The Half's Way

Round, cob-walled homes dotted the enclosure. Orcs were everywhere. Children at play chasing each other past, orcs carrying water, others beating and drying hides, stewing food over open flame. The smell of cured meat and smoke was nearly overpowering.

The Pikeskull captive looked around silently. Calculating. Taking everything in.

"There are humans here!" Mikel said, nodding towards one of the huts, where a human man chopped firewood. Shauba spotted a human woman, hugely pregnant, sitting with an orc female and several orc children.

At the summit of the steep ridge above were more walled enclosures. Yet another level to Esker. The bass rumble of a drum sounded from there, like constant rolling thunder. Alog led them towards a cave that tunneled into the cliff.

At the entrance, the scout dismounted. A guard led his hogmount away. Two other brutes grabbed the Pikeskull captive, locked an iron collar around his thick neck, and wrestled him into the cave.

"Who is this?" a guard asked, glancing at Shauba and Mikel.

"Shauba, daughter of Shagdab. And...?" Alog, walking with a bowlegged gait, regarded Mikel as if he hadn't noticed the human before.

"Mikel," Shauba replied in Orcish. "My companion."

"Wait here," said the guard.

Shauba turned to gaze again at the village. There must have been many hundreds of orcs living at Esker. And Esker was just one of the Red Tusk hillforts.

"How many humans are here?" Shauba asked the scout.

Alog shrugged. "There are only a handful of quags here."

"Quags?" Shauba eyed Mikel, who largely missed the Orcish conversation. A small group of orc children had followed them, pointing at his lute. Not one to miss an opportunity to entertain, Mikel pulled the instrument from his back and plucked a few rich notes.

"Humans. They are like quags. Soft and squishy underfoot. A source of constant, foggy entanglement. But a few choose to live among us," he grinned. "I knew your father, Shauba. You and I are cousins."

Shauba hid her disappointment. She had an itch that needed to be scratched, and it would be awkward if she was always running into relatives. "Who was my father here?" she asked.

"He had the ear of Oruk, our Warchief. You will see Oruk very soon. That drum is calling the Boss-meet."

More children gathered, half-orcs among them, drawn by the jaunty harvest round that Mikel had begun to sing. Shauba noticed how only the children seemed to openly smile and laugh. Orcish adults expressed humor in a feral sort of snarl.

"Come," a guard shouted over the music. "The Boss-meet is gathered."

To the disappointment of the children, Mikel stopped playing. Alog led the way inside the dim, smoky cavern.

**

There were no chairs in the Oruk's Boss-meet chamber. Oruk, a fat orc with gray bristly hair on his chin and a broken tusk, stood at the head of the gloomy room. Before him, on either side, stood a crowd of about twenty orcs. Alog joined the group on the left side of the chamber. On the right side, one massive orc in the fore drew Shauba's immediate attention.

His furs gave only a glimpse of rippling greenish muscle at his shoulders. His face was cruel and heavily tattooed. Almost delicate, sharply pointed ears poked out of a shock of long black hair that obviously wasn't his. Shauba became uncomfortably aware of her own pulse.

"You are the daughter of Shagdab," Oruk said, in a slow deliberate voice, commanding her attention. He spoke Doric, whether for her benefit or Mikel's. "We have heard of your courage from your father, and are satisfied that you join us for the Lok'gorash. Now tell us how you brought us a Pikeskull."

The orcs on the left stomped their feet in some sort of applause. Shauba recounted what had happened the night before, editing the story only to say that she had gone off into the woods and come back to find Mikel captured. She felt the eyes of all of the Boss-meet on her, but the cruel gaze of the black-haired orc seemed to burn into her heart.

That one cocked his head. "You, a half-orc, slew two Pikeskulls and captured a third? Alone?"

"With Mikel's help," Shauba said.

The orc's gaze slid to Mikel, who was still holding his lute. The orc's full lips twisted in humor, and others in the chamber laughed heartily, as if she'd shared a good joke.

"Tell them about the plague," Mikel whispered in her ear.

"They seemed almost afraid to touch Mikel, and wanted to kill him right away," Shauba explained.

Oruk grunted in understanding. "This is a legend the other orc tribes tell themselves, one that began during the rule of Lu'Horagh, the God-Queen. They say She declared the Treaty of Wallamous to be a human trick -- a way to weaken and destroy orcs. But the myth has become more absurd since Her death. It claims that humans carry a disease that they will spread to the orcs. The other tribes believe that humans," he raised his arms to take in the Boss-meet, "and the orcs who consort with them, must be wiped out."

