Home Artists Posts Import Register

Content

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine / Chapter Ten / Chapter Eleven / Chapter Twelve / Chapter Thirteen / Chapter Fourteen 

Chapter Fifteen – Past, Present, and Future

Toru enjoyed the feeling of lying in the grass, with Duril by his side. It was easy to forget about the scorching desert as they lay there, under the tall trees with branches swinging gently in the breeze. He had no idea how Demophios managed to do all that, but he wasn’t keen on finding out since the snake had a tendency to speak in weird turns of phrases just like the old witch Agatha.

However, someone was more curious than him.

“How can Demophios conjure places as wonderful as this?” Duril asked. “Would you mind if I asked him, Toru?”

He let out an exaggerated sigh but then he smiled and reached for the silver pendant. Secretly, he was proud that he could present such an interesting find and ally to Duril, who was a scholar in his own right and always liked reading books and discovering new things. Toru didn’t know how to read and didn’t care to learn. His fangs and claws were enough as weapons. Maybe his mind wasn’t the sharpest, but he didn’t mind that, either, although he had felt a bit out of place when Varg and Duril had learned about his not knowing the letters. And he had beaten Demophios fair and square, hadn’t he? And he had used his own mind for that.

“Here. He’ll make your head this big with his strange words,” Toru said, making a large circle in the air after he placed the pendant inside Duril’s open palm.

The healer smiled and looked at the pendant with consideration. “Demophios,” he called gently, “are you awake?”

Toru smirked. So Duril had to ask the same questions, just like him, and he’d probably be just as annoyed by the snake’s haughty tone.

“I am always awake, master healer,” Demophios said with deference.

Wait a minute. That wasn’t how the snake talked to him, Toru thought and pouted. “Why am I not a master tiger, too? You call Varg and Claw masters…”

“Because you are yet to become a master tiger,” Demophios replied promptly. “They have reached their mastery.”

“I doubt I deserve that title,” Duril intervened. “I am but a mere healer.”

“A mere healer who healed the horde of Zukh Kalegh,” Demophios pointed out.

“Just their Grand Chief,” Duril insisted.

“Yes. You are correct. Sometimes, the past, present, and future all come to me together,” Demophios said.

Toru perked up his ears. “Will Duril save the entire horde? But they want to kill us and turn us into stew.”

“Orcs don’t eat shapeshifters. Not usually anyway,” Demophios said, obviously ignoring his question. “Bad blood runs free and is forgotten, but good blood flows forever.”

“I told you he speaks all weirdly just like Agatha,” Toru told Duril. “See if you can find anything out from him. I’ll eat my tail if you can make him string one sentence together that makes any sense.”

“I won’t question the wisdom of Demophios’ words,” Duril said politely. “And I will struggle just as you do to find the sense in them. It is, after all, our solemn duty to discover it.”

“A tongue as sweet as your mind is sharp.” Demophios seemed to lack no compliments when it came to other people except him. “Young tiger,” the snake talked to him, “you will find that the road, as perilous as it is, will bring you a lot of joy and satisfaction. And among your friends, you have the most room to grow, and that will be part of your adventure.”

Toru said nothing right away. Was Demophios trying to make fun of him, somehow, with those words? But no, he sounded genuine. “And I’ll be a master tiger then?”

“A long way from here, and stretching into the future, yes,” Demophios confirmed. “And Duril will also learn of new and wonderful ways to heal wounds and make souls whole.”

“Toru has yet to tell me the astonishing tale of how he met you,” Duril intervened.

“Ah, you see, he killed me so that I could live forever,” the snake replied.

That earned Toru another look of complete admiration from Duril. He puffed out his chest and smiled, beginning to purr.

***

The slight shift between them would be difficult to notice for anyone but themselves.

“Puppy, you have two wonderful friends,” Claw said.

“And who’s to say that I don’t need a third?” Varg asked, now more daring since he had seen the sharp glint of desire in the bearshifter’s eyes.

