The Chieftain’s Daughter?
“Smiley,” Tarn looked back at Urthin, shocked. “Are you sure about this?”
“Is that a serious question?” The monk looked almost wounded by the suggestion. “I am a student of history, on both ends of the ocean. Much is known about the orcs to my people, perhaps even more than they know themselves.”
“She must have been leading one of the invasions when she was captured.” Tarn remember finding Bog in the labor camp up north of the city, in chains and with a fresh mage scar. But no other orc had been taken prisoner. “They – maybe they knew what they had in her? That’s why they never killed her?”
“A bargaining tool to be used against the Chieftain.”
“His daughter?” Bog looked back at Urthin in confusion. “But how – I mean I don’t remember any of this. Am I supposed to be some sort of assassin?”
“No.” Narsol spoke up, still staying several paces away from Bog and eyeing her warily. “The Kai are artists, painting the battlefield with their exploits. They are myth and legend taken form, an inspiration to us in our worst times.”
He took a tentative step closer, then a second.
“These are dark days for our people, Kai Vae.”
“Don’t.” Bog’s stare was like ice. “Don’t call me that.”
“Fine!” To Tarn’s surprise, Narsol continued to advance, passion coming back into his voice. “You deny being an orc, so be it! You are Bog and Bog alone. You still care! I have seen it.”
“What I care about is…” Bog then paused. She pointed a shaking finger at Narsol. “You were supposed to bring me back! That’s your big secret mission you’re trying to protect, isn’t it? You’re here to deliver the great hero back to Ak-Thanon.”
As Narsol stopped his advance, Tarn watched his face carefully. Again he could see the math being done, decisions being weighed.
“The Progenitors brings only death,” he said with a sigh. “Orcs or humans, it matters not to them. There is nothing I would not do to help save my people from this fate. Murder, lie, or even ally with our ancient enemies.”
He pointed over at Tarn and Urthin.
“Do humans not have legends? Her return would be a light to the orcs. A beacon around which the resistance could be built. Ak-Thanon is lost, but she might help our people remember themselves once again.”
“I am coming to Ak-Thanon.” Bog lowered her voice, some of the fire leaving it. “Because that is where our enemy is. Life is life, and I care about saving it. But I am Bog. I am not returning as some legendary hero, or myth, or anything else but myself.”
Bog concentrated for a moment, and her battle axe vanished in a cloud of orange-colored particles. Showing Narsol her back, she began to walk towards the tunnel’s entrance. Just before she reached the shadows of its interior, she turned back Tarn.
“The Kai Vae Ryiah is not going to Ak-Thanon.” She then pointed to Narsol. “The question is, Tarn: Is he? That’s the decision you need to make, I think.”
“And you’re okay with whatever I choose?” Tarn looked into Bog’s eyes, seeing not a hint of doubt there. He hadn’t been worried about her reaction, but she deserved the question.
“Tarny.” She smiled as she turned and walked toward the tunnel entrance. “I trusted you the moment you cut my chains in that labor camp. That’s never changed, and it’s never going to.”
Her large form disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel. The rest of the group stood motionless, all eyes on Tarn.
He felt the frustration running through him as looked between his team and Narsol. They had gone back and forth on this for too long. It was time for a reassessment, and a decision.
Connected to his mind as it was, Tarn was not surprised when his interface sprang to life inside his mind. Crisp clear letters in light blue text asked a question, both simple and complex.
//LEADERSHIP DISSONANCE DETECTED //Remove Narsol from team? (yes / no)
But what would that mean? Tarn wasn’t certain, but he did know he needed to give Narsol the opportunity to explain himself. If he could.
“Urthin.” He looked over at the Monk, who had watched the scene with his usual dispassion. “Take everyone else into the tunnel. Narsol and I need some space here.”
Urthin’s eyes shifted as he scanned between the two of them.
“Understood,” he said flatly. He motioned the team to join him, then turned and headed towards the opening maw in the mountainside. “Try not to get too cold.”
Tarn could feel the chill in the air, but the wind and temperature had little to do with it. He checked his interface anyway, mostly out of habit. Thanks to the warm air coming from the tunnel entrance, both his and Narsol’s temps were ticking down much slower than before. They still had several minutes left before the cold would become a problem.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Narsol stared back at him, arms folded. Tarn suspected he had seen the question pop up in his interface as well, and was now awaiting Tarn’s decision. The orc’s eyes narrowed as he glared.
“A difficult choice.” Narsol’s voice was low and steady. “But then, true leadership requires them.”
Always with the subtle jabs. It didn’t help Narsol’s case, that was for sure. But something about the man suggested to Tarn that, whatever his lies, his passion about saving his people was real.
“You’re making it an easier decision than you should.” Tarn shook his head. “I don’t see how I can trust you now. Right now, the biggest reason I haven’t kicked you off the team is not wanting to see you freeze to death out here.”
He turned back to Narsol. Looking the man over, he saw much that looked familiar on his expression. He had been a leader, that much was clear in how he understood chains of command – even if he didn’t always respect them.
“I think you care,” Tarn said, facing him. “I’m completely not sure about what, but you’re not ambitious. You keep opposing me because you think you’re right. That’s the only reason you’re still here.”
