The Debt of the Wolf
Joanne trembled with delayed shock as she walked alongside Fentulk to the imposing fortress. The full measure of what she'd done sank in; though perhaps noble, it was terribly risky in a way that accompanying an Orc never seemed to be.
The possibility of death had eluded her awareness at the time, but now reared its head. She took many deep breaths to steady herself.
On either side of the dusty path stood domed huts of a design she'd never seen before. While the walls were dun-colored and otherwise plain, there were symbols of some kind painted in broad strokes upon them. The paint was a dark red and reminded her of dried blood. She hugged herself more tightly and trudged onward.
Though he'd shown great relief in seeing the signs of Mag'har settlement when they were far from the post, Fentulk now seemed guarded. Joanne could not begin to guess what had changed. It certainly wasn't the attack; he'd greeted the wolf rider warily even before they learned the Alliance was there.
Sighing, she decided that there should be as few secrets between them as possible. These Orcs did not speak her language; she was certain she would not offend them with careless words.
"Fentulk," she whispered.
"Yeah?" he replied quietly, glancing at her.
"These are your people, aren't they?" she asked. He frowned in confusion and nodded. "You seem to... distrust them."
A half smile twitched his cheek. "Nah, don't distrust'em. Sorry, Joanne. Orcs are... well, we're born suspicious of anyone not in our clan. Maybe we all take the name Mag'har, but we ain't all in the same clan. There's loads of refugees in Garadar that still use their old clan names, from back before the world was ripped apart. Even livin' side-by-side, they keep themselves to themselves for the most part." Sighing, he bowed his head. "Hate comin' to the leader of any clan without two coppers to rub together is all. Can't give'im any kind of token of good will. About all I got that he might want is this gun, and I can't give it up. We still got miles and miles to go..." He winced and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.
"Why would he want a gift from you?" she asked with surprise.
"It's the way it is," he shrugged. "I'm from another clan walkin' across his territory. Used to be, Orc clans fought each other for less'n that. Didn't always see eye to eye about things. Anyway, if an Orc you don't know comes into your territory, you can't tell if he's bein' friendly or spyin' on you. So... he gives the chief somethin' of value to sort of prove he's not gonna cause no trouble. There's rules, you see. Give a gift, you hold to your word. Receive one, and you gotta give'im a place to sleep, food and all. Treat'im like one'uh your own clan."
"Oh," Joanne nodded. She looked worriedly at him. "And we have... nothing."
"Nothin' I wanna part with," Fentulk growled. He glanced at her without turning his head. Not knowing Gorkan very well at all, he wasn't so sure the old Orc captain wouldn't demand something other than the gun in tribute. There were some Orc chieftains who wouldn't bat an eye at taking a night's pleasure as their due. Fentulk was beginning to think coming here was a huge mistake.
The fortress was not very large. Standing only two stories high, with guard turrets on either side of the front gate, it presented a stone façade to the more traditional huts encircled by the imposing walls. Kralok led them through the gate into a small courtyard. Outside the largest hut, a white-haired Orc was deep in conversation with an Orc woman of significantly younger years.
"Sorry 'bout this, Joanne," Fentulk murmured. "Don't wanna insult'im by translatin' for yuh."
"I understand," she whispered back.
Completely at a loss as Kralok introduced them to the stern-looking elder, Joanne tried to stand a bit closer to Fentulk without seeming to do so. There were brown-skinned Orcs all around, mostly drilling their combat techniques. The dying sunlight glinted feebly off axes and swords, painting them red as though they had already been put to deadly use.
Though Fentulk had promised not to leave her in the dark when Orcish was spoken, she understood his worry, and did not begrudge him now. She found herself looking at him often, listening to the harsh-sounding words of his tongue, wanting nothing more than to be alone with him. Far from this place, in his own land...
But they would not be alone, she remembered. They were going to a much larger village than this small settlement, where she would be the only human. She would meet his parents... and suddenly a great fear gripped her. Would his mother accept her? Fentulk's description of her led Joanne to worry that there was nothing she could do that would endear her to a woman like his mother. She was weak and soft; there was no hint of the warrior in her. Very likely, his mother would consider her an insult by just being human, and a compounded affront by being a weak human.
Shoulders sagging, she bowed her head in despair.
"Fentulk, is it?" Gorkan said gruffly after Kralok's brusque introduction. The old captain squinted at the young Orc for a moment. "I remember you. Had a head full of dreams, you did. Thinking you'd conquer yourself a new land, eh? Well? What did you think of it, this new land?"
"Azeroth... has some beautiful places," Fentulk replied carefully, "and some ugly ones. Got the biggest oceans..."
"Oceans, eh?" the captain echoed, arching his brow. A slight smile curved his mouth around his worn tusks. "Ah, I remember oceans. Had'em here, once. Long time ago."
"Not many remember'em," Fentulk acknowledged respectfully. "I took ship and sailed them oceans not long after I got there."