Claw laughed and looked away for a moment. “I’ve seen that kitty. He’s nothing if not possessive. Seeing how he cares not for material belongings, I’d say that the people he loves are all the more important to him.”

“So,” Varg teased, “are you afraid of the kitty’s claws?” He knew what Claw was pointing at and couldn’t say otherwise. If anything ever happened, it would only be with the complete accord of all three of them.

“Afraid? Maybe a little,” Claw joked. “He is quite fierce, our hero. I have a confession to make, puppy. As we fought against the horde, with no hope of prevailing, I realized one thing.”

“What thing?” Varg asked.

“That I was starting to hope, to believe, that we could win.”

“You cannot tell me that it’s the first time you were thinking of such a thing. After all, you traveled the labyrinth under the house of merchants for hundreds of years. If that’s not resilience, I don’t know what it is.”

“You’re showering me in compliments today. Truly, you don’t mind presenting me with a temptation of the sweetest kind.”

“By simply telling things as they are?” Varg didn’t mind the to and fro at all. He might have felt challenged before by the bearshifter’s superior strength and wisdom, but not anymore.

“By looking at me with those eyes. I can tell you’re up to no good.”

They both laughed, and Varg punched Claw playfully in the shoulder. “Here we are, laughing and joking like there won’t be an entire horde on our tails by tomorrow night.” It was so strange to think of that as a reality when they sat there, enjoying the sweet air of the oasis and tasting its fruits. It could all be a mirage, but one that filled their bellies and slaked their thirst. That was the sort of miracle Varg didn’t mind on taking any day.

“We deserve it, I’d say,” Claw commented. “And, in all honesty, I believe that the Grand Chief might have acted like that out of jealousy.”

“You might want to keep that to yourself when Toru’s around. He could easily start thinking that the Grand Chief would like Duril as a lover.”

“Now that would be a true challenge for our kitty,” Claw agreed. “No, you know what I mean. The Grand Chief found an ally in Duril, he’s one of a kind. Why else would he have taken him to the arena to protect his title? He could have picked that scary looking orc, armed to the teeth. Why didn’t he?”

“We’ve yet to be told all the details of that incredible battle,” Varg said. “I wasn’t expecting Duril to turn into a warrior overnight, but it looks like the Great Barren is nothing short of a place created for spawning miracles of all sorts.”

“An orc, a healer, and a warrior. All in one.” Claw fell into a meditative state for a few moments. “But you are right about the Great Barren. As a cub, I only heard the tales of those having traveled across the desert. And believe it or not, I wanted to be one of those travelers.”

“An adventurous bear,” Varg said with a smile. “Not one only for the sweet waters and delicious fish of The Quiet Woods, were you?”

Claw sighed. “Indeed. And now I yearn for them, for the place I used to call home.”

“Things must have changed even there,” Varg said. “The world is a new place every day, let alone every century or more.”

Claw nodded. And then, he grabbed Varg by the shoulders and pulled him close. “I’ll treat you to the best my forest home can give once we reach there.”

That was a not so well-veiled reminder that they would have to part ways eventually. Maybe Claw was smarter than him in that respect. Why let their mutual attraction take its course when their time together would be cut short eventually?

For the moment, they would be friends, the best kind, and they would travel this desert side by side, an entire orc horde on their tails or not.

***

Duril was simply astonished by the tale of how Toru had defeated the powerful snake. Since the tiger seemed taken with playing tag with some butterflies around when he didn’t sit, once in a while, to kiss him on the cheek, and then stand again, Demophios was the only one to offer to recount those astonishing happenings.

“I would have written this story down, too, in that big tome Elidias gave me,” Duril said mournfully. “But I guess I will have to find another. Are there other cities with libraries where I could get one? I mean, somewhere relatively close to here.”

“Do not worry,” Demophios replied. “Your tome will find its way back to you.”

“But how? I don’t expect Yarag to keep it. As soon as they find my belongings, they will surely finish what Sog started when he threw them all in the fire.”

