***** Author's Note *****

The following chapters may be a bit delayed. I want to refactor a few things to make them flow better, so I'm working on that at the moment as well as writing the following chapters. But you can see content as sooner. Would you like to read YRWYS chapters early as soon as they are finished? Discuss writing, art, and orcs? Share your own creative works and get feedback? Then please join the discord server I made! Link in my bio!

52

It wasn't unheard of for orcs to turn soft, especially among slavers. Something about the vocation was just rife with attracting both the most vicious, torture-hungry soldiers, as well as those who were prone to getting too attached to a slave. Even slaver captains weren't immune. In Frogblood's eyes, it was like a disease. Something about slaves, particularly females, really screwed with orc minds; there was a reason the mannish females captured during raids were kept hidden away in the breeder pits where only a select few of the elite orcs were allowed to go.

Because of that rule, some captains would indulge themselves and test their merchandise during transport. It was the only chance they'd ever get to know what the elite orcs got out of their pit visits, but Frogblood had always refused to risk it himself. Too many orcs got themselves slapped with the title "slave-lover." But an olog? That was so outlandish, there was no way. Frogblood had to figure out if what he had overheard was the truth. He had to test it, prove it one way or another. It would be far too advantageous to ignore otherwise. After all, there was a reason slave-lovers usually met a quick end. And if the supposed Reaper was a slave-lover the female would be key to finding his weakness.

Frogblood hauled himself out of the entrance to the den, shifting the short sword in his clawed hand as he strode purposefully across the clearing to where the trio of captives sat, each bound in chains like his own. His chains scraped loudly and dragged bits of slate along between the links, causing the two orcs sprawled on the ground to glance up at Frogblood's approach. Somewhat beyond the pair, the human had her back towards them as well as the approaching green orc.

Zathra's eyes narrowed on Frogblood, whose own gaze was trained blindly onto Alaesia's back. He watched with nervous ticking rising in his chest, then he noticed the blade in Frogblood's grasp. In an instant, his nervousness turned to uncertain dread. He loathed not being able to read the orc's mind; he had no idea what was brewing behind that malevolent gaze. All he knew was it was entirely absorbed in one very specific target.

Frogblood passed between the orcs with a few determined strides, the tip of his blade lifting ever so slightly.

"Bar..." Zathra's head tipped towards his companion as he hissed urgently, but he couldn't move. His whole body was stiff with the coursing magic that was making its way through his damaged tissues and bones. Whether or not Barbaurak would even care as to what Frogblood was up to, Zathra wouldn't dare to hope, and yet, to his surprise, Barbaurak already hauled himself upright as if readying himself. Even with his bum leg, he shifted, watching Frogblood intently.

Alaesia heard Zathra's sibilant voice and the clank of chains and she turned further away; she didn't want to face him. Even though she knew he was trying to help, for whatever misguided or manipulative reason she didn't want to venture a guess, his efforts had only hurt more. But it wasn't Zathra who she needed to worry about.

A calloused hand slammed into the back of her head, prickling her scalp with its sharp claws. Frogblood pounced and shoved Alaesia's face to the ground, digging his knee into her spine and pinning her in place. Her breath caught in her throat as the familiar blade of the short sword dug into the earth before her eyes, flooding her with panic.

"A-A-Ar-Ta-" Even as she tried to get the olog's name to escape her lips, she knew it wasn't him attacking her; after all, he was far heavier and didn't have claws like an orc. No, it certainly wasn't him. Barely from the corner of her eye, she could see the putrid, warted face of the slaver captain whose gaze was filled with hatred and wild fervor, not unlike the face of the orc, Silgak, after he found out she had killed his blood brother. Whimpering, she drew her hands up over her head, trying to shield as much as she could. Her tongue quickly tied to silence, knowing the slightest peep could set him off.

Frogblood leaned over her, pressing hard until he could feel the air leave her lungs, "Shaddup n' listen here, ya breeder bitch... Yer going ta answer my quest-"

"PISS OFF, shrakh licker!" a sharp voice cut in.

