22. Jurto
22
JURTO
“ K eep at it! Don’t give up, Borka!” I yell, pointing at the orc who has tripped up on his own feet as he tries to pursue Varg down the field. “If you keep doing that during matches, we won’t stand a chance against our opponents!”
“Oh, Jurto,” Hrogun mumbles beside me, shaking his head. He drinks languidly from his water skin, observing our teammates. “Do you aim to kill the rest of our team with these drills?”
“I’m building character.”
“Yes, under an excruciating heat,” he replies, slapping me on the shoulder. “Give them a water break before they all die on you.”
With a sigh, I clap my hands and call out for everyone’s attention. “Alright, alright! Hrogun pities you all, so we’re taking a short break. Recollect yourselves because practice isn’t ending any time soon!”
“Thank you, Hrogun,” Kraag whispers, spitting onto the ground. “I was about to faint.”
I might be taking out my frustrations on the team , I realize. I’ve been suppressing thoughts of Emilia. In turn, I’ve been punishing the team for entertaining the thoughts of my perceived fondness for her.
There might be grains of truth within their gossip, but I won’t admit that to them.
As we all take a break, my team scatters, collapsing onto the benches, gulping air like it’s their last breath. The sun bears down on us, relentless, as if it's trying to sear the very spirit out of our bodies. I stand apart, letting the clamor of my exhausted teammates fade into the background. My thoughts drift to Emilia, her defiant gaze, the slight tremor of her lips when she's worried. I shake my head, trying to scatter her image like leaves in the wind. I can't afford distractions.
Suddenly, the chatter of unfamiliar voices catches my attention. I turn, squinting against the sun. Gargash, with his bulky frame and sneer that could curdle milk, saunters onto the pitch followed by a couple of hulking orcs from his team, the Stonebreakers. They wear their arrogance like a second skin, and disdain drips from every word as Gargash stops a few feet away, his eyes gleaming with malice and amusement.
"Jurto, always pushing your team to the brink, I see," Gargash bellows, his voice echoing across the field. His cronies chuckle behind him, their laughter grating on my nerves.
I straighten up, crossing my arms. "Gargash, to what do I owe the displeasure?"
He smirks, stepping closer. The stench of his arrogance is almost palpable. "Heard a bunch of rumors about you, old friend. That you’ve got yourself a sweet little human plaything. This surprises me, Jurto! Quite the exotic taste you’ve developed."
The mention of Emilia tightens my jaw. I can feel the stares of my team, their curiosity piqued. This is exactly what I didn't want—attention on my personal life, on her.
"She’s not a plaything," I grit out, my voice low.
Gargash laughs, a sound like rocks grinding together. "Oh, come now, we all know what happens with pets, Jurto. They either run away, or they break. And I’m thinking... What's it like, eh? Maybe I should find out for myself. Take her from you, see how sweet she really is."
The threat hangs in the air, heavy and sinister. My hands clench into fists at my sides. "You try it, and it’ll be the last thing you do, Gargash."
He steps forward, his face inches from mine. "Is that a challenge, Jurto?"
"It’s a promise," I reply, every muscle in my body tensing for a fight.
Staring me down, he huffs out a breath. As much as I want to knock the tusks out of his lower jaw, I hold myself back. Somehow, he manages to infuriate me just with his mere presence.
My rage simmers just beneath the surface, a volcanic heat ready to erupt. Gargash’s words, vile and venomous, hang in the sweltering air between us, fueling my fury. "She's not yours for the taking," I snarl back, my voice a low growl that doesn’t quite mask the undercurrent of protectiveness I feel.
Gargash's eyes narrow, a cruel smile playing on his lips as if he’s just placed the last piece in a puzzle. "Oh, I think we can let the game decide, Jurto," he suggests, his tone dripping with malice. "How about a high-stakes match? If my team wins, the human is mine."
I hesitate, every fiber of my being screaming against the idea. Emilia is not a token to be gambled, her fate not something to toss around in a game. Yet, I see the trap Gargash is setting; refusing might show weakness, or worse, it could incite him to take what he wants by force.
