Expiring Covenant (Black Lake Book 1)

Chapter 16
Janding

~

The view below made me swallow hard. A rock the size of three fists sunk in my stomach. I looked at my three friends. Each stood starin’ with a slack jaw. A tear streaked Kelhin’s cheek. His family’s hut was no longer pitched below. Neither were the huts of the other two orclin’s. Only three tents remained.

Where did they go? We weren’t gone that long.

“Our long debate about leavin’ so much of the meat behind seems to have been for no purpose,” Warak murmured. He shifted his weight, good leg crampin’ yet again from takin’ the brunt of the hurried march. “If I hadn’t slowed us down—”

He didn’t need to finish. But the three of us, maybe, didn’t have the emotional energy to give him supportin’ words. There was nothin’ else Warak could have done. The snake that bit him could have bitten any of us, or none, just as easily. Dynves got a new grip on his friend’s wrist and repositioned his arm draped over his shoulder. He prodded Warak forward. He gasped at the pain.

I followed, with my heavy burden of meat turnin’ ever more rancid under the hot sun. Guilt that my friend’s agony failed to affect me as it had the last two days, was edged out by the horror of a clan dissolved, and how different our homecomin’ is than I expected days ago. I had pictured the four of us runnin’ down the final slope to shouts of welcome, faces gladdened by the load of sustainin’ food the clan would see on our shoulders.

Instead, the three of us are so exhausted and sun parched we barely manage to swing one foot before another. The fourth often delirious with fever. And there’s no clan, only three forlorn huts. Whose family did they represent?

Warak passed out and Kelhin dropped the deer he carried to help Dynves with our friend. I stared at the meat lyin’ in the dirt. Tears welled. I hurt so much, I could hardly remember how long we had been on our journey—pushin’, hardly takin’ a break once we hit the desert. It had been so little, far too late. I stood numbly watchin’ Dynvers and Kelhin trudge forward under Warak’s weight.

The dragon should have killed us four days ago and gotten it over. I pushed myself to follow. Who remained in the valley below?

No one rushed forward to greet us. There was no sign of life but a wisp of smoke risin’ from the bank of stones positioned between the three huts. Dynves and Kelhin stopped and stared at the ground. I passed them. Didn’t have the energy to call out. I walked to the edge of the fire and dropped the deer carcass on the meager stack of firewood.

“Is there anyone here?” My words sounded choked as though they belonged to someone else—someone much older.

The flaps of one of the huts pulled back. I heard a scream, and sensed someone runnin’ toward me, but I hesitated, oddly thinkin’ of my body as one that belonged to someone else. Why didn’t I react, or care? The journey’s over, but there’s no sense of conclusion.

Why don’t I feel relieved?

Someone had their arms around me and cried. I finally recognized Mama, though her face ploughed into my shoulder. Somethin’ covered the sky. There was nothin’ but blackness. The earth tilted.

~

I choked and lunged forward, fightin’ a sensation of a hand clampin’ down on my throat. My eyes wouldn’t focus. Pushed out at whatever pressed me down, and blinked away the dizziness.

“Easy. Take it easy.”

A reassurin’ hand set against my shoulder. I turned toward the voice. Lay back, but not because of the words. My stomach twisted, the need to vomit speared my gut. My eyes finally focused, on the familiar ceilin’ of our family hut, its coverin’ of furs.

“Mama.”

“Here. Drink.”

She lifted my head, felt a cup at my lips, the moisture that found its way into my mouth. But I couldn’t swallow. I choked again. Mama turned me on my side until the coughin’ subsided.

“Try again.”

This time I managed to swallow without chokin’. The warm, gritty liquid burned all the way down. Nothin’ like the sweet water that ran free in every gully in the Range.

“How is Warak?” I managed to ask.

She didn’t answer for a long moment. “I’m sorry. He passed yesterday mornin’.”

“Yesterday?”

“Ya’ve been unconscious for two days.”

