Sasha now burned with a newfound passion and curiosity after the deliciousness of that evening, and she longed for more. She had wondered just when Gorthan would try and go further with her? It was frustrating and cruel this waiting. He had constantly told her to be patient, but she kept pushing his boundaries with her youthful enthusiasm.
Last evening she had looked at him like a hungry puppy when he did not provide, and all he said to her was. “I have seen much war, I have seen the fate of many a human, female captive at an impatient orc’s hands. I would not have that happen to you, my dearest Sasha. You must wait, you must give your body time. Orcs and humans were never made to so easily love one another. The only human women that are somewhat easy for us to take are prostitutes, or those that have borne many children.”
“But what about Garona! She is a half human half orc? So they exist!” Sasha countered his argument, desperately trying to plead her case. She so wanted more of him, all of him, even if that ‘all’ of him was very intimidating.
Gorthan nodded, “they exist, though they are not accepted by either race. Most though like Garona were born to Orc women who had coupled with human men.”
His argument had again blunted her own. Sasha had much to dwell on. With the war on their doorstep, she no longer thought to escape, if in time she was to be ‘rescued’ and returned to her old life it would happen. However she was content here, and as the days passed she found that she didn’t wish to leave, and she had pushed the idea of escape right off the table.
Her guardian had also sensed this in her she could tell. Orcs seemed very perceptive, more so than their human counterparts. These orcs were nothing like she had been taught, the human teachings were quite simply wrong.
She looked across at him, taking in all of his savage dark handsomeness, and she at once tried to compare him with the most handsome human men she could remember or dream up. None of them could compare to this behemoth male beside her. They were weak, prejudiced, and insipid, and she found she no longer desired them or even wished to return to their world.
Perhaps the war would wait? King Wrynn had not yet moved his host east. His forces had by all intelligence accounts just fortified Lakeshire and encamped there. She hoped that was the case.
The summer in Redridge was warm, Gorthan was often up early to tend his beloved worg Gashnaka. He fussed over her as her time neared, Sasha could tell he was excited to welcome into the world Gasnaka’s and Fellstrike’s pups.
After their usual night of delicious oral intimacies, Sasha woke and stretched out languorously beneath the covers. She was dreaming about Gorthan’s enormous and skilled tongue, and then trying to imagine someone like Graham Trias attempting to do the same thing to her, it was an icky and rather laughable thought. She could never be the same woman again.
Sasha woke alone most mornings, it seemed she needed far more sleep than orcs did. At least those on the warpath. She smiled at the sweet memories of the night before, war may be all around her, but at this moment her life was good.
The tent flap opened suddenly admitting her large warrior, she was not startled, as it seemed his fellow orcs respected his privacy and never came into his tent uninvited.
“Come Sasha you must see.”
She could hear the excitement in his voice, so she hurriedly pulled on her clothes and followed him across the sprawling camp. She already had a fair idea where he was headed, and her stomach tightened with excitement. Gashnaka’s pups must have arrived!
He led her into the dark lean-to that was attached to Gashnaka’s pen, she could already hear the small sounds of puppies searching for a teat on their mother’s belly. Gorthan knelt beside his war hound and scratched at her shaggy head, she leaned into his caress, her ice-blue eyes half closed. She was watching though with all the wary protectiveness of a new mother. If anything came for her pups she would become a wall of rending fury.
“How many?” Sasha whispered.
“We are about to find out,” Gorthan said, as he parted the worg’s heavy fur that was obscuring the newborn pups.
She could see his lips subtly move as he silently counted. Then she saw the flash of snow.
“There's a white one!” she exclaimed.
Gorthan carefully stroked the pups, trying to see them clearer. Gashnaka’s sharp-toothed muzzle hovered protectively close to his inspecting hand, however, she let him look, even as she bared her teeth.
“There are seven healthy ones, but it would appear this one is weak and will not live.”
“But he’s trying to eat, see.”
“It is not the way to keep the weak Sasha.”