“You spent little time with your kin,” Demophios said. “Not all orcs are the same, as you must have seen, without a doubt, during your time with them.”

“True,” he admitted. “I admire the Grand Chief. For all his brutality, I believe the future of the horde should stay with him. He is the most powerful of all.”

“And the wisest. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“He didn’t order my execution on the grounds of being a spy, so I’m thankful for it. Also, he must have seen more in me than just a stranger happening by.”

“And Winglog, what did you think of him?” Demophios asked.

Duril had to admit that Demophios’ manner of asking him questions to make him see the truth was stimulating. It made him see things in a different perspective and understand them down to a deeper meaning. “He helped me free Varg when he could have just stayed aside.”

“And do you believe that this newly found brother and friend of yours would raise his blade to kill you?”

“If it’s for the good of the horde, I believe he would,” Duril offered his most honest belief on the matter.

“Indeed. Wise answer. What about Sog?”

Duril blinked and looked away. He didn’t want Toru to see him crying over Sog. After all, no one but him in all their group had spent enough time with the orc to see his good parts. For Toru, he was just a vicious creature who liked to bite people’s legs and taste them for making stew. “He used to make one hell of a stew,” he said quietly.

“A good cook. That’s great praise for a bunch used to eating dirt for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” Demophios pointed out.

“And an excellent blacksmith,” Duril remembered. “It was so easy for him to whisper magic into the blade he gave me.”

“Not magic, but exceptional skill,” Demophios pointed out.

Duril nodded. “I’ll miss him. I wish we didn’t leave him behind. I wish I had a choice.”

“Save your tears, Duril,” Demophios said in a gentle voice. “As much as he saw a friend in you, and you in him, Sog is still an orc. Not one to understand tears,” he added enigmatically.

***

Toru paid little attention to the conversation between Duril and Demophios since, as expected, the snake was talking in tongues, and Duril was doing his best to understand what the snake was saying. After running around for a bit to let out some of the happy energy in his body, curious about the healer’s blade, he took it from the grass and looked at it. He had never been one to get schooled in the art of wielding a sword, but as he had gone against the horde, he had taken hold of more than just one blade.

“I saw you with this,” he said. “You know what to do with it. How come you learned so fast?”

Duril shrugged and blinked in apology. “Everything that happened to me over the course of the last days is a mystery to me.”

“Not so great a mystery,” Demophios intervened. “Your sire, master healer, was a great warrior.”

“So Duril is like a noble among the orcs?” Toru asked.

“The horde works in a different way than societies built by humans,” Demophios explained patiently. “They do not have nobles.”

“But what do they have?” Toru insisted.

“They have their elites of warriors. Duril’s father was one of them.”

“And what happened to him?” Toru asked and then regretted the question. Duril’s father couldn’t even have known that he had had a son that was half-orc, half-human. And Duril must have known as much.

“That would be hard to say. Even an immortal wise snake can only see so much,” Demophios replied.

“I don’t mind not having known him at all,” Duril intervened. “I knew what my mother used to do for a living. When I grew up enough to understand, of course. But maybe I don’t mind the legacy he left me if his blood is what makes me yield a blade with so much ease. I would only use it to defend myself and my friends, though.”

“Quite noble of you, Not-Orc,” Demophios said in a playful voice. “The Grand Chief must still be scratching that big melon of his trying to understand what kind of orc you are.”

“The kind who’s not an orc,” Toru pointed out. “And don’t call him Not-Orc. His name is Duril.”

“I am sure I will be teased frequently and not only by Demophios,” Duril said. “After all, to my shame, I abandoned all of you so that I could run toward something I am yet to understand.”

The call of blood, Claw called it. Toru knew that he had felt the call of the road before and that he had yielded to it, but a call of kin, that was something he hoped he would never live to experience.

“We are all who we are,” Demophios began as if he could read his thoughts. “Blood never turns into water, nor does it flow like rivers. It is a home, solid like a rock.”