"Aren't they afraid of catching the disease if they go to war with you?" Mikel asked.

"Yes, of course. Pikeskulls, our nearest orc neighbors, kill Red Tusks and humans on sight. We kill Pikeskulls too," Oruk grinned. "After we have questioned them."

So that's where they had taken Shauba's captive. It was the way of war, she supposed. But from the corner of her eye, she could see Mikel's frown.

"Do the Pikeskulls know how many humans are here?" he asked. "That you live with humans and have children with them?"

"No," replied a female orc, who stood at the fore of the orcs on the left side. She was as imposing as the males, with close-set eyes and a headdress of beaded leather strips. "No Pikeskull has ever been in a Red Tusk hillfort and lived to speak of it. If they did, the other tribes might realize there is no plague."

"Yes," Mikel agreed. "Yes, that's right. But what if you made them believe there was a plague, and all the Red Tusks surely had it too. They'd fear catching the disease. You could avoid a war-"

"Avoid a war?" the cruel-faced orc mocked. The inscribed lines of his face broadened into a grin. "We are orcs! We do not play clever tricks on our enemies. We crush them. I think you have come to the wrong town, little man."

The tattooed orc's gaze lingered on Shauba, journeying down between the valley of her breasts, over the swell of her hips, before brazenly returning home to meet hers. Cooly, she narrowed her eyes.

But inside, she was aflame. And she knew he knew it.

"Bashukk is right," Warchief Oruk said, quieting the last snickers. This time he spoke in Orcish, as if to pointedly end the discussion with Mikel. "We are orcs. And tonight, as orcs, we celebrate the death of one of our own. Shagdab! See you on the shattersack field."

**

"So you're telling me I should just shut up, is that it?" Mikel said. They spread out a pigskin hide in a less muddy patch of the field so that they could watch the shattersack match.

"Of course not," Shauba replied. "Just don't say as much. Say a lot less."

It was dusk now, and as fireflies blinked about in the enclosure, the teams assembled on the field. Other Red Tusks gathered as an audience, lying on their own mats. Not far away, one of the older orcs Shauba recognized from the Boss-meet sat splay-legged. A young, honey-haired human woman's head bobbed in his lap. It was obvious what they were doing to anyone paying attention.

Gods! How have I missed this place all my life?

"... if they kill him, they'll miss their chance." Mikel said.

"Kill who?" Shauba tried not to stare at the public cocksucking. Maybe noticing it was frowned upon.

"That orc we captured. They could use him to mislead the Pikeskulls, instead of torturing him to death. What if he goes back to his tribe convinced that the Red Tusks are riddled with disease?"

"Mikel, orcs like to kill stuff. Don't ruin it for them."

As she turned back to watch the couple's progress, she noticed two orcs approaching. One was Alog, the scout, and the other was the female orc leader from the Boss-meet.

"There you are," the female said. "Shauba. I am Lash, a cousin of your father's. You've already met Alog. This game is played in Shagdab's honor. I need you on my team."

Shauba's jaw dropped. "I couldn't. I mean... I've never played before."

"You've seen shattersack, haven't you?"

"Of course." She never missed watching games at Smashfest with her father. She loved the speed and ferocity of the sport. But...

"Come," Alog held out his hand. "I'll teach you everything you need to know."

"You know you want to," Mikel whispered, grinning.

She looked at him helplessly, but could think of no excuse to back down. She would surely embarrass herself. But she rose, and followed the two orcs onto the muddy field.

Lash's team appeared to mostly be orcs from her side of the Boss-meet. The players were young warriors, well-built and battle-scarred. The opposing team was from Bashukk's side, wearing red headscarves.

Bashukk mingled amongst his group, wearing a black cloak with red splotches that resembled a salamander. He paused to watch Shauba join Lash's team, and she almost froze under his gaze. He was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.

"Come," Alog said, taking her hand as she slowed. "We're almost ready to start."

Shauba's teammates welcomed her into their huddle with savage grins. She stripped off her shirt and boots. Wearing only a brief halter and tight-fitting trousers, she still revealed far less than the other players. Some of them -- even the few female orcs, only wore breechclouts. She bound the dark mass of her hair into a fat topknot, and one of her teammates gave her a green headscarf to wrap around her ears.