He was pulling the tiny pup away from its litter mates, Gashnaka made no move to defend it. It was very small, and they discovered it was a female.
“I am glad at least it was not a male, not as much of a loss. The men all want male battle worgs.” Gorthan’s statement was without pity or sorrow, he lived in a hard world.
“No!” Sasha implored, “She is still alive, let me raise her, care for her, and at least if she does not live she will know she was loved.”
“It is not orc way.”
“Please, let me, what can it hurt?”
Gorthan cocked his great head, he was thinking, his gold eyes narrowed.
“Very well.”
The white bundle of tiny life was so small against his hands, as he surrendered it into hers. Sasha cradled the tiny pup into the warmth of her breast beneath her shirt. She felt her snuggle against her and began to search for milk.
“I must get back, I need to try and feed her.”
Gorthan nodded and they headed back to camp.
*****
In the following days, the small pup grew stronger. Sasha did not choose for her a name though, she didn’t wish to jinx the young pup's progress. She would if she lived earn a name. She patiently fed her milk with a perforated cow horn, to begin with, the little worg refused to suckle and Sasha feared she would die, but finally she accepted the new method of feeding and began to grow. She would Sasha thought always be small, but at least she would survive.
One day in between feeding her charge Gorthan called to her, she bedded the pup down securely in her basket and went to him.
“I have something for you,” he said, “come.”
He guided her toward the center of the camp, it was a very busy place. There were many orcs here that made weapons. Some were very crude, little more than stone axes and spiked clubs. Other more substantial weapons were refined and made of steel. The forges on this warm day made her sweat as she wove her way through the press of warriors, hand in hand.
As they meandered their way through the vendor's tents, Gorthan’s forward progress was halted by a very evil-looking Blackrock orc. His head was entirely shaven bald, and he wore a shrunken head as a pendant in an ogre tooth necklace. He was bigger than Gorthan, and covered in numerous battle scars, one of his long tusks was broken. The other had been set with a large gold band about its base.
He said something in Orcish that Sasha sensed was challenging or rude, though the words were still foreign to her she had picked up on Gorthan’s body language completely. Gorthan growled a deep, throaty challenge to the insolent orc. The orc said something else and finally stepped out of his way. His evil red eyes bored into Sasha’s as she passed, and she felt fear. She did not know what to make of the exchange but was glad it had ended nonviolently.
He stopped before a tent, it was that of a weapons vendor. The proprietor was a very scarred, old orc, with wispy white hair, and broken yellow teeth.
“Here it is,” he said as he reached for something behind him. “Just as you asked for, the short seasoned wood was hard to find.”
The old orc handed him a tiny bow, and some well-made iron-tipped shafts, but to Sasha’s reasoning the weapon was the perfect size. Gorthan passed the vendor some gold and turned to her.
“This is for you.” He pressed the bow into her hands, it was finely made and the wood felt so smooth beneath her palms. An item made with care and love.
She snuggled into his broad chest. “Thank you so much Gorthan it’s, well, it’s just beautiful! I don’t know what to say.”
“Then say nothing, let us go and shoot.” He said with enthusiasm.
They practiced together at the edges of the camp, the bow fit Sasha perfectly, it was a far superior weapon to the one she had played with in Elwynn forest before her capture. She found under Gorthan’s patient tutelage, her stance and style improved, but she felt frustrated that she could not shoot anywhere near the distance that he could.
“Do not worry Sasha,” he said. “I use this bow many times to take out the Lakeshire archers. They cannot reach me.”
She could see why, his power was so great, and the span of his bow so large there would be very few that could match the distance of his projectile.
It appeared his gifts were not done, that afternoon he labored over a piece of raw, cured leather, embossing it with as he said his own tribal designs. The almost finished quiver didn’t look like a thing of the Blackrock, and it prompted Sasha to ask. “You are not of the Blackrock are you?”
The big orc was concentrating on the final stitching, he did not answer but shook his shaggy head from side to side.
