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

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64

Barbaurak's claws, wrapped around the hilt of the sword, dug into his palm for how tight his grip upon the weapon was. Its metal was charred with soot, splattered with olog blood and mokob-hai stains, and the leather grip was cracked and peeling from the heat. It felt right, to hold a blade again, the one he had originally confiscated from Alaesia in the first place, the same one that she had used to kill Tuka and he had used to behead Silgak just a handful of days earlier. In some sort of poetic sense, it seemed to suit him even better now in its current state than it did back then, like a metaphorical mirror of his own damaged, but dangerous countenance, which only turned darker when Zathra got to his feet to turn and face him.

"Move out of my way, Snake-Tongue," his voice rasped threateningly, "Don't make me add another corpse ta the pile."

"Bar-" Zathra started, raising his hands disarmingly.

Behind him, Barbaurak could see the human woman shivering and staring up at him from the ground with eyes that were sunken, but wide and bloodshot with fear. He could taste her terror and her heartbeat was palpable in the air. She held her tongue silently, like a good slave should, he thought bitterly.

"I said MOVE," Barbaurak lifted the sword tip towards his subordinate. "I will not warn ya again. I'm dealin' with this, then we are leaving."

"Why?" Zathra snarled back. Magic energy crackled down to the stub of his arm, corporealizing the ethereal limb, with claws arched and ready. "Why're ya acting like a mad dog? Why can't ye just leave 'er be?"

Barbaurak slowly sidestepped, which Zathra mirrored cautiously. They were sizing each other up, gauging each other as pit fighters might. "Better for everyone to end this nonsense 'ere and now. "

"So what, after everything, yer just gonna kill 'er?" Zathra shifted, as did Barbaurak's blade. They knew each other well from many fights they'd had in the past. With every movement each orc made, the other had a well-rehearsed answer to meet it with. Most of their duels, if not all, were for the sake of blowing off steam, a few had been a matter of establishing dominance; and Barbaurak always came out on top of the pile. This? This was different. Something felt very, very off, but Zathra couldn't figure out what. The leader of the pair still held his mind locked behind walls that Zathra's magic was struggling to get past. What could Barbaurak possibly hope to gain by killing Alaesia? He wondered, grinding his teeth in frustration. Why was he so egregiously bloodthirsty all of the sudden?!

"Do NOT tell me ya care about pulum snaga, Snake-Tongue. I don't want ta hear it!" Barbaurak hissed, making a point to glance very obviously back at Alaesia as he uttered in Black speech, "Ushdga, akash mat, ulog kurf zash na kramp-grat narturkz! Balaronk kramp throk na slaiurz."

"That's what this is about, lat pula?! Yer filthy profits?!" Zathra lunged forward, thinking briefly that Barbaurak's averted gaze was a distraction. His ghostly arm was outstretched and ready to strike, but even as he made the first move, he realized it was a mistake to allow Barbaurak to bait him so obviously. Barbaurak feinted a step back, whether intentionally, or from the lingering desire to favor his leg, Zathra couldn't tell but made his lunge fall short, throwing him off balance and dropping his options to defend. Barbaurak came in fast and vicious, deftly flicking the sword tip up and slicing Zathra's flank.

Zathra hit the ground hard, clasping his side and trying to blink off stars that filled his eyes, "Shrakh...!"

"This isn't about profits, so quit acting like a whelp. I ain't gonna kill ya, but I've half a mind to! Razmat wouldn't be so generous if he caught ya sympathizing with slave scum! But just so ya stay outta the way..." Barbaurak pinned Zathra to the ground with his foot, leaning all of his weight into the thinner orc's back.

Sympathizing with slaves? Why did that sound so familiar? Zathra's mind was racing, "So what?! Why's she worthless all the sudden? An animal to be culled?"

Zathra could feel the sword blade across the back of his ankle, seeking soft tissues and ligaments, before it bit deep into his flesh. A shrill hiss escaped his lips as Barbaurak slit the back of his leg, making it fall limp and useless. He sneered down at Zathra coldly, "What'd ya propose I do? Take this raggedy scrap of meat that won't stop bleedin' all over the place ta Razmat, present 'er like she's worth somethin'? Like the pits will even want 'er? Or I know, let's juss leave 'er 'ere ta feed the beasts! 'Er olog master's as good as dead, ya braindead idjit. She wouldn't last two days alone."

Through gritted fangs, Zathra snarled, while trying to send enough energy to his severed tendons to give himself some semblance of function, just enough to move at the least! "Just walk away, Bar, that's no reason ta kill 'er!"

"No reason? That is plenty of reason, Snake-Tongue," Barbaurak dragged the blade across the back of Zathra's other ankle, slicing through the flesh there as well, followed by the backs of his knees as he sneered down at him, "Go on an' fix that with yer magic. This'll be over quickly anyways."

