Chapter 26 - In conflicts wake - Part Two
I tried to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes I would see the tree and the bloated diminutive bodies hanging from its branches. There was no judgement or condemnation in their eyes, just death...
Waking up for what felt like the hundredth time, I tiredly rubbed at my eyes and brushed away the accumulated grit.
Carefully shifting Toofy and Ril off my stomach and onto the bedroll, I stiffly got to my feet and then left the cave.
Dhizi obstructed most of the cave entrance with her bulk, but she had left a gap, so I used that to leave. It was dark out, but I had no real way of knowing if it was closer to evening or early morning.
Leaving the cave, I could see Clarice lounging against Dhizi’s side and tending a small fire, apparently taking her turn on watch. Our secluded location, combined with the Ward, made attacks by wild monsters basically impossible. However, the same was not true of Humans or Variants, which was why maintaining a standing watch was important when outside of the Settlement.
Walking a small distance away, I pissed behind a bush, and after rubbing my hands clean with dawnmoss, headed back to the cave.
“Tim, wait...” Clarice had gotten up and was waiting for me, “You know, if you want to talk?...” She shrugged helplessly and tried to smile reassuringly.
“I...I want to sleep,” I croaked tiredly.
Clarice nodded in understanding and made to sit back down, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“I want to...” I continued honestly, “But I can’t...” I staggered over to Dhizi and unceremoniously sat down, leaning against her side with my back like a recliner. “I just can’t get the image out of my head...Every time I close my eyes, it’s there again. I know I am not responsible for what happened to them!” I clenched my fists and tried to suppress my mounting anger and frustration, “I know that! But they won’t go away!”
Clarice nodded her head and gave me a concerned look, “You aren’t gonna like what I have to say Tim,” she warned with a deep sigh and looked up towards the sky. “Shit happens,” Clarice pronounced despondently, “And shit will keep happening. Nasty shit, dark shit, evil shit! It will keep happening so long as there are nasty fuckers out there who think they can get away with it...” She shifted her attention from the sky to me, “Shit like you saw, it’s not meant to go away easy Tim. It will haunt you because it represents a line you won’t cross, because it repulses you on a primal fucking level...” Clarice returned her attention to the stars, the intensity in her eyes dimming, “Get what sleep you can Tim...One way or the other, the memory will figure out whose side you're on and eventually leave you alone...Enough to sleep anyway...”
Returning to bed, I tried to keep Clarice’s advice in mind while hoping to fall asleep.
Waking up with the sun in my eyes was the only sign I had gotten any sleep. My brain felt sluggish and I was in a bad mood, annoyed by each minor inconvenience while changing my clothes. Despite having rested for more than twelve consecutive hours, I felt like it had been less than five minutes.
Without really thinking, I accepted the skewered meat from Nadine with a grunt and tried to shield my eyes from the sun.
“The swelling has gone down,” Nadine commented reassuringly, “Does it still hurt? Can you rotate your shoulder for me?”
I rotated my shoulder and stretched my arm. Although a little stiff, the pain had lessened considerably. “It’s fine,” I answered while trying to keep the irritation in my voice to a minimum. Just because I was in a bad mood didn’t mean I needed to spread it around.
Nadine gave me a weak smile and nodded. “You know, we have another three days, maybe five, until we reach the portal. You can take it easy, alright? We got this.”
I gave a noncommittal grunt in reply. She was right of course. Dhizi alone would be enough to scare off the more intelligent wild monsters, and was fully capable of killing anything else. After missing so much sleep, putting one foot in front of the other come midday would be difficult enough, assuming I would even make it till midday...
I lasted until evening...
Objectively, or with as much objectivity as I could muster in my sleep-deprived state, I almost found it strange that I had acclimated to the violence of this world as fast as I had done so far. I had killed dozens, maybe even hundreds of Goblins during the first floor Raid...and I felt nothing for them...
They were, just, wild monsters...
As if somehow the label was enough to strip them of personhood...
Why can I kill those Goblins and feel nothing, but one look at that tree...
I don’t want to think about this!
Collapsing onto my bedroll, I passed out within a few minutes.
Waking up with the rising sun, I tried to put myself into a better frame of mind, but failed. I just felt so...angry.
After two more days of fighting our way through the forest, we found the portal exactly where Kestrel said we would.
Having watched the portal transition its exit location repeatedly over the course of two hours, I held few delusions over what we were committing to. The fourth floor was a wasteland of sunbaked sand and cracked earth. The forests were dead, the trees reduced to nothing but dried husks and the bushes made nothing more than shrivelled ruins.
“If we want to contact the local Variants, then the southern grasslands...Ahem, what used to be the southern grasslands, is our best bet. Variants are fiercely territorial and won’t move unless forced,” Kestrel explained while referencing a map of the fourth floor.
“Shouldn’t we wait till dark, when it's cooler?” Nadine asked worriedly, her voice muffled somewhat by her cloth head-wrapping.
I had shown all the girls how to make a crude head and neck protector with a large piece of fabric. They would still be able to wear their helmets over the top, but the idea was to reduce their exposure to the sun.
For my part, I had changed into an open front robe cinched at my waist in addition to the headwrap. “No. Remember the second floor? Deserts get incredibly cold at night, which will make Dhizi lethargic at best. Better to travel during the day,” I reasoned somewhat snippily.
