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

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65

"Y-you didn't have to do th-that..." Alaesia uttered softly, "You c-could have just let B-Barbaurak f-finish me off."

She sat, curled up on herself, knees pressed to her chest and arms wrapped around them, as she stared into the fire pit with a slight sway in her balance. With the majority of the threats to her being quelled, Alaesia felt as if her stomach was freefalling from the high of fighting for her life; weightless in a way, but feeling she would hit the ground if any further dangers reared up. It was a small, but welcome respite for how exhausted she was in the wake of two orcs demanding her blood. Her shackles seemed light in comparison to the lead weight of her own limbs at the moment.

A shivering breeze brushed past her spine, making her grateful for the heat coming off the fire, but it also made her hand ache. Even after Zathra's efforts to reduce the damage, what had been done before he reached her was irreversible, leaving her with a gnarled scar across the palm of her hand that curled it ever so slightly into a permanent claw. It was thanks to Zathra's quick thinking, only the last two fingers on her hand had fused slightly together at their base; if he hadn't forced her fingers apart, they likely would have melded into a single deformed mitt. Trying to flex her clawed fingers open any further only resulted in the ache flaring up to a sharp pain, removing any hope it might be able to be fixed completely.

But, she supposed she was lucky to escape with an injury only that small. Alaesia was keenly aware how close she had come to losing her life. But in the moment, knowing Ar-Tashk couldn't save her, thinking Zathra was dead and Barbaurak too crippled to move, she had decided to fight back. While her neck was thoroughly bruised and scratched up by Frogblood's claws, she survived. She almost couldn't believe it. It was wonderful and horrible all at the same time.

However, in spite of all her own internal conflicts and woes, now what hurt the most was recognizing the look of defeat on Zathra's face and seeing Ar-Tashk's still form and knowing she had caused both. Alaesia frowned inwardly at the sight. She didn't want these thoughts or feelings of pity; not for these monsters, but something in her heart broke for each of them. Ar-Tashk's broken roar of agony and Zathra's arguing with Barbaurak still echoed in her ears.

Zathra glanced up from where he was pulling the warg meat that Frogblood had started cooking alongside the glowing coals in the firepit. It was a bit charred, after being left unattended during his attack on the olog, but still edible. He hissed, tossing the meat up and down in one hand, his ghostly appendage having waned once more with the depletion of his magic, to try to cool it, before passing a portion to Alaesia.

A wry smile tilted one corner of his mouth, a half-hearted attempt to reassure her, but neither was unscathed after the whole ordeal. His voice mirrored her own weary and broken exhaustion, "Nah, I couldn't do tha', lass. But, ya don't have ta blame yerself. Weren't juss fer yer sake though."

"I don't u-understand. I th-thought you two w-were a team... But... You t-turned against him..." Alaesia eyed the blackened meat with a wary look. If it weren't for how long she had gone without food, she doubted she could have stomached it. Between taking small nibbles, she queried, "Why?"

Zathra sighed, and leaned against a rock, looking up at the black night sky. To the south, there was the slightest hint of blue, where Mordor's smog was too thin to blot out the starlight, though he thought to himself that it was a pity the trees surrounding the clearing blocked most of it from view, "I've said it afore, Bar's a good orc. 'E weren't acting like himself... His usual self that is. I couldn't just sit there and do nothin' while he fell into a state of madness."

Alaesia bit back an incredulous scoff, disguising it as gagging on the warg meat; now didn't seem like a good time for snide remarks, no matter how much Barbaurak deserved them, Zathra didn't deserve her ire. She was still at loss at what had set him off, or perhaps he had been planning his attack the moment he realized Zathra hadn't solved the mystery of her continuous bleeding. It might've been, she wondered, the orcsbane; did he think I wanted to use it on him, to poison him...?

She glanced at Zathra's lean form, wishing he wasn't so calm. What he planned to do next was hidden behind his stoic features, and that made Alaesia uneasy. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, but even if he wouldn't say it, she could tell the tall orc was stinging at how Barbaurak had turned and attacked him without any hint of remorse, "Y-you risked a lot... To s-stand up to h-him..."