“I see within my interface you have the ability to remove me from your team.” Narsol looked around the barre, frozen wastes on the other side of the Trestle. “What would happen to me, I wonder. Would the dungeon make me a team of one, my own leader? Or would I die? Could you keep that on your conscience?”
“I don’t know what would happen, Narsol.”
“That wasn’t my query.” The orc took a step closer, fire in his stare. “If you truly think I am jeopardizing your mission, shouldn’t you leave me to die out here?”
Tarn felt the anger rising inside him as he stepped forward, closing the gap between the two.
“You keep asking me the same damn question. What price will I pay? What is the line, how far would I go? I’ll tell you – as far as I need to. To save lives, yeah, I’d kill you if I had to. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
The orc continued to stare, his look one of assessment. As Tarn looked back, he could see the hard choices written all over his face, the past that Narsol brough with him across the sea. As he did, his view of Narsol started to finally become clearer.
Narsol wasn’t talking to him, he was talking to himself. That past version who had been in the moments like the ones Tarn was facing and had made decisions. Decisions that may have been hard to live with.
“I don’t trust you.” Tarn took a step back, reducing the tension. “You’re still keeping something from me. I respect your passion, you want to save your people, and that means you want to stop the Progenitors. So, we have the same goal. But I’m pretty sure you’d let us all die if that would help you.”
“Which is why I would succeed, had I the means to accomplish my task.”
“But you don’t!” Tarn grinned in frustration as he pointed at the orc. “You don’t have the means. You need me a hell of a lot more than I need you, Narsol. But you are … useful. You know things we don’t about the dungeon, and that alone makes you worth keeping alive.”
“So you compromise.” Narsol shook his head. “How human.”
Tarn didn’t take the bait. He was done with this dance.
“You could have been a teammate,” he said, iron in his voice. “But now you’re just a tool. I’ll use you, until you break. In addition to advising me on the Axe, to stay useful I need two things from you.”
Tarn saw the momentary twitch in the orc’s cheeks, the slight shift in his shoulders. Relief, no matter how badly Narsol wanted to hide it. Whatever his real plan was, he couldn’t execute it if he was dead. One eyebrow raised, he waited for Tarn’s conditions.
“I won’t make you ask to stay.” Tarn kept his eyes locked on Narsol’s. “But I could have. Maybe you would have, but that’s not how I work. I don’t need your humiliation. But here’s what I do want: keep challenging me.”
Narsol took a step back in surprise. Tarn allowed himself a small grin of satisfaction.
“Don’t look so shocked,” Tarn continued, answering the unasked question. “I’m not always right. I need someone else to point out other ideas. You’ve been to this dungeon before, you have an outsider’s view, and you don’t mind expressing yourself. Keep doing it.”
He waited, watching as the orc seemed to process this. He supposed it wasn’t something Narsol had seen much of in the Orcish military, and according to Rykin it wasn’t common in the human one either.
“A request that requires no change.” Narsol shook his head. “That is easy to grant. What is your other requirement?”
“I still expect you to take the hill if I say it needs to be taken,” Tarn said. “But good enough for now. You said there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to save your people. You’d lie obviously. Steal, almost certainly. Kill? I’ve got a pretty good idea you already have. But would you give me your word?”
“My word?”
“Yeah. Your solemn word as fellow leader. As someone who would do anything for what he believes in. We may not see eye to eye, Narsol, but I think you have a sense of honor to you. Put that on the line, and give me one promise you actually mean.”
Narsol sighed, his eyes shifting back and forth as if he expected a trap.
“I cannot save my people if I am dead, and I cannot survive the Axe on my own. Therefore I am-“
“No! Don’t do this because you have to. I need to know you mean it.”
Narsol stopped, staring back at him. He took a deep breath, letting it release in a cloud of vapor that floated around his head. Still holding Tarn’s gaze, he nodded.
“Very well. I take it this is about … her. ‘Bog’.” Tarn noted the orc said her chosen name with some measure of derision and bitterness, but he did use it.
“Yeah, it’s about Bog. I want you to promise never to speak to anyone about who she is. You will deny if anyone asks, and you will never, ever confirm that title. You give me your word on that, and you can stay.”
“I came here, I risked all of this. Went against every moral code I have, simply to save the lives of my people. She can save lives, even without taking action. The simple knowledge of her existence could inspire hope, rebellion. You would deny my people all of that.”
Tarn narrowed his eyes at Narsol.
“In a damn heartbeat, I would! No matter what the Kai means to your people, revealing her past is Bog’s choice to make... Not yours or mine! If she doesn’t want this, I will not let her be forced into it. And don’t give me this one life or a thousand argument, this isn’t math. Do we have a deal, or not?”
He counted the seconds that passed with the pulsing on his veins in his eyes. Finally, Narsol nodded.
“You have my oath.” Narsol crossed his arms. “She is Bog, and I will not speak of her past life to her or anyone else. My bond is yours, from now until death.”
In his mind, Tarn focused on the team composition screen. The orange letters there glared at him, daring him to remove Narsol, possibly ending his life.
Tarn selected
“She is fortunate.” Narsol released his hand. “For a human you show her great loyalty.”
”She earned that loyalty, a hundred times over.” Tarn set his jaw, hoping he was making the right decision.
“Come on,” he said to Narsol, gesturing to the awaiting tunnel. “It’s still cold as hell out here.”