"SKAITA..." Zathra's claws dug into the earth, trying desperately to block out the pain.

"B-barb-aur-ak..." Alaesia's soft, shaky voice interrupted the orcs' bickering. She had done her best to sit up, but her uninjured hand was unsteady in propping her upright. Her scarred face was smudged with ash and drained of color at the sight of Zathra's plight, "P-please don't do th-this... This isn't y-you..."

His dark amber eyes flickered towards her, and the tip of the short sword shifted to point at her instead. Beads of black blood dripped from the end of the metal, freshly drawn from his immobilized underling, as he started moving towards her, "YOU be silent. Don't pretend ya know anything 'bout me. Ye've been nothing but trouble since we found ya."

He loomed over Alaesia, stepping on her chains so she couldn't slink away like the cowardly, frail little human that she was. She was trembling in the depth of his shadow, cast long across the ground by the still blazing fire behind him. Good, Barbaurak's mind lit up at the sight. Hate me. Fear me. "Ya should feel lucky, tark. I'll make this quick an' painless, just fer ye."

"L-LUCKY?! LUCKY?!" The glint of firelight off the metal from under all the grime on the sword struck Alaesia's eyes, filling them with a heat Barbaurak wasn't quite prepared for. Her own face contorted into a fierce scowl to match his own, making his blade hesitate over her heart, "Y-you expect me to th-thank you like k-killing me is g-going to put you out somehow? M-must be such trouble m-murdering helpless slaves! You self... centered... ARSE!"

Alaesia whipped her uninjured hand up, flinging a fistful of dirt and rocks right towards Barbaurak's eyes, the orc stumbled back a step, allowing Alaesia just enough slack on her chain to lift a foot and take aim, "I could have l-let you bleed out! I could have f-fed you to the w-wargs! Y-you should be th-thanking ME!"

Her heel shot forward, clipping Barbaurak's groin while he was growling and swiping dust out of his face. He let out an ear-splitting howl, dropping to one knee and grasping his nether region with his free hand, and steadying himself on the hilt of the sword. As he whined in both pain and surprise, Alaesia's tirade continued. She desperately scrambled backwards along the ground, trying to put some distance between herself and the orc, "Y-you're such an ungrateful b-bastard! I w-wanted to help you! I wanted you to survive! And t-to THINK, I was going to ask Ar-Tashk to f-free you!"

From where Zathra lay, trying to reconnect ligaments that had snapped in two under Barbaurak's blade, he could practically taste Alaesia's fury and spite in his own mouth. Tiny flashes of hers and Barbaurak's interactions flashed through his mind's eye as she spat them back at the orc in defiance. He could see and feel everything from her point of view, particularly her confusion when Barbaurak had snapped at her when offering him a chance at freedom. But her spitting venom at him in this moment, now that was the damned funniest thing he'd ever witnessed; a puny little human woman standing up to a brute of an orc! If he weren't in such pain, if the situation wasn't so dire, Zathra might have burst out laughing.

He blinked suddenly, realization flooding over him. This wasn't the first time he had seen such a situation, almost beat for beat, involving Barbaurak before as well. He breathed out a shaky utterance as everything suddenly made perfect sense, "Ooh..."

Alaesia's shuffling blindly backwards took her unfortunately one step too far. She stumbled, bumping into the third orc present, Frogblood, whose face had melted into a macabre mask of its former appearance, though it was no longer on fire.

Even blinded and permanently scarred, Frogblood wasn't down and out. The disturbance made the once great slaver captain snap out of his stupor, suddenly flailing his claws about blindly until they latched onto Alaesia. She let out a horrified scream, whirling to try to fend him off, coming face to face with two big, bulbous blisters that used to be his eyes. His lips were mostly sealed together, but through the threads of oozed flesh that connected his upper and bottom jaw, he hissed and moaned, spit launching from the gaps and onto the side of her throat.

If any portion of his now gaping nose could still smell, it was impossible to tell, but the rage with which he randomly grasped and clawed at Alaesia made it seem like knew it was her, perhaps if only by the sound of her cries.

"No no! STOP!" Her voice grew into a ringing scream. He seemed to be trying to feel his way across her body with his horrible fingers, those too partially melted after his panicked attempts to wipe the mokob-hai sap off his face, searching for how to rip her throat out. His weight pressed against her back, as he leaned over her shoulder, forcing her down into the dirt, until, without warning, Barbaurak's blade sunk right through Frogblood's skull, from the crown, down through his jaw, making the orc's searching claws fall limply away from Alaesia's chest.

"Pulum... glob... Na az-izub..." Barbaurak's voice rattled as he shoved Frogblood's corpse off Alaesia with his foot, before grabbing her by the collar and lifting her off the ground with terrifying ease.

