The Good Ork

Chapter 15: The Hunt

We wounded and fragile crew mounted the lip of the vale and looked down on the land huddled by the mountainside. Black peaks dusty with snow rose to our left. To the right, the hills slumped slowly into a green plain until somewhere beyond the horizon, they met the Broadmere River and the edge of the Linden Empire. Those were the lands of the Jelki, who had hunted us hard to the vale, who had slaughtered the great Ukdun, an ork who gave her life that the tribe might survive and I might write the words you read now.

Brekazog said, "We should turn right. We passed herds of ibuses in those foothills. They will attract Jelk hunters, or perhaps even herders who tend the flocks."

Shuklug stood tall and said, "No way. We have only just escaped the Jelki and now you would remind them we lurk near their borders. The Sacred Band will answer for whatever Jelki we slaughter for the feast, and you would bring them down on our head to the crashing doom of all. No no no Brekazog. Chief Grimdush may be our father, but his wisdom is not yet yours. We should go left. There in the mountains we will find ibuses or the lone ork exiled from his tribe and scratching a life out among the rocks, an easy kill."

Brekazog said hotly, "Easy? Who wants to do what's easy? I'd drink the hot blood of our foe and you speak of what is easy!" Brekazog smiled at the rest of us. "Those of you whose mettle is not up to the test should feel free to go with Shuklug to murder some old hermit in his sleep. I would cut the throat of a warrior and have some scars to show for it. I may or may not have our father's wisdom, but I'm certain sure I have his bravery. The coward's way is to the left."

Shuklug's tusks gored the air and he shouted, "Coward! You would call me coward!"

"I would and do!" shouted Brekazog, beginning to gore the air as well.

They were on the road to a slorg-frenzy which would leave one of them dead on the slopes of Nugvul. A new ork of the Targalak would make a poor meat indeed for the feast. I slid between them and looked pleadingly into Shuklug's eyes.

I said, "Brother."

It was the first time I had ever addressed him or any of Gnarlash's brood with such familiarity. His eyes glassed over at the sound of it, and I saw the slorg-spirit which had threatened to overtake him receding in his irises.

In reply, he said simply, "Yes brother?"

I said, "We will need your strength against the Jelki. Do not waste it here fighting with those who would be your family." The words tasted of hesitancy in my mouth. Gnarlash had longed for the death of me and my sister, and had done much to bring it about. That, however, was Gnarlash. This was her son. We shared the same father. Some of my blood was his, and we had let our mothers dictate our relationship for us.

We were told to hate each other, so we did so with gusto. Hate is a useful emotion, a fact humans deny in word but approve in deed. We orks have no such illusions.

But hate did not have to be the only bond Brekazog and I shared with Shuklug. There was another way. And I said, "Imagine how strong the children of Chief Grimdush would be if we stood together?"

"The Jelki will piss themselves at the sound of our names," said Brekazog.

"And the Targalak will grow and prosper under our leadership," I said.

"Our leadership?" said Shuklug.

This was dangerous territory. I was dressing myself in borrowed clothes, but the necessity of the moment called for it. I thought of the chiefly dignity of my father, and tried to put myself in a piece of it. I said, "When I lead the tribe, do you think that I will leave you humble in the dust? No brother, I will raise you up. You will be a lieutenant, and wear a black cape of slorg-skin."