"Aye, as my superior he coulda run me through fer turning traitor on 'im an' no one woulda questioned him about it. But that's how I knew he weren't 'adn't totally lost 'is mind, cuz 'e didn't kill me," Zathra paused briefly, feeling the lingering ache where Barbaurak slit the tendons in the back of his legs, before continuing, "But aside from stopping Bar, and keeping yer pretty head on yer shoulders, I realized somethin' fer meself too. It's quiet 'ere. First time I've ever really felt... free, I suppose. Like... fer the first time in my life, I ain't got the Dark Lord's nasty lil whisperin's in my head."

"Y-you mean... you can r-read the Dark L-Lord's m-mind?" Zathra could feel Alaesia's confusion which caused her frown to deepen.

She knew little of the orcs' near-mythical master. When she was young, her parents had told her ominous tales of some entity that commanded the orcs and beasts of Mordor from the shadows. As a child, it mainly just gave her nightmares, then as she grew it seemed more like a silly fairytale they used to keep her close to home, but even that impression was similarly outgrown as she came to realize every warning they spoke of should have been taken very, very seriously. To hear Zathra, an actual orc, speak of and confirm such timeless speculations was very unnerving.

"Nah, not like I can read yers. My magic seems like it's somethin' different. Can't really say fer sure." Zathra started gnawing on his own serving of warg meat; its tough texture and gamey flavor were only made worse by the acrid crust of ash on it. "But, the Dark Lord, he's just always there, fer all of us orc-folk. Lotta orcs are more than willing ta lissen too, hardly even need his urgin'. But fightin' that Voice ain't easy. It's like... A vine of roses, all lovely an' enticin'. 'E'll promise ya all sorts of rewards fer obedience. But hidden under the roses' leaves, the thorns are just waiting to tear ya apart the moment ya resist. I'm lucky e's never had a good hold on me, prolly because of my magic, but also cuz slavers ain't really the Dark Lord's priority, not the way warchiefs an' warriors are. They get the brunt of 'is favor an' 'is wrath."

"W-warriors..." Alaesia uttered softly and felt another shiver up her spine, but this time, not from the chill night air.

"Yah, like yer hairy brute over there..." He tilted his head towards Ar-Tashk's mountainous silhouette. "He's having a hell of a debate with the Dark Lord in 'is head, even now."

Alaesia swallowed hard, "Wh-what do you mean?"

Zathra could sense her building trepidation, quickly butting in before she could let her mind wander too much, "I ain't gonna elaborate on the kinds of things the Dark Lord demands. Ya don't need ta hear that. But I did promise ta keep ya safe. I won't let yer master harm ya. Just... It's best ya don't get too close to 'im if 'e wakes up..."

Alaesia seemed hesitant and guarded, wary to put any stock in the words of an orc. Despite all his efforts to not rifle through her thoughts, Zathra found it hard to not pick up on things going through her head. He knew what questions were rising in her mind, a myriad of things all at once; it didn't surprise him when she finally decided which to ask, "Is the Dark Lord's V-Voice why Bar-b-baurak wanted to kill me?"

"Ah... No, lass. I think tha's a diff'rent matter entirely," Zathra's eyes fell. He sat quietly, as if contemplating how to answer. "I don't think 'e even understood why 'e wanted ya dead. But... I have my suspicions. Wish I could tell ya exactly what were going through 'is mind, but that stubborn bastard blocked me out. Completely. 'E's only been able to do that one other time..."

"H-he called me worthless..." Alaesia offered while she choked down a bite of her ration, trying to hold back the flood of her nerves by keeping her mind occupied.

"Pft, no slave is entirely worthless. Even a scrawny corpse o' a slave can feed a small crew fer a few days... Er..." Zathra paused at seeing her shrink with discomfort at his rebuttal, "Sorry... What I mean is alotta what Bar was spoutin' didn't make any sense, not to us slavers. We make a point of finding value wherever we can. That's 'ow Bar got his name in the first place. Always had a keen eye, 'specially fer slaves, even before we became slavers. Calling ya worthless? That was an excuse ta justify 'imself."

