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Garran was jolted awake as Frick and Frack unceremoniously shoved him face-first into a small, confined space. He landed on his face, yelping from the impact as shivers of pain trickled to the laceration on his cheek and his swollen eye. It could have been worse, he noted. Thankfully, he’d landed on the left side of his face, so his good side took the brunt of the impact. Though he could still feel pain thrumming all the way down his face to his teeth.
The area surrounding him was quite dark and due to a combination of his swollen eye, and his groggy state, he couldn’t see much more than blurred images around him. He thought, however, that he might be in some type of unnatural cave or alcove.
Pushing himself up into a sitting position, a metallic groan rang out behind him as rusted metal screeched against rusted metal followed by a loud clang. The sound was jarring to his already ringing ears.
Well, that explains the ‘unnatural cave’ part. They must have dug out a prisoner’s area with barred gates. That will be problematic.
Leaning back against the gate with a heavy sigh, he tried to blink but his right eye didn’t seem to be cooperating with his commands. Gingerly, he touched the injured cheek and winced while behind him, Frick and Frack noisily rattled keys to secure a lock on the gate.
“Could you two keep it down? I’ve been hit over the head with something and you are making me nauseous,” he said, flicking some crusted blood from his whiskers.
Something heavy impacted on the gate, narrowly missing Garran’s already throbbing head. The momentum of the connection rocked him forward and he turned just in time to see the blurry image of a large boot pull away from the bars. Apparently, Frick or Frack--Garran couldn’t tell which--had kicked at him in retaliation for his insult.
His two captors erupted in riotous laughter and walked away; the noise of cackling receding with them. He gritted his teeth and grabbed the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb to shut out the pain. “Ok… I owe them one too,” he muttered under his breath.
“Ye shouldn’t make it harder on yerself,” he heard a timid heavily accented voice say from the blurry darkness. “It’s best to stay as invisible as possible with the greenies.”
“Oh? You mean there’s a worse fate than Scaly Mack?” he asked the darkness.
The voice gave a small giggle, “Who’s Scaly Mack?”
“Oh. Well, it’s just what I call the big one. Frick and Frack are the ones that just left this little party,” he shrugged.
“You’re strange. Are ye’ a werewolf?” asked the voice.
Garran laughed at the question, not expecting it. His sight was starting to come back to him and he could just make out a small shape huddled in the back of the alcove. “No, I am not a werewolf. My kind are called brud ak lobos. It means ‘blood of the wolf’ in a more common tongue. Most just call us wolfkin. You know… because we’re kin to wolves,” he said as he scooted farther into the cell with great effort, and leaned against the freezing rock wall.
The small figure emerged from the shadows, eyeing him speculatively as if trying to decide whether or not his last statement proved his innocence of the werewolf accusation. She was a human girl, no more than seven or eight years of age, Garran thought. Though, he could not be sure. Humans aged so differently than his kind; wolfkin living about four times as long as the average human.
The girl’s hair was matted and caked in half-frozen dirt. Her face was equally filthy from living in squalid conditions and she wore an enormous threadbare coat that was several sizes too large for her tiny frame. So large was it, in fact, the thing drug the ground as she moved. The inside of the coat was lined with wool that was so worn, it was barely recognizable. Beneath the coat was a formless, tattered dress that may as well have been a pillow case for the shape it currently held.
“You must be freezing,” he said, and instinctively reached for his pack with his maka’s blanket before he remembered where he was. He realized to his disgrace that his jerkin and leather breeches were also missing. He tilted his head back against the rock and groaned, annoyed, “Uggghhh. Why’d they have to go and take my leather… It’s not like they can even fit in it…They’d better not ruin it. At least they left me with my underclothes...” He rubbed the back of his head gingerly. How long was I out? he wondered. Sighing, he motioned to the girl, “Come here and sit beside me. My fur should be enough to keep us warm for a time.”
Sensing her hesitation, he tried a different angle, “I won’t bite. I promise.” He smiled slightly, trying not to show his teeth. “Unless you’re an orc, and then I’ll make an exception,” he added playfully and winced as he tried to wink with his swollen eye.