“Here,” he said “somewhere for your arrows,” handing it to her.
Sasha stared at the beautifully made gift, it depicted a human female with long plaited hair amongst a bevy of adoring worgs.
“Oh Gorthan it’s wonderful, thank you so much! But what do your words say?” She could see the strange runic phrase embossed into the design.
“They say Mother of worgs.”
She hugged the great warrior with all the strength she had. “I love you so much,” she whispered, her ear resting over the comfort of his hugely beating heart.
She kissed him and he responded, she broke off the kiss and climbed into his vast lap. Looking up at him she said. “So where is your tribe if you are not of the Blackrock?”
Gorthan studied her earnest heart-shaped face for a time and brushed her dark hair out of her eyes.
“I am Mag’har, from a faraway place called Nagrand.” He explained. “A mage of great skill once made a portal, the Chieftain of our tribe wished for brave volunteers to go into the lands beyond to report what was there. Five of us were selected, and we were told to return in a full moon cycle, but the return portal to our world never appeared. The Blackrock found us, and we fought, all my brothers died, and I was taken prisoner. After a time they released me, and I became a member of the tribe.”
“That’s why you understand me.” She hugged him again, she desired his closeness and his tenderness.
*****
That evening Sasha decided that she would thank Gorthan for the kindness that he had bestowed on her today with his gifts. She realized that all orcs in the field traveled light, and their possessions were few and precious. They had to be handy and craft many of the items they needed from the environment around them. Bone, stone, and wood, everyday materials made into things of lasting beauty.
They had eaten and she was very full tonight they had dined on a lake thresher, it was a rare creature and a delicacy she was told. It tasted not unlike beef liver. The vicious aquatic creature had been hard to kill, and one of the warriors had been injured gravely today in its acquisition. Food was beginning to present a large problem for the orcs, with their supply lines now cut from the Burning Steppes. The farmers in the valley had all pulled their animals back behind the enemy lines, and there was little else to pillage.
Gorthan was sitting, watching her nurse the growing pup. Sasha at first didn’t notice him, she was engrossed in a feeling, one of warmth, care, and love. It emanated from the little life form in her arms, was this indeed a nascent spirit meld beginning to form? She really hoped it was. He smiled that goofy orc smile of his exposing his pointed teeth. Sasha returned his smile, setting the wriggling bundle of white fur into her basket, she was fast outgrowing it and would open her eyes soon.
She went to him, the day was growing dark. She sat before his cross-legged magnificence. Stroking his shining, straight hair that fell well past his broad shoulders, he regarded her quietly.
“Who was that bald-headed orc?” Sasha had to ask. “He seemed to greatly dislike you?”
“That was Naguk.” Gorthan said his voice full and rich. “He is no consequence, he is a hot-headed warrior, always making trouble.”
That explanation assured Sasha somewhat, and her thoughts went back to the mission at hand. She placed her dainty fingers at the lacing on Gorthan’s leather breeches and slowly began to unlace them.
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The big warrior’s eyes glanced down at his crotch and the pretty deft fingers there as she worked, then back to Sasha’s heart-shaped face framed in pretty brown hair. He sat and let her do as she pleased. She seemed to enjoy this game.
Sasha realized it didn’t take much to get him hard, even the right look could already get him part way there. She took his semi-hardness in both of her hands and bent down to kiss the head of his immense shaft. Her unbound hair trailed like a curtain across his broad, muscular thighs.
She felt his hand on the back of her head, nothing forceful, just a guiding presence, and she put her lips to his maleness. She licked and sucked at its head all the while a desire still unsated growing in her.
“When can we try?” She said breathlessly. “Your fingers are not enough.” Her dark eyes looked up at him pleading.
He relaxed and sighed. “I guess you can try,” he said, “but I will not force it, it’s up to you to guide me and feel comfortable.”
With that said her lips left his hard shaft. She wriggled out of her clothing and again sat astride him, positioning the head of his masculinity at her wet and wanton opening. Slowly she bore down on him. He completely filled her entrance stretching her to her limit. Gorthan let her guide her own pleasure, or as it would turn out pain.