Alog began reciting the rules of the game. But Shauba already knew the rules, as she studied the cordoned off cauldrons, one at either end of the torchlit field.

Throw the sack into the opponents' 'pot' for five points; into the cordoned 'place' for two. No forward passes. No tackles or blows from behind, except upon the sack handler. No weapons.

Lash's green team gave its war cry and spread out for the starting lob. Lash and Bashukk left the field to join the onlookers. One of the game judges prepared to toss up the ball -- a stuffed leather sack with strips attached to the top, which looked deliberately like a severed head.

Good shattersack players were roughly divided into two categories. Hogs -- the biggest, strongest brutes -- and bristlebacks. Bristlebacks were faster and lighter, and Shauba loved watching them play the most.

The sack was thrown high, straight up, and the hogs clustered around the judge fought for position to catch it. A red-scarved hog emerged from the scrum with the sack, side-arming it to a teammate who began to run with it. Shauba charged for the carrier...

And then the world exploded in light, and turned upside down.

Dazed, she blinked up from where she lay on her back in the mud. She felt pain in her chest, and tasted blood. It felt like she had run into a stone wall. A huge orc with a red scarf and gold-capped tusks glared down at her. He chuckled before he joined the moving fray.

Alog stood over her. "I see you've met Druk," he laughed, extending a hand to help her up.

Shauba clasped Alog's hand and leapt up to her feet, even though the field still teetered a little. She could hear her father's comment over the cheers of the audience.

You're a bristleback. Stay out of the path of hogs.

She shook her head until it stopped spinning. She spat into the mud. "Let's fuckin' do this," Shauba said.

A red bristleback broke free of the struggle with the sack. He began running towards the red cordon. Shauba and Alog raced after him, weaving around slower red players. Shauba ducked under the arms of a hog, but another knocked Alog down.

Shauba was alone, having left the slower players lagging behind. The sack-carrier had one other bristleback protecting him. She overtook them both, her lighter half-orc frame giving her a clear speed advantage. The escort glanced back in shock to see her so close. He ducked low to take out her legs. She vaulted over him.

The carrier sprinted towards the cordon, just a few paces from where he'd have a clear shot to toss the sack for points. Shauba launched herself, her body a spear, jamming her shoulder into his hip and bearing him down into the mud. The already filthy sack squirted out of his grasp. Alog scooped it up and turned back the other way.

Shauba scrambled to her feet, stepping on the grunting orc she'd just tackled as she did so, hearing him swear into the mud.

With a wordless scream of savage joy, she ran to catch up with Alog.

**

By the end of the game, everyone was exhausted, filthy and bruised. Grit and mud had worked its way through fresh tears in Shauba's pants. Her halter had been ripped off. On purpose, she suspected. She recovered the grimy rags and tied them over her breasts.

Bashukk's red team had won by a slim margin. But no one seemed to care. Shauba couldn't wipe the grin off her face, even with a swollen lip.

Oruk, Bashukk and Lash convened in the center of the field. Warriors led a hogmount and a warpig out to meet them. The hogmount was piled high with items. Shattersack players and the orcs in the audience gathered close.

The Lok'gorash was about to begin.

She looked back to the mat where she'd left Mikel. He wasn't there. But she was astonished to see that he was on the mat with the honey-haired human and her orc companion. The two were obviously coupling now, her riding the orc with her skirts rucked up over the plump cheeks of her ass. Mikel stood up to leave them, pulling his shirt on, and coming towards the crowd.

That little slut! We haven't even been here a day...

"You were impressive," a familiar voice said. Shauba turned to see Bashukk standing before her.

He was square-jawed and powerful, taller than her by a head. Tall enough to sweep her off her feet, to take her any way he wanted. His eyebrows arched a bit more in curiosity.

"What other surprises do you have for us?" he asked.

Shauba swallowed, forgetting her words. Wouldn't I like to show you...

"When an orc warrior falls, his prowess, his boldness, even his flesh, sustains the tribe," Oruk declared. "A few may die. Many may die. But the tribe lives on to victory. Shagdab's carcass is lost to us, as is his hogmount. But his possessions are here, to sustain our tribe and ensure that we triumph in battles yet to come."

Shauba realized that everyone was looking at her. Bashukk was gone.

Oruk paused. "Shauba, daughter of Shagdab. You are the oldest child, and take your first choice of Shagdab's spoils."