I stared, unbelievin’. She placed the cup against my lips again and tipped her head to encourage me to drink more.

“There’s more news I must tell ya.”

I swallowed with difficulty. There could be no news worse than what I already knew.

“Dynves set out yesterday to find the rest of the clan. I tried to stop him, but he was headstrong. Though exhausted, he refused to stay another day to rest. He’s six days behind them. An orclin’ travelin’ alone.”

She shook her head before continuin’. “It turned out yar grandsire wasn’t merely tired when ya left. He came down with a fever. Died two days later.

I grabbed her hand. “No!” Tears welled. My entire body gripped tight, sinuses expanded to close off my air.

“Tis a tough way for an orclin’ to become the leader of his family,” she said.

She made me drink again, held the cup to my lips until it was empty.

“I’ll get ya some venison to chew, and more water,” she said.

I gripped her hand tighter. “Kincere?” I asked.

“Out collectin’ firewood to replace what was used to smoke the deer. She has to travel far. We’ve been here too long. The skeleton of the old forest has been stripped bare.”

A clan no more. But my mama and siblin’ remained.

~

The next day Kelhin pressed for us to strike out for the clan.

“No,” I said quietly.

“Do ya need more time to rest?” he asked.

“No. Our folk should have listened to my grandsire. He told them there’s nothin’ but more desert to the east, no water, unless it’s carried by goblins. Dragons overhead, on their way to a better place than this. All of our kin—will be dead by now, for lack of water. Ya know we haven’t found a wet well, anywhere, in a five day march.”

“I have an aunt and uncle travelin’ with the clan,” Kelhin argued. “Don’t talk about them like they’re already dead. We have no choice but find them.”

“We do have a choice,” I said.

“What other option do we have?” Pazeta asked me.

“We met a dwarf in the western forest. He let us be.”

“That was to irritate the dragon,” Kelhin said.

“Dragons have returned to the west?” Pazeta and my hen siblin’ shrieked the words together.

I looked at the two orc hens without answerin’. Dragons were the least of our problems. We had several days of venison to make it by, but our well is more mud than water now.

“Ya can’t be suggestin’ we return to the forest?” Kelhin said.

“Ya saw the game there with yar own eyes. Runnin’ water. In two days we had four deer.”

Kelhin, Pazeta, and Kincere shook their heads.

“Remember lyin’ in that stream and soakin’ in the cool water?” I asked Kelhin. “When was the last time ya saw clear, flowin’ water? Not muddy sludge—a liquid ya could drink yar fill of.”

“Runnin’ water?” Pazeta and Kincere murmured at the same time.

“Oh, Mama, Kincere—it felt heavenly. Ya must experience it.”

The two orc hens grinned. Kelhin shook his head. I looked at the expressions my mama and hen siblin’ wore, and thought I saw my friend recognizin’ how enticin’ the vision was too.

“We should find the clan and tell them,” Kelhin said.

Pazeta shook her head.

“What?” Kelhin asked.

“Janding’s right. The fool who took the leader’s place when my papa died thought he knew better. Driven by his arrogance. He always scoffed at my papa’s words. Never believed he traveled as far east as he claimed, never findin’ a drop of water, or as much as one live tree.”

The three of us stared at Pazeta. A little numb.

She continued. “The clan carried only enough water for maybe three days, not countin’ the needs of the starvin’ stock that was left. It’s been seven days since they left.”

Kelhin and I studied the sand at our feet. We well knew what a single day under the brutal desert sun with no water meant.

“We’ll scrape our dyin’ well dry,” I said. “First hint of light we set out. Pack light. We’ll walk through the night. If the dwarves don’t take us in, there will be no need for any possessions.”

~

The sun tortured. Three days we staggered, never talkin’, rarely restin’. The fourth day we reached the foothills, a forest in sight. We paused at the first trickle of a stream and made camp. We rested the entire next day, luxuriatin’ in the shade, drinkin’ the cool, pure nectar that danced over the polished stone of the creek. We stewed the last of the dried venison, with tubers we collected in the rollin’ terrain, and mushrooms that snuggled under the pine needles.