Nadine nodded slightly but said nothing in reply, her expression hidden behind her improvised cloth veil.
Clarice had just finished rigging a small sailcloth behind her saddle to give Toofy and Ril some shade. There had been concerns about whether Ril would be able to tolerate the heat and arid environment, so we soaked a large towel for her to rest under while we would travel. The combined effects with small shade awning made it so Ril would certainly be the most comfortable of us all. After all, if the towel dried out, Toofy could just wet it again from her storage space.
“This looks like the place,” Kestrel announced grimly.
The image on the other side of the portal had changed. The southern grasslands were a sunbaked wasteland and looked more or less like every other part of the fourth floor we had seen thus far.
“You're sure?” Clarice asked as she climbed up into Dhizi’s saddle and took a firm hold on the reins.
Kestrel gave a self-deprecating shrug, “As much as I can be without crossing over,” she replied to better explain herself.
“Then let’s go,” I grunted and moved towards the portal, “Worst case, we explore a little then return to Sanctuary.” Returning to the location of the portal would have been enough as a fallback, but at this point, I was almost thankful for an excuse to return home.
“Right!” Clarice agreed and began inching Dhizi closer as well.
Kestrel nodded determinedly, snapped a quick salute and stepped through the portal.
Giving Kestrel a couple of seconds to get clear, I stepped through the portal as well.
Even having anticipated the extreme temperature difference, the dry air caught in my throat as I took my first breath. Suppressing a cough, I gingerly stepped aside to make room for whoever would come through next.
“We’ve got trouble!” Kestrel was holding what looked like a small primitive telescope and was pointing to a nearly invisible dust cloud in the distance.
“What is it?” I demanded, squinting and shielding my eyes in a vain attempt to make out what the problem was.
“I can’t confirm at this distance,” Kestrel hedged, “But it looks like there are two groups of Variants fighting one another for dominance of the territory.”
Dhizi suddenly appeared in our midst and Clarice set about moving her out of the way for Nadine who appeared a couple of seconds later.
“What’s going on?” Clarice asked excitedly, “Dhizi’s going nuts!”
True enough, Dhizi was flicking her tongue far more frequently than usual and had locked her attention on the distant battle.
“Two groups of Variants seem to be fighting it out,” Kestrel repeated and then turned her attention to me, “What do you want to do? If we get any closer, hell, if we don’t leave, whoever wins is almost definitely gonna come investigate our presence.”
“How many are there fighting?” I asked. I wanted more information before making an important decision like this. After all, our whole mission here was supposed to be based on making contact with potential allies and recruits before moving on to the fifth floor.
Kestrel took another look before lowering her telescope, “Roughly twenty combatants and some sort of wagon with four pack animals?” She replied with a small note of uncertainty, “Looks like there might be wounded or prisoners in the wagon...” Kestrel added nervously, “Again i can’t be sure from this distance b-”
“We are investigating!” I decided, my decision having been made at the mention of potential prisoners.
“Right,” Kestrel agreed, hurriedly stringing her bow.
Hurrying across the dry cracked ground, my boots left obvious tracks for anyone who would bother to look for them. On the upside, the fast pace caused my accumulated sweat to cool me down faster than just relying on the faint breeze.
After twenty minutes of forced marching, I could now see the fight for myself, or what looked to be the end of it.
Five large heavily built men in rough cloaks and crude leather armour were bearing down on a smaller but more agile opponent. The crude cudgels and manacles in their hands made their intentions painfully obvious. They were almost certainly the Slavers Nadine had spoken of back in Sanctuary, or they were working for them. Either way, it made little difference now.
“Kill the Slavers!” I snarled and began charging across the open ground.
Initially unaware of my presence, the five Slavers continued harrying their quarry, laughing and joking as he continued attempting to fight them with a pair of long knives.
Unlike the Slavers, their prey had seen me coming and had become far more defensive, no longer making opportunistic attacks and just prioritising defence.
As I drew closer, I realised that one of the Slavers was significantly bigger than the others, a full head taller at least. Assuming he was their leader, I reached for my morningstar, deciding that eliminating the enemy leadership would make the fight go easier.
Less than ten feet away now, the Slavers finally recognised my presence and awkwardly attempted to disengage from their previous target and prepare a united defence. However, the largest had turned to run away instead, no doubt leaving his subordinates behind in an attempt to slow me down.
*Thwip*
An arrow whizzed past my right shoulder and struck one of the Slavers in the belly, causing him to stagger and provide exactly the opportunity I needed.
*Thump*
“YOU!” I charged through the weakened formation and continued chasing the leader who was now desperately sprinting for the wagon.
“KILL HIM! KILL HIM!” The leader shrieked in an all too familiar tongue, confirming that we were indeed fighting Orcs.
“AEIII” There was a piercing wail from one of the Slavers behind me.
*Crunch, Snap, Thwack*
[Dhizi has slain {Mountain Orc: 2 } +400 Exp]
[Dhizi has slain {Mountain Orc: 1 } +200 Exp]
The leader made the mistake of peaking over his shoulder and tripped.
