CHAPTER TEN
The sand blew wistfully over the dunes as the sun fell lower and lower towards the world below. A sand dervish twisted up into the air, whipping up the sand as it moved sporadically before vanishing without a trace. Already the moons were in the sky, though no stars had yet appeared. Gnak was now in land he was familiar with, land that belonged to his clan. Removing his helm, he knew it would be only minutes more before he could see his camp ahead, and they would begin to see him as well.
As the camp came into sight he watched intently across the miles, every step of the giant closing the gap between them. Closer and closer they came, the giant’s footsteps absorbed by the sand beneath it. Another mile passed and the camp’s details began to become revealed. So far as he could tell, nothing had changed. His clan members rushed out to meet him only a few giant steps later, each of them armed, thinking their camp in danger. Out they ran with spears and swords raised until they saw him atop the monster’s head. Even Korx had come, and Gnak was happy to see the look on his face when he realized what it was he was seeing.
Realizing that they were not under attack, they cheered Gnak’s return and loped along beside his enormous mount, back to the village. Once he felt the giant was at a safe distance he released the lever that made the thing move, and it stopped quickly in an attempt to avoid further pain. Picking up a length of coiled cable within the crown, Gnak tied it around all three of the levers and tossed the coil over the side, watching as it unraveled. Climbing down after it, he pointed to a young Orc, not yet old enough for Catunga, and motioned the boy over. Handing the boy the cable, he gave his instructions.
“Hold him here. I go camp. You stay, keep giant king here.”
The young Orc nodded, happy for the honor of guarding the king of the giants. Gnak, approaching the camp, saw all the sacrifices lined up outside its meager wall. Each of them was attached to a stake by a crude leather collar and chain. There were animals, goblins, a tall stag, and the pair of humans as well. Though he tried to avoid it, his eyes sought out Jen and lingered there a long moment. She was filthy, covered in dirt and dried blood. She had been beaten and abused, forced to heal herself as proof of her magic. And she was skinny, too skinny. She was not being fed. Her condition angered him and he clenched his jaw, trying to play his role. Seeing him approach, tears streamed down her face but he could show her no sign. Not now.
Instead he strode past the line of sacrifices and into the camp where the shaman awaited him.
“Gnak, you last come. Some say you not come. You do come. Bring great sacrifice. But Catunga no done. Need give gods blood. Need spill own,” said the Shaman.
“Catunga now?” Gnak asked, hoping once again to buy more time.
“Catunga this night. Moons top sky. Go rest. Eat.”
Gnak grunted his understanding as he turned and strode towards his tent. Crossing the camp quickly he threw back the flaps and stormed inside. It would be several hours before the ceremony, but he could not stand to wait that long. Yet at the same time he wished he could put the ceremony off longer still, and find a way to rescue Jen. He sifted through various plans and scenarios but none of them would work. And then he realized the error in his thinking. Jen saw it, but he had missed it. His understanding of such things so fresh and new he had overlooked it all along.
She had saved his life understanding that he was taking her from her home, probably to kill her. She was not afraid of dying. She knew there was a god in the heavens that waited for her. No, she was afraid of dying alone. That is why she cried. She knew that someone who cared for her would be there when she died. Her tears had been happy. She believed in her god so strongly that Gnak finally saw Jen’s purpose. He thought about it a long time but could not believe it was true. Hours passed and still he debated. There was only one way to find the answer for certain. Rising, he strode back out of his tent.
Crossing the camp, he could not understand the kind of trust Jen had. The trust she had in the gods was far greater than what he and the goblin king had shared. Her trust was blind. She did not know what she was doing. Did she? Could a child so young know more about the gods than he? She certainly understood everything else better. Maybe she was right to trust her god. Maybe her one mistake had been trusting him.
Crossing the camp, he looked up at the moons directly above. Time was running out. Speeding his pace he crossed the camp, weaving in between tents, ignoring the calls of praise and proud words of his clan members. Leaping the small dried mud wall of the camp, he walked directly to her and knelt to the ground to look her in the eyes.
“Korx kill you soon.”
“I know, Gnak, it’s OK.”
“Not OK. All life precious,” he repeated her words back to her.