Early the sixth mornin’ we set out northwesterly, for Black Lake. The dragon and dwarf had talked as though that was the center of their world. The thick forest we plunged into within hours had us giddy, and we forgot, at least set aside, the dangers we’d spoken of. The air cooled. The game nearly came to us, givin’ us fresh meat when we camped on a high ledge that night. Gnomes blinked in and out around us as we settled, which raised a brand new terror, that hadn’t occurred to us yet.

In the wars, I remember bein’ told, the gnomes always preceded bad thin’s. I never slept—it wasn’t the mountain cold, despite it bein’ late summer—and by the way the other three turned in their furs, I was certain they didn’t sleep either.

~

As the sun hit mid mornin’ and the enormous lake came into view from our high peak, we debated what had been our earlier plan. Pazeta was unwillin’ to allow me to go off to meet dwarves alone. She insisted the four of us stay together. So the three struck off with me, through the misty forest we’d yet acclimated to. When we saw signs of troll mines in the distant heights, the little conversation stopped. Our eyes studied the dark of the forest around us. Every hour a few gnomes would make an appearance, and quickly disappear.

I was convinced my first decision as family leader was goin’ to be my last. The sun had faded behind the tops of the pines when we entered a clearin’ and came face-to-face with not just a dwarf, but a troll, and an ogre, I recognized from stories—those tusks. Gnomes blinked in and out at the feet of the familiar dwarf. The last of the sun glinted off the edge of his axe. The troll held a sickle, the ogre a bow.

“Mama,” Kincere cried.

Pazeta held my siblin’ in a tight embrace.

Kelhin gripped my arm, and I turned and worked to give him a comfortin’ smile. I doubt I managed it. I nodded and held out my hand palm up to the dwarf and two giants, and stepped forward.

“Ya’re Coedwig?” I asked, peerin’ at the dwarf.

Two gnomes blinked out. Three replaced them.

“Do I know ya?” growled the dwarf.

“I’m the poacher ya advised thirteen days ago to seek out the Black Lake councils.”

The dwarf grunted. “Ya hardly look like a clan elder.”

“I’m the leader of what’s left of my clan,” I said, as bravely as I could. I resented that my voice failed to sound as sure as I wanted it to. Nor deep enough.

Two gnomes blinked in next to me, makin’ me jerk. The two blinked out, but five more returned. They jabbered in Gnomish, their high pitched voices soundin’ like some eerie song bein’ sung far off in the forest. Another five blinked in. One of the gnomes took my hand, makin’ me almost suck in my teeth.

The dwarf barked, and I jerked. I realized a moment later the noise the creature made had to be a laugh. The troll made a rumblin’ noise, and the ogre growled, but all three wore what looked closer to smiles than scowls. Though the giants’ tusks arranged their faces oddly.

“Looks as though ya have one party on yar side,” the dwarf said. “Why are ya here?”

“We beg that ya take us in. We’ll die in the desert if ya don’t allow us to join ya in the Range.”

“How many of ya are there?” Coedwig demanded.

“Just the four of us,” I said. “We’re all that’s left of our clan.” I tried to swallow, but my throat wouldn’t work.

“There’re those who’d believe the world might be a better place, with four fewer orcs,” Coedwig said.

I felt as though I stood in the flames of a campfire. The forest faltered around me. Head maybe teetered on my shoulders. Only the gnome grippin’ my hand kept me from fallin’ to my knees and cryin’. Beggin’.

I’ve failed. What would Grandpapa say?

I shuffled my feet, but the gnome holdin’ my hand gave it another squeeze. I looked down at the peculiar majie. It peered up, emerald eyes unblinkin’.

“Most importantly,” I said testin’ my voice, “we’re no threat to ya. Give us a chance to show we can live among ya as neighbors. We come in peace, and ask that ya allow us to live with ya in peace.”

