Natural Magic

Chapter 12 - Standoff

Imagine a dark place. A dark place with the smell of dust and mold and water. The rocks here silently converse about their crazy days when they were molten. When they were loose and free. When they mingled. It wasn't like that now. Everyone had settled since then, and all that was left for them of those hot, steamy, youthful days were memories. It was peaceful now. Respectable. No major upsets in at least a couple thousand years. The rocks remembered that, too. A great slam from above had rattled their neighborhood. It had been quite upsetting, and it was still a point of contention among them. But peace had returned quickly and the complaints faded. There wasn't much for it. For those thousands of years the rocks were left with their memories. And the new folks, the ones that appeared after the upheaval. Now, a new rowdiness was slowly building from those, geologically speaking, new arrivals. A faint glow, visible only in this complete darkness, pulsated a gentle blue, distressing the rocks with the hubbub. A mind turned over in its grave.

****

“Hey,” the orc voice said, “You’re Skullcrush, aren’t you?”

Penelope regarded the squatting orcs. One was Marrowcrack and the other was Bloodboil. Fearfully, she drew her goblin sword, and the Marrowcrack laughed. “Not here, not here,” he said mirthfully, “We don’t do that no more. What, you think I’d be just hanging around with a Bloodboil? It’s different now.” This gave her pause.

The other orc nudged his companion. “Wait, if she’s Skullcrush… I thought Lord Kairon beat old Justafar just last year.”

In the confusion, Chicken ran to Auntie, who was tied up and gagged in the tent along with Salander.

“Yeah? And?” The Marrowcrack got up and idly ambled over to Chicken. The orc caught him by the shoulder before he could draw his dagger and cut her bonds. With the skill of a corn husker, he disarmed the kobold and tied him up with a length of rope.

The Bloodboil continued, “How wouldn’t she know, then?” The Marrowcrack gave this some consideration.

“You’ve been out here hunting since then, right?” he asked Penelope.

Chicken and Penelope shared a glance. In the moment, her brain caught up with current events. She gave him a look she thought would tell him to trust her.

“Umm..Yeah. That’s right.”

“Been doin’ the rite of the nameless god, then?”

The rite of the nameless god involved living naked in the wilderness for months at a time. It was a good way for lesser orcs to cut loose and build respect among peers.

“Yup. That’s me,” Penelope said with feigned certainty. Satisfied, the Marrowcrack gave the Bloodboil a smug look.

“Well, that’s all fine, then,” he said. “We got word from this one,” the Marrowcrack pointed to Salander, “that you were here. You ain’t been doing a good job imprisoning’em.” He sounded like a teacher chastising a below-average student.

Penelope gave a pained look at Chicken, saying, “I was getting around to it.”

The two orcs each picked up a kobold. “Well, you take this one,” the Marrowcrack said, gesturing to Chicken, “and we’ll check on how the goblins are doing. We gotta head back to Hurraggh in the morning.” The two dipped under the door of the bivouac.

Chicken hissed a whisper. “What was that?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said hastily while kneeling down to examine his ropes, “but I think I know how I can get you out of this. Can you play along until then?”

“Why did he say Salander did this? Oh, Auntie,” he moaned. Penelope shushed him to no avail.

“Chicken, you have to trust me. They’ll kill you otherwise, and without a moment’s thought,” and then added, “They may even kill Auntie.”