7
Silence sat awkwardly between the orcs; Barbaurak absorbed in deep thought, while Zathra focused on navigating his mount.
Neither was quite equipped to bridge the gap that had driven them to odds in the face of their tentatively brokered alliance; the details of which were better tossed out like poisoned grog; no need to pick at those old wounds again. Without outright manipulating Barbaurak's emotional state and immediately ruining any chance at gaining his trust again, Zathra figured it best to let his actions prove his sincerity. Until then, he could feel Barbaurak's gaze of judgement and suspicion burning holes in the back of his head.
It was on both orcs' minds, how strange it was to ally themselves once more, but, to Zathra's surprise, Barbaurak was the first to break the quiet.
"So this beast answers ta you, does it?" His tone was clipped and oozing with discomfort; riding the warg was just as bad as the process of getting his sea legs, or perhaps even worse. At least on Razmat's ship, he had been able to look out over the sea to gather his bearings. The choking mists around him now made grounding impossible; now he felt crowded, the fog pressuring from all directions and his stomach churned from it. And at least on the ship, he hadn't needed to deal with jarring pain shooting between his legs at the drop of each step the warg took. That, most of all, would likely be the first thing to make him vomit if it went on much longer.
"Aye, I've got—" Zathra started, but was interrupted by a corrective grunt from the warg, "Er, we 'ave an understanding."
"He took yer arm, so ye, what, enslaved 'is mind?" Barbaurak gave an unamused snort, receiving a growl from the warg in return.
"No. Well... It's complicated," the thinner orc interjected.
"We've got a ways ta ride yet."
"I s'pose we do," Zathra sighed and nodded. If anything, it would serve as a good distraction, and so he proceeded to share with Barbaurak the details of what had transpired.
In the long months that had passed since they'd last worked side by side, while Barbaurak had gone his separate way back then, Zathra had become rather accustomed to running solo. With no tribe to take him in, nor rogue orc bands that shared his newfound moral dilemmas, he had to brave Mordor's worst on his own.
However, Zathra had found he was never truly alone anymore. There was the warg; intelligent beyond just some mere animal as the orc had first presumed.
The sway of Grothraum's movement, carrying both orcs across the misted moors between them and their destination, was something Zathra had adapted to quickly, the longer he had his influence tangled over the beast like a net; taking to riding with almost natural familiarity. But that was not to say it was without its challenges. From the start, the orc's and warg's wills had clashed at almost every turn, leap, or pounce. Sparks of magic wielded like spurs forced Grothraum's compliance; that was until Zathra had pushed him too hard.
It had been a day, just such as this, when a pair of caragors had stalked them, hidden by thick fog. When the feral beasts had attacked, Zathra had tried directing his mount, demanding Grothraum to bend to his tactics, only to find he could not focus on the warg's fight and his own at the same time. Between the razor-sharp claws and huge saber fangs of the caragors working in synchronous tandem, Zathra had to just let command over his warg go and mind his own hide first.
Theirs was a vicious battle, and as ambush predators, the caragors had the advantage; the churning fog allowed them to slip in and out of the fray, only to strike again from a new opening. Zathra and Grothraum had fought like mad, just hoping to survive. Finally, when the dust had settled around the pair of bloodied, caragor carcasses, both could breathe a sigh of relief, for neither orc nor warg had fallen. But then, Zathra had been faced with the fact that Grothraum was no longer under his control.
He expected the warg to turn on him and finish him off in his moment of exhaustion or maybe even bite off his other arm for the cruel irony. At the time, Zathra had conceded that he probably deserved that fate.
However, rather than attacking, the warg met his gaze, daring the orc with a challenging glint in his eyes.
He could have gone for Zathra's jugular, perhaps beating him to the punch before the orc could attempt a last desperate summon to drive him back with a lash of magic. Too weary at the time, Zathra could do nothing but bow, accepting the warg's judgement. But Grothraum had paused to consider; assessing the orc carefully and even reaching out and willingly allowing Zathra to lock minds with him again.
Though they did not speak each other's languages, Grothraum's intent was clear.
The gray warg made it known, through wordless impression, that he could have abandoned Zathra to the caragors that had attacked them, but instead, he stayed, leveling the fight. Just as Zathra was an orc without a tribe, so too was Grothraum a warg without a pack. The orc was not innocent in the role he played taking that from the warg, in taking Grothraum, from his home. That loss weighed heavy upon the beast, isolated and alone, a reminder of how his kind had long since been driven from Nurn and Mordor by the greed of orcs and other invading predators just like the caragors that had attacked them.
