[Queen of Orcs 01] - King's Property (15 page)

The following day, the army left the Lurven Valley and Dar first glimpsed the broad Therian Plain. Taren had marched across it twice and Loral once, and they had told her about what lay ahead. Far to the west, beyond Dar’s sight, flowed the Turgen River, which marked the border of the kingdom. The Urkheit Mountains were to the north, also too distant to be seen. The Turgen originated there, and its only bridge lay close to the mountains. It had been taken two years ago, and the army would assemble there to invade the neighboring kingdom. Reaching the bridge would take two weeks of hard marching.

As the shieldron crossed the plain, it sometimes camped in the open, but usually commandeered a peasant holding. Dar grew accustomed to living off others’ possessions, though she was never comfortable with it. Her existence settled into a routine. She rose early each morning, served the soldiers, hurriedly ate, then fed and saddled Thunder. Murdant Kol had been right about her and the horse. Dar soon bonded with Thunder. Once she was able to sense his moods and needs, she felt relaxed around him.

Thunder’s master was another story. Murdant Kol continued to perplex Dar. He made no advances, yet she remained fearful he would. The other soldiers didn’t bother her, and that was the only benefit of being “Kol’s woman,” for the murdant wasn’t generous. Dar still marched barefoot in her ragged shift, its torn front crudely stitched together. His only gift had been a puzzling one—a dagger to replace the sword he had taken from her. Dar thought Kol gave her the weapon either for reassurance or to show that she was no threat to him, even armed.

During a portion of every day, Dar marched with the orcs. She spoke mostly with Kovok-mah, but as her fluency in Orcish increased, she sometimes spoke to other orcs as well. Those were the ones who tolerated her as a kind of pet. Most ignored her. A few seemed annoyed by her presence. Because of them, Dar preferred to walk apart with Kovok-mah when he taught her his language.

The end of Dar’s day was always the most hectic part. The women were as tired and hungry as everyone else, but they alone had to collect fuel, build fires, cook, serve both men and orcs, and clean up. In addition to those chores, Dar also had to rub down and groom Thunder. She was always exhausted by evening.

By the time Dar adjusted to the rhythm of the march, she was no longer a scabhead. The crusts on her forehead had fallen away, leaving a bright pink outline of a crown in their stead. Her back had also healed; though, each time Dar touched her scars, she felt resentment.

The weather turned hot and dry, baking the road. For days, the army marched in a cloud of dust. When rain finally came, it was welcome at first. Yet the drops that cleared the air quickly turned the road to muck. Soon, men were cursing and hoping the tolum would call a halt for the day.

When the shieldron neared a cluster of buildings, the sustolum rode back and called for orcs to follow him. A dozen, Kovok-mah among them, followed the young officer. Dar knew the drill: The officers would ride to the peasant holding and demand food and shelter in the king’s name. The orcs’ presence ensured submission. Afterward, the soldiers would descend like locusts, commandeering accommodations and supplies. Afterward, the women’s work commenced.

On that rainy day, the only variation was that Dar followed the officers as they entered the holding. She needed to start grooming Thunder immediately, for the horse was mud-spattered and would require extra attention. Dar glanced about the compound as she entered. Small stone buildings were grouped to form a rough courtyard in front of a barn. Within this space, a knot of peasants stood sullenly in the rain, warily eyeing the orcs. Murdant Kol was still on horseback, as were the two officers.

Dar was waiting for Kol to dismount when a boy ran out of the barn. Barely into his teens, he wasn’t an imposing figure, despite the pitchfork he brandished. Yet his reckless hatred made him menacing. He jabbed the pitchfork toward the tolum’s horse. “Leave us be!” he shouted.

Dar looked at the tolum to see what he would do. Tolum Karg’s face reddened, but his voice was cold. “This is treason,” he said. Keeping his eyes on the boy, he shouted a single word in Orcish—“Tav!”

