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

Don't want to wait for more? Now Available! Read up to Chapter 81 on my discord! Link in my bio!

I really appreciate the patience while I've been working through this writer's block. Hopefully it will alleviate soon.

76

Ammatar didn't have a moment to take in what just happened. His brain was sent reeling, vision burst in a cloud of black that threatened to engulf him. There was the distinct, bitter agony that throbbed from his cheekbone all the way to his spine. He could feel the warg slump from his shattered grasp for he couldn't maintain the strength behind it. His jaw... It had to be broken! Quick as lightning, the serpent slung his tail like a bullwhip once more, but that too was caught and immediately subdued! He could feel this new attacker seize the end of his body before he had built up sufficient momentum, and began to pull it apart as if it were naught but twigs! The forest entity screamed a blood-curdling shriek, shedding whatever portions of its form that it could to escape the iron grasp.

Wailing like a gale in a storm, Ammatar retreated, disappearing back into his forest, and the hissing of the leaves fell silent, leaving whatever had brutalized him behind in a blind panic.

Alaesia's heart was pounding and she took wanted to shrink away into the shadows just as Ammatar had. Before her, Ar-Tashk stood in a cloud of dust, sweat, and blood, leering into the forest where the snake had vanished. His shoulders were slumped and heaving, marked by swaths of burned hide and flesh. The back of his arm, the one he had used to crush Ammatar's cheek with, no longer oozed blood, after Zathra's previous mendings, but now was properly scarred over like purple lightning. However, even with the orc's magic, the olog's stature was unstable. He staggered and struggled to catch himself from the exertion, before turning to face the gray warg where it lay on the ground, whining pitifully. There was no mercy in the olog's eyes.

"Ar-Tashk..." Alaesia uttered in a conflicted mixture of gratitude for his intervention and terror for his countenance was darker than she had ever seen before. Her voice was barely louder than a breath as she pushed herself off Zathra, but even that was enough to capture her master's attention. The orc groaned in pain and tried to sit up at the same time that the olog's head snapped around to the pair at the sound of the human's tiny voice. It lured him, like the scent of blood, away from the warg before he could put an end to its miserable life, until he was looming over both human and orc. There was that mountainous presence, so heavy it felt like it might crush them both.

Ar-Tashk's lip curled and nose flared as he got close to his captives. Both reeked of the same scent from the herbs his Isla had used on him; the same scent that stung deep in the flesh of his back; the same scent he now vaguely recognized as a harbinger of the unearthly pain that had brought him to his knees. It made what was left of his mane bristle, unnerved and furious.

"Careful lass...!" Zathra, whose mind was already swimming from having tried to juggle so many currents of magic all at once, could barely eke out a raspy warning. In the chaos of Ammatar's pursuit, the olog had shattered the hold Zathra had over him; he was entirely uninhibited in his wrath.

Alaesia sank into herself, trying to stop herself from quivering as she met Ar-Tashk's piercing eyes, "Please... listen-"

"Isla..." She wasn't able to get another word out before Ar-Tashk's great big hand swept around her and dragged her towards him. Alaesia winced as the tangle of her chains with Zathra's protested the movement, straining both against her own ankles and the orc's. The predicament didn't go unnoticed by the olog, who scowled, reaching to seize Zathra by his throat with his other hand and shoving him harder into the dirt.

"Sh...rahk..." Zathra wheezed. His ribs had been shattered once by this same hulking tyrant once before, and he seemed bent to doing so again.

Whichever thread of his magic had been kept the olog sedated seemed to be lost somewhere amidst the jumble he had tried so desperately to maintain, but if that was a blessing or a curse, he couldn't tell. It had permitted the behemoth to awaken and fight off the demon on their tail, but at what risk? It was just Zathra's luck, to have all his plans and efforts to control and mitigate the situation go up in smoke, like a spider's web caught in a fire. He was at Ar-Tashk's mercy, and perhaps to some degree Alaesia's as well. But he could only watch the scene unfold before him in gasping silence.

"Don't!" Alaesia strained against the olog's grip that held her pressed against his chest, but small as she was, he didn't so much as twitch. "Please! Z-Zathra isn't y-your enemy!"