“Yes, Gnak, but you can kill to survive. Some lives have to end for others to continue.”
“Not this way. My fault.”
“I will die, but you will survive, Gnak. It is the will of my god. I forgive you.”
“You forgive. I no forgive. No ever forgive.”
“Just remember me, Gnak, and I will always be with you.”
“Gahh!” he shouted, clenching his fists. “You no die alone. I watch. It hurt, but I watch.”
“Thank you, Gnak. Now go before they see.”
Rising, he wiped the tears from her cheek. “Be strong. Die proud.”
“I will. I promise.”
Gnak strode away and turning, he leapt back over the short wall and into the camp. He did not know if anyone had seen his conversation. He did not care. He had needed it. She had needed it. He owed it to her. Taking deep breaths, the Orcish warrior worked to calm himself. Orc life was all tension, he reminded himself. He needed to think ahead, and focus on what was important. Then the drums began.
Roaring to release his anger, he turned again towards the camp’s center as his clan began to gather.
“Catunga done soon. Elders choose Korx. Elders choose Gnak. All spill blood for gods. Korx and Gnak shed own blood.” The shaman stated the terms of the ritual.
A great fire blazed in the center of their camp, its flames fanning high into the sky, making immense beasts of the Orcs’ shadows. Embers and ash rained down everywhere, making red glowing eyes in the sand. The crackle of the fire was constant and random at the same time, punctuated by hisses and pops that would have caused lesser races of men to become startled. Tensions were high, just as they were before a battle, for tonight many would die.
Following the procession of those that belonged to his clan, he stood and watched as more than thirty Orcs in Catunga lined up along with their sacrifices. Each of them carried a spear. Because his sacrifice was deemed the best, and because it was not with the others, he would have to perform his kill separately. The drums beat louder and faster.
With a rhythm beating like a great heart, the deep resounding drums carried on and on, over even the sounds of the fire. Red, orange, and yellow light cast a strange ambiance across the gathering, appearing to make the Orcs move and sway when in fact they stood still. Gnak shook his head, a shiver running down his spine. It was time to focus.
Looking to Jen, he watched as her face scanned the crowd, seeking him out, and their eyes met. Locking his gaze with hers, he could see that she fought her tears. He refused to blink as the drums grew faster and faster still, their thrumming becoming almost deafening. He held her eyes with his own and knew that Korx watched him even without looking. Then the drums stopped.
Jen sat upon the ground on her knees leaning forward, facing him, when the spear entered her back. A great chorus of screams arose, mostly that of beasts and goblins, but not Jen. Though her mouth opened and blood spurted from it, she did not scream when it tore through her insides and out her chest again to drive into the ground between her legs. She had been tough, and held her scream of pain inside, just as she promised. Now it was his turn to hold in the scream. Breathing rapidly, every muscle in his body tight, prepared to spring and put down Jen’s killer. He needed to release it. Needed to
let go. But he held it in. Let it fuel him.
The drums started again as Gnak strode away from the camp, his entire clan following to witness how he would slay the giant king. Approaching the huge beast, he accepted the cord from the boy he had placed as guard and turned to face those that saw honor and pride in his actions. Sneering at them, Gnak yanked the cord.
Without the ability to turn its head to relieve the pressure created by the pulled levers in its crown, as the hooks in both corners of its eyes were torn in opposite directions, the giant screamed in pain as its eye socket tore. As a natural reflex it attempted to jerk all four hands up towards its eye to protect it, but the result was devastating. Tearing chunks of its own flesh from its back along its spine, the huge iron rings there ripped free. Realizing its error too late, the giant flung its arms backwards, tearing more flesh from its chest, abdomen, and thighs. Blood vessels were torn asunder at every injury as blood began to pour from the numerous wounds. Unable to react in any logical way, the giant spasmed several times, probably in shock, tearing yet more hooks and rings from its flesh before it finally toppled over and crashed to the ground in a symphony of clanks and clangs, its screams rising as a great cloud of dust and sand rose into the air. The giant’s screaming and thrashing went on and on and on. Gnak didn’t move to end it. The Orcs just watched as he stood, letting the giant bleed to death slowly, its screams, a wretched, booming sound, drowning out all others. His clan did not react, did not make a single sound. But Gnak did.