In the warg's mind, Zathra owed him a great debt, to fulfill the role of the pack that had been lost to him. Thus they had come to a crossroads, and it was finally settled when Grothraum had knelt to let the bloodied orc climb upon his back, becoming bound, this time as equals rather than master and beast.
Such an alliance was not unheard of, but instead a revival of something deep and ancient; after all, wargs had even once been favored allies to orcish armies, supposedly having descended from the wolfish creatures of the Eye's own master, Morgoth's were-beasts. If any of such rumors were true, Grothraum was one of few remaining of that dying breed, a bloodline thinned at the end of past glory.
After that, the thread of magic between them was no longer a battleground of each vying for control, but instead a mutual bond. It quickly grew to an exchange of thought and instinct barely distinguishable as separate entities. Where Zathra pointed, Grothraum followed. In turn, the orc gave the warg free rein to do as he would.
As Zathra finished his tale, Barbaurak grumbled, unable to hide the concern in his voice, "Ye mean ta tell me this dog could turn on us at any moment and there ain't nothing stoppin' 'im?"
"Aye, so maybe learn ta treat 'im with a lil more respect," Zathra, acting as a conduit for interpretation between orc and beast, felt Grothraum's amusement at Barbaurak's realization; the warg was all too glad to put a little fear into the orc, especially when he too was responsible for the death of his pack members. "Groth's not juss some dumb animal."
"Shrakh..." Barbaurak muttered, falling once more to discomforted silence. [1]
Despite what he had shared with Barbaurak, Zathra did not elaborate on the other company he kept; the second presence lingering in the foggy boundaries of his consciousness ever since the incident at the forest, feeling it might perturb the distrustful orc even more. For, apart from Grothraum's companionship to weather his lonesome travels, a sorrowful song echoed enchanting lyrics without an instrument to accompany them, in the back of Zathra's mind.
It mostly sang in the elvish tongue which Zathra did not fully understand, and yet, in rare instances, the meaning of individual words came to him unbidden, translated as clear as day, as if he were reading the Voice's mind. On occasion, the soft crooning made some semblance of sense, but most of the time, it murmured only nonsensical things in a melody of darkness and cold. The only time it did not utter such things, was when he sought skies clear of Orodruin's smog, through which he could see the stars at night.
Zathra had no name for this voice, gentle and feminine, for it was not the same Voice of the Dark Lord which he oft heard in other orcs' minds; he simply thought of it, of her, as an elvish wraith, and himself unwillingly possessed.
Her song waxed and waned of its own accord, much like the tide; particularly rising, the orc noticed, whenever he summoned magic to his fingertips, touched the pendant tucked between the layers of his breastplate and underlayers, or came face to face with a slave suffering at the hands of his own kind. That last poignant thought brought the heaviest sorrow upon him, sorrow he could not block out or ignore; for them, the Wraith wept. But most strangely, she also wept when he had found Barbaurak.
Upon Zathra's attempt to reach into Barbaurak's thoughts as they rode onward for some time, the Wraith now cried in quiet murmurs, Baurakurz... Baurakurz... [2]
Baurakurz...? Zathra blinked in confusion. He didn't know what to think, for rather than elvish, he almost didn't recognize the Blackspeech coming from the Wraith for how unexpected it was, even at first thinking she was referring to his companion by a misinterpretation of his name, but eventually deciding that didn't make sense. He was only left to question, What do ye mean 'trapped'?
The elvish song continued, wailing a strange discordant melody and ignoring his query; as usual, she left him with more questions than answers. Utterly frustrating.
He probably should have expected that by now. Sometimes it felt like she could speak right to him, other times, he wasn't sure if the Wraith was aware of his existence in the slightest.
At the same time, Zathra's subtle prying into the depths of Barbaurak's psyche was rebuked, like wooden arrows plinking off a stone wall. After what felt like an eternity of attempts, cursing under his breath, Zathra decided it was his turn to break the silence, "So, tell me, what made ya change yer mind?"
"'Bout what?" Barbaurak snapped; the pain of riding the warg was growing steadily worse, shortening his temper.