*Crunch*
[You have slain {Mountain Orc Drudge: 2 } +600 Exp]
My morningstar tore apart the back of his skull as he tried scrambling to his feet, spattering brain matter across the dirt and throwing his body flailing limply back to the ground.
[Clarice has slain {Mountain Orc: 2 } +400 Exp]
[Dhizi has slain {Mountain Orc: 2 } +400 Exp]
Feeling my anger rising rather than dissipating, I tore my attention away from the leader’s corpse and looked towards the sole conscious survivor who could explain what had happened here.
Nadine had already pulled out her medical supplies and was putting Kestrel to work by helping gather the wounded of the, thus far, neutral party.
[Dhizi has slain {Mountain Orc: 1 } +200 Exp]
[Clarice has slain {Mountain Orc: 1 } +200 Exp]
Meanwhile, Clarice and Dhizi were stalking the battlefield and executing the Slavers, something I honestly couldn’t bring myself to care about enough to question, let alone stop.
The lone survivor had sheathed one of his knives in his sash-like belt and was hurriedly approaching me while trying to look as unthreatening as possible while still holding the second knife. Like us, he was wearing a cloth headwrap to protect himself from the sun, and similar to myself, he was wearing loose pants, a long tunic and open-fronted robe, all bound at the waist by a long sash.
Not sure of his intentions, I raised my morningstar slightly as a clear warning.
The stranger understood my warning and came up five feet short. He was two heads shorter than me, at least, and far lankier. Placing his left fist, still doling the blade of the dagger outwards towards me, the stranger bowed deeply at the waist, his intense blue eyes staring into mine as he did so.
Can you speak? I have questions,” I asked while lowering my morningstar into a resting position again.
The stranger nodded and spared a moment to watch Nadine and Kestrel as they tended to the wounded, which were presumably his companions. “Can speak,” the stranger agreed in a slightly different yet still understandable Orc dialect, returning his attention to me again, “You not with Gargant?” He asked sceptically, “Not with human slavers?”
An involuntary growl escaped my lips as they curled in disgust, “No, we are not!” I confirmed tersely.
The much smaller Orc cowed slightly under my ire for a moment before quickly standing tall again, a defiant gleam in his eyes that could be found in just about any headstrong teenager.
After taking a deep breath to calm down, I levelled my gaze with the young Orc again. “I am Tim, High Chieftain and Overlord of Sanctuary and the third floor of this Labyrinth,” I rumbled, taking satisfaction in the widening eyes of the young Orc as he processed what I was claiming, “And I want to speak with your leader,” I eyed the rows of wounded and the nearby wagon each in turn, “Assuming they still live,” I added for dramatic effect.
The Orc youth was truly cowed now, his left hand visibly trembling as he held his knife tighter. “Th-this one is Jarwa,” he stammered while stiffly bowing again, “Uday is chief, leader of tribe, Jarwal's uncle. Jarwal can bring you to him. Uday will reward for returning warriors and hunters to tribe.”
Nodding noncommittally, I took a closer look at the contents of the wagon. There were five unconscious Orcs matching Uday’s general appearance, their faces hidden behind cloth wrappings and veils. Unsurprisingly, three of the prisoners were male and the remaining two were female. Besides the Gnolls, I had yet to witness any real gender preferences when it came to the jobs and roles filled by monster tribes.
The four draft beasts Kestrel had spied earlier were actually large boars each wearing thick, professionally made, taming collars. Having noticed the collars, I was surprised that the boars hadn’t immediately turned aggressive after the bond holder died. I was of course assuming that the Slavers leader had been the one to hold the bond, but also realised that there was no requirement for that to be the case. Technically, the bond holder could establish predetermined commands and just hand the boars off to someone else.
Assuming we would be keeping the wagon for transporting the wounded, I approached the closest boar and bit my left thumb hard enough to break the skin and bleed. Pressing my thumb against the ownership tag, I felt a sudden pressure establish in my mind. The pressure increased gradually over the course of five minutes but then suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a Status alert.
{You have successfully seized control of {Bristle Boar} from {Ugluk}]
Furrowing my brow, I turned my attention to the remaining three Bristle Boars. “Clarice! I think I want some back up!” I called out over my shoulder, not wanting to let the fierce-looking swines out of my sight.
Clarice wasted no time and jogged over, Dhizi waddling close behind as she continued swallowing the remaining half of her Orc meal. “What’s-oh! Hey! Are those Bristle Boars? I thought something smelled familiar.”
I nodded, “I just stole control of this one from its owner and I want you and Dhizi on standby in case he prematurely surrenders the others.”
“Gotcha!” Clarice nodded in understanding and then waved Dhizi forward.
I placed my bleeding thumb on the tag of another collar. The same pressure from before suddenly manifested just as before. However, it disappeared almost immediately and the same Status alert appeared in its place.
{You have successfully seized control of {Bristle Boar} from {Ugluk}]
I had no proof, but I could only assume that whoever Ugluk was, he had no intentions of fighting me for control, or just as likely, couldn’t, so he was surrendering at the first opportunity.
I repeated the seizure of both the remaining Bristle Boars at the same time. Expecting an immediate surrender like before, I was surprised as the mental pressure continued to build to an almost uncomfortable level before eventually dissipating, only this time accompanied by three Status alerts.