Roaring in anger, he pulled the swords free from his back and charged Korx, his heart seeking revenge. Slashing and jabbing, Gnak attacked as his opponent fended him off with his own pair of crude blades. Their clan gathered around them, suddenly cheering and cajoling, though he did not hear their words, only hers. Thrusting forward, he watched as Korx twisted aside, barely escaping his strike before launching one in return. He did not even try to block it, instead letting it glance off his armor as he struck out again.
Thrusting and slicing, Gnak continued in his relentless rage. He managed to draw blood first, but the cut upon his opponent’s shoulder was minor. Good. He wanted him to die slow, like the giant king. He wanted him to suffer.
Around and around they went, neither gaining the advantage for a long time. Neither seemed to slow, neither tired. Gnak still did not relent, his mind full of rage, hatred, and disgust. But eventually the emotion faded, and only action remained and he realized something. His anger and rage were Orc anger and rage. Feel emotion, react. That was the way of his clan, not the way of Jen. No, she would want him to think ahead, plan, and focus. Fighting the urges that came with a life among his people, he put that version of Gnak aside and did as she had told him. He remembered her. And in doing so he found his advantage.
Watching Korx, and thinking instead of reacting, he could see the Orc’s weaknesses. Parrying a slicing blow, he struck out, stabbing his opponent in the thigh before kicking out with his foot, sending Korx sprawling backwards in a struggle to remain upright. Filled with Orcish anger and rage, when he recovered Gnak’s rival blindly charged again but Gnak sidestepped at the last moment, lashing out as his rival passed, slicing across the side of his ribs. Again Korx came.
Launching himself into the air, the Orc tried to spring upon Gnak, driving him bodily to the ground, and would have succeeded had Gnak not seen the move for what it was. Instead of diving aside, Gnak raised both of his blades, letting their edges absorb the momentum, slicing his enemy as he rolled backwards to the ground, Korx upon him, before shoving with both of his legs using every ounce of his strength. Korx was flung away using both his own momentum and Gnak’s strength, where he landed in a ball with a howl of both pain and rage.
Rising quickly Gnak turned and watched as his opponent gained his feet as well. From forehead to chin, Korx wore a deep gash that continued down his chest. Across his abdomen he wore another, where now he reached to hold his insides from spilling out. Such was his hatred of Gnak and his rage, however, that even defeated he did not relent, choosing a new weapon with which to attack Gnak.
“Korx cut her. Korx beat her. Korx use her body,” he grinned wickedly. “Kill her good.”
Gnak struggled to fight it, seeking out her memory to hold it at bay, but there was no use. Up came his rage again and he leapt upon Korx, smashing him to the ground as his guts spilled around him. Again and again he struck the Orc, his blades driving through him into the soil below. Over and over he hit the Orc, screaming out his hatred, roaring his pain. Again and again he lashed out as the body beneath him became unrecognizable, until the rage, as before, dissipated, leaving him exhausted and empty.
Dropping his blades as he rose to his feet, he turned and stumbled back towards the village, his clan parting before him and following behind. None of them spoke, curious of his actions. Ahead he moved across the sand, dragging his feet, all strength and purpose having left him. Still he continued on. With nothing left but the nothing she left behind, he fell to his knees and gathered her small lifeless body into his arms.
Smoothing her clothes and hair, he clung to her like a babe and petted her cheek, feeling her smooth skin with his fingers. Remember her, she had told him and he did. With pride he held her thoughts and wisdom within him, knowing it was better than his own. But still too he was empty. It was not enough. She was too much to let go. He knew not how to move forward, and wanted her words. But her blood dripped beneath her, coating his arms. And he knew that she was lost to him.
Destitute of anything but empty, soul-wrenching loneliness, he tilted his head back towards the heavens and screamed a seething growl of rage, crying out to the gods like no Orc before him. He demanded an answer of them, blinded by emotion, and invoked the only name she had told him that he could recall in that moment. The world around him was lost to him in that instant as all was obscured by his rage and tears but even so, he felt the tug and blinked to clear his vision.
Crying out to the gods, demanding of them an answer for allowing her to be taken away, he had not expected when one of them answered his call.