poor idea. But if he could get it to eat the ring without knowing…
Brex ran over to his bag and dug through the remains of his rations. Just enough jerky to wrap around the ring.
Jerky around ring, ring goes into lion’s digestive system, orc communicates with lion, convinces lion not to attack.
This was sure to work out splendidly.
Brex placed the meat-wrapped ring in front of the lion and took a few steps back, sinking into a grove of tall grass and watching the lion carefully.
The bloodmane’s ear twitched.
Its mouth closed.
It stirred, arching its back and turning to get solid footing.
The lion shrugged off the branch as if it were nothing, then noticed the meat in front of it. After a few seconds of hesitation, inspecting the food with a few sniffs, it ate the entire thing whole, swallowing down the relatively small morsel.
It glanced around for a moment, then hung its head low, making some sort of dissatisfied growling sound.
Pain. Head pain.
The thoughts came to Brex as if he’d spoken them aloud, causing the orc to gasp. It was working. The lion was feeling the lingering pain of the branch that fell on its head, maybe a concussion.
But as soon as he considered it, the lion snapped his gaze toward Brex and crouched, ready to pounce. As quick as he could, Brex thought about placing the meat in front of the lion, trying to conjure the image as vividly as possible.
The bloodmane paused again, standing up and tilting its head.
Brex took the opportunity to step out of the grass and hold his hands up, looking at the lion and attempting to send a clear message with his thoughts.
I want to help you.
This only got another tilt of the head. Probably too complicated for it.
Brex tried again.
Orc want to help lion.
The lion bared its teeth and took a step forward.
Green thing want help red thing.
The lion stopped and sat its hind legs, looking over Brex again.
Green thing hurt before.
The words came from the bloodmane. It wanted an explanation.
Brex tried not to think of the significance of this particular moment, successfully using language to decode and communicate the thoughts of an animal, and instead focused on staying alive.
Green thing scared. Green thing fight to survive.
The orc found himself lingering on his grandfather’s words, and that longing swelled within him. If he had only known what he was doing now.
Red help green thing.
The bloodmane had spoken again, shocking Brex back to the moment. It called itself Red. Or at least referred to itself that way, if not as a name.
Green thing did not kill Red. Red owe green thing. Red help green thing.
It pawed peacefully over to him, then sat in front of him and closed its eyes. Brex wasn’t really sure how to interpret this, so he reached out and ran his fingers over the lion’s head and through the fur of its mane.
Green thing take Red home, Brex thought.
It paused, then pressed its face to Brex’s side.
No more fighting, it thought.
The orc nodded. No more fighting.
This was going to make for an interesting relationship.
Brex blew out a sigh, bouncing on the balls of his feet, trying to get himself mentally prepared for what was about to come. He stood just around the corner from the path back up to the encampment, praying that nobody would pop around the corner and spot them.
The bloodmane, or Red, as Brex had come to call it, was laying on its side in the shade, dozing off and waiting for the orc to get ready. Of course, in the lion’s mind, he was still “Green thing”, but that was about to get a little complicated.
Red.
The lion stirred, sitting up and looking over at Brex expectantly.
Red and Green thing go to Green thing’s home. Many more green things.
It chuffed.
No fighting? Brex asked.
The lion growled for a moment, then grew silent. No fighting, if green things no fight.
“Right,” Brex said aloud. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
The orc started up the path and the lion clambered to its feet to follow him. It didn’t take long for Brex to come within eyeshot of the encampment’s border.
The terms of the rites were vague with regards to corner cases, such as bringing a live specimen back instead of an animal’s hide. He thought he remembered something about being “attacked on sight”, but that could have been more his own pessimism than proper recollection. With bruises all over his left side and cuts and scrapes across his body, he’d already used up his luck in combat today. Still, as they grew closer and closer, nobody popped out from behind rocks or fences to shoot arrows at him, which was comfort enough.
Instead, there were sounds of scattered footsteps and loud, purposeful whispers. Brex knew they were being watched, but had no idea what to expect when he reached the plateau.
His legs were starting to burn with fatigue when he and Red finally saw the top of the path.
There was only one figure at the entrance to the encampment: Kotak. Though there were plenty of orcs watching from a safe distance behind him. The chief held a heavy axe in his hands, though fortunately, not primed for a swing. He was simply showing that he was armed.
