Natalia took the tender morsel, popping it into her mouth and chewing. "Not bad," she said, "but it could use some spice."
"I'll give you spice," he said, lowering the spear. He leaned in close, kissing her even as she tried to chew. They both fell back from their makeshift perch into the leaves and pine needles that blanketed the forest floor.
Natalia shrieked out with laughter, Athgar soon joining in the merriment. Eventually, they fell silent, each looking into the other's eyes.
"I would rather be here with you than anywhere else in the world," she said.
"I feel the same." He was about to say more, but when he felt the prick of a metal point at the back of his neck, he froze.
Natalia turned her head slightly to see the tip of a spear only a finger's breadth from her face. Her eyes drifted up the wooden shaft to where strong, green hands gripped the weapon. A massive Orc stood staring down at them while his two companions held the spears. He knelt, bringing his face close to Athgar's.
"He has the grey eyes of the Torkul," the Orc announced in the guttural speech of his race.
"Greetings," said Athgar, using the same language. "I am Athgar, of the Orcs of the Red Hand."
A look of surprise erupted on the Orc's face. "You speak our language! What manner of magic is this?"
"It's not magic," insisted Athgar. "I am a member of the tribe. Move your spears, and I shall prove it."
The Orc looked at one of his companions. "This is most unexpected."
"It is a trick, Urughar," insisted his comrade. "A trap set by the Torkul. Do not trust him."
The Orc turned his attention to Natalia. "And what of this female?" asked Urughar. "She is not of the Torkul."
"Is she his prisoner?"
"No," said Athgar, "she is my bondmate."
Urughar turned his attention back to the Therengian. "You know our culture, I will grant you that, but give me a good reason why I should not kill you both here, right now."
"I know the way of your people," the Human replied. "It is not the Orc custom to kill uninjured prisoners. Take us to your chieftain, and let the tribe decide our fate."
The Orc stood, stretching his back while looking around the pine forest. He glanced at the third Orc, a somewhat rotund fellow. "What think you, Ogda?"
"Let Kirak decide," he replied. "It is not for us to make that decision."
Urughar looked back at Athgar. "It seems my companions wish to take you back to Ord-Ghadrak. If you give us any problems, I shall have you killed on the spot. Is that clear?"
Athgar turned to Natalia. "They want to take us to a place called Ord-Ghadrak. I'm assuming it's the name of their village."
"And then?" she asked.
"I imagine we'll meet their chieftain."
"Will your torc keep us safe?"
He instinctively put a hand to his neck where the golden necklace lay beneath his clothes. It had been a gift from Kargen to symbolize his close ties with the Orcs of the Red Hand, a sure sign he was held in high esteem. But now, amongst these new Orcs, he wondered if they would recognize it. He and Natalia had been expecting to arrive in a Human city, not an Orc village. So he had hidden it, for such open displays of Orc culture might be seen as provocation amongst Humans.
"Orc tribes have many differences," he announced. "I can't guarantee we'll see the same sort of reception as we had in Ord-Kurgad."
"I wish Kargen and Shaluhk were here," said Natalia. "They'd know what to do."
A spear pressed close, eliciting a wince from Athgar as the point drew blood.
"Silence!" the Orc roared. "Now, get to your feet. We have a long way to travel, and darkness will soon be upon us."
Ord-Kurgad
Summer 1104 SR
(In the tongue of the Orcs)
Kargen struggled through the assembled mass to where Shaluhk stood, their son, Agar, by her side, clutching a wooden axe. At nine months of age, he had been walking for some time as was typical of his race. He had already accompanied his father on the hunt, though only as an observer.
"Is all ready?" asked Shaluhk.
Kargen nodded, taking in those around him. "We have enough food for a ten-day of travel, maybe even two if we conserve our strength. The real issue will be water, for we are entering uncharted territory."
"The Ancestors will guide us."
A short, pale green Orc moved closer, the crowd parting to allow him through.
"Master Artoch," said Shaluhk, "are you sure you will not come with us? We would welcome a wielder of flame."
The elderly shaman bowed. "You flatter me, but I can not. Those who have chosen to remain will need my guidance."
"You know the Humans will return," warned Kargen, "and in greater numbers than before. They will not sit idly by allowing us to live in peace after the defeat we have dealt them."
"I know," said Artoch, "and yet what would you have me do? I can not abandon our people in their time of need."
"We are not abandoning them," said Kargen, his emotions threatening to get the better of him. "If they were not so stone-headed, they would realize that. Convince them to join us, Artoch. It is their only hope of survival."
"I have tried, believe me." He reached up, placing his hand on his chieftain's shoulder. "May the Ancestors guide you, Kargen," he said, "and you too, Shaluhk. You are the future of our people."
"I wish you the best of luck," said Kargen, "for you face a difficult time."
"As do we all," noted the master of flame. "Now, I shall return to the village to help those I might. You, on the other hand, must begin the great exodus eastward into the vast wilderness where Humans fear to tread. Farewell, my friends."
They watched him go, soon disappearing from view. Shaluhk reached down, lifting up the wicker basket and frame so she could slip it over her
