Saving the Orc: Orcs of Clan Cumhdach

Chapter 7

Taven was still standing alone outside Nora’s hut with Nora and Gorta on the ground before him as he shouted about himself leading their people, when Blarque and his particular group of males happened upon the site. They came to a standstill long enough to realize that Taven had killed someone. As they got closer, they realized it was Gorta.

“Taven!” Blarque shouted. “Is that Gorta? You’ve killed our Chieftain!”

“He betrayed our people by colluding with a witch! She’d have bewitched us all! I saved us from an evil fate, so it is I who will lead us!” Taven declared.

Blarque looked at the bodies of the female and Gorta. He used his boot to shoved Gorta over so he could better see the male’s face. He wasn’t dead yet, but he would be soon. He turned his attention to the males he’d brought with him. Making eye contact with two in particular that stood behind Taven. He ever so slightly lifted his chin in their direction.

The males knew what Blarque ordered. He stepped forward, withdrew his blade, and without hesitation nearly severed Taven’s head from his shoulders. He dropped Taven’s body where they stood, the gun falling from Taven’s hands as he fell.

“I don’t think any will be claiming my position as Chieftain, now,” Blarque announced as he laughed joyously.

“Agreed!” his males shouted.

“What a shame Taven didn’t live long enough to see me come to power. If he’d known his place, he might have been rewarded handsomely for his hand in removing Gorta for me,” Blarque said.

“Do you want us to bury them?” one of his males asked.

“Leave them where they lay. The animals will see to picking their bones clean.”

“What is this?” another asked, kicking at the shotgun.

“Some witchery that came with the female there beneath Gorta. Leave it with them. We have no quarrel with magics. Our people know well not to associate with magics of any kind,” Blarque ordered.

“True,” one agreed.

“We do not need the witch’s evil eye following us back home,” another added.

“Look what it’s done for Gorta and Taven,” another said.

“Crazed, both of them. They might have even killed one another over the very witch herself,” Blarque exclaimed. “We should leave them before her spirit curses us.”

“Do we return to the rest of the warriors?” another asked.

“No, we go home. I take power, as I should have long ago. When the rest of the warriors return they will vow allegiance, or I will kill them for their betrayal,” Blarque said.

“Will you take your female from Ozaq?” another asked while wearing a sneer.