“Brexothuruk. You…return,” he said, his words edged with unease.
Brex nodded. “Y-yeah.” He gestured to the lion. “I, ah, brought the bloodmane’s hide back with me. Also, the teeth, eyes, lungs. The whole thing, really.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Using sorcery, no doubt,” Kotak said, hand gripping the axe’s handle tighter.
Brex’s eyes danced from Kotak’s face to his axe and back. “Well, yes,” he said, his voice growing quieter. “That’s what I…do.”
Green thing danger, Red thought, popping into Brex’s mind.
Green thing frightened. No fighting, Brex thought back.
“How far has it fallen under your power, Brex? Is it just a puppet to you now? Do you not see what sorcery has made you do?”
Brex blinked for a moment, then had to stifle a laugh as he realized just how much Kotak had assumed based on the lion’s presence, then winced with the next conclusion. Kotak’s last exposure to sorcery was an attempt to control him, so why wouldn’t he think Brex succeeded on the lion?
The sorcerer shook his head. “No, it’s not…I swear it’s not like that. I’m using sorcery to communicate, not control. I asked it to come back with me, and it agreed.”
Kotak’s grip seemed to loosen. “It…speaks?”
Brex shook his head again. “No, the spell, uh, from before. I changed it so it allows me to feel what it’s thinking, and vice versa.” He could see Kotak processing the information, eventually deciding with a grunt that it was all too complicated. Kotak lifted the head of the axe ever-so-slightly.
“Then why have you come back?” he asked.
The smaller orc gulped, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I just–I wanted to come home.”
Kotak’s posture straightened, his brow relaxing, one hand falling off of the axe’s grip. “That’s all?”
Brex nodded quickly.
Kotak looked to Red. “It won’t attack?”
Brex turned his attention to Red too. “It said that it won’t attack as long as nobody else attacks it.”
No fighting if green thing no fight? Brex thought.
Red sat itself down and yawned. No fighting if green thing no fight, it echoed back.
Kotak seemed satisfied by the response, if incredibly confused. “I…Will…Both of you, please come with me to my tent. I need to speak with you privately.” And as a show of peace, he lowered the axe before gesturing Brex and Red toward the tent.
The onlookers started whispering, and Brex had to wonder if Tiyash was among the throng. He both dreaded and yearned for the opportunity to speak with her again, his stomach twisting into knots at the thought of it.
But that would have to wait. The lion and the orc followed Kotak, and for a moment Brex found himself paranoid that he was being led into a trap.
Thankfully, his suspicions proved to be unfounded, as the tent’s interior was unchanged from the last time he visited. He saw Kotak hunch over a table and heave a sigh. Red just looked for a clear space to lay down, satisfied with a spot in the corner. The more time that Brex spent with the lion, the less convinced he was of its infamous reputation. Red acted far more like an overgrown housepet than a ferocious predator, at least when he wasn’t feeling threatened.
Something moved in the corner of Brex’s vision, growing larger as a shadow slipped over his form. Before he could turn to get a proper look, Brex found himself engulfed in enormous green arms, his vision blocked by Kotak’s collarbone. He felt a split-second of terror before he realized what was happening.
Kotak was hugging him.
Red sprang to its feet, coiling back and ready to strike.
No. Not fighting, Brex explained to the lion. Good thing.
Red relaxed and watched for another moment before laying back down. Green things odd, it thought.
“You’re alive,” Kotak said, his voice creaking with more emotion than Brex had heard in years. “You’re alive and you’re sane. I didn’t think it would happen.”
Brex reached his arms around Kotak as best he could, but the chief had a pretty good lock on him. He had to admit that it was nice to be this close to Kotak again, even after so many years apart, just for a moment.
“You didn’t think you were going to see me again?” Brex asked.
Kotak shook his head, and Brex could feel the short, bristly strands of his beard on his own scalp. “I thought the savannah would take you, or that some sorcery would backfire and you would return without your mind. Even after what happened that night, it hurt to see you go, thinking it was my last glimpse of you.”