"H-he hardly needed one... W-why would he believe m-me when I p-practically killed Ar-Tashk..." Alaesia muttered bitterly.

Her hand ached and throbbed, so much so she could barely stand it, and yet she was the lucky one who had Zathra's magic to mitigate the effects. Ar-Tashk had suffered the majority of the burning Mokob-hai sap entirely without any such relief. Zathra hadn't been able to gauge if the olog was would survive the night, the magic-wielding orc being far too depleted, after healing so many wounds, to be of much help right away. If Ar-Tashk was going to live, something Alaesia was severely conflicted over, it was entirely up to his own strength for now. She didn't want to imagine the damage done to him that morning light would reveal, nor did she dare speculate on how he might react if he did return to consciousness.

"That wasn't yer fault," Zathra corrected her sternly, but it was impossible to miss how she tensed at his tone. "I promise, I'll make sure yer olog understands that. I owe ya that much after leadin' 'im right to ya..." He reached out his hand to put on her shoulder, only to have her flinch away from his touch.

"W-why do y-you keep doing th-that!" Her voice cracked. A flood of anxiety building in her gut was finally threatening to overflow. She knew she should suppress it, but she couldn't bring herself to, "Why won't y-you just act l-like an orc! Wh-why are you so g-gentle?!"

"Alaesia...," Zathra seemed, to her at least, put off by her sudden outburst, as if an orc could be offended by human prejudice; as much as she wracked her mind she couldn't figure out why it mattered to her at all, how Zathra felt. However, if he was hurt by her words, his voice didn't betray it. He was calm and collected as ever, "I'm alive thanks ta you. Barbaurak's alive thanks to you. Yer olog is alive. Thanks. Ta. You. I could even say tha' I'm startin' ta understand what yer olog means by his lil pet name fer ya. It's juss too bad ya can't see it yerself. Is it really so 'ard ta believe that ya deserve some goodwill in return?"

"I..." Alaesia couldn't quite find the right way to respond. None of that felt like she had acted out of goodwill; not in the slightest. All ends culminating in Zathra's, Barbaurak's, and Ar-Tashk's survival were purely built off her cowardice in the face of pain and her inability to simply accept death, even after all her attempts to convince herself that she was ready... Weren't they? Doubt crept over her even as she rejected the notion of goodwill towards creatures of Mordor. She didn't deserve any of Zathra's purported tit-for-tat, nor did she want it; not if he was expecting any kind of reward, and the implication that Ar-Tashk's cruel title was anything more than a reminder of her torture stung deep in her chest. "I DON'T..."

"Oh, no?" Zathra tilted his head at her. His half-burned face was all the more intimidating by the light of the fire. His eyes were sharp as they pierced through her defensive facade, like he was staring right through her soul, "Ya put everyone else before yer own well-bein', even yer enemies who don't deserve such softness. A pair of orcs that was gonna sell ya to the pits, after everything we done, after we nearly got ya killed. Yet ya still saved Bar from bleedin' out. Yer olog master wouldn't 'ave hesitated killin' us if ya hadn't asked him not ta. AND ya were gonna beg him fer our freedom. Bar was right about one thing, the pits would eat a tark like you alive. Skator gash, lass. Ya even tried to stop that toad-faced scum, knowin' full well ya hardly stood a chance against 'im I might add, just to save that giant's arse. I don't think ya realize just 'ow soft ya really are. Was I just supposed ta turn a blind eye after all that?"

"Y-yes! No... I d-don't know! I w-wasn't trying to be n-nice! I'm only d-doing what I h-have to, to survive!" Alaesia's voice was shaking as she spat the orc's own words back at him. Even as she spoke, Zathra could hear the conflicting thoughts vying in her head; each one was fighting to be at the forefront as she stammered, "Every d-day is a nightmare I can't w-wake up from! It hurts s-so much I just w-want it to be over, but I-I'm too sc-scared to let go! Everywhere I l-look, there's monsters that w-want to kill me, e-eat me, r-r..."