[You have slain {Mountain Orc Grunt: 3 } +1200 Exp]
{You have successfully seized control of {Bristle Boar} from {Ugluk}]
{You have successfully seized control of {Bristle Boar} from {Ugluk}]
I stared blankly at the Status Alerts in surprise. I had not expected the Bristle Boars owner to die, or more accurately, that I could even kill him in the attempt of seizing control in the first place. Then I remembered when Toofy had been taken hostage, and how she had nearly died while attempting to resist the Enslavement. In that context, I suppose it made sense, but i was still confused as to why the Orc hadn’t just surrendered control of the Bristle Boars in order to save his own life.
“Tim? Everything good?” Clarice asked worriedly.
I shook my head and blinked to remove the Status Alerts, “Yeah...I just...I mean...You saw the notification, right?”
Clarice nodded, “Mountain Orc Grunt, twelve hundred Exp...I think you overwhelmed them by doing two at once,” she speculated, “That or they really misjudged who they were coming up against,” Clarice grinned and gave me a good-natured punch to the arm.
Unable to think of an alternative explanation, I nodded in agreement. “Did you look over the bodies for anything valuable?” I asked, intended more as an afterthought, I didn’t really think Clarice would have had the time to do so just yet.
“Uh, yeah, actually, so it looks like that guy you killed was the only Variant...” Clarice explained somewhat nervously, “The rest all had collars on, and I didn’t see any other kill notifications...So...Yeah...Figured I might as well let Dhizi eat a couple to save on rations.”
Setting aside my internal debate on the personhood of clones for what felt like the thousandth time, I turned my attention back to Jarwa, who had been quietly and intensely observing myself and Clarice throughout our interaction. “How long do you think it will take for us to reach your tribe?” I asked directly, already in no mood for playing games.
Jarwal glanced meaningfully at the wagon and then back to his eight unconscious companions still receiving treatment and assessment from Nadine. “Before sun highest,” he asserted confidently, pointing off into the barren plains. To his credit, Jarwal wasn’t stupid enough to contradict the sled tracks I could already see for myself. Whether he remained nearly as helpful once we reached striking distance of his allies, that had yet to be seen.
Taking hold of one of the lead Bristle Boars by a large tusk, I began pulling it towards Nadine. Through Enslavement or by its own limited cognition, the giant boar began dragging the others, who in turn began pulling along the sled.
Curiously, Jarwal did not immediately follow us. Instead, he crouched down by the body of the dead Variant I had killed and removed the crude leather pack of the dead Orc’s back. With the pack secured, Jarwal hurried after the wagon. Once I stopped the wagon, Jarwal presented me with the dead Orc’s pack, or more specifically, what looked like a large mostly full waterskin from inside of it. “Yours, High Chieftain Tim.” The degree of reverence and visible reluctance the young Orc displayed served as a none too subtle reminder of the current drought and the importance of water.
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I accepted the large waterskin in silence and handed it off to Toofy and Ril who were still hiding in the shade on Dhizi’s back. We already had a lot of water, but until I had a better understanding of what was going on here, I wasn’t going to advertise that fact.
While Kestrel and Jarwal loaded the unconscious tribesmen into the back of the wagon, I shifted the small amount of cargo from inside the wagon into Dhizi’s saddlebags. In addition to questionable dried meat rations, there was another large half-empty waterskin. Unlike the first, even without opening the plug, this second waterskin smelled strongly of urine.
Jarwal saw my reaction and scowled a little in anger, “Slavers leave piss for beasts, Slaves no allowed drink.”
As gross as the prospect of drinking someone else's pee was, and I could well imagine becoming desperate enough to do so after languishing in the desert heat without anything else to drink and my survival depending on it. Being denied even that...It was a new low I had until now not considered possible.
It made a sick sort of sense. The Slavers only needed their captives alive long enough to reach the foothold in order to sell them off. ‘Wasting’ water on them seemed somewhat pointless from that perspective.
With the thirteen Orc tribesmen all loaded into the wagon, I rigged up a crude shade over the wagon bed using one of our tent tarpaulins to try and shelter them from the sun while we travelled. Nadine seemed convinced that although a couple of the most severely injured may have concussions, there were no other potentially life-threatening injuries so far as she could tell. Although every Orc she had tended to did show signs of dehydration.
Keeping that in mind, I assigned Nadine to drive the wagon while I brought up the rear, in case the sled runners got stuck and needed a push. Clarice would rove about in our general vicinity and keep a lookout for trouble coming up behind us, while Kestrel and Jarwal would lead us to his tribe.
As we travelled the wounded Orc’s in the wagon bed began regaining consciousness one by one. Disoriented and somewhat panicked, it took Jarwal a considerable amount of arguing to convince the older Orcs that we had in fact saved their lives and were not looking for a fight.
Jarwal's estimated travel time seemed to be correct. We had finished following the sled tracks a half hour ago and were instead now following the tracks Jarwal and the tribesmen had left. Rather disconcertingly, there had been no obvious signs of wild monsters thus far. However, I could tell from the way Jarwal and Kestrel were scanning the barren hills ahead of us that they were convinced this would change at any moment.
Recalling the last time we had traversed an arid waste, I could only really think of three potential enemies, and didn’t much like the thought of any of them.