“And he began speaking all strangely again,” Toru said and shook his head. “I’ll never feel the call of blood,” he decided. “I don’t care about tigers who forget about other tigers. Why should I?” He scooted closer to Duril and wrapped his arm around his. “You’ll never leave me for those orcs again, right, Duril? Or anyone else?”

“Now that he has found his true roots, he will never leave your side again,” Demophios confirmed before Duril had a chance to tell him all that he needed to know.

Duril turned his head and kissed him gently. “I won’t,” he said simply.

Toru smiled and pressed his head against the other. “If you ever do that, I’ll just come get you and beat another horde.”

Even Demophios laughed at that. They could consider it a joke all they wanted. It was his determination to do everything in his power and even more than that to ensure that Duril would always be with him.

***

Claw took Toru to the side to show him the best methods of catching an enemy unawares and break his bones, so Varg was thankful for being allowed to talk to Duril by himself. Now that the tiger had had his time to enjoy the healer’s company and get all the assurance he needed that Duril would never leave again, it was his turn.

“So, are you ready to tell me the whole story?” he asked with a smile as he sat next to Duril on the grass. “About how you became the most fearsome warrior of Zukh Kalegh?”

Duril laughed and looked down. “You are such great friends, all of you. I was expecting at least Toru to be furious at me. And maybe you to be disappointed in me, and want to bite my ears,” he added and looked away.

Varg moved near. “I could do that if you’re yearning for it so much,” he said in a teasing voice. Playfully, he caught Duril’s ear between his lips and pretended to bite it. A small shudder running through the other let him know all he wanted. Their time apart had been, indeed, too long, as short as it would have seemed to anyone else.

“Let’s take a small walk around. Demophios created such a beautiful place for us. I’d like to see more of it,” Duril said and stood.

Varg accepted the offered hand and pushed himself up. Duril had his modesty, and while Toru would probably like to join in, there was also the matter of having a fourth with them, and the healer, in his delicate manner of thinking and treating everyone, didn’t want to make Claw feel excluded.

“I’ve never experienced such a feeling before. I mean, I wished with all my heart to follow Toru in his quest, and I left the only place I had ever known on the face of the earth for that, but all that I did with both my heart and mind,” Duril began.

Varg just nodded and made a small sign for the other to continue. It was not the easiest conversation for Duril, but Varg could be an excellent listener.

“I woke up in the middle of the night, and my feet took me out of the oasis, away from you,” Duril said in a deep voice. The emotions in there were still a bit raw. It was easy to forget that everything had happened in a matter of days. And it was natural for Duril to feel the aftermath still, of what he had come to discover about himself. “It was such a powerful call that I couldn’t resist it, not for one moment.”

“And did you discover the horde? On your own?”

“I was probably heading in that direction anyway, but it was actually Winglog and Sog who found me. Or better said, they took me as their prisoner. All the while, I had the same feeling that I was walking in the right direction even though I was tied up and hauled around.”

“Quite strange that they didn’t kill you on the spot. But I suppose that’s your magic,” Varg said with a smile.

“I rather think that fate was on my side. Winglog and Sog were quite intrigued by my appearance, hence the decision of taking me to the Grand Chief. Although I’d say that Winglog is not one to draw his blade quickly. He is smarter than most orcs, I believe.”

“And Sog? Didn’t he want to make stew out of you? He seems to have his mind set on certain culinary delights.”

Duril laughed and discreetly wiped away a small tear from the corner of his eye. “That’s true. But there’s more to him than just his ability to make good stew. The Grand Chief questioned me and decided to give me a chance to stay with the horde. But I did notice right away that he was sick and found out from Sog that some clan leaders had made an attempt on his life by putting poisonous snakes in his tent.”

“A quest fit for a healer,” Varg commented.

“Yes, although I have to admit that I wasn’t expecting at that point for it to be necessary for me to draw a blade to see to its end. Or that my memories would start to fade. I wasn’t even aware, not too much at least, of them sliding through my fingers like sand. It was like all of you and my life before belonged to a different history, one from a long time ago.”