She could feel Ar-Tashk's deep rumbling, as he growled something in Black Speech, hand still locked onto Zathra's chest before he lifted the orc and shook him like a ragdoll, "Lat istat mor ghashnum, uruk?"

"Ar-Tashk... Please...!" If Zathra was right, if her conclusions about Ar-Tashk's feelings towards her were correct, Alaesia feared if she might be able to quell the tension she could feel building behind his muscles. If not... he had already nearly crushed her in his delirium... Both she and the orc might meet their ends right here and now if she couldn't find that fragment of attachment he held towards her. However, her voice wavered with uncertainty, "He healed y-your wou-"

A sharp snarl from Ar-Tashk interrupted her. He hovered over Alaesia like a bad omen, seething with icy rage, but he couldn't block out her begging. He slammed Zathra back to the ground, just pulling his strength and managing to only just knock the wind from his lungs... Maybe cracking a couple ribs. He ignored Zathra's moaning and grabbed the chains that had become tangled between the orc and his Isla. With one swift move, the olog rent the chain's links apart, causing the metal to screech and rip to pieces in his grasp and separating them.

He wished so badly to do the same thing to the orc's head, to rip it from his shoulders, but stayed his hand as he growled, "Gakh?"

Zathra growled back at the olog with an aching breath, but didn't resist nor return any challenge the way Barbaurak might have. Zathra valued his life far too much to throw it away like that. However, he also didn't dare reassure Alaesia, whose mind was silently begging him for guidance. At least not right now. He was sure that any hint of attention towards her would evoke visceral retribution from their captor, nor could Zathra allow her to distract him. The delicate balance of the orc's survival depended precisely on how he answered, even while his mind raced to find the right thread to tranquilize the beast once more, "Ahk. Az ghashnat mud."

Alaesia watched the duo from the cage of Ar-Tashk's embrace anxiously. She could feel his weight start to sink around her until his mouth came to rest right next to her ear. A menacing demand rattled on his hot breath as he growled past her, "Lat kramp dronzat ur iz."

Zathra achingly shifted upright on his elbow, but kept his eyes averted. The olog's mind was openly daring Zathra to defy him, to give him any reason to slaughter the orc. That same fire of possession over his slave burned like a forge within his head, waiting for the wrong mix of materials to explode and take Zathra out.

For a brief moment, Zathra begrudgingly wished Barbaurak was still around. The stubborn arse was far better at speaking the dark tongue, even if it did get him into more trouble than not. Zathra stumbled briefly over his words, translating slowly, and carefully, It was all the orc could do to calculate each word he dared to speak, all the while doing what he could to read Ar-Tashk's mind to ensure he understood, "I'll do whatever ya want, but we shouldn't stay here. Za gar ghug ukh-krutat-"

Ar-Tashk's eyes narrowed coldly, pinning Zathra with a look torn between reason and mania as he interrupted, "Shagat na, amat Isla-izub lazgat uruk dug? Speak!"

In digging into the olog's thoughts to discover how he might convince the olog of his rationale to flee the forest as soon as possible, to buy himself more time, Zathra quickly realized the most critical detail to sway him was encapsulated in the olog's query. The Reaper could barely stand that his Isla seemed to be siding with orc scum over him! Zathra cursed internally; maybe he would have been better off trying to fight off the giant snake instead of attempting to quell an olog's petty jealousy, "She ain't against ya... Na naim fulak, tuglat u lazgat lat-"

"Na fulak? Amol?!" The olog's eyes darted down to his tiny captive, suddenly very aware of how tight his grip upon her was. He could even hear the suppressed pain in her breath under the wild thrum of her heartbeat as he turned her around in his broad hands to face him, "Isla... Show me."

