Chapter 7 #5
Tark’han’s men maintain their upper hand, and one by one, the invading Proudhunters fall to the blades of the Bloodrage orcs until only two are left, one of whom is Riktal.
He’s giving it everything he has, but it’s useless, and from the look on his face, he knows it.
He doesn’t look surprised when Tark’han’s sword is finally driven through his chest, but he manages to give Vakesh a final sneer as he crumples to the ground.
After receiving a nod from Tark’han, the only other Bloodrage orc still in battle withdraws, allowing the surviving Proudhunter to escape.
What? Vakesh begins speaking to Tark’han, likely asking the same thing I want to.
As Tark’han turns to his brother, his face can only be described as full of disgust.
“He wants Khazak to think that Vakesh has betrayed him. See the orc on the right?” Sir points to an orc now standing next to Tark’han as the orc monologues at his brother.
“That is the orc who escaped in the first scene. After reporting back, Tark’han sent spies to look for his brother.
He has learned about Vakesh’s enslavement and is disgusted by his willing submission to an enemy tribe’s leader.
Those same spies then informed him of Riktal’s plan, allowing the Bloodrage tribe to set a trap. ”
That sounds awfully convenient, but I’m not a writer.
And speaking of convenient, Khazak and his men have just shown up, the escaped orc among them.
The two tribe leaders stare each other down.
Tark’han is the first to break eye contact, looking down at Riktal’s corpse with a smirk and forcing Khazak to look down too.
The sight of his best friend and second-in-command’s body fills Khazak with so much rage that you’d think he belonged to the other tribe.
He turns his stare to Vakesh as he draws his sword, and with a shout, another battle begins.
With Khazak’s troops, things seem more evenly matched, which I’m not sure makes sense, but I’m too invested in the story at this point to care.
While they battle on the outskirts, Khazak charges toward Vakesh and Tark’han in the center, grabbing Riktal’s discarded sword with his free hand on the way.
Now dual-wielding, he crosses swords with Vakesh first, the smaller orc reluctantly forced to defend himself.
Lucky for him, his brother comes up on Khazak’s back.
The Proudhunter leader uses his second sword to deflect the attack but is forced to move unless he wants to be trapped between the two.
The three of them dance like this for a while, Khazak and Tark’han on the attack while Vakesh stays largely defensive.
All the while, the two orcs are yelling, shouting at Vakesh, who continues to look torn between the two.
I swear I think I saw the guy’s heart break after a particularly vicious sounding line from his brother.
So far, Khazak has been holding his own against the two pretty well, but I can see it starting to wear on him.
With a well-timed swipe, Tark’han manages to knock the sword from Khazak’s off hand.
Seeing an opportunity, Vakesh strikes at Khazak’s other hand, disarming him completely.
In the confusion, Tark’han rushes in with a well-placed kick to Khazak’s stomach, sending the orc tumbling to the ground at Vakesh’s feet.
Sure of his defeat, Khazak can only look up at his former lover’s face in disgust, waiting for his death.
Vakesh stands over the prone Khazak, sword arm pulled back.
The pose is one of a practiced warrior, ready to strike, but his face.
.. His face is just broken. Tark’han comes up behind his brother, hand on his shoulder as he speaks into his ear.
I already know what he’s saying. Do it. Kill him and prove yourself. He’s so smug, so sure of himself.
Which is why he looks so shocked when he finds his brother’s sword driven through his stomach.
“Oh shit,” I actually say out loud.
Tark’han falls to the ground, blood already pouring from his mouth.
He looks up, cursing his brother’s betrayal with his final words.
Vakesh drops to his knees as the life drains from his brother’s face, looking even more broken than he did before.
Khazak stands, unsure if he should approach or run.
The battling around them draws to a close with many of the Ragebloods retreating in the face of their leader’s sudden demise (even though this is their camp).
Though they are the victors, the Proudhunter tribe looks unsure of whether or not to celebrate, all eyes drawn to their leader and his (former?) slave.
Vakesh finally stands, though is unable to lift his head to look Khazak in the face. The two speak, stiffly at first, though slowly they begin to warm to each other.
“Vakesh is explaining the truth of what transpired, about both Riktal’s and Tark’han’s plans,” Sir translates. “Khazak is mournful of his friend’s passing but also angry with him for putting himself, Vakesh, and the rest of the tribe in danger.”
Then stage-Khazak says something that has Vakesh meeting his eyes in an instant, anger flashing across his features for a second before he says anything in return.
“He wants to release Vakesh,” Khazak whispers. “But in response, Vakesh is questioning if he really wants to give up after everything they have been through together.”
I don’t need a translator for what happens next.
Vakesh closes the distance between them and pulls Khazak in for a kiss.
As the fog rolls in one final time, the audience breaks into applause.
Once it dissipates, the full cast of the play can be seen on the arena floor, including the bear who I watch morph back into the shape of an orc.
I forgot druids can do that. The group take a bow as the crowd gives them a standing ovation, one I have no choice but to join as my former chair stands himself. Honestly? Great show. Would see again.
With the play done, people start to make their way out of the arena. Following right behind Ragnar and Nylan, we re-enter the arena’s lobby beneath the stands. Khazak again pulls us to the side once we can get free of