“Ow,” she exclaimed “I can’t! Damn it,” she cursed. “I just can’t! I’m too small!”
He held her while she cried against him in frustration, her tears of passion staining his chest, his large hands stroking her fine hair. He understood her pain, after all, he felt a great desire too that could not be sated. He had been creative, but he understood the young woman wanted more, she had yet to explore the bounds of her awakening sexuality. Gorthan at least already had.
*****
At ten days the unnamed pup’s eyes opened, and they were a bright blue, a fitting accompaniment to her ice-white fur. Sasha was delighted and spent much time telling Gorthan what a fabulous battle companion she would make. In return he told her that all pups at ten days had blue eyes, and most of them became brown over the next week or so of their development, he also told her that this pup would never be a satisfactory size to carry even the smallest rider into battle, at best she would be a companion for an orcish child learning the art of mounted warfare. That though did not deter Sasha’s enthusiasm in the least, as she began to think of a fitting name for the tough little survivor.
Much had happened in that time. Gath’llzogg had ordered that his forces fall back and dig in nearer to Stonewatch keep. The entire camp was moved, trenches were dug, and fortifications strengthened. King Wrynn’s army was at last on the move.
Sasha was conflicted. She should have been hopeful of a rescue and yet she dreaded it, dare she say she hoped the Stormwind army would lose. The Blackrocks numbered fewer, however they held the advantage of the high ground. She knew from what her Father had often told her of war, that this would be a bloody and difficult battle.
The camp’s occupants felt the tension as they awaited the siege that would soon follow. Scouts had reported that the main body of the army had made slow but steady progress up the valley and was currently camped at Alther’s Mill. In a few short days, they would all be assembled at the foot of Stonewatch.
The day was fine and warm, and Gorthan came to collect her as she sat talking the morning away with Taz’jani and Utaki as she often did, helping to prepare the day's rations for the men. He held out his large hand and Sasha took it, she heard Taz’jani giggle like a schoolgirl from somewhere behind her. My she loved that troll!
Gorthan led her away from the bustle of the campsite, finally, Sasha could take the suspense no longer.
“Where are you taking me?” She had to ask.
The large warrior pressed on carefully through some scratchy brush that lay seemingly at the edge of the drop-off behind Stonewatch tower, chivalrously making sure the branches did not scrape her as they passed through and onto a small but well-worn track.
“The battle will be here soon, I want to show you this, and I want you to remember it well. This is a path that leads back to Lakeshire. It is perilous and steep as you will see. There are many gnoll encampments at the base, but if you are careful you can navigate your way to safety and back to your people.”
“Why are you telling me this Gorthan?” She looked up at him, her pale face expectant, her eyes mysterious dark pools shone. “Do you not think you will win?” A cold shiver passed over her at the utterance of the terrible thought. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“This will be a bloody war, no mercy will be shown by either side, most likely a protracted siege. I do not know what will happen, Sasha, the medicine man says the omens are good, and victory will be for the Blackrock clan. But if we fall, I want you to know you have a way to flee, take the other slaves with you, they will keep you safe.”
“Gorthan no…” She put her hand to the sides of his stubbled jaw and stroked his face tenderly.
“Come, do not dwell on it now, I want this to be a happy day, but remember what I have told you.” With that he clasped her hand in his and took her down the trail.
They took the best part of an hour navigating the steep descent. Once Sasha almost fell losing her footing on a loose rock, Gorthan ever watchful and quick of reflex caught her. Sasha, breathless clung to him tightly. She was already dreading the return journey, and she wondered besides a possible escape route what had he brought her all this way to see?
The steep pitch of the path evened out as they approached the foot of the tall cliff, he turned to lift her from the last high boulder at the base of the trail and set her on the ground. He put his finger to his lips in a gesture of silence and he crept forward loosing his bow. Sasha peered before her into the scraggly bushes, but she could discern nothing up ahead, what had he seen? Some welcome game perhaps, his brother orcs could always do with more.