"'Bout Selga... I know things were 'ard afterward, but I thought ye were in agreement with the Captain," Zathra prompted. "Ye threw yerself inta slavin' like it was the only thing tha' mattered—"
"PUL NAR!" Barbaurak's retort was so sharp, it rang off through the mists, causing both orcs to hesitate, taking in their surroundings. This was not the place to be attracting any unwanted attention. The closer to Thaurband they got, the more dangerous it was for two rogue orcs with no rights for passage. Barbaurak dropped his voice to a murmur, "I mean... Yeah, slavin' was... I had a job ta do. Had ta prove I weren't..." [3]
A slave lover... Zathra finished the thought silently in his mind, to which he was suddenly struck by a wordless wave of bitter emotion from his headmate, the Wraith.
Baurakurz... She echoed.
Zathra tried to ignore her, knowing she wouldn't answer him even if he were to question her words, instead focusing on Barbaurak, "Aye, I get that."
A low growl grew louder behind Zathra, as if something had dawned on his companion, "Rotten snake... I can feel ya scratchin' around, lookin' fer a weakness. I told ye ta stay outta my head!"
"I'm not..." Immediately Zathra withdrew his mind, fearing what damage to Barbaurak's trust it might have done. He turned back, trying to meet the other orc's glare with sincerity of his own, "Bar, I'm juss tryin' ta understand to know 'ow best ta help. Last I knew, I thought ye'd washed yer claws of Selga. Now yer going back ta find 'er. I was hoping ye might want ta share any information ye 'ave. I still don't know all o' what happened back then, or what ta expect headin' inta this. I'm in the dark, 'bout damn near everything!"
Luckily for Zathra, Barbaurak seemed more distracted than offended. He closed his eyes in a grimace and sneered, "'I made a mistake...' Is THA' what ya want me ta say, Snake-Tongue? Ye want me ta whinge an' moan an' admit I was wrong, like that'll change anythin'?"
"No, I ain't accusing you of doing anything wrong. What's done is done. We can't change what happen'd back then. I am tryin' ta plan forward now," Zathra could tell his assurance did little to assuage Barbaurak's unease. "I juss... Answer me this one question. That's all I ask fer now. I need ta know, once we get Selga out, tha' yer not plannin' on harmin' her."
"An' what if I DID?" Barbaurak snarled. "Choose yer words carefully, Snake-Tongue."
"I... I don't want ta believe ye would... But—" Zathra forced himself to swallow a knot forming in his throat. He bitterly wished he knew what was going through Barbaurak's head; to know how to navigate through his turbulent state of mind, but the only answer he could give was the truth, knowing it would destroy any chance at trust between them, "—if ya did... If ye 'urt her in ANY way, I'd cut you down."
He expected an attack. No orc would take a threat like that without retaliation, especially not the likes of Barbaurak. But no assault came. Just a quiet muttered word.
"Good."
Before Zathra could respond, Grothraum stopped suddenly. His head jolted upright and ears pricked forward. He grunted, a beastly sound with no discernable linguistic form, but clearly meant to warn his riders. There was something in the fog ahead.
What had captured the warg's attention, neither orc knew. Both tensed, moving hands to their weapons, as a thudding sound reached their ears. A squelch sounded to their flank, then a whip cracked in the distance not too far off, muffled but sharp, followed by a howl of pain. Grothraum whirled, nearly tossing his riders to face the sound, but Zathra silently raked his claws into the beast's bristling mane to calm him.
The tension was palpable, as he began to notice silhouettes of figures in the fog, and now Zathra realized, a distinct smell had crept over them as they journeyed. So subtle at first, his nose had adjusted to it unconsciously; but now, on high alert, it was obvious.
His voice dropped to a low murmur, "We're 'ere..."
***** Translations *****
Shrakh - Shit
Baurakurz - Trapped (Baurak + urz)
PUL NAR! - FUCK NO!
***** Author's Note: *****
Don't want to wait for more? Read chapters as soon as I finished writing them on my discord! Link in my bio! If you are enjoying WTAWTAW, please consider leaving a comment! It really makes my day to hear what my readers think!
It's come to my attention that recently the method I used to host my images for this series has depreciated since Discord changed their links to files/images hosted there to expire after 1 day. So I'm working on setting up a DeviantArt Account (same username as here) to host the art and I'll be working on updating the image links so they aren't broken anymore. Thank you all for your patience on that!