“Sand Stalker! Sand Stalker!” Jarwal barked out in warning, drawing his second knife and turning to the left of our formation.
Clarice was currently roving on our right, but she brought Dhizi up to speed and wheeled her back in our direction.
A solid chunk of dried earth about fifteen feet to our left suddenly flipped open and exposed a hairy brown spider the size of a truck now barrelling towards us.
Ever since I was a child, I had never been particularly scared of spiders. However, the sheer size of the spider racing towards us did give me a momentary pause as my brain tried rationalizing the size discrepancy between the charging arachnid and my woefully small boot.
*Thwack*
Kestrel’s arrow sheared into one of the spider's eight eyes and caused it to stumble slightly as it continued to charge.
Seeing Jarwal preparing to countercharge, the shock of such a large spider rapidly evaporated.
Gripping my morningstar tight, I launched myself towards the giant spider and realized too late that I had badly mistimed my swing and would strike a front leg rather than its body. Now aware that my blow wouldn’t connect, and with less than a couple of seconds until we made contact, I gathered mana into my left fist and jabbed it at the spider’s maw, doing my best to ignore the giant mandibles and un-spider-like teeth in its mouth.
*Crunch*
My left arm disappeared into its waiting maw and was almost shoulder-deep before making solid contact.
*Boom*
The spider was thrown backwards and sent tumbling as putrid goo gushed out of its mouth and onto the ground. Within a couple of seconds, its legs began twitching and curling up towards its body.
[You have slain {Sand Stalker: 1 } +400 Exp]
Looking down at my arm in disgust, I found it was covered in an acrid semi-clear liquid I could only assume was some sort of venom. Gingerly dropping my morningstar, I bunched up a section of my robe and vigorously rubbed off the venom as best as I was able. Retrieving my morningstar and slipping it back into my belt, I was surprised to see that Jarwal was elbow deep in the spider's rear end and hacking at it with his knives.
After a couple of minutes, Jarwal pulled out a strange-looking pale sack and quickly deposited it in a hide bag which he then offered to me. “Your kill, yours,” Jarwal insisted, practically forcing the bag into my hands.
“This is?” I asked warily, although I had my suspicions.
Jarwal smiled reassuringly, “Is Sand Stalker threads, make strong protection,” he motioned to both the spider and sun in turn before pointing to his own clothes.
Things were beginning to make more sense. “This is a silk gland?” I asked, not really expecting the young Orc to know the words I was using to describe it.
Jarwal surprised me again and nodded in confirmation, “Stalkers make silk thread, weavers make protection.”
It was a little disconcerting how the Labyrinth kept managing to find bridging words to facilitate our communication, but I did my best to push it to the back of my mind. “Your tribe hunts Stalkers for their silk?”
Jarwal nodded eagerly, “Hunt for silk and meat,” he agreed.
My stomach became somewhat queasy at the prospect of staying with this tribe for dinner. “Shouldn’t you bring that with us then?” I asked, trying not to show my distaste for the arachnid.
Jarwal seemed somewhat embarrassed and shook his head, “Venom make meat no good,” he apologised, pointing to the disgorged insides splattered on the cracked dirt and the ruptured carapace of its cephalothorax.
Right, that makes sense. Spiders inject their venom to liquefy food and I had probably basted its insides when I blew its head open.
Returning to the rear of the formation, I was now incredibly curious to see how the tribe's weavers handled spider silk and turned it into clothing. I had only ever seen a spinning wheel in children’s books as a kid, and an old-school loom once or twice on TV. In both instances, I had no idea how they actually worked, so I was genuinely curious to see if it was a technology we could bring back to Sanctuary, even if we didn’t have car-sized spider’s silk to work with. After all, there was always cotton.
Clarice stuck much closer to the formation now, not so much out of fear of being suddenly attacked by a giant spider, but because she was genuinely annoyed at missing out on the action. Even though Toofy and Ril were safely tucked away, I did make a point of reminding her they were there and not to be too reckless.
After travelling for another ten minutes, a rocky formation began to take shape in the distance. Judging by Jarwal's excitement, this was most likely his tribe’s home.
Roughly a quarter-hour after the rocky formation came into view, a growing dust cloud approaching us from the same direction made it clear that we had been spotted in turn and that Jarwal's tribe had sent a scouting force to check us out.
It didn’t take long for the scouts to make contact. Roughly twenty strong, they stood a full head taller than Jarwa. The largest amongst them was heatedly arguing with Jarwal, who I assumed was either explaining how his people came to be in such a sorry state, or was doggedly advocating on our behalf. Unable to read lips, I could really only guess.
Plenty irritable from trudging through the heat all day, I was well past the point of being intimidated by a show of force through numbers alone. I think their leader picked up on that, and it only made him more upset.
After what seemed like hours of standing around in the sun, Jarwal returned to the wagon. “Jergal-” he pointed to the large Orc he had been arguing with moments earlier, “-agrees you will meet uncle,” Jarwal declared proudly, if somewhat more tired than before. “Jergal’s warriors protect, we move fast now.”
Understanding his intended meaning was along the lines that Jergal would secure our route and we could now move without the worry of being ambushed, I was more than happy to get our formation moving again. Even more so that we would be out of the sun that much sooner.