“Undoubtedly,” Blarque snarled, “and she will learn her place sooner rather than later. If she does not, I will send her to Gorta in the afterlife and find another.”

~~~

Some time later Gorta opened his eyes. He was lying on his back, and the pain searing through him was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Blinking his eyes furiously in an attempt to focus, he managed to slide off of whatever he rested upon, leaving him facing the body of one of his people. “Who…” he panted, as he tried to reach the male, “who is it?” he asked. He grabbed the male’s hand and pulled him toward him as he crawled toward him. The combination got him close enough that he was able to see the body belonged to Taven. Taven’s lifeless body brought it all back to him. He’d tracked Taven in a wide circle from Nora’s home through the forest, then back to Nora’s home. He’d experienced real fear at the idea that Taven had circled back to Nora. He meant to take her for his own, or do her real harm. Neither was going to happen. Shoving Taven’s body away from him, his eyes fell on the gun beneath Tavern’s body.

Nora’s weapon. Why did Taven have Nora’s weapon? Then he remembered the sound of the shot. The pain tearing into his back. Taven had used Nora’s weapon on him when he’d tried to get Nora to the circle of oaks to return her to her time so they could save her. “Nora!” he groaned, pulling his body in painful slow motion across the ground to look for her. He found her directly behind himself and sobbed as he forced his injured body to her side. “Nora!” he shouted, holding her head in his hands. “Nora, wake, Nora!”

She was covered in blood, as was he. His own hands were sticky and he didn’t know if it was his own blood, Nora’s, or Taven’s. He didn’t care. The only thing he cared about was getting Nora to the circle of oaks so she could have a chance at life. “It’s my fault,” he wailed as he gathered her body against him, and forced himself to his knees. “I didn’t listen to her warnings,” he moaned. He paused there, his head hanging low as he gathered his strength. “Give me the power to do for her, what I wouldn’t allow her to do for me,” Gorta begged aloud, lifting his head and his face toward the sky. His lips began to move in silent prayer, ancient words of praise in ancient Gaelic flowed from his lips, and somehow the gods, the Fae, the sprites, or some combination thereof seemed to answer his prayers. From deep within himself, or maybe it was nature surrounding them, he found the strength to get to his feet. He held her tightly, placed one foot in front of another, and tapping into some unknown font of strength, managed to leave Nora’s home, Taven’s body, and the shotgun Taven had shot him with behind.

The trip to the circle of oaks should have taken him fifteen-to-twenty minutes when healthy and uninjured, but somehow it seemed that almost immediately after leaving Nora’s home, he was looking around himself and realizing they were standing in the middle of the circle of oaks. “Thank the gods,” he murmured as he fell to his knees, still holding Nora against his body. “Hold on, Nora. I’m taking you home. I’m taking you home. Don’t you leave me. Don’t you dare leave me!” He closed his eyes and began to recite the ancient words he needed to open the portal. He felt the winds begin to pickup and still he recited the spells to open the portal. Gorta felt the ground fall out from underneath him, at the same time he began to sway, losing consciousness and falling forward, still clutching Nora in his arms.

The circle whisked them both away, leaving only a bunch of scattered leaves and dead undergrowth behind when the winds died down.

Just outside the circle two men stood solemnly. One older and slightly overweight, gray haired and wearing a woolen sweater and traditional Irish cap. The other red-haired and freckled, tall and thin, grasping the shotgun in his hands.

“Do ye think they’ll find them in time, Gavin?” the old man asked.

“I hope so, Angus. We’ve done more than we should have by transporting him tah the circle,” Gavin said.

“If we hadn’t, he wouldn’t have survived tah get her home,” Angus said.

“I know. We had no choice.”

“Neither did ye have a choice about the extra blast of magics ye infused them both with when he tried tah pick her up. It’ll make the difference in surviving or not.”

“Ye noticed that, huh?” Gavin asked.

“I did. I’d have done the same if ye hadn’t,” Angus said.

Gavin stood looking at the now still circle of oaks. “I hope Othana sees it that way, too. She might be right angry.”

“Then she shouldn’t have sent the damned gun with the woman!”

Gavin nodded, then looked at Angus. “I guess we should get it back tah her, then.”

“I suppose we have tah face her sooner or later. It may as well be now.”

The mists began to gather around them and they gradually disappeared from view.

~~~

Violet was kneeling in the middle of her garden, pulling weeds, tending the new shoots coming up on most her plants, and preparing them to be transplanted into a new section of garden Cahl was building for her. Her heavily rounded stomach was making it much harder to work in the heat than usual, but she persevered, determined to get the new garden established before the baby came.

“I was thinking I’d like tah build ye a gazebo in the yard somewhere,” Cahl said. “A nice big one, with a table, and some chairs tah relax in, too. We could take meals there, and the babes could play there. Family could gather there tah enjoy the day and still have shelter from the sun, or the rain.”

“I’d like that,” Violet said. “We’ve already got the smaller one in the back, so maybe move it over to Nora’s where all the fruit trees are?”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Cahl said.

“Da! Da! I’ve got a lizard!” a little boy with dark hair like Cahl’s but bright blue eyes like Violet’s shouted, as he ran by. The child was only about four. He held his hand aloft as a bright green lizard clung by his mouth to the end of the boy’s finger.

“It looks like the lizard has ye, Ozie!”

Ozie shrieked with laughter as he shook his hand and the lizard just continued to cling to him.

“Don’t hurt that lizard, little boy!” Violet called after him.

“I won’t, Ma!” Ozie shouted back.

“That boy, that boy,” Violet said affectionately while shaking her head.