She watched him creep forward, admiring the way he could for such an immense creature be so silent, yet he had said he was not a hunter. My what did it take!
He loosed his waiting arrow, the shaft made contact with something she could not see, a strange stifled cry was uttered, and then a thud, as whatever he had struck fell to the earth. He looked back towards her, a crazy grin on his face, he didn’t look like a frightening monster to her anymore, all she saw was triumph and love.
He ushered her forward, she was not sure what she was supposed to see. Then before her a patch of blood on the sand, and a lifeless gnoll sentry. He was a stocky little fellow, with a powerful chest, his close, dense fur the color of the sands of Redridge, scattered with dark brown spots. His head was hyena-like in appearance, with a mouth full of sharp fangs. Being a humanoid he wore clothing, consisting of a belt and a ragged pair of leather breeches. He had been carrying a simple tomahawk and a battered wooden buckler.
“Had to shoot him,” Gorthan whispered. “He would have alerted the others.”
Sasha nodded, and let him lead the way.
There were no more gnolls, and the dense terrain opened up to reveal a vista of Lake Everstill she had never seen. The place where the lake was born, where a great waterfall crashed into its waters. The shoreline was smooth red sand, already the great orc was setting down his weapons and removing his clothing. He must feel safe here, Sasha figured. At his insistence she did likewise, the day was warm, and the cool water after that long difficult descent was inviting.
They swam and played in the bright water. Sasha had never felt so happy and free. She loved Gorthan for showing her this enchanting place. She swam back to the shallows and he followed, they embraced and shared a passionate kiss.
He was warm against her in the cool, clear water, his beautiful long hair flowed with the current in the water about him as did hers. She tasted his lips and showered his neck and strong pectorals with light kisses of adoration.
“There is something I must tell you,” he said. His voice sounded serious.
The young woman looked up into his earnest golden eyes. His pupils but pinpoints in the strong afternoon light.
“In two days' time we are to attack the King’s forces before they try and take up position around the keep and surround us.”
Sasha was silent, afraid of what he might say, and what was about to come.
“We will harry them, and try to reduce their numbers.”
“But there are so many, it sounds like suicide!” Sasha blurted out. “And you have no worg.”
“Yes, but I have been chosen, and I must, to not do so would be a great dishonor.”
“I understand,” Sasha said sadly. His announcement had put a terrible dampener on their wonderful afternoon.
He pulled her into a possessive embrace, and she could feel his rising hardness against her belly, his unspoken desire. She didn’t say anymore but again led him back into the deeper waters.
She wrapped her legs around his hard waist and lost herself in his mouth with a deep kiss. Probing, tasting, with her tongue, wanting to know everything that he was. He responded and they became lost in their passions eyes closed.
She could feel his hot hardness perched just beneath her hungry center. She wriggled and positioned herself above his member, and slowly let her body down onto his length, as she held him tightly. She could feel the beginnings of his shaft entering her tight wetness, she willed her body to relax, to experience the sensation, to savor it. To not let her newness spoil this, as it had now on many occasions. She tussled with her mind and her fear of the penetrative hurt. She felt his length push further inside and like a dam breaking suddenly there was a swift, sharp pain, an intake of breath, and he was there inside her.
“Oh Gorthan!” She kissed him with passion. She had finally done it, consummated their desire.
They lay on the warm sand to dry in the late afternoon light. Sasha finally felt complete, she wanted to remember this moment forever, to etch it into her mind that she may never forget this glorious, golden day in the sun. It was the bittersweet kind of memory, the one where you know that today is one of the best days of your life, tomorrow looming with the specter of war. ‘War’ is a simple word, but it is connotative so many circumstances. She could only trust that they would be kind.