Alaesia barely had a moment to even take in everything, barely a moment for the fleeting drop of her stomach to be replaced by confusion as Frogblood was launched forward over her. He stumbled a couple of steps then crashed gracelessly face-first into the shards of slate scattered around. Alaesia scampered backwards on her hands, putting as much distance between herself and the green orc, only to be stopped as her back bumped against something.

Barbaurak snarled as Alaesia roughed up against his lacerated leg, sending him dropping back to the ground just behind her. Doing his best to dismiss the pain that shot up the torn muscle, Barbaurak wrapped one corded arm around her waist. He ignored her faint protests and with one swift heave, rolled her back over his own chest and lap, dumping her right between himself and Zathra as Frogblood whirled to face them.

Alaesia pushed further away, watching the two in confusion, wondering why Barbaurak had intervened. Orc against orc, he was in no condition to fight and whatever he had done to get the green orc off of her, must have loosened the tourniquet around his leg. Fresh blood was splattered among the rocks like a spilled inkwell. Even as she pulled away from her would-be assailant, Barbaurak seemed to move more between them, blocking her from Frogblood's direct line of sight.

Zathra was only just able to roll into his side, and he reached out with his remaining hand to grab Alaesia's shoulder. Even with most of his body unresponsive, the strength in his grip startled her as he uttered, "Ta me, lass. Yer alright."

The green orc spat a gob of blood, saliva, and even a chip from his fang, on the ground, while scrambling to snatch up the sword before the others could grab it and snarling. However, Barbaurak had forced himself back upright and cut Frogblood off before he could get a word in, "Go on, Snagorsk. Run me through. My wraith will be waitin' fer you on the other side. Yer as good as dead when yer master comes outta that den an' finds ya've offed us yerself."

Frogblood cursed inwardly, knowing he had a point. As much as he wanted to sink the sword into each of their hearts and twist, one wrong move would get himself killed before he could take his revenge. He glanced at the human, eyes on fire, and back at Barbaurak and scoffed with nonchalant disdain, "Didn't realize the whole lot of you milksops were suckin' that bitch's tit. Ain't a single black-blooded orc here. Yer all soft and tame like men!"

Barbaurak's whole countenance seemed to become churlish at Frogblood's taunting, but he was quick to fire back, "Tame? Run along like a good lil pet afore yer master comes outta that hole and finds ya attackin' his snaga. Rabid beasts like ye'll get put down!"

A moment of silence held in the air, waiting for whoever would make the first move. Like two beasts in a territorial dispute, the orcs each refused to budge from the borderline, but Alaesia could see Barbaurak starting to sway ever so slightly on his feet. As if by instinct, Barbaurak twisted his stance, hiding his imbalance through the movement, in spite of the protests of his leg, ready to make the first move. Frogblood's blade twitched eagerly in his hand, as if hungry to run through Barbaurak's gut, and yet... It was the green orc who finally withdrew. Frogblood backed away, careful not to turn his back towards Barbaurak, then cut off at an angle towards the treeline leaving the trio to lick their wounds.

"That's right! Piss off coward!" Barbaurak snarled after him, before sinking to his knees. He had to catch himself on his hands as the release of tension suddenly left him drained and dizzy.

"Oh... Shrakh..." He hit the ground with a dull whump.

"Urkiz..." Zathra spat, trying to pull himself over to his leader's side, but with only one good arm, he couldn't quite get a grip on the ground.

Even though her heart was pounding, Alaesia still had enough wits about her to be severely confused about the exchange. Why did Frogblood, who clearly had the upper hand, both in physical condition and weaponry back down? Especially against an orc that could barely keep his feet under himself? It didn't make any sense. Was Barbaurak somehow more threatening than she realized? She looked over his collapsed form, and could only form one conclusion. No, there was something else going on. But none of that seemed to matter at the moment if Barbaurak managed to kill himself.