Varg placed a warm hand on Duril’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “We had our fair share of adventures on our way to you if that helps.”

“Demophios told me about the astonishing battle between him and Toru. Our friend is more than just claws and fangs, isn’t he?”

Varg nodded. “And it’s a good reason for him to puff out his chest and brag about it. I don’t hold it against him. Claw and I were practically helpless, trapped as we were by Demophios. And he saved us.”

“And you saved me from forgetting you. It looks like we are meant to be together.” Duril paused briefly, and then continued his story. “I had to fool Sog into helping me concoct a remedy for Yarag, but in the end, much to my relief, the special stew we made together for the Grand Chief achieved its aim. And then, I must admit that one of the most incredible things happened to me. I was practically enlisted to fight a battle for the title of Grand Chief of the horde.”

“What did you think then?”

“Not much. I was turning into something else if you can believe such a thing.”

“I surely can. The call of blood was loud in your ears.”

“Indeed,” Duril agreed. “I found myself in an arena of sorts, surrounded by the clan leaders who wanted to take Yarag’s place. Just imagine that, Varg, me, a healer from Whitekeep, with only one good arm, set against a bunch of powerful orcs with murder on their minds.”

“I am a bit confused about this part,” Varg said. “Did you already have that beautiful blade of yours?”

Duril shook his head. “No. I was given to Sog, to be his servant. And chum of the horde are not allowed too many weapons, let alone a curved blade. Those are reserved only for the elite warriors of the horde. That was when Winglog proved his loyalty toward the Grand Chief once more, and, in a way, his friendship of sorts toward me. I was right there, unarmed but ready for battle, and Winglog threw his blade at me. I caught it, and it felt like it belonged to me in a way that’s difficult to explain. I needed that extension of my arm, a reason for my existence if I could call it so.”

Varg nodded and offered Duril a look of admiration that made the healer blush a little and look away.

“And I fought,” Duril said, his voice vibrating with emotion. “I gave that fight my all, and I’m afraid a part of me was lost there.”

“You gained something in turn,” Varg hurried to assuage Duril’s worries. “You found a part of yourself you didn’t know to be inside you. It’s not a loss, my friend.”

“I want to believe so. But I did my fair share of killing, and I thought that I was part orc only slightly in appearance and nothing else. It was such a surprise to realize – later, not then – that I could be a bloodthirsty orc, too.”

“You fought for the good of your tribe. As much as I want to dislike Yarag for putting us through the ordeal of having to fight the horde and that wepir, I have to admit that he gave us a fighting chance and that says something important about his character.”

“I think so, yes. And he did help us when I asked it of him, although now he hates me, and because of me, you as well.”

“Do not worry so much. We’ll make sure to put as much distance between them and us as possible, and it will be quite the day that a healer, a tiger, a wolf, and a bear, get caught by a bunch of orcs, right?”

“I admire your confidence and am thankful for it,” Duril said. They stopped by the edge of a small pond. Duril took Varg’s hand and they stood by its side and then knelt one in front of the other. “And now I need to ask you to forgive me once more.”

“There’s no need for that,” Varg protested gently and caressed Duril’s ear, running his fingers around its contours.

“Really?” Duril said and snickered like a mischievous child. “Not even if it means that I do this?” He leaned in and placed a small kiss on Varg’s lips.

“Ah, this is a language that I understand quite well. You should have started with it.” Varg didn’t hesitate as he took Duril’s mouth slowly. “Are you sure Toru wasn’t a bit too vigorous when you apologized to him earlier?” He hoped not, but it was his duty to ensure the wellbeing of his friends at all times.

“I am orc by half,” Duril said with a smile. “We have a reputation for being hardy creatures.”

Varg embraced him and pulled him close into his arms. “I would never insult the reputation of a half-orc.”

From there on out, no other words were needed between them. Their bodies fit so well together, and Varg felt his desire and love were finding their vessel like usual with the other and he poured them inside him. The change spoken about was evident not only in Duril’s amazing feats of bravery with the horde of Zukh Kalegh. It was also more than apparent in the steady moves of his body, in the firmness of his grip, and Varg enjoyed this part of his lover even more than before.