The young woman had never expected to be treated in this way, she had expected to be caged, beaten, and abused, like the in tales of John.J.Keeshan, and yet this orc had shown her the greatest love. Her heart felt like it would burst. She loved him this big, wild, warrior, and she worried what the coming days would bring.
As the shadows grew long Gorthan stirred. They donned their clothes and began the steep journey back to the keep. As they reached the base of the path, Sasha glanced up and sighed at the difficult climb that she knew she must make. Before she could dwell on it too heavily, he had picked her up and set her on his broad shoulders. She rode in fine style all the way to the top.
They spent the next morning making love, their time together so precious, so fleeting. Sasha willed the hours to linger, and yet they sped by. The white pup began to wander forth from its confines on wobbly legs and investigate its new world. Sasha had decided to call the plucky little survivor Frostfyre, for the color of her remarkable eyes. One of her eyes had remained ice blue, the other had morphed to become a bright gold like a blaze.
None in the camp had ever seen such a trait in a worg before. Different color eyes were not altogether unheard of, but never that particular color combination. Gorthan had told Sasha that soon Frostfyre would have to be returned to the worg pens, it was important that she learned to be a worg, and she was only going to learn that by being with her own kind.
Sasha was not very happy about this and she pleaded with him, asking that Frostfyre live with them in the tent, but Gorthan would not be swayed, a worg is not a house pet he said. In another couple of weeks, she would be living as the rest of the worgs did, even if she was still very small.
Because of his edict, Sasha wishing to make the transition easier on the small pup decided to periodically take her down to visit the worg pens, so that she may play with her siblings, and that’s when it happened.
They were walking later that day through the center of the camp, Sasha with Frostfyre cradled in her arms, and Gorthan by her side, when Naguk once again barred Gorthan’s way. The two orcs initially did no more than look at one another. Then Naguk growled something unintelligible, Gorthan stiffened at whatever was said.
Sasha clutched the squirming Frostfyre to her in fear, she could sense the dangerous tension in the two orc’s stance, and they began a very heated altercation. Naguk kept looking at her, his red-eyed gaze burned. Whatever was going on between them was causing a crowd to gather, and to Sasha’s eyes, it looked serious. She knew she was somehow at the center of the argument.
Gorthan looked more angry than she had ever seen him, he was growling at Naguk, a deep primal sound of a powerful predator, the veins were standing out in his bull neck, and they began to push one another roughly. Naguk did not relent, nor did he stand down this time. When suddenly Gorthan looking incensed shouted for all to hear, “Mak’gora!”
The moment he uttered that cry the orcs went wild. Sasha was very much afraid, she had no idea what was going on and was glad as Taz’jani pulled her from the excitable crowd that was now collecting about the two orcs, forming a ring about the two immense warriors, who seemed to be facing off with one another. Gorthan didn’t have a weapon, and Naguk who did threw his war axe to the ground.
“What is happening,” Sasha said plainly scared.
“Gorthan has called a Mak’gora.” Taz’jani informed her.
That information really didn’t help her much. “A fistfight?”
“Yes, to the death.”
“What!... NO!”
Taz’jani held Sasha back from the circle of cheering orcish soldiers. Sasha tried to struggle against her friend’s sure grip and shouted vainly for them to stop. The orcs were making so much noise she was doubtful she was heard over the din, as ever more warriors came to witness the spectacle about to unfold.
She could see gold being exchanged as wagers on the outcome, as Naguk flexed his huge muscled shoulders and cracked his knuckles. Sasha could see the hatred seething from her lover’s every move and gesture toward his rival. His gold eyes burned beneath his wild back mane.
The two orcs charged at one another sparing nothing in reserve, Sasha winced as she could hear their heavy bodies collide. The crowd that had now collected was considerable, all shouting and whooping, and so tall before her that she could only get the occasional glimpse of the action through the solid wall of spectators.
She briefly caught sight of the two combatants locked in a deadly struggle in the sand, and she could hear their growls and grunts as either warrior fought to gain supremacy over the other. Tufts of Gorthan’s fine hair lay on the ground, wrenched free by his opponent's hold. With blood soon to follow.