Brex winced, remembering his attempt to manipulate Kotak with sorcery. “Chief, there’s no apology that I could give to ever make up for what I tried to do to you before my rites. I–“
Kotak finally let go and gripped Brex’s shoulders in his palms. “You were an animal backed into a corner. The shaman and I expected you would bare your fangs and bite in a way only you could. It was a tragedy of circumstance, but I couldn’t stop my anger. I regretted my decision, but I could not take it back in front of the rest of the clan without showing weakness.”
The chief beamed. “But you succeeded. Not the traditional way, but still a success.” He gestured to a pair of chairs. “Please, come and sit.”
Brex was still a little thrown by the whole experience. Something wasn’t quite right, and he felt like he was missing something as he sat down across from Kotak.
“We need to talk about getting you ready for your promotion,” Kotak said. Brex froze, unable to move or speak as Kotak continued. “I suppose we’ll have to make arrangements now that the bloodmane is your…companion. But my own training was relatively simple, and I think that you’ll be a good fit. The orcs will be comfortable with a member of your family–“
“Kotak, what are you talking about?”
He paused. “Brex, you’ll be replacing me as chief.”
Brex felt his mouth open in shock.
“No, no, I can’t–“
“Brex, we have been preparing for this. Your family has a history with leadership. The cloak would have passed to your parents, but now you are the only one left of your family. You are no longer a gor-sha. You can accept the mantle.”
Brex felt an ache at his temples and pressed his fingers against them. “What do you mean you’ve been preparing for this?”
“Your grandfather, Brex. He asked me to take the cloak so that I could force you to take your rites. And, ancestors willing, if you came back, you could accept it.”
Brex recalled his grandfather’s words. I did not have the courage to do what I should have done, Brex. For so many years. And so I put that responsibility on the shoulders of another.
“And the elders went along with this?” Brex asked. “What was your plan if I died out there?”
Kotak nodded. “They saw the need for a member of the Grotuk family to wear the cloak. But if you failed your rites, then the responsibility of leading the clan would fall to me permanently.” He grinned, relaxing his shoulders. “But we don’t have to worry about that.”
Brex blinked at the other orc. “I can’t take the cloak now. I can count the number of people in the clan who barely tolerate sorcery on one hand. You dragged me out in front of everyone and told them all about what I tried to do to your mind. You even told me it would be better to die on my rites than to live as a gor-sha.”
Kotak bowed his head. “I…have said and done many things that I regret. The night after you left, I realized I should never have pushed you away just for following your passion. It shouldn’t have taken so long.”
Brex wanted to believe him. But he remembered the night the Chiefs of the Range met, that Kotak asked for an exemption for him.
“You never thought I would succeed, Kotak,” Brex said, steeling his resolve. “You told people that you were sure I was going to die on my rites. But you accepted the cloak when grandfather died.” He leaned forward, his gaze boring into Kotak. “You thought you would be chief permanently. It was never going to pass to me. So, what changed your mind?”
Kotak kept his eyes on the ground between them, his elbows on his thighs as he hunched forward to hide his face from the other orc. “I thought I wanted this, but I was wrong. The lives of too many people are in my hands. I thought that it would feel right to send you on your rites. To prove that sorcery was a mistake. I thought I would feel vindicated. But instead I was left with nothing but a gnawing presence reminding me I sent you to your death. Once was enough for me, Brex. But you can do better. You have leadership in your blood. You can be a greater chief than I was.”
Was this really happening?
For a moment, Brex pictured his future with the clan, donning the cloak and standing before the crowd. He would be respected and heard. He could make people understand that sorcery was a tool, not something to be feared. He could spend his days with Tiyash and his nights with Kotak. It could be all right again.
For a few seconds, that vision of the future nearly convinced him. But it started to fall apart as soon as he considered it.
Behind Kotak was a desk with documents scattered about its surface. Notes on trade routes. Information on the people of the clan. The hard work that a chief must learn to do. To put the good of the people before himself. Kotak claimed that he’d discovered he couldn’t do it. But did that mean Brex would be any better?
Brex turned his eyes toward Red, and he remembered touching that metal fused to its bones. He was the only one who knew, the only one who wanted to know more. The Guardian had asked him to take Red home. He’d made a promise.
Green thing want help red thing.
Brex gripped the arm of his chair. “No, Kotak. I’m leaving. Tonight.”
Kotak’s posture snapped straight. “At least think about it, Brex.”