Gorkan nodded wistfully, his eyes crinkling with good memories. Then his expression hardened again, for the beauty in his mind wasn't visible to his eyes. Not anymore.
"So oceans weren't enough to keep you there, eh?"
Bowing his head, Fentulk said quietly, "Found some'uh that ugly. Decided I'd come home."
"Not empty-handed, I see," the old captain noted, nodding to Joanne. "What's she to you?"
Taking a deep breath and preparing himself for the disdain, yet wanting to firmly establish her place with him, he said, "My mate, if she'll have me."
"Mate?" Gorkan growled incredulously. Scowling, he snarled, "You would lower yourself..."
"Captain," Kralok interjected. When he had his leader's attention, the warrior said briefly, "Alliance attacked a bit ago. She covered one of my men, sir. Saved him."
Latching onto the Orc's statement, Fentulk went on, "I don't think them Alliance fuckers was after her, but they told her they was goin' to rescue her. She figured maybe they'd stop shootin' if she was in the way, so... she put herself in the way."
Gorkan's eyes darted between the two younger Orcs, then looked sharply at the woman. She was small and frail to his eyes, but now he noticed the fresh blood on her clothes. Her eyes scanned the fortress nervously. It was clear by her distraction that she didn't understand a word they were saying.
"She did that?" he barked. "Don't look like she could face a rabbit with an army backin' her up."
Kralok shrugged. "Brogor owes her his life, sir. They was shootin' at him while he was crawlin' away." Chuckling, he slapped his own upper arm where an untended stab wound seeped blood and said, "Took a hit, I was so surprised. Alliance. Savin' one of us." He shook his head in wonder.
"She's, uh... full'uh surprises," Fentulk said, half smiling.
"How'd you come by her?" Gorkan asked, his interest piqued.
He knew they'd get to this subject, and he'd dreaded it. Every retelling seemed to take him back to the shame of being captured in the first place, and the pain of what they did, all they took from him, and why he had to beg on his knees every step of the way home now. Wincing, he bowed his head and drew a shuddering breath.
"I was... captured by the Alliance," he said in a low voice. "Joanne was at that place, and... she helped me get out. I took her with me, cause... they'd likely hurt her if they knew what she did." Looking the captain in the eyes, he said urgently, "She helped me. Against her own people, she helped me."
"And she followed you... here," Gorkan observed. "Why didn't she go to them?"
"Didn't trust'em," Fentulk replied. "She was a servant in that tower. Raised there; never saw her own world. Not allowed to."
"A slave?" the old captain asked, curling his lip with disgust.
"May as well have been," Fentulk nodded. "Figured her folk would send her right back if they got a hold of her."
Gorkan looked Fentulk over, noting for the first time how the younger Orc held himself, how he stood, the look on his face, the pain in his eyes, the short bristles of hair beginning to grow back on his head and face as though it had been burned off not long ago... Maybe the young Orc had been healed to a certain extent, but he would likely bear scars that went deeper than flesh. Anger flared in Gorkan and he snarled, "Tell me the tale of your vengeance."
Again, a question he'd dreaded. Fentulk expected to hear the same thing from his ma. And he'd likely get an earful over his answer. Steeling himself, he shook his head. "I know yer gonna think I'm... weak and... half an Orc, but... I didn't do nothin' to'em. I got the fuck outta there as quick as I could. I just wanted to come home." A lump rose in his throat, and he begged the ancestors not to let him weep in front of this warrior. His voice shook from the strain of holding back emotions he'd long since lost control of from exhaustion, despair, and desperation. "Wanted to see my home one more time. And I wanted to show it to her. Couldn't do that if I took the time to hunt'em all down..." Faltering, he bowed his head. "It ain't my way, Gorkan. That ain't my way. Even if they asked for it. I had... bigger things to worry about."
Gorkan sighed and nodded. Reaching out, he briefly gripped Fentulk's shoulder. "Had to protect your woman."
"Aye," Fentulk said, relieved. "I did."
"And you love her." A slight smile curved the old Orc's mouth.
"With all I am," Fentulk replied firmly. "I do."
"She a good match then?" Gorkan asked gruffly.
"Stronger than she looks," Fentulk nodded. "Braver, too. Gotta be brave to follow somebody like me into a place like this with just a promise." He didn't need to specify the Peninsula rather than the Mag'har Post; the old captain understood.
"What did you promise her?"
Sighing, Fentulk bowed his head. "I promised her green grass and blue skies. Freedom. Safety. A life without stone walls keepin' her in." He shrugged. "I promised her Nagrand."
"With you," Gorkan suggested, a ghost of a smile on his face.
Again, Fentulk shrugged. "If she'll have me."
Glancing at Joanne, who in spite of not understanding the conversation, must have picked up the tone of their voices, Gorkan saw her looking on Fentulk with curiousity, concern, and open affection. Was she wistful as well? He arched his brow and looked at the younger Orc.
"You ask her?" Gorkan said. "To be your mate?"
Fentulk shook his head. "No."
"What's holdin' you up?" the captain asked, his brow furrowed.