Emilia doesn’t deserve to go through something like this again. Aleryn bet and lost her. She belongs to me indefinitely. Why must he ruin things?
The sun beats down mercilessly, casting long, ominous shadows across the field, mirroring the darkness that seems to seep into my thoughts. My teammates watch silently, their fatigue momentarily forgotten, replaced by a tense anticipation.
I take a deep breath, trying to quell the storm within me. "This isn't a game, Gargash," I say firmly, stepping closer so that only a few feet separate us. "She’s a person, not a prize."
"But everything is a game, isn't it?" he counters quickly, his voice smooth as oil. "And everyone has a price. So, what will it be, Jurto? Are you afraid your team might lose?"
“Hah,” Hrogun mumbles. “Bold words from an orc with your record.”
Gargash smirks. “I’ve won more matches than you can count, you hard headed fool.”
His words are a taunt. He knows just how to provoke me, and I feel the control slipping, my anger a live wire sparking dangerously close to detonation. But it’s that very anger that steadies my resolve.
"No," I reply, my voice steady now, the rage channeled into a cold, focused determination. "We'll play your game. But not today. We'll meet on the field for a match. That should give you some time to pray to the gods you grovel before."
Gargash's grin widens, and he gives a sharp, mocking laugh. "Very well, Jurto. A match it is. Prepare well. It’ll be a match to remember, especially when I take your precious Emilia home."
I freeze. How the fuck does he know her name? And who told him?
He turns, his laughter echoing back to me as he and his lackeys make their way off the field. As their figures recede, a heavy silence descends over us. I turn back to my team, their faces a mixture of concern and resolve.
"We have work to do, brothers," I say, more to myself than to them. "We train harder, we fight harder. I’ll be damned if we let Gargash and his orcs win a match against us.”
As I turn to my team, the weight of what’s at stake settles heavy on my shoulders. But when I meet their eyes, I see it reflected back at me—a fierce, unwavering determination. They know what we need to do, and despite the exhaustion etched on their faces, they pull themselves up, ready to stand with me.
“Alright, everyone, gather around me,” I call out, my voice firm but infused with a warmth that surprises even me. They come, forming a tight circle around me—Hrogun with his ever-watchful eyes, Varg whose quick feet have saved us more than once, Krodash with his brute strength, Kraag with his cunning, Borka with his newfound resolve.
“We’re not just training for a match,” I begin, my gaze locking with each of theirs in turn. “We’re training to protect something important. Gargash thinks he can threaten us, and thinks he can take what he wants. We’re going to show him he’s wrong.”
Hrogan steps forward, clapping a heavy hand onto my shoulder. “We’ve got your back, Jurto. We train together, we fight together.”
His words ripple through the group, and a chorus of assents rises up. Borka nods vigorously, a fire lighting up his eyes.
“We’ll make them regret ever stepping onto the field with us,” Varg adds, his voice sharp and fierce.
I nod, grateful for their support, feeling it bolster my own resolve. “We sharpen every technique, we perfect every play. We become the unbreakable wall and the unstoppable force. No mercy on the field, understood?”
“Understood!” they shout back, their voices a unified force.
We dive back into training with a renewed vigor. I set up drills that push their limits, and they meet each challenge head-on. We work on our formations, our passing, our defense—every element that could give us an edge. The sun continues its relentless assault, but we barely notice now, our focus narrowed to the task at hand.
As they move through the drills, I can't help but glance occasionally toward the path leading away from the field, half-expecting to see Emilia watching. The thought of losing her to Gargash’s grim intentions gnaws at me, stirring an uncomfortable vulnerability in my chest.
This vulnerability transforms into a fierce protectiveness, fueling my determination. I jump into the drills, moving with a vicious precision. If Gargash thinks he can use Emilia to unnerve me, he’s sorely mistaken. I’ll fight with everything I have to keep her safe, to keep her from his grasp.
As practice wears on, our movements grow sharper, our calls louder, our spirits harder. We are more than a team; we are a brotherhood forged in the fires of adversity, bound by a common cause.
We will be ready for the Stonebreakers. We will be victorious. For honor, for glory, for Emilia.