An orc started unloading the hogmount, inspecting the items and handing them to attendants. "A pouch with... nineteen silver coins. A war ax. A knife with a red gem in the hilt. A silver-gilt elven skull. A leather headdress. A spear. A bottle of [sniffs] wine..."

Shauba's head spun. She had no idea how a Lok'gorash was actually conducted. How was she supposed to choose? She turned back to Mikel, who shrugged. Servers with meat and stew were circulating throughout the crowd.

He took a bowl of food. "Take the silver!" he called to her.

As the long litany of items seemed to come to an end, the orcish clerk looked behind him and noticed the warpig. "A warpig, named Rash Girl."

Shauba's jaw dropped.

Rash Girl?

"Choose one item, Shauba," Lash prompted. "You may look them over, if you want."

Shauba stepped forward. She scanned her father's possessions, held up by the orc attendants, or tied onto the hogmount's back. But her mind was on the warpig, which she came to last.

The boar was black, with a maned humpback as high as Shauba's chest. It was leashed and draped with a studded leather coat that it would wear in combat. Its backward curved tusks were longer than Shauba's fingers, and it must have weighed twice as much as her.

Rash Girl grunted as she came near, and sniffed her.

"Why is she named Rash Girl?" Shauba asked.

The boar ambled forward and licked her hand. Like it knew her. Like it was destined to be with her. Sent across time from her father.

"He. He is named Rash Girl," the attendant corrected.

Shauba knelt in front of the warpig, looking into his dark, deepset eyes. He licked her face.

Shauba grinned. "My choice is Rash Girl."

**

Shauba awoke disoriented and hungover. Memories slowly returned. The empty hut she was in had been lent to her by Lash. Like most orc huts, it was round and sunken, its floor lower than the surrounding ground.

The warm, comfortable pillow she was laying upon was her warpig's rumbling side. The soft plucking of lutestrings outside the hut's entrance was surely Mikel.

She rubbed her eyes as Rash Girl continued to snore loudly. Her first attempt to get up elicited a groan of protest. She was sore everywhere. She groaned louder as she stumbled up the entrance ramp and into the sunlight.

"Fuck," she said to Mikel.

"Indeed," Mikel replied.

He nodded at an orc passing by with a load of straw. Esker was fully awake, its inhabitants passing by with their wares, trades and household duties. Shauba sat down between her friend and her mud-caked boots, which had been placed neatly along the sod wall.

She blocked the too-bright sun with one hand. "What are you doing out here?"

"It's wet and it smells like pig in there. Besides," Mikel said, "I slept with Karag and Danica last night."

"Danica? The honey-haired girl... and her orc?"

"The same. I tried to talk to you but there was always a swarm of people around."

"How is it that we came to Orc Town and you still get more cock than I do?" Shauba complained. She lowered her hand as her eyes adjusted to the sun. "My pussy is so hungry it's going to start eating me from the inside."

Mikel chuckled. "I don't think it works that way."

"Maybe not for humans."

There had been a swarm of people around her last night, but not the ideal kind for fucking. After Shauba had chosen the warpig, she met six half-brothers and four half-sisters that had chosen after her. And then more cousins than she could remember. She'd been plied with so much stew (and beer) that she eventually started slipping the bowls to Rash Girl, who loved the root vegetables and onions that filled it.

Alog had been delighted with her Lok'gorash choice. His hogmount was five times the size of Rash Girl and a different breed, but otherwise very similar. Shauba was too drunk to remember most of the scout's hog advice, except that pigs became very attached to their owners. Rash Girl probably found Shauba's scent familiar.

As if sensing her thoughts, the warpig nosed out of the hut and plopped down in the entrance right up against Mikel. Startled, and shoved slightly aside, Mikel stopped playing. The pig turned to him, growling in complaint, until Mikel continued idly fingering the strings.

"I am worried about the coming war," Mikel said. "And I'm not the only one. Karag is thinking of fleeing to Clearwater March with Danica."

"Fleeing? An orc?" Karag sounded like a coward.

"Well, he didn't use those words. The point is, the Red Tusks are not a large tribe and they are outcasts. The Pikeskulls have the backing of every other tribe. Even if all the other tribes fight each other, they still worship Lu'Horagh."

"There's not much we can do about it," Shauba said, picking clods of mud out of her hair. "Where's breakfast?"

"We can make the Pikeskulls too afraid to attack."

She turned to Mikel. "Why do you care so much about this? We just got here."

"Because I can see how happy you are here," Mikel said. "And I know you won't leave."