Her voice caught. She couldn't think about it, if she were to maintain any sense of sanity. She tried suppressing the vivid images and ghosts that threatened to overtake her. Her eyes locked onto her burned palm, seeing every moment of her suffering encapsulated in the hideous scarred flesh that might have once looked like a human hand; at the same time, she couldn't block the memory of Tuka gurgling up blood, nor Frogblood's molten face, nor Ar-Tashk's anguished howl. A branch in the fire cracked loudly, startling Alaesia back to the present, "B-but I have b-blood on my hands too... They've m-made me into a monster. And monsters have no g-goodwill..."

"Yer not a monster-"

Zathra was beginning to unravel just what Alaesia was getting at, but she wasn't done, "There's a-always a price to pay. D-don't try to hide b-behind your n-nice little mask and p-pretend I don't owe y-you for stopping B-Barbaurak. Like you w-won't take what you w-want when it suits you. So what w-will it be this t-time? My blood? My body? A l-lifetime as your s-slave? Y-you want to use m-me to breed an army? J-just spit it out. What d-do y-you want from m-me?!"

Tension permeated the air between the human and the orc. Somewhere off in the distance an owl screeched victory as it caught the prey it had been hunting but within be clearing silence fell on both of them. Zathra stared at her while she shrank into her arms waiting for him to lash out. Her heart was pounding, her body aching, and every alarm in her mind sounding off after he had attempted to touch her; he may be a strange, elf-like orc, but he was an orc nonetheless. Part of her doubted he would allow her to get away with such brazen behavior while at the same time knowing he would. He was a complete contradiction to everything she had come to know of orcs and it was infuriating, terrifying, and unpredictable.

"I don't want anythin' from ya, lass..." Zathra finally spoke, a sorrowed pity crossing his face; she hated that even more. Why couldn't he just look at her with disgust like other orcs? Mutual hatred was far easier to grasp than whatever this was. "Ya don't owe me anythin' an' I'm not gonna make any demands of ya either. If there were any way I could prove it to ya, I would. I'd try ta earn yer trust an' yer fergiv'ness."

Alaesia was quiet, absorbing his words. What an orc could possibly want with trust and forgiveness from a human was beyond her.

As Zathra continued, it was blatantly evident he was unintentionally addressing her internal questions, "I'll admit, I never paid attention ta what happened ta the slaves I've helped capture. Probably avoided it really. I knew they 'ad it rough, but I never thought it was any business of mine cuz what happened after they were sold was outta my hands. Yer the first I've dealt with who was already a slave before we found ya, the first that made me have ta look in the mirror. I understand why yer afraid of me, the things ya've shown me, the things ya've gone through... I hate ta think I played a part in putting anyone through that kind of suffering. I am the monster ya think I am, but I don't want ta be. I want ta prove I'm more than that."

"M-my f-forgiveness can't change that... I can't m-make someone not a monster..." Alaesia whispered.

Zathra's tone turned stern once more; he could tell she wasn't referring to him, "What ya've suffered doesn't make ya a monster, Alaesia."

"Please Z-Zathra, dont..." she pleaded timidly, "M-my mind is the only p-part of me that is st-still mine..."

"Sorry lass, wasn't meanin' to pry," Zathra shifted a bit further away, just catching the hint of relief from Alaesia as he did so, before he focused on closing the connection he had to her thoughts. "But I really do mean what I'm sayin'. Will you let me try to prove it to ya?"

"But... how?" she finally looked up, meeting his eyes.

"Well, ya asked me ta save yer olog... If that will do anythin' ta alleviate yer sense of guilt, then I'll start with that," Even without reading her mind, Zathra could see the expression of anxious conflict of that possibility twisting her face. "Then, maybe I can convince 'im ta set ya free."

***** Translations *****

Mokob-hai - Orcsbane

Skator gash - Hellfire!

Tark - Human

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

I'm still taking a rolling break, so chapters are still going to be spaced further apart (as far as posting here), but rough drafts are uploaded to my discord as soon as they are finished.

Now Available! Read up to Chapter 67 on my discord!