Having made up her mind with some internal struggle, the girl decisively shuffled over to Garran’s outstretched arm. Instead of sitting beside him, however, she climbed into his lap and curled up against him as best she could. As he had expected, the girl was shivering with cold. How could something with so little hair on its body live for any extended amount of time in these conditions? he wondered.
“My name is Celestyna,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He shifted his body so that his back faced the cell door and she was tucked away from the frigid winds. He wrapped his arms around her and ran his hands up and down her back to create warmth from friction. There, the two unlikely companions quickly fell asleep from exhaustion.
The creaking of metal as the gate, once again, swung open roused him sometime later. With his back still to the doorway, he peered over his shoulder while trying not to wake the girl, but wrapped his arms protectively around her. Two thin humans--a man and a woman--were being ushered into the cage by a beefy orc that had the misfortune of bearing significant characteristics with that of a wild boar. His flat nose had long wide nostrils and his mouth protruded with an underbite that pushed his tusks out from his chapped lips completing the swine-esque caricature.
The two humans darted into the alcove quickly, narrowly missing a half-hearted shove from Piggy. Seeing his window of opportunity to be cruel had passed, he slammed the cage, locked it and stalked off muttering to himself.
At the sight of Garran, the female newcomer blanched, then looked around frantically, “Celestyna?” she called, in a shaky voice with a similar accent as the girl’s.
The child’s head popped up immediately, “Here, Mamma,” she said and scrambled over to the woman. “He was keeping me warm,” she said as she threw both arms around her mother’s slim waist.
Both the woman and man wore dingy, threadbear clothing. Their hair and nails were caked in black dirt and grime, and they both had dark circles under their eyes as if they hadn’t slept in ages. He realized at once that the coat Celestyna was wearing must be the man’s. He only wore a thin linen shirt that was yellowed from unwash and perspiration.
The woman and the man both stared at Garran with the same speculative look that Celestyna had worn earlier. Realization dawned on him as he remembered the beating he took before coming here. He realized he must look quite frightening.
“It’s all mine. I assure you,” he said in the most reassuring grumble he could muster. Seeing confusion written on the human faces before him, he elaborated. “The blood. It’s all mine. I haven’t eaten anyone or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. Scaly Mack used my face as a target dummy,” he said, subconsciously grabbing behind his ear to assuage a bout of pain. “And my head. I’ve nothing to clean it with,” he added.
“He’s no’ a werewolf,” Celestyna added helpfully in her squeaky voice. “I asked. He says he’s a… ‘broo-nak loopose’, but ‘wolfkin’ is easier for me to pronounce so I’ll probably call him that.”
Garran chuckled, “Close enough, malak siska. And you can call me Garran. It’s the name my maka gave me when I was a pup.”
Celestyna looked puzzled for a moment then asked, “What’s ‘ma-lak sis-ka’?” she asked, taking great effort to mimic the syllables the way Garran had pronounced them.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“It’s a term we use for young in my village. I suppose, it loosely translates to mean ‘little sister’,” he replied patiently. “Our entire tribe raises our young, no matter who sired or birthed them. So, in essence, we are all sort of brothers and sisters even though we may have no blood relation. It’s why everyone in my tribe carries the name of Darkfrost.”
This answer seemed to satisfy the girl’s curiosity, as she nodded, sitting down with a plop next to him on the cold dirt. The woman moved closer to the wolfkin and removed her kertch, motioning to his ear, “You’re injuries. I can help. May I?”
He raised his hand and inclined his head giving permission and watched as the woman tore strips from the cleanest section of her hat. “Celest, get me the poultice, and the sewin’ kit from behind the rock, will ye? And Vasili, I’ll need some from your stash as well,” she said in a commanding tone.
“But that’s the last o’ our medicinals, Saena,” the man protested as he pulled a pale leather waterskin from behind a rock near the back of the cave.