Brex stood up from his chair and walked toward the tent’s exit. “No, Kotak. You made your choice when you took the cloak. And there will always be someone else in line to be chief. If you’re not ready to lead the clan, then I doubt you should stay any longer than I will.”
“Brex, think about what you’re saying–“
“You’ve dug your grave, Kotak. Now lie in it.”
He looked over to the lion. Let’s go.
Red must have sensed the unease in him, because the lion practically jumped to his feet at the chance to leave.
Brex couldn’t bring himself to look back at Kotak as he left the tent, but the whole conversation only served to remind him: This is not his clan anymore.
Which only made what he was about to do even more difficult.
When Brex finally returned to his tent for the first time since he began his rites, he expected to find it either completely vandalized or mostly in the shape he left it. It didn’t really matter. He was going to pack light and only needed to change clothes before he left.
Instead, when he ducked under the flap, he found Tiyash surrounded by open books, sitting cross-legged with a dagger in her hand and an enchanting plate before her. When she saw him, she immediately dropped the blade and leapt to her feet to embrace him.
Brex didn’t even have time to think about what she was doing. He just found himself held tight against her, and instinctively, he reached around to hold her close.
“You’re alive. You’re really, really alive,” she whispered in his ear.
He chuckled. “I really, really am.”
Tiyash gripped him tighter, clinging to his clothes. “Brex. It’s right behind you,” she whispered in his ear, her voice anxious.
Brex stopped, then realized she was talking about Red. “Well I can’t exactly leave him tied to a post. I need to take him with me.”
Tiyash slid her hands back to grab Brex by the shoulders and pushed him to arm’s length. “You need to what?”
Brex rubbed the back of his neck. Explaining the Guardian’s request to take the lion home would likely have Tiyash doubting his sanity. Even thinking about it made Brex a little uneasy.
“It’s a long story, Ti. Let’s just say we came to a peaceful agreement, with the help of some sorcery. He’s not interested in hurting anyone here.”
The lion chuffed and laid back in the shade of the tent. Lazy bastard, Brex thought.
Red just rolled over and chuffed again.
“But…how, Brex?” Tiyash asked.
“Did they tell you what I tried to do to Kotak the night before the rites?”
She shook her head. “Not really. Just that you tried something.”
He swallowed back his guilt and explained. “I tried to use sorcery to convince Kotak that I’d already finished my rites, without him knowing. That…didn’t work. But I still had the rings in my pocket, and they’d still connect the thoughts of whatever was wearing them.”
“And how is it wearing the ring?”
Brex bit his lip. “It’s, uh, in his stomach. I wrapped it in some jerky and he ate it.”
Tiyash smiled and winced. “Sorcerers have strange ways of doing things.”
With a grin, Brex gestured to the display of books and the enchanting plate. “And maybe you count yourself among us?”
Tiyash crossed her arms and grew red in the cheek. “That’s not…I wasn’t–“
“I won’t tell anybody,” Brex said, leaning in.
“Fine. I was trying it because I finished your stupid book. It seemed simple enough, so I thought I’d at least try.” She grinned. “But now I don’t have to worry about that. You’re back. You’re alive. You’re home.”
Brex winced. “Ti,” he said, looking her right in the eyes. “I’m leaving.”
She deflated, her own gaze drifting away from Brex. “Leaving to go where? Why?”
“Somewhere I can learn more. I mean, look.” He gestured to the books again. “This is every book in the clan on sorcery, and they’re all mine. Grandfather is with the ancestors now. There’s nobody left here that wants me around, except you and your family.”
“And I’m not reason enough to stay?”
“You were,” Brex said. “And you still are. But…look at this.” He turned around and knelt next to Red, parting the fur of his mane to show Tiyash the silver underneath.
She caught on right away. “That’s…sorcery metal?”
Brex nodded. “You were right. The bloodmane is not an ordinary lion. And I figure it’s worth finding out what he really is and how this happened.”
Tiyash sighed. “And you can’t do that here.” She folded her arms again. “I just…I don’t know what I’m going to do after you leave.”
Brex frowned. “Why not? Do what you always do, hunt and track. Be valuable. Weren’t you going to settle down with one of the other hunters?”
She scoffed, rubbing her eye with one hand. “Of course not. I always thought I’d just live…near you. Maybe not with you, but next to you. But now you’re leaving and you…you have a lion.”