An armored orc bounded forward and splintered the pitchfork’s shaft with the downward stroke of his sword. The blade continued moving, looping upward before descending again. It bit into the boy’s shoulder and sliced to the middle of his chest. It happened so fast, the boy had but an instant to react. He opened his mouth to scream, but there was no breath in him; it had departed in a rush of blood. As the boy slumped to the muddy ground, a woman screamed and ran toward him. The orc whirled and cut her down. Then, to Dar’s horror, the orcs descended on the other peasants and began slaying them with efficient butchery.

Dar closed her eyes, and covered her ears, but her brief glimpse of the attack was seared into her mind. Its quickness and savagery stunned her like a physical blow. She wanted to scream and sob at once, but lacked the strength to do either. Instead, she stood paralyzed by feelings of horror, disgust, and nausea. When she opened her eyes again, all the peasants were dead. Three were women. Four were children. As their blood mingled with the rain and spread over the wet courtyard, their slayers were transformed in Dar’s eyes.
They’re worse than beasts.
Recalling how she had served them, spoke with them, and even let one touch her, she felt ashamed and befouled.

By the time Taren, Neena, and Kari arrived, the orcs had dragged the corpses away and departed. Yet, evidence of slaughter lingered. Blood stained the ground. The damp air smelled of it. The soldiers were busy looting possessions made forfeit by the boy’s treason. Dar stood alone in the rain, holding Thunder’s bridle. Taren surveyed the scene, then walked up to her. “You saw what happened?”

“A boy ran out with a pitchfork. Just a boy,” said Dar. “He didn’t stand a chance. None of them did. Unarmed women. Children. It made no difference. The orcs…they just…Oh Karm! It was awful!”

“They’re orcs,” said Taren. “Killin’ comes natural to them. Don’t say I didn’t tell you.”

“But I…I never thought that…that…”

“Well, open eyes see truth,” said Taren.

Dar was in the barn brushing Thunder when Murdant Kol entered. “That was a terrible thing to see,” he said in a gentle voice. “It’s especially hard to watch children die.” He came closer and saw Dar’s face was streaked with tears. Kol delicately stroked her cheek and was pleased when she didn’t pull away. “I should have warned you,” he said.

“Warned me?”

“I’ve seen you walking with the piss eyes and talking to them,” replied the murdant. “There are times when you think they’re almost human. That’s always a mistake.”

“Why would the king have such soldiers?”

“War’s a hard business.”

“These people weren’t at war. They were the king’s own subjects.”

“True,” said Murdant Kol. “The tolum should have said ‘Kill him,’ not just ‘kill.’ Piss eyes are too literal.”

“The proper phrase is ‘Tav gu’—‘Kill it.’ We’re ‘its’ to the orcs.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” replied Kol. He sensed Dar’s vulnerability and added, “I can protect you from most things, but not from orcs. I’d feel better if you stayed clear of them.”

“Why do you protect me at all?”

Kol flirted with the idea of embracing Dar, but decided not to push his advantage. Instead, he spoke in a sympathetic tone. “If this day proves anything, it’s that life’s fragile. When you’ve seen as much killing as I have, you want to stand against the storm and give some shelter.”

“I’m grateful,” said Dar.

For the first time, Kol believed she meant it. He silently watched Dar brush his horse and reflected how the two had much in common. Dar’s body possessed grace and strength. Like Thunder, she also had spirit. When he had met Dar, she was as wary and skittish as any colt, but he had been patient and clever.
Soon
, Kol thought,
she’ll be ready for the bit.

Eighteen

The slaughter in the courtyard shook Dar profoundly, and when she served the orcs that evening, all her original trepidation returned. Once again, they seemed like monsters. The following day, Dar avoided contact with Kovok-mah and the others. She didn’t even look in their direction. The mere sound of their footsteps assumed an oppressive note. As Dar marched, she felt trapped between the soldiers and the orcs and threatened by both.

The shieldron halted for the night far from any habitation. Dar groomed Thunder, then helped search for firewood. It was scarce until she found a dry stream. She was following its bed, gathering driftwood, when Kovok-mah spoke her name. Startled, she gazed at him uneasily, surprised that he could move so quietly and wondering why he felt the need to do so.

“You are frightened,” said the orc.