“Aye, it tis. And this kind hearted soul cared for yer niece while we were slavin’ awah in the mine,” she said firmly, holding her hand out for the water skin now in Vasili’s grasp.
Saena, as the man had called her, took the skin and poured a healthy amount of a potent yellow liquid onto the strips she’d made from the cloth hat. Garran’s sensitive nose stung as the scent of fermentation from plants and vegetation hit his nostrils. Alcohol he realized. The female held the skin out to Garran when she’d finished coating the strips, “You’ll want to take a wee nip, love. This will no’ be pleasant, aye?”
Garran did as his self-appointed dakta told him and took a small swig. Seeing his timid sip, Saena not-so-gently tilted the skin upward, forcing a healthy helping down Garran’s throat. It burned like fire and made his eyes--or perhaps just the uninjured one--water but warmth quickly bloomed within his stomach and the pain in his head ebbed slightly.
“Wow,” he said, nodding approvingly. “That’s strong. I need to carry this with me in case I get concussed again,” he said, with a half-hearted laugh.
“Aye, Vasili made it from mushrooms he’s gathered in the mines. So, ye’ get hit in the head regularly, do ye?” Saena asked, smirking while she worked.
“Not up until recently. But, yea. It’s been a bit of an occupational hazard lately--Oof!” he whimpered as the woman placed an alcohol strip on his left ear.
“Sorry, love. Looks like it just got a wee slice in it but should heal nicely enough. I’ll have to stitch it up, though. Your hair might grow at an odd angle there from now on, but it’ll be a good story for the lassies,” she said comfortingly.
“Grrrrreat,” Garran replied, but he saw something behind Saena’s eyes as she said the words. There was no spark behind the playful jest, and it made him wonder just how long this family had been trapped here. Seeing her reaction hardened some resolve within him.
He recalled, in great detail, the raw determination he felt when leading the mother and pup to safety when Darkfrost Village had been under siege. He wouldn’t leave these humans to this horrible fate, “We will get out of here. I promise.”
Saena’s lips briefly tightened, forming a thin, white line but then she caught herself and smiled lightheartedly. “Of course we will. No one wants ta stay here, do they?” she said, handing Garran the poultice once she’d cleaned around his eye. “Place this on that shiner, there. It will take the swellin’ down a wee bit.”
Celestyna, who’d been watching quietly up to this point, perked up at the mention of leaving, “I knew it! This wolfrin--Mr. Garran, I mean--he can help us!”
“Quiet, Celest!” her mother scolded in a hushed voice. “You dinna want the greenies ta hear ye’, do ye?”
Garran cursed himself. I shouldn't’ have brought that up in front of the child. Fool. She has enough to worry about.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” he murmured, ears drooping.
“Dinna fash,” the woman said with a hint of resignation in her voice. “We’ve just been here awhile, ye ken.”
“I will get you all out of here, or die trying,” he muttered in a low voice.
Saena gave a humorless laugh, “Keep on, and I’ll hold ye’ to it,” she said as she sunk the needle into his left ear lobe, causing him to wince.
“He will get us out!” Celestyna added vehemently. “He has to. The other wolfrin got away, right? At least, I dinna see him in the camp anymore.”
Garran’s breath caught, “There was another? Like me? You saw Sius?”
“Aye! He was mostly black, but had a white nose. He dinna talk verra much.”
“Sius,” he muttered.
Garran was uncomfortably aware of how rigid Saena had grown with the conversation. She’d ceased her stitching and sat very still, avoiding his gaze. Garran wanted to shout at her and ask if she’d seen Sius. He wanted to ask her if he was alive, or what she knew, but a lump had formed in his throat rendering him momentarily unable to speak.
Taking a breath to calm himself, he finally spoke, “Where is he? Have you seen him?”
The woman nodded solemnly, “Aye. We saw him. So, you knew him then? The black wolfkin?”
Ignoring the past tense the human woman used, he replied, “It’s why I’ve come. To find him. Where is he? Do you know?”