With Kestrel taking a seat by Nadine and I still left on foot, we doubled our pace and rapidly approached the home of the Orc tribe.
Unsurprisingly, our escorts lead us up onto the rocky formation and into the interior. With the slight increase in elevation, the village became obvious. With tall walls that looked like they were shaped from baked and blackened clay, it blended in rather well with the surroundings to a certain degree, exposed only by its obviously man-made shape and design. The village had thick guard towers flanking the gate and three others that were more or less equally distributed around the village’s wall.
The gate was quite impressive in an intimidating sort of way. Seemingly made of the same baked clay moulded over a wood or bone frame, the arch above the gate was festooned with the petrified trophies of the tribe. Amongst the motley collection of humanoid skulls was a spider's cephalothorax almost twice as large as the one I had slain earlier., as well as a reptilian skull of almost three quarters its size. Truly impressive feats if the tribe didn’t have combat Classes to do the heavy lifting.
The inside of the village was somewhat similar to the rural middle-eastern towns and villages I had seen sometimes on the news or in movies. The walls of the buildings were all made from fired bricks and had a weathered look to them that suggested they had not been maintained in a long time. The doors of each dwelling were made from earth coloured fabrics, although there were signs that they had once used more conventional solid doors in their place.
The villagers were dressed more or less as I had expected. The warriors were wearing similar garb to myself and Jarwal, while the ‘civilians’ and children wore much longer robes and had them cinched closed, rather than open.
Jarwal and Jergal had entered a larger building on the opposite side of the village’s central plaza, no doubt to announce our arrival and engage in another argument.
There was near palpable desperation in the air that only partially abated when the wounded tribesmen were revealed from beneath the wagon's tarpaulin and returned to their families. Taking note of the large well in the centre of the plaza, I already knew what to expect when I walked over to take a look, but curiosity compelled me to investigate anyway.
The large clay jug sitting by the well was attached to an overhead beam by a length of thickly corded hide rope. However, rather than throwing down the jug into the depths, and very likely smashing it in the process, I dropped a small stone instead. After a few seconds, I heard a faint splat that signalled the stone had hit the bottom and struck what sounded like mud.
Seeing the crowds continuing to grow, I sincerely hoped no one tried doing anything stupid. Spying a large pot nearby, I removed the lid and took a moment to confirm it was empty. Judging that to be the case, I quickly moved over to Dhizi and took back the waterskin I had given to them for safekeeping.
The moment the waterskin came into the open, I could feel everyone's eyes become fixated on me. Trying my best to appear calm, I carried the jug back over by the well and carefully set it down. It was large enough that Toofy or Ril could fit in it standing up, so the water I was about to empty into it wouldn’t seem nearly as impressive as if I emptied it into a smaller jug. Unstopping the waterskin, I upended and emptied it into the jug, managing to fill it about a third of the way before the waterskin was empty. “A gift of friendship, from my people to yours,” I announced loudly, having decided to keep it simple to avoid potential misunderstandings. Stepping away from the jug and returning to Dhizi, I was surprised by the sheer level of restraint demonstrated by the crowded villagers. Not one of them had rushed forward to claim the jug of water as their own. However, an older woman had briefly approached in order to seal the jug with its lid before returning to the crowd.
“Y’think they don't trust us?” Clarice asked a little nervously, prompting a quiet rumble from Dhizi.
Nadine shook her head, “I don’t think that’s the reason they are holding back,” she disagreed, “Or rather, it’s not why they aren’t taking the water. I think they are waiting for the village leaders to divide it out into rations or equal shares. There is no way they could have survived a drought for this long if they weren’t following some very strict rules.”
Kestrel nodded in agreement, “There are records of company’s going to shit in better conditions than these in a tenth the time when discipline was low,” she commented helpfully.
While we were talking, an elderly male Orc villager with a differently wrapped headscarf passed through the crowd and entered the same building as Jergal and Jarwa, perhaps to report on what I had done, and just as likely, request the distribution of the water.
Deciding to check on Toofy and Ril, I was genuinely amazed by their ability to snooze through just about the entire day thus far. If it weren’t so hot out, I would have insisted they come out of their cool little hidey-hole and get some exercise. But it was hot out and spreading the suffering around seemed profoundly counterproductive and incredibly petty. Besides, the last thing I wanted was Toofy revealing exactly how much water we happened to have in storage. That would basically guarantee our attempted kidnapping on the spot, discipline or no.
After some time had passed, the same elderly Orc exited the building and motioned for me to follow.
Waving the others down, I removed my morning star and warhammer, handing them off to Kestrel to look after until I returned and giving her instructions to water the boars from the piss waterskin if she felt up to it. They looked like they could use water, but I didn’t think watering the boars with clean drinking water would go down so well with this crowd.
Entering the building alongside the elderly Orc, I found Jergal and Jarwal sitting cross-legged across from a marginally more decoratively dressed older Orc who looked to be in the equivalent of his fifties. With his face uncovered, I was not particularly surprised to find that he had dark tanned coloured skin and the same intense blue eyes shared by the other Orcs in the village.
Seeing my guide stiffly sit himself down, I emulated his example and sort of did the same, although I couldn’t quite manage to fully cross my thick thighs and calves.