"I don't want her to think... she owes me that," Fentulk said awkwardly. "I took her from everything she knew. Tryin' to... give her choices, you know? If she... if she don't choose me... well, she's... she's got the right, don't she. Just... want her to know she can... do that."
"Open your eyes, boy," Gorkan growled. "I don't think she'd choose anybody else. She must love you to follow you all this way to another world. One that looks like this. Keep to your promise, son. Take her home."
Raising his head with unmistakable relief, Fentulk nodded. "I'll do that."
"We don't have flying mounts, but we have spare wolves," the captain said. Ignoring Fentulk's shocked look, he gestured for Kralok to fetch one and get it ready. "You take that wolf and get the hell out of this shit land. Take her to Nagrand. Show her... show her what Draenor's supposed to look like."
"I... I can't take the wolf, sir," Fentulk pleaded desperately. His voice shook. "I got nothin' to give you. They took everything, Gorkan; everything I had. I just got this gun and I can't... If I'm gonna protect her, I can't give it to you."
Raising his hand to quiet the distraught Orc, Gorkan shook his head. "You don't have to give me anything, boy." But he paused for a moment, and said, "Except one thing."
"Anything," Fentulk said, though his voice betrayed how guarded he was about that offer. He pointedly kept himself from glancing at Joanne. He'd sooner give himself up to the older Orc's use than allow him to take his tribute from her.
"You go ahead and make her your mate," Gorkan told him. "First son you have, you name him for me. I'll consider the debt paid."
Blinking with surprise, Fentulk gushed, "Of course. Of course. I'll do that. I promise."
Nodding, Gorkan extended his hand and shook Fentulk's firmly.
Kralok led them down the twilit mountain path then returned to his post. Before departing, he warned them to steer clear of the Draenei temple a little over a mile away.
"Probably won't shoot on sight, but you don't wanna chance it," he said.
Since he'd not made mention of his feelings for Joanne since Hammerfall, Fentulk was loathe to inform her of how he'd agreed to repay his debt to Gorkan. Still, the thought of her bearing his son pleased him greatly.
As he rode with her before him so he could protect her and direct the great black riding wolf they'd been given, his thoughts were peaceful and calm. He told her of the Mag'har captain's words of praise and gratitude for her deed.
"It was foolish," she said dismissively, yet flushed with pride. "When all was over, I was so frightened. Where was that fear when it was happening? I might have been rooted to the spot."
"Good thing you weren't," Fentulk said with a smile. "That Orc – Brogor – would'uh died if you'd been too scared to move."
"I am glad he didn't," she said quietly, stroking the wolf's fur. It was so soft, in spite of the animal's fierce face and enormous teeth. Leaning back, she pressed comfortably into Fentulk's chest and closed her eyes.
"Only a few miles left," he said, his voice rumbling low in her ear. "We get outta here, and it ain't too far through the marsh to Nagrand."
"I look forward to it," she smiled.
He couldn't help it; being so near, pressed so close... Before he could stop himself, he brushed his lips lightly on her temple.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"I do not mind," Joanne whispered sleepily. She snuggled closer, making him smile.
"Halt!" a voice shouted suddenly, and Fentulk started. Twisting in the saddle, he looked behind them and gasped with shocked dread.
Four enormous elekks were bearing down on them, each ridden by a furious Draenei.
"Fuck!" he barked, and viciously kicked the wolf's sides, urging it from its gentle lope to a full gallop. He felt Joanne tense in his arms and peek over his shoulder.
"Who are they?" she cried.
"Draenei," he snarled. "Don't care what nobody says, they catch me with you..." He let the statement hang, not wanting to give voice to his fears.
There was little reason for Fentulk himself to feel guilt with regards to the Draenei; his parents were very young children when the purging led by Ner'zhul occurred. They were of the Redwalker clan that opposed the elder shaman, and retreated to their own territory when the majority of the other clans sought the extermination of the Draenei. Only the sundering of Draenor drove them from the crumbling remains of their land to the still-fertile hills of Nagrand to rejoin with other similarly displaced clans.
Fentulk's parents remembered those days, and the horrors wrought by folk they once called brothers. He'd grown up on stories about the purging, tales told to inform young Orcs where they came from and what they might have become. Throughout his life, Fentulk found it nearly impossible to look a Draenei in the face, knowing the terrors his folk inflicted on them.
And now they were running him down. Fixing his eyes ahead, he tried to deafen his ears to their warnings.
So close, he thought. We're so close. Just let us go. We're almost home. Please...
His thoughts were broken by the sound of a gun, and something large and hard hit him square in the back. Fentulk instinctively embraced Joanne as the net enveloped them. He shielded her the best he could from the impact when they tumbled off the wolf. Rolling for several yards in the dust, he squeezed his eyes shut.
It was over. He'd come this far, and he would go no further.
"I'm sorry, Joanne," he whispered hoarsely. A choking sob burst from him and he lay still, holding her trembling form. "Sorry."