Cahl watched as their son ran through the yard laughing and happy. They’d expanded the yard, planted new fruit trees in their own yard from grafts of the ones Violet had taken from Nora’s trees. They’d planted more berry bushes, and the expansion of the garden was the next phase in Violet’s vision for their home to be the perfect place. He didn’t care what Violet wanted to do, he’d do it. She and their children were his life. The fact that Ozie was so happy was evidence that they were doing something right. The fact that Violet was so happy was evidence that he was doing something right. And his life had never been better. He’d finally found his place. “I’d say with the laughter filling our ears, and the smiles and kisses from ye, that we’ve made all the right choices.”

Violet looked up at her mate, her husband, as far as she was concerned. She knew he didn’t have a happy childhood, which made it all the more important that his kids did. “I’d say you’re absolutely right. And this next one, she’ll be just as happy, just as mischievous, I have no doubt.”

Violet looked up to see if Cahl had heard her, but instead she found him looking at the space between her garden fence and the fig trees just on the other side nearest the back yard. “What is it?” she asked, turning to see what he saw that she hadn’t.

Violet’s eyes widened when she saw the familiar outline of a woman she hadn’t seen in several years. “Othana?” Violet asked.

“The circle, Violet. Hurry! The circle!”

“What is it?” Violet asked, trying unsuccessfully to get to her feet.

“They need you, Violet!” Othana rushed out before she disappeared just as quickly as she’d appeared.

“What did she say?” Cahl growled, as he steadied his mate’s body and helped her stand from where she’d been sitting on the ground.

“The circle. She said someone needs me in the circle,” Violet said, trying to get around Cahl to head toward the circle.

“Ye can barely walk, Violet. Ye can’t go running off tah the circle!”

“I have to!” Violet shouted. “Someone needs me!”

“And we need ye! Ye stay here and I’ll go.”

“No! I’m going too!”

“Stubborn, stubborn woman,” he grumbled.

“Ozie!” she exclaimed.

“Stay here, Violet. Keep Ozie here. I’ll go see tah whatever it is at the circle.”

“Fine, but hurry. Hurry. Othana said I need to be there.”

“I’ll bring whatever it is tah ye. Stay here!” Cahl shouted as he ran around the back of the house. He threw open the barn doors and hopped into the battery operated ATV they’d bought not too long ago. It made getting around their property much easier, and truth be told, Cahl just enjoyed zipping around in it and feeling the wind in his hair. He didn’t look back as he sped away, his path a direct one to the part of the forest the circle stood in. He left his ATV just outside the tree line, knowing it wouldn’t be possible to drive it through the heavily wooded forest to get to the circle, and broke into a full run. As he got closer to the circle, he could just make out something in the middle of the circle. Something that wasn’t moving. Something that should have been moving. By the time he stepped into the circle of oaks, he could not only see, he could smell the blood. He didn’t hesitate. He rushed right up to the two people sprawled in the middle of the circle and recognized them at once. He put hands on the male first. He was lying over the female, still grasping her as best he could, while shielding her with his body. Both were unconscious.

Cahl rested his fingertips on the side of the male’s neck, just under his ear, feeling for a pulse. It was there, but just barely. He quickly examined the male to figure out where the blood was coming from, and found that he’d been shot in the back, likely with a shotgun similar to those he and Violet owned. His flesh was torn up, and had he been human, he wouldn’t still be alive. He lifted the male and carried him through the woods to the ATV, laying him across the back seat of the vehicle face down. Not wasting a single second, he turned and ran back into the woods. He knelt beside the female, Violet’s aunt, the witch he’d seen time and time again tracking the very same male he’d just carried to the ATV. Apparently, she’d finally caught up with him. He felt for her pulse. It was then that he saw a slice in her throat, thankfully not as deep as it could have been, but deep enough to cause some blood loss. He lifted her into his arms and realized her back was soaked in blood, much more blood than should have come from the cut on her throat. He ran through the woods holding the woman close to his chest trying not to jostle her any more than necessary. Arriving back at his ATV, he slid into the front seat still holding the woman with one arm while driving with the other.