“I’m not,” replied Dar.

“What you say makes no sense. I smell your fear.”

Dar wondered what fear smelled like. “Hai. I’m afraid. I saw you kill those peasants.”

“Washavokis are cruel,” said Kovok-mah.

“
We’re
cruel? You slaughtered innocent people.”

“I do not understand this word ‘innocent.’ What does it mean?”

“It means they didn’t deserve to die. They did nothing to you.”

“But tolum said we must kill them.”

“He said ‘tav.’ That’s all.”

“Tav means ‘kill.’ We did what washavokis wanted us to do.”

“But…”

“Washavokis want us to kill because they are cruel,” said Kovok-mah.

“You don’t understand,” said Dar. “There should be a reason for killing someone.”

“If woe man goes away, washavoki brings head and gets gift. I have seen this, but I do not understand. What is reason why woe man is killed?” Kovok-mah waited for an answer and when he got none he said, “All washavokis seem alike. I do not know which should live and which should die.”

“Then you shouldn’t kill any of them,” said Dar.

“I will obey tolum.”

“Why?”

“Your king gave our queen strong healing magic, and great gifts require great gifts in return.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“Your king desired us to kill for him,” said Kovok-mah. “Our queen promised this gift.”

“So you’re here because of your queen?”

“Hai. Our queen swore urkzimmuthi would kill, so I do it,” said Kovok-mah. “Still, I think your king desired cruel gift.”

When Dar tried to imagine the diplomacy of kings and queens, she felt confident it dealt with enemies, not frightened peasants in rainy courtyards. Yet, the peasants were the ones who had died. Dar relived witnessing their deaths and found herself trembling. “It was horrible to see those killings. I think about them all the time. That’s why you frightened me.”

Kovok-mah gazed silently at Dar awhile. “That makes me sad,” he said. Then he walked away.

Dar continued collecting firewood as she tried to sort out her feelings. Her encounter with Kovok-mah had only increased her disquiet. She found it hard to believe that the orcs would obey the tolum without question; yet she knew Kovok-mah did not lie.
He doesn’t even understand the concept
. The idea of such obedience was disturbing.
If the tolum told Kovok-mah to kill me, would he do it?
She felt certain the tolum was capable of giving such an order. How Kovok-mah would respond was a trickier question.
Where do his loyalties lie?

The simple answer was that the orcs’ loyalties lay with their queen. Teeg had said as much. Yet, within the regiment, the situation was more complicated.
Here, men speak for the queen
. Dar wondered what distinctions the orcs made between their queen and the Queen’s Man. Perhaps the two were interchangeable.
And what about the Queen’s Man’s officers? The orcs killed quickly enough for Tolum Karg
. Dar worried they might even obey a murdant. It was hard to figure out where things stood within such muddled allegiances. As Dar pondered them, she reached only one conclusion: There was no reason to believe that the orcs’ loyalties included her.

By the time Dar returned to camp, the orcs had erected their shelters and the soldiers had pitched their tents. Only the women were busy. They worked around the cooking fires, which sorely needed wood. Dar tossed her load of branches beneath pots that Kari and Taren were stirring. “Are we only cooking porridge?” she asked.

“Aye,” said Taren. “It was slim pickings last night. Soldiers had been there before.”

“Do you suppose that’s why the boy was so angry?” asked Dar.

“Who knows?” said Taren. “Poor fool.”

Neena held out a pair of worn shoes. “Try these on, Dar. They might fit you.”

Dar eyed the footwear. “Aren’t those yours?”

Neena smiled. “Muut gave me a new pair.”

Dar looked at Neena’s feet. Her “new” shoes bore bloodstains. “But those are from…”

“Someone who no longer needs them,” said Taren quickly.

So that’s a man’s generosity
, thought Dar,
a dead woman’s shoes
. She sat on the ground and tried on Neena’s old pair. They were far too small.

Teeg was already in the tent when Kol entered and set down his saddlebags. The sound of bottles clinking caught Teeg’s attention, and he sat up from his sleeping roll. “’Twas a dry march today,” he said. “Makes a body thirsty.”