"Sh-Show you...?" Alaesia stammered and tried to glance back at Zathra, but her master took her face between his fingers to turn it back and forth as if inspecting her. She wanted to sink to her knees, slip from his seeking grasp; the threat of his touch was quickly consuming her sanity, "I don't-"

Let 'im see yer hand, lass, with the olog's attention diverted, Zathra responded to her silent pleas. His voice rasped starkly in her mind, though it did little to buoy the faltering resolve in her chest. She wanted to hiss back at him, to demand to know what their little exchange in their accursed language was all about. Perhaps the orc had been playing her for a fool again, making all sorts of promises for his own personal gain, but such speculations were quickly interrupted by the orc's indignant grumbling, I'm NOT trying ta trick ya, just show 'im yer bleedin' scars! Ur skator ghash-tabz gob... Skai skessa...

Skai lat! Alaesia scowled back; she got the distinct feeling he had insulted her, but her retort fell flat as the orc's presence faded from her mind. With no other option, she started to lift her mangled hand as bidden and Ar-Tashk seized it roughly between two fingers. He pried Alaesia's fingers back, exposing the awful smear of waxish flesh that was once her palm. She grimaced as the skin drew taut at the strain and tried to pull it from his grasp, "Ah- That h-hurts!"

"Amol... What happen?" He growled and tightened his hold upon her wrist; she wasn't allowed to withdraw from him! His breath quickened as his attention turned back towards Zathra, a murderous glint in his eyes, "Ghung ta fulak lat..."

Shrakh... Zathra hadn't expected the olog to immediately pin the blame on him!

Alaesia's legs were starting to buckle under her. How could she possibly explain how she had scarred her hand, without admitting guilt in mutilating Ar-Tashk's back? "I-It... It was my fau-"

"Go look fer yerself! Yer 'snagorsk' set ya on fire and was gonna slit yer throat," Zathra butt in sharply, cutting Alaesia off with a single, severe shake of his head in her direction, Quit playin' scapegoat fer that swamp scum! Juss follow my lead. Ye'll be alright. He jerked his head off to one side, spitting a crass curse towards where he had dumped Frogblood's carcass after looting it. Zathra knew he had only one chance to persuade Ar-Tashk, to appeal to that deep, hidden part of him that was enraptured with the human woman. He had to find the right turn of phrase to bring that to the surface, if at all possible, "Na ghashat kusn hohat ta bo lat."

Ar-Tashk felt the sting of his fresh scars twinge as he slowly rose to his feet, with Alaesia in tow. He strode purposefully towards the green orc's cold corpse where it lay behind a rock. Alaesia twisted to shield her eyes from the sight of his slightly bloating form, for the fear it would make her wretch, but the olog had no such qualms. He kicked the body with one foot, tumbling it over to inspect his maimed assailant. The olog tensed at the awful sight of the tiny handprint of angry blisters smacked across the orc's face, before pulling Alaesia forward to demand in a low rumble, "Is true? You do this, Isla?"

The human woman nodded mutely. She was unable to answer aloud for the knot in her throat. When she killed Tuka, his body was quickly washed away by the river current, sparing her from truly taking in the awful sight of his death. She couldn't avoid such consequences now. Frogblood's dead, boiled, blistered eyes seemed to be staring right into her, threatening accusations for the violent act that had melted his face. Tears threatened to spill over at the sickening sight, and the question grew louder in her, if Ar-Tashk would piece together the part she played in the orc's vicious scheme.

***** Translations *****

Isla - Lifemaker

Shrakh - Shit

Lat istat mor ghashnum, uruk? - You know the Black tongue, orc?

Gakh? - Well?

Ahk. Az ghashnat mud. - Yeah, I speak some.

Lat kramp dronzat ur iz. - You will translate for me.

Za gar ghug ukh-krutat- - That snake might return-

Shagat na, amat Isla-izub lazgat uruk dug? - Ask her, why my Isla protects orc scum?

Na naim fulak, tuglat u lazgat lat- - She got herself hurt, trying to protect you-

Na fulak? Amol?! - She's hurt? How?!

Ur skator ghash-tabz gob... Skai skessa... - For hellfire's sake! Damn troll-woman... (Zathra is calling her "troll-woman" (skessa) as a kind of play on words, not that Alaesia is a female troll, but that she is, in his opinion, a "troll's woman")

Skai lat! - Damn you!

Ghung ta fulak lat... - If he hurt you...

Na ghashat kusn hohat ta bo lat - She got burned to pull him off you