"N-no... Barbaurak, please!" Alaesia whimpered, pulling as hard as she could against his grip.

"Quit squirmin'... 'S better this way," Barbaurak braced his foot on Frogblood's neck so he could rip the sword back out. The suctioning squelch of the blade being released made Alaesia blanch. He flicked the weapon with a deft twist of his wrist, scattering blood and brain matter from the end, "If ya'd just shut up, I'll make it quick. Ya won't feel a thing..."

"BARBAURAK, PUZG!" Zathra snarled, struggling to get to his feet to face his leader. It felt like at any moment, his legs were going to buckle under him, but he couldn't just sit by, "Za grat Selga, nargrat ta?!"

Barbaurak's whole body stiffened at the sound of his subordinate switching to Black speech. He knew it was just a ploy, a way to distract him, to get his attention, but it worked. A chill suddenly dampened the air around the clearing and he turned to stare at Zathra, pupils tightened to a pinprick, "Gukr izish pulum pu, Gar-Pugh."

"Bar... Ya don't have ta do this..." Zathra lowered his voice, as if he was dealing with a crazed animal, "Juss let Alaesia go."

"What would you know, ya filthy snake!" Barbaurak shook Alaesia roughly, tickling the short sword just under her sternum as if to make a point. She was tempted, if only for a moment, to try to kick him again, but one glance at meeting Zathra's gaze warned her not to, even as Barbaurak's growl made her flinch away, "Yer not the one Razmat has his bloody eye on all the damned time!"

"Yer right, I don't know..." Zathra nodded placatingly. His left leg was nearly mended while the right only had a couple more tendons to rejoin, but he was starting to feel the effects of using so much magic in such a short amount of time. He wouldn't have much left in him by the time it was finished. He needed to get through to Barbaurak as quickly as possible. "But killing Alaesia isn't the answer... Ya don't really want ta do tha', do ya? Think about S-"

"SHUT IT! Don't ya DARE say that name again, Snake-Tongue!" Barbaurak snarled, "Ya 'ave NO IDEA what yer talking about! Don't think fer a second ya can pick my brain, twist my mind with yer witchery!"

"Bar... I promise, no tricks," Zathra whispered in low tones, sorrowful even, "I juss don't want ya doin' something ye'll come ta regret..."

Silence fell across the clearing, accompanied by the fall of night. The only light remaining was the waning splutters of fire curling off of the olog's back, and the last of the fire from Frogblood's firepit. It leapt at the sky, as if eager to escape its confines; a sentiment Barbaurak knew all too well. His fist holding Alaesia prisoner slowly dropped before finally letting go of her collar. He turned away without so much as a glance at her, and groaned; with his adrenaline waning, it was no longer shielding him from the full effects of Alaesia's blow to his groin.

Alaesia sank to her knees, similarly shaken.

"Yer only prolongin' 'er suffering, ya know... If the beasts don't tear 'er ta pieces, 'er own stomach will," Barbaurak muttered and hobbled towards Zathra, squaring his shoulders when he reached him. "I hope yer happy about it. We are leaving, NOW."

"No, Bar..." Zathra tried to look his leader in the eyes, but Barbaurak seemed to be looking right through him like a ghost, "Like ya said... She won't survive out here alone. Not if the troll doesn't last the night."

Barbaurak's expression sharpened at the refusal, and in one final act of fury, he slammed his shoulder past Zathra, hissing back at him, "Then yer as good as dead 'cause that's what I'm goin' ta tell Razmat. Don't ever let me see yer face again, lat snagnarga fural"

The last that either Zathra or Alaesia saw of Barbaurak, was his back, disappearing into shadows and undergrowth.

***** Translations *****

Pulum snaga - A fucking slave

Ushdga, akash mat, ulog kurf zash na kramp-grat narturkz! Balaronk kramp throk na slaiurz. - A used-up, half dead, crippled whore like her will be worthless! The breeding pits will eat her alive.

Lat pula?! - you fucker?!

Shrakh! - Shit!

SKAITA... - DAMMIT...

Tark - Human

Pulum... glob... Na az-izub... - Fuckin'... filth... She's my kill...

PUZG - STOP

Za grat Selga, nargrat ta?! - This is about Selga, isn't it?!

Gukr izish pulum pu, Gar-Pugh... - Shut your fucking mouth, Snake-Tongue...

Lat snagnarga fural - You slave-loving traitor

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

If you are enjoying YRWYS I would love to hear your thoughts on it thus far! Please consider leaving a comment if you feel so inclined!

I am going to take a small rolling break here for a bit by slowing down the rate at which I am churning out chapters. Getting a lil bit tired at the moment and just need some time to recoup I think. This chapter was a doozy to write. As mentioned in the top Author's Note you can access drafts of chapters as soon as they are written on my discord if you don't want to wait.