Zathra had only made it about an arm's length closer to Barbaurak when Alaesia rose to her feet and hurried to Barbaurak's side. He watched with hesitant relief as she hefted with all her might and rolled the half-conscious orc onto his back before setting about to check the binding around his wounded leg. Zathra breathed a sigh, "Can ya bring 'im over ta me, lass?"

Alaesia synched the tie tighter and obediently did as she was bid in silence. Maybe, before she had been captured, she might've been able to move him without much of a sweat, but captivity had left her limbs atrophied. Despite being about equal to her size as an orc, Barbaurak was still quite heavy to the woman and him being a complete deadweight didn't help the matter. She heaved and dragged, until she could finally lay him next to Zathra who propped himself on his side, still unable to move his own legs.

"Yer a good 'un... Thank ya," Zathra didn't have much magic to spare. He was barely keeping his own life from slipping away. But if he could just stop Barbaurak's bleeding, at least they wouldn't have to keep worrying about him offing himself quite as easily as kicking another orc's arse with a shredded leg.

"W-why'd he do th-that?" Alaesia's murmur was soft, almost imperceptible. "Why w-would he in-intervene?"

Zathra bit his tongue briefly so he could focus, channeling a faint buzz from his core to the tips of his fingers before shoving them violently into the folds of lacerated skin. Alaesia watched his eyes start to roll backwards, then catch with a burst of blue light and refocus, pressing the magic outwards. Sparks zippered back and forth as Zathra drew his fingers down the gashes, trying to seal up the deepest and most vital parts. A sick squelching sound echoed through the air, making Alaesia's stomach buck involuntarily, before Zathra himself collapsed under the strain. Even after all he could muster, Barbaurak's leg still looked a sorry mess, but at least, it seemed, whatever arteries had been damaged were sealed.

"Leave the binding... on 'is leg fer now... He'll still bleed out the raw bits otherwise..." Zathra huffed, trying to stop his head from swimming, and to Alaesia's surprise, he snorted out a chuckle. "Did ya see that toad's face after 'e ate dirt? Priceless..."

When Alaesia didn't respond, Zathra rolled his head towards her. A hint of fear lingered in the air, but it was overshadowed by a grateful exhaustion that fell across all three of them. Now, her gaze was trained on Barbaurak, as if trying to see if there was any life left in him.

"Told ya Bar's a good orc," Zathra smirked teasingly, "Probably felt obligated about owin' ya his life... Tha' or 'e just couldn't stand the idea of the swampy git actin' like 'e's in charge."

"Z-Zathra... Y-you've nearly d-died... Both of y-you..." Alaesia shakily forced the words out. It wasn't so odd to have all the various slavers bickering over her like a scrap of meat between starving caragors. She had come to expect such things of Mordor's monsters. But this was different. Neither Zathra, nor Barbaurak, could compete with Ar-Tashk laying claim to her; the thought of him made her shiver. So it was perplexing why Frogblood would target her or why either of her fellow captives would intervene, "I... I-I don't understand... W-why?"

"Why what? Why I'd save yer sorry pink arse?" Barbaurak's aching groan interjected making Alaesia startle and squeak. His eyes were still closed, even as he grumbled. "I ain't dead nor deaf, so qui' talking about me like I ain't 'ere. I'm juss... tired..."

"Bar..." Zathra started in exasperation.

"S-sorry," Alaesia stammered. "I didn't m-mean-"

"An' quit yer grovelin' and pityin' me, it's pissin' me off..." he snapped. "Savin' a sharlob ain't part of my orders. It ain't that deep... It don't matter one lick fer an orc ta die. There's always some worm... waiting ta crawl outta a hole an' take yer place. Least I can do is die on my own terms." Though his face was swollen and bruised, it wasn't hard to notice Barbaurak crack one of his eyelids open as he peeked at her, waiting for a reaction.

Alaesia sighed; an orc was an orc after all, through and through, "I-I... J-just... Th-thank you... for in-inter-v-vening, B-barbaurak..."

***** Translations *****

Shrakh - Shit

Snagorsk - Slave Thief

Snaga - Slave

Urkiz - (slang for Urk izish) - Curse me!

Sharlob - Human (female)