Once I was seated, each of the other men present turned to face me and bowed at the waist while saluting with their palm in fist before sitting straight again.
“Chief Uday welcomes High Chieftain Tim,” The unveiled Orc repeated the fist in palm gesture while bowing his back at the waist slightly. “Freeing hunters from Slavers, rescuing nephew, High Chieftain strong.” There was a deliberate pause, “Why travel barren lands? Why visit Stonewell?” He stared intently into my eyes and seemed to be scrutinising my every action.
I decided to start things on a lighter note. “We rescued your nephew and hunters by accident, we almost didn’t see battle in the distance. Returning them home afterwards seemed like the right thing to do in the circumstances. We have no prior grievances or grudges, so why not establish a friendship instead?” I explained sincerely.
Chief Uday furrowed his brow and seemed to be mulling over what I had said, testing it for falsehood.
“There is more,” I admitted, but made a point of not looking guilty, “When I heard about your people, and others, being enslaved and sold, I decided to take action and offer assistance. That is why we are here right now.”
Somehow, Chief Uday seemed to find that explanation even more difficult to accept than the first. “Why help us?” He demanded simply
I considered his question and tried to reduce my answer to its most fundamental truth. “Because we are stronger together and there are people I want to protect,” My hand drifted to the necklace Lash had given me.
The movement was not lost on Chief Uday who seemed to understand the necklace’s purpose almost immediately. “High Chief Tim’s mate Orc?” He asked in stunned surprise.
I nodded and pulled aside my robe and tunic to expose the bite mark on my shoulder. It may not be the same bonding ritual used here, but the gesture alone would likely carry the intended meaning when combined with the context of our conversation. “My wife, my mate, Lash, is a Deep Orc. Her people lived underground before a great disaster befell her people. I took them in and gave them shelter alongside others I had rescued, and soon we were joined by more. If you still have doubts, I can tell you how I founded Sanctuary and became High Chieftain.”
Chief Uday gulped dryly and nodded, a combination of apprehension and scepticism warring with a rekindled sense of hope burning in his eyes.
As I told my tale, warts and all, I could tell Jergal was determined to disbelieve everything, while Jarwal seemed equally determined to believe everything at face value. Meanwhile, Chief Uday and the elderly Orc remained quiet throughout, with the exception of a few clarifying questions from Uday.
“Impossible,” Jergal snarled dismissively, “Commanding water?! Impossible!” He had been hung up on my retelling of Hana and the Daemons efforts to literally shape Sanctuary from the swamp and provide us clean drinking water.
Chief Uday and the elderly Orc, whom I was beginning to suspect was their Shaman, seemed somewhat sceptical as well, but not to the extent that they would say I was lying.
“Then I have a proposition for you,” I offered sincerely, “If I can restore water to your people, will you join my alliance?”
Chief Uday tried to conceal his conflicted emotions as he nodded in agreement to the terms, “Chief Uday accepts High Chieftain Tim’s bargain.” It was obvious that he expected me to fail, but I could see the desperate hope burning brighter in his eyes now, the look of a man willing to take one last roll of the dice.
*****
Peter shifted anxiously on the wagon’s cushioned seat for what had to be the thousandth time that afternoon. It wasn’t that the cushion was particularly uncomfortable, it was, in fact, one of the best cushions he had ever had the privilege of sitting on. It wasn’t the surrounding swamp or soldiers serving as his escort either, the soldiers were greatly appreciated for their protection and the humid swamp air could be abated well enough with his small hand fan.
What made Peter anxious was the fortune of delicate equipment packed into his wagon and the two being driven behind it.
When the military had approached him, upon recommendation from his uncle Jonas, they had offered him a lucrative contract and attached a sheaf of papers for him to list any and all materials, ingredients, tools and machinery he would require. Their only provisioning requirement had been that he account for the making of paper, ink and surgical soap.
Thinking that the Lieutenant that offered the contract was jesting, Peter had simply jotted down the bare minimum of what he would require.
The Lieutenant had then handed the papers back to Peter and deeply impressed upon him and in no uncertain terms, that if he could operate his own fully furbished, ELITE, apothecarium, what would be required to do so. Price, would not be an issue.
So now Peter was trundling along in a wagon, through a swamp, in the Hurst Labyrinth of all places, headed towards the military encampment the Soldiers kept referring to as Sanctuary. And Peter wasn’t the only one either, near as he could tell, there were five other civilians each with their own wagons and dedicated bodyguards provided by the military. However, with the exception of the spice merchant, Peter honestly had no clue to begin guessing their professions.
By late evening, their convoy had reached the end of the road and had come to a stop outside of a towering wall of thick briars and a hollowed tree serving as a sort of gateway. What had first appeared to be a barricade of roots and branches quickly revealed themselves to be some sort of plant monsters. However, rather than attacking the soldiers, they withdrew from the hollowed out tree and opened the path so the wagons could continue inside.
After passing through the gate, they had now entered what appeared to be a partitioned area of a larger fortification. There was another hollowed-out tree similarly barricaded to the one they just passed through, however, the walls of briars were only half as tall, revealing towering trees beyond.
The soldiers driving the wagons brought them to a stop in a large clearing that seemed specially made for this purpose.