Gentle Duril could be a little fierce, too, he thought, as the small tusks grazed his jawline teasingly. Laughing, he pulled Duril on top of him and helped him find his rhythm. They were all whole again, and Toru must have felt the same thing, only earlier.

Duril rested against Varg’s chest, breathing hard at the end of it all. “I promised Toru, so I will promise you the same thing, Varg. I will never again leave your side like I did. I will not forgive myself completely for what I put you through during these few days.”

Varg caressed his head slowly, running his fingers through the mop of brown hair. “Well, if you ever pull another trick like that on us, at least we’ll be prepared. You know, now that we fought an entire horde for you, it feels like other challenges will only pale in comparison.”

Duril chuckled. “Toru told me that he would fight another horde any time. I believe that you two are very much alike.”

“We wouldn’t be in love with the same orc warrior otherwise,” Varg teased him.

“I’m not an orc,” Duril protested but without force. “And I’d rather remain a healer and friend in your eyes.”

“And have us miss out on the glory that is Not-Orc swinging that awesome blade? No, I think not. Now, whenever we have to fight beasts of all kinds, rest assured, we’re counting on your blade and warrior skills.”

“Who knows if I still have them, now that I’m away from the horde?” Duril expressed his doubt.

“Oh, I’m sure you do. I can barely wait.”

“I don’t,” Duril riposted. “Frankly, I like this reprieve offered by Demophios. And spending some time here, with you all.”

“That’s true.” Varg placed a small kiss on the crown of Duril’s head.

He looked through the trees, the green canvas broken here and there by the rays of the powerful sun above. For a few moments, the expanse of azure remained unmarred, but then, a glint appeared and blinked, and then another.

“Duril, are my eyes playing tricks on me or is there something strange happening to the sky?” he asked.

***

Toru was busy trying to topple over Claw, and the bear seemed to be made of nothing but pure granite. Putting all his strength behind it, he clasped his hands together, his arms around the big bear and then managed to lift him off the ground. Then, with another push of all his muscles, he threw Claw over his head, making him roll through the grass laughing.

“I beat you,” Toru shouted victoriously and jumped on Claw’s chest to straddle him and assert his dominance.

“Indeed you did, kitty,” Claw said and just as effortlessly as before, he grabbed Toru by the waist and set him aside.

“Ah, that’s not fair,” Toru complained. “Did you just let me win?”

“No, not by far,” Claw denied. “Do you think anyone could so easily lift me off the ground like you just did?”

“Hmm,” Toru appeared to consider the question. “I’m sure Varg can, too.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” Claw smiled. “You might be stronger than puppy.”

Toru puffed out his chest. “I might be,” he agreed.

Claw tipped his head back and laughed, but then his laughter began to die down.

“What is it?” Toru asked.

“The bad omen is returning,” Claw said in a low voice. He pointed at the sky above, and Toru followed his extended arm.

At first, he saw nothing, but then small slivers of silver light flashed and disappeared. “Are those shooting stars?” he asked. “In broad daylight?”

Claw nodded. “It looks like it. Maybe our time to dally and fool around is up already.”

Toru was about to add something to that, when his ears perked up upon catching something. To the far left where the oasis ended and the desert began, there was movement. He turned into his tiger and, without hesitation, rushed there.

***

Duril and Varg hurried to their friends upon hearing shouts coming from their direction. Within less than a minute, they were with them.

Duril couldn’t believe his eyes. Toru in his tiger shape was pulling furiously at something, something that was held with all his might by no other than someone who he had thought already dead. Sog was baring his only tusk and pulling back.

That was his bag. Duril hurried to the fighting couple. “It’s all right, it’s all right!” he shouted. “You can let him be, Toru!”

TBC

Next chapter 

Comments

DanSouth

Sog! Yay

MM

Yes! Fabulous chapter! ❤️❤️❤️