“Proper soundin’ words comin’ from an orclin’,” the ogre grumbled. “But I have family I have to worry about. I sense no promise in yar words.”

“I’ll swear any oath ya ask of me,” I said. “To whatever god ya choose. But ya don’t know me. What would my promise mean to ya, until ya live by me and learn my character, that I can be trusted?”

“There are no more of yar kind followin’ ya?” the troll asked.

I shook my head.

The dwarf and giants stared at me for a long moment, not movin’ or speakin’. The only motion in the small glade was from the gnomes that continued to blink in and out.

Finally, the troll spoke again. “Give up yar weapons and the two hens can stay with my wife and me until a decision is made by our community.”

The dwarf, scowlin’, looked over at the troll. “Leave me to sleep with the two bull orclin’s, are ya?”

The troll tilted his head and a gratin’ noise thrummed. I assumed it was the equivalent to a laugh, considerin’ his expression. I looked at Mama. A frightened expression washed her face, but she didn’t speak against the plan. I turned back to the troll.

“Agreed,” I said.

The three moved forward, and we stripped off our knives and surrendered our bows.

“Follow quickly,” the dwarf mumbled. “We’re soon to lose the last of our light.”

The four of us orcs nearly ran to keep up with the three. I worried about Mama, but she appeared to follow without difficulty. Most bizarre, was that the old, nub-of-a-thin’ dwarf maintained the pace, with his stubby, thick legs.

~

It was difficult to separate from Mama and Kincere, when the dwarf turned west. I lingered behind and watched them disappear into the gatherin’ gloom, followin’ the giant troll and ogre. May not have been a wise decision to come here—with us bein’ separated first thin’. My heart weighed heavily in my chest as I turned to catch up with Kelhin and the dwarf, Coedwig.

~

The dwarf served up a quick table of staples for the three of us, and afterward showed me and Kelhin to a bedroom upstairs. I spent another night tossin’ in my night fur, worryin’ about Mama and Kincere.

The next mornin’, the dwarf constantly mumbled in irritation, as gnomes continued to blink in and out around him. Kelhin and I exchanged glances from time to time as Coedwig bellowed his frustration with the majies. The three of us otherwise ate our breakfast of cheese and hard biscuits dipped in cider in silence. With a final grunt, Coedwig pushed his sock cap onto his baldin’ head and grabbed his axe. Kelhin and I followed him without a word, for whatever future I could only guess.

The trek around a deep cove took less than an hour, but I was eager to reunite my family, and eager to learn what the community decided of our fate. The worst case I could imagine, if we were exiled, we’d have to head for the Wildes—a very long journey. The Covenant forbade orcs from the Wildes too, but the chance of findin’ an uninhabited region to live in peace was our only option. Our death was certain if we returned to the desert.

Pazeta and Kincere were full of smiles when they walked out of the trolls’ dugout to meet us. A troll hen and bull we met yesterday followed them out, the four chattin’ as though old friends.

“See ya after a bit,” the bull troll said.

The dwarf grumbled without lookin’ at the troll. “Yeah, can’t get away from ya.” He stared at the ground as he walked away. The four of us looked at each other wonderin’ if we should follow the dwarf, or what. Mama made the decision in answer to our questionin’ looks, nodded and jerked her head toward the grumpy dwarf. We ran to catch up.

We neared a buildin’ larger than I could have ever dreamed. Hundreds of souls had to have toiled on the structure for seasons. Tall corners and foundation displayed shinin’ silver granite. Logs nearly as thick as I am tall, from ancient pines, whitewashed white, swirled skyward. I’d never seen a window in my life, or glass for that matter, but I could identify them as such from stories, layered across and up several layers. The dwarf led us up broad steps, up, and up, and up.

When they ended, upon a broad—had no word for the space that continued to our left and right—outside the ornate, grand entrance to the place, Coedwig waved us dismissively to chairs. “Relax,” he said. “It’ll be a while before everyone arrives.”