Saena’s face was somber as she shook her head slowly, “They took him,” she said. “As they always do for the ‘special’ ones…"
Trying to remain calm, Garran leaned in towards her, “Where? Took him where?”
This time it was Vasili who responded from the back of the tiny cave, “To the Summit,” he said. “They take the sick and tired up there, as well. Never seen anyone come back from there, either,” he added and sat down hard on the cold ground.
“Vasili…” the woman said in a tone that was both pleading and scolding at the same time. “Vasili, please.”
“Well, he needs to hear it, Saena. He needs to ken how it works here. We’ll be workin’ in their mines until we’re too weak to move, then we’ll be sent awah like the others. Like my brother: your husband…” his voice trailed off.
“How many are here? How many… captured?” Garran asked after a time.
“Used to be a hundred or so. Now, I think we’re only a quarter that,” Vasili said quietly.
Over the next two days Garran watched the routine at the camp and kept notes on the guards. He questioned his cellmates from time to time about how they had gotten here and where things were located within the camp. Apparently, the four of them had been taken from their small farm at the foot of Icy Peaks about three months ago and brought here for slave labor. Rollo, Saena’s husband and Vasili’s brother, had sustained an injury during the journey up the mountain to this camp that had gotten infected. Once he reached the point of being unable to work, the savages had carted him off; allegedly to the Summit.
Having been here a while now, Vasili and Saena proved to be a wealth of knowledge regarding where the most important landmarks were in the camp. To the south, stood the lower ranked soldier tents and the trail that led to the mine. To the north, the officer tents and the trek leading to Summit. On the western side of the camp, stood the mess area and a wide field for sparring as well as a large fire and gathering spot. Prisoner’s quarters were on the eastern side as well as a blacksmith forge and the latrines.
Once a day, an orc soldier would bring a small plate of food for the four of them to split. Each plate contained bread crust that was roughly the consistency of a brick, and raw vegetables covered in spots and thick ice crystals. Saena separated the portions into four equal parts and both days, Garran had given his portion to Celestyna.
“I guess the green skins don't get their color from eating vegetables,” Garran stated sarcastically on the second plate’s arrival. This comment solicited a giggle from the small girl as she devoured a soggy tuber of some kind.
That night, Garran looked out over the large camp from the barred door. He knew Sius was out there somewhere. He knew his brokta was alive. But he also knew he had a choice to make, and now a promise to keep.
His sharp eyes skimmed the edge of the camp for any sign of movement: for Teya. Thanks to Saena’s poultice, the swelling in his right eye was starting to go down and he could at least open and close his lid now. His ear still stung somewhat, but was also on the mend.
The nausea from his head injury was replaced by nausea from hunger and dehydration. The savages hadn’t brought any water, so their only sources of hydration were melted snow that they had to grab from between the bars of their cell or a small skin that Saena or Vasili smuggled back from their daily labor in the camp.
He knew Teya was biding her time, but he wondered where she was and hoped she was alright. She was to wait out of sight for a few days and then look for a break in the activity. Under cover of night, she would sneak in and free him and they’d go find Sius together.
Now, however, the plan had changed. He had counted on getting escorted to the camp. It was risky to let them capture him, but trying to follow them without being discovered would be harder to do. Especially with the amount of patrols that were in the area.
He had planned on there being captives. It was common knowledge that these barbarians took prisoners as a show of dominance and forced their captives to work laboriously until they were no longer useful. Orcs felt it was their right to enslave those they conquered.
Garran’s original plan was, once he and Teya found Sius, they’d go back to Darkfrost Village and bring back reinforcements to free them. That was before he saw the conditions the captives were in. That was before Celestyna, Saena, and Vasili. It was a miracle from Aegis that Celestyna had survived this long. How had she not frozen to death yet? Garran was cold, but covered in thick fur and used to these conditions. She was a child that lived in the highlands below the mountains. It still got cold there, but not like this.
The truth of it was, no one deserved to be subjugated. And Sius would agree with him. He would find some way to get these people out of this camp, and come back for Sius.
Garran could only pray to Aegis that Sius could hold on a bit longer.
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