After a short wait, a middle-aged man and woman entered through the second gate and began speaking with the soldiers. While they were speaking, the other soldiers began setting up camp, making it clear that this was as far as they would all be going for the time being.
After speaking with the soldiers, the middle-aged couple approached an older man who had been riding further back in the formation. They seemed to know each other and after a short discussion, the middle-aged man motioned the soldiers responsible for escorting the older man's wagons to go through the gate.
With the older man’s wagons and escort having passed beyond the gate, the middle-aged couple repeated their pattern of speaking with soldiers, the civilian they were escorting, and then having them pass through the second gate.
With just himself and the spice merchant remaining, Peter was becoming nervous again.
After accompanying the last civilian through the gate, the middle-aged couple had now returned with a small crowd of monsters each carrying large baskets full of trade goods. The middle-aged woman led these monsters to the spice merchant while the middle-aged man now made his way towards Peter.
“You are Peter, right? Jonas’s nephew?” The middle-aged man held out his hand in greeting.
Peter nodded and shook the man’s hand while trying not to appear overly nervous by the proximity of the monsters, who now seemed to be haggling prices for their goods with the elated spice merchant.
“Name’s Kirk, and that’s my wife Rose, your uncle may have mentioned us?” Kirk suggested helpfully.
“Ah, I don’t remember if he did, sorry,” Peter apologised.
Kirk shrugged, “That’s fine. We used to run the inn on the first floor while Jonas ran the apothecarium.”
“Oh...” Peter didn’t really know what to say to that and just shrugged apologetically. “Ah, so the officer who recruited me was a little vague on what exactly I would be doing?” He hinted, hoping Kirk would know more and be willing to share.
Kirk grinned, “Aye, I know what you were asked for, but it’s not my place to say.” He patted Peter’s shoulder apologetically but continued smiling reassuringly, “You were asked for special, ain't no harm be allowed to come to you.”
“R-really?” Peter stammered in surprise.
Kirk nodded and replaced the soldier that had been driving the wagon, “Got a nice big workspace and living quarters arranged for you on the quieter side of town,” he explained and gave the reins a flick to set the elk in motion. “Best and brightest volunteers for apprentices too,” Kirk whispered conspiratorially and winked as he waved for the other wagons to follow.
“Apprentices?...” Peter’s face turned white and he began to sweat heavily, “I only graduated my own apprenticeship two months ago...” He gasped breathlessly.
“Really?” Kirk looked him up and down appraisingly, “That’s rather impressive isn’t it?” He asked conversationally, “You're only twenty or I’m sixty,” Kirk chuckled.
“Nineteen...” Peter mumbled numbly, “I...I started early, reading my uncle's books I mean...”
Kirk nodded and didn’t seem the least disappointed, “Won’t be a problem, don’t worry. I’m sure the boss will only respect you more for it. Mind you give the volunteers time to learn their letters though. Teaching has been slow going without enough papers and writing supplies to go round.”
Peter was about to ask what he was meant to do with illiterate apprentices, but they just passed through the second gate and he was stunned into silence by the savage beauty of his new surroundings. They had just entered what looked like an overgrown orchard, only the bushes were not invasive weeds, but bore ripe looking berries.
As they continued passing through the orchard, a small horde of curious monsters had begun to follow them, all of them children of one species or another. They mostly seemed to be Goblins and scaly skinned humanoids, but there were a few bulky Orc children in the mix too.
Some of the soldiers escorting the wagons smiled and waved at the kids, exchanging gifts or letting them sit on the side of the wagons.
All of this took place under the watchful eyes of the children’s caretakers, although it was curious that they were getting along so well.
Leaving the Orchards, they briefly passed through open fields of pumpkins and other tubers before arriving at a very large pair of buildings that seemed to have been grown entirely out of the ground, formed from roots and thick branches.
Kirk brought the wagon to stop and hopped off the seat, “We weren’t sure exactly how big the apothecarium needed to be,” he apologised while motioning to the monolithic sized building in front of them, “But I figured since Jonas was always complaining about the one leased by the guild being too small by far, that it would be a good idea to have the Druids make it too big rather than risk it being too small.”
Peter gulped and numbly slid off the seat to take a closer look. “This is at least five stories tall...” he muttered absently as his eyes drifted towards the building next to it that was intended to be home, “And that’s at least three stories...”
Kirk grinned, “Mathias reacted much the same when we showed him his new carpentry workshop, Fargus too when he got a good look at the work the Deep Orcs have been producing without a ‘real smithy’,” he chuckled.
“Wait...Did you say Druids?!” Peter demanded incredulously.
Kirk grinned even wider and nodded, “Aye I did, why did you think the army made such a big deal about making lists of herbs you would need?”
Peter suddenly felt very lightheaded and leaned on the wagon for support. The sheer scale of the vegetation being manipulated and the presence of the Druids made sense, but what Peter still didn’t understand was why he had been chosen. “Why?” he croaked, his throat suddenly bone dry from his nervousness, “Why me?”
Kirk patted him on the back reassuringly, “Because your uncle made a good impression, and he vouches for you.”
Rather than feeling reassured, Peter only felt more nervous. He only graduated two months ago, how the hell was he meant to live up to these insane expectations?!