“What is this place?” I asked the dwarf.

“Some call it The Inn. I call it the cabyne.” He left us there without another word.

We ended up waitin’ for hours there, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The view down on Black Lake was spectacular, with folks of all kinds walkin’ ’bout, even joinin’ us on the veranda, I heard someone call the space. Most, completely ignored us—an entirely bizarre thin’. Surely not many other orcs were ’bout. A very nice hen who overly enjoyed her smilin’, who Pazeta whispered was a human, brought us cookies and a cold pitcher of a sweet drink she called tea.

The four of us sat in silent awe and watched the unendin’ comin’ and goin’ of more races than I ever expected to meet. More bein’s, mostly humans, sat to our left and right. Though they glanced curiously at us, the humans went about their business unconcerned, chattin’, playin’ some kind of game on a crosshatched board. Women—learned that new word—knitted. Men—what they called human bulls—headed for the lake carryin’ gear, returned carryin’ strings of fish. Could orcs ever manage to be as casual if humans had shown up unexpected in our realm?

After a tasty lunch supplied by the same human female, the time to meet must have arrived for council, as more strangers converged on the broad veranda. Coedwig the dwarf and the troll who met us the previous day, said a few words to begin.

An ancient troll immediately shouted, “Kill ’em and be done with it.” The thin’ wrinkled up a bulbous nose as though inspectin’ a rancid meal. He waved a bony hand in the air to show he had said all he was gonna say. He sat stiffly, leanin’ heavily on his staff.

I caught my breath. After bein’ taken for granted the last few hours, fed as a welcome guest, hadn’t expected an outburst like that. The dwarf remained quiet. I eyed him, expectin’ his support, but scannin’ the crowd I realized dwarves were very much the minority. There were only three of his kind standin’ at Coedwig’s side.

For five minutes a din of side conversations raged, until an elf walked to the center of the veranda, hands gripped behind his back, bent over a bit maybe in thought, eyes studyin’ the deck of the veranda. Everyone quieted. Clearly an important character in the community—a surprise, since I didn’t think in general that elves were overly respected anywhere. And like the dwarf, a minority in the gatherin’.

“The first time I met my good friend Birs, I thought I was about to be a condiment on an ogre sandwich.”

Chuckles erupted. When it quieted a long moment later, the elf continued.

“Birs warned me to stay away from my neighbor, the troll. I would have missed meetin’ a dear friend if I had followed his recommendation.”

The elf looked slowly about the faces that nodded back at him. “Master Jear wanted me thrown into the lake,” he said.

Laughs broiled and continued much longer, obviously, than the ancient troll who first spoke cared to hear. He bared his teeth and growled, and the troll from the other night threw somethin’ at him. Whatever it was bounced off the side of the troll’s head. The ancient one glared directly at the younger troll, but merely folded his wrinkled lips over his yellow teeth.

The laughs subsided, with most of the participants lookin’ down to hide their smiles.

“The argument in the trolls’ council was I would not be harmed because it was against the Common Covenant,” the tiny elf continued. “That was an excuse. The reason my future troll friends embraced me, was because it was the right thin’ to do. There is no decision to make here. We will take in these four souls and accept them as part of our community. For it is the right thin’ to do.”

It was utterly silent, except maybe in my chest, which clenched. A shudder worked across my shoulders. Through my tears, I believe even the breeze held its breath.

The ancient troll who argued for our death stood slowly, mumblin’ under his breath. Worried expressions crossed the faces of many, and my chest tightened even more. The clunk, clunk of the troll’s staff stampin’ hard on the floor of the veranda echoed in my ears. The troll hobbled slowly up to the elf, loomed over him and scowled, but the little one didn’t budge—just looked up into the face high above him.

After a moment, the troll made his way around the elf and limped to me. Clunk, clunk rang the staff on the shiny timber floor. The troll extended a gnarled and blotched hand—in welcome.

~