Sasha didn’t know if she felt compelled to watch, or whether she wished to run and hide. A fight to the death! She clutched Frostfyre tightly and drew what little strength she could from Taz’jani’s presence at her back.
“What happened, why are they fighting?” She finally managed to say through the haze of her shock.
“Naguk has always hated Gorthan, he does not tink that the Blackrock should ever admit other tribes to their clan. They have often fought.”
“Oh,...” was all Sasha could reply with, her mind was running scared. “What will happen if Naguk wins?” She was already thinking about taking Frostfyre and leaving via the trail her love had shown her.
“I hope he does not win. Naguk is a bully. The winning orc inherits all his opponent's prestige, and possessions.”
“Me?” Sasha said weakly, feeling suddenly sick.
“Yes,” Taz’jani answered, enthralled at the contest unfolding before her. Entertainments like this did not happen every day. The war band would still be talking about this in a year’s time, it was rare a Mak’gora was called.
Sasha could sight the occasional flailing fist above the heads in front of her, she knew Taz’jani who was very tall could see everything. To her ears came the concussive sounds of the hard punches and smacks on flesh and bone, coupled with ragged breathing. When the press of the crowd would let her she could sight the two combatants both bloodied, embraced in a struggle of hatred.
Taz’jani’s body stiffened behind her, Sasha instinctively knew that her friend could see something pivotal unfolding in the brutal contest. She could no longer hear the punches, only the occasional ragged breath and low growl. She was too scared to ask who appeared to be winning. Naguk was a very big orc.
A deafening roar went up from the assembled warriors, and she could vaguely see through the press of the crowd the two orcs down on the sand struggling, Gorthan’s great jaws locked about Naguk’s neck, crimson sprayed, and his hands vainly clawing at Gothan’s fierce, golden eyes. She watched Naguk’s defense get weaker and weaker as his life's blood drained away into the sand. Until finally he lay still.
Wagers were immediately being settled, and Sasha could hear the clink of gold coins being exchanged. Gorthan rose, bloody and disheveled, many moved to at once congratulate him on his victory with a pat on the back or a good word. Others looked not so happy as they gazed at their friend who would not fight tomorrow. A warrior stepped forward and presented the victor with Naguk’s fine war axe. Gorthan took the weapon in one bloodied hand and raised it high above his head, he roared. It was a blood-curdling cry of victory, the kind her Father and his friends spoke of on the battlefield. One that struck fear into men.
She may have loved Gorthan, but when she saw him there, war axe in hand, vanquished rival at his feet, she realized orcs were not humans, and what she toyed with was danger.
Taz’jani had later explained that Gorthan had called a Mak’gora once before, on one who would have had him remain forever a slave. To call and win multiple Mak’gora’s was very prestigious, and his bold action boosted his standing in the clan, and his acceptance being an outsider. Mak'gora was a phrase no orc uttered in jest. Once spoken it was a pathway to mortal combat. Of course, the other party could refuse, but they would be so shamed that death would be preferable. It was rare the other party declined.
Sure there were friends and family of the vanquished warrior who would be unhappy in his defeat. However, the calling of a Mak’gora, was the end of the matter. Victory always chose the correct side.
Her warrior was now heralded Gorthan of the Mak’goras. It was a most prestigious and fearsome accolade.
*****
Sasha had so desired this last day before the inevitable hostilities between humans and orcs to be a good one. Gorthan though had seemed to think so. He had solved two of his biggest problems that afternoon. His greatest rival was now dead, and he would no longer have to go on foot into battle. He had inherited Naguk’s fine battle worg, a stunning black male named Aguk.
That night as she lay in his arms sleep would not come. Though Gorthan snored happily. He had actually been injured very little in the bloody contest, a few missing patches of hair, and some scrapes and bruises, but nothing that would hinder him on the battlefield.
Sasha’s emotions however were churning, she would be afraid for her warrior even if he wasn’t.