“There are three main orc tribes,” he explained as they walked. “The Mug tribe is the biggest, followed by the Dun and the Glush tribes. A fourth tribe, however, has sworn off worshiping animals. Somehow they learned of their elven heritage and now worship Celestia, hoping the goddess will remove the curse that poisons their blood. They are a blasphemy against Karak and must be dealt with accordingly.”
They came upon a crude banner made of two sharpened sticks thrust together in the dirt. Draped over the front was what appeared to be the skin of a wolf.
“We’ve entered their territory,” Velixar said. “It won’t be long before we find one of their camps.”
“Why a wolf skin?” Qurrah asked as they passed by the banner.
“The wolf-men to the north often raid their homes for food. The orcs here use their skin to make their banners, blankets, and huts.”
Tessanna started laughing.
“Bad doggie,” she said as they passed by a similar banner. When both men gave her a funny look, she only laughed louder, the sound hollow among the quiet, dangerous land.
They traveled over the dry, yellow grass, until the encampment was within sight.
“There,” Velixar said, pointing. “Karak has whispered of them for many years, but at last I see them with my own eyes.”
Hundreds of tents covered the nearby hills. On each and every one was a triangle. Two lines stretched outward from the bottom. A tree, Qurrah realized. Drawn in the blood of animals was a tree, the old symbol the elves used for Celestia. For the first time Qurrah saw orc females, their sex no longer hidden behind heavy war armor. Their breasts were flat, and more muscle than milk. Children ran about, wrestling and playing games with rocks and toys carved from wood. In the center of the camp was a tent far larger than the others, with red trees on each side of the entryway.
“How have they not been conquered by the other tribes?” Qurrah asked.
“That is the mystery,” Velixar said. He licked his lips. “Somehow they have held off any and all attacks. The other tribes talk of how a goddess protects them. This sort of blasphemy is dangerous, my disciple. It changes the order of things and renders the land even more chaotic. Follow me. We will show them their place.”
Velixar walked down the hill, his arms held at his sides in an apparent gesture of peace. Guards lined the exterior of the camp, and when they spotted him they raised a ruckus in their native tongue. Orcs flocked together. Qurrah and Tessanna approached, hand in hand. The half-orc had never felt more conscious of his gray skin. He could feel his tainted blood coursing within him, and for the first time he saw their civilization.
“I could have been their god,” he whispered. “Their deity.”
“And I could be a goddess in any place I choose,” Tessanna whispered. “But that is not my place in this world, and these huts are not yours.”
A wall of spears surrounded them. Velixar halted, his hands still held high and wide. His hood had fallen low to cover his eyes, but beneath lingered his smile. Beyond the ring of orcs Qurrah saw women holding their young, watching. He was shocked when he realized many of them were praying.
A particularly large orc broke through the ring and shouted at Velixar in the orcish tongue. The man in black laughed and then spoke back in the same guttural language. The orc seemed surprised at this, and began questioning those around him.
“What is going on,” Qurrah asked.
Before Velixar could answer, the big one turned toward the giant tent and shouted the same word three times.
“Darnela! Darnela! Darnela!”
“Darnela?” Tessanna asked.
“At last I understand,” Velixar said, his grin growing. “An elf priestess of Celestia came and tamed them. She’s filled their head with dogma of forgiveness and pathetic begging in hopes of revoking of their orcish blood. Keep ready, both of you. I find it unlikely we will get along.”
In the distance they saw a sleek feminine form exit the main tent. She wore a cloak made of wolf skin. Her tunic and breeches were made of leather. She carried a scepter in one hand and a jeweled sphere in the other. She seemed a strange cross of elf and orc, elegance and roughness. All throughout the camp, orcs parted to grant her passage, bowing their heads as she passed.
“She’s beautiful,” Tessanna said.
“Yes,” Velixar said. “And as dangerous as she is beautiful. I know this one. She has changed her name since we last met.”
Qurrah felt his whip curling on his arm, bits of flame flickering from it even though he gave it no such order. Tessanna chewed on her fingernails as the girl approached. She had long hair, so long that it floated past the small of her back and beyond the length of her wolf head cloak. It was a dark brown, the same color as her eyes. When she saw Velixar, a frown marred her beautiful face. The last of the orcs parted, and she stood before the trespassers to her camp.
“Greetings, Fionn,” Velixar said, bowing low. “It has been too long since we last met.”
The scepter shook in the elven priestess’s hand.
“I am Darnela now,” she said. “Do you bring your war and hatred to my orcs? They seek peace, dark prophet, and forgiveness from the goddess. We are not interested in whatever sins you bring.”
“Your name used to be beautiful and pure,” Velixar said, ignoring her question. “Yet you now claim a name meaning war and anger, all while preaching peace to the orcs, Celestia’s cursed and abandoned?”
Qurrah winced as the whip tightened so much that his fingers tingled from the pressure. He dared not remove it, though, not with so many orcs with spears and swords desperate to attack.
“Be gone,” she said. “Karak’s taint is leaving their blood. We all see it plain as day.”
“Indeed,” Velixar said. Still grinning. “The…taint…is leaving.”
Darnela took a step closer, glaring at the visage beneath the black hood.
“I swore to kill you, and I did,” she said. “Celestia forgive me for thinking you would give Dezrel a gift and stay dead. Now leave.”
“Qurrah,” Velixar suddenly shouted. “Show our beautiful hostess here your weapon.”
Slowly the half-orc let the whip uncurl and fall into his hand. The leather pooled upon the grass and then burst into flame. He watched Darnela’s face, and he saw her rage grow. All around, the wall of orcs grew larger as guards from every corner of the camp gathered.
“I also made a promise,” Velixar said. “I would use your husband’s whip to return the favor for what you did to me. But not yet. You think these orcs your pets? You think they believe what you feed their minds? I speak the truth, Darnela, and even these shallow beings can feel and understand that.”
He turned his back to her and gestured to the crowd. His voice boomed impossibly loud, every word he spoke thundering in the ears of those who heard.
“Orcs of the wedge, hear me! I am Velixar, and I speak with the voice of Karak himself!”
“Silence,” Darnela shouted. The man in black turned and glared at her. For a moment they stared, their eyes locked. When the priestess did not attack, Velixar continued his shouting. Qurrah noticed he shouted in the common tongue of man, yet the orcs appeared to understand.
“What you have been told is true. You were once elves. You were cursed by the elven goddess, but that curse did not make you what you are today! Karak gave you the strength that saved you from extinction. Karak bound you together for war, and through him you crushed your enemies and fought for a place in this world. You feel that strength fading now, don’t you? It is Celestia who cursed you, Celestia who abandoned you, and now you cry out to her like a dog licking the boot that just kicked it?”
All around orcs began shouting, some in defiance of what he said, others in response to their old bloodlust stirring. As Qurrah looked around, he could see Velixar spoke truth. Few orcs were as muscled as the orcs he had watched assault Veldaren years ago.