He tried to think of something to say. “I…I’m sorry, Ti.”
She shook her head again, “No, don’t worry about me.”
“You could come with me.”
“I can’t. Not with so few hunters, and not with the shape that Papa’s in. He’ll be going soon, and I can’t leave him now.”
Brex looked down, wincing, “I’m sorry. I…I forgot…”
“You had a lot to worry about the past few days. But I’ll leave too. Soon. Someday.” She reached out and put her hand on Brex’s shoulder. “And we’ll cross paths again, all right?”
Brex forced himself to smile. “All right, Ti.” He paused, then glanced back into the tent. “I could really use some help packing, if you’re up for it.”
She gave him another hug, then agreed to help.
After saying his goodbyes to Tiyash and her family, Brex left for the edge of the encampment with the intent of going to the city of Haramsasch nestled between rivers in the distance.
But someone blocked his path.
“You are a curious one, Brexothuruk,” the shaman said as he approached. “And you are clearly more capable than I first thought, sorcery or no.”
Brex furrowed his brow, confused. “Are you trying to stop me?”
She shook her head. “No. While he and I may not be on the best terms at the moment, the chief told me that you intended to leave today. And before you depart, I have a question for you.”
Brex glanced down at Red, but it just sat on its hind legs and waited.
“I have had more visions of the Guardians in the last few days than the rest of my life combined. I cannot believe that it was mere coincidence that this happened during your grief and your rites. I suspect that, like clay in the hands of a sculptor, my visions and actions were designed for a purpose I may not understand. With that in mind, all I ask is for a simple yes or no:
“Did a Guardian come and visit you during this time?”
Brex weighed his options. Telling her the truth might anger the Guardian, which could mean a lot of trouble for him later. But hiding it from her, especially now, felt like more than simply lying. She caught on to a pattern. Didn’t she deserve to see her deduction confirmed?
“Yes,” Brex said plainly.
The shaman’s chest rose, and she nodded. “Thank you, Brexothuruk. May the Guardians watch over your travels.”
She walked past him and the lion, heading back toward the chief’s tent.
Brex watched her go for several seconds, then heaved a sigh, ready to leave until he was interrupted by a voice behind him.
“She’s doing a very good job of holding in her excitement, don’t you think?”
The orc jumped at the Guardian’s sudden appearance, once again taking its dusty, earthen form. Red seemed not to notice its presence. “You’ll talk to me, but not to her?”
“I do not need to speak with her to help her believe. You have done that much for me.”
Brex pursed his lips. “I’m not sure I like you, Guardian.”
“You’re not supposed to like me. You’re not even supposed to know I exist. But that’s what makes you special, Brexothuruk. You constantly push the boundaries of what you know. That is your strength, and that entertains me.”
Brex sighed. “At least I’m amusing.”
“Do not confuse the two. Watching you has enriched my life, which is more than any other orc alive could say. You are not my distraction, but my investment. I very much appreciate your willingness to abide my request. Now, where do you intend to go first?”
Brex glanced out at the path before him, toward the city he’d set as destination before, the river snaking its way toward an ocean, a dense forest somewhere between them both.
“Not sure yet. I’ll see if the city takes me. Maybe there’s someone there who can help me understand what happened to Red. Maybe the orcs there will like me better.”
“There is so much more to that city than orcs you haven’t met. A shame I won’t get to see you discover that.”
“It’s not your domain?”
“No, you’re at the threshold now. It’s been a joy, though.”
Brex paused. “So you took the barrier down because I’m ready now, right?”
The Guardian chuckled. “The barrier was gone the moment you agreed to speak with me that night. But your fight is no longer here, that I promise you. Anyway, enjoy your journey. If you ever end up in the savannah or on the mesa here, I’ll make sure to stop by and say hello.”
Brex nodded and looked at the bloodmane, which yawned.
“Goodbye,” the orc said before turning away and heading down toward the city.
The Guardian watched them both stride onward, bringing its fingers to its lips, waiting until they were out of earshot to speak.
“I am so sorry for what’s about to happen to us.”
Copyright © 2015 E. Michael Chase, All Rights Reserved
Key art by Jonah Cabodul-Chalker
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This book is licensed for the personal enjoyment of the reader. It is the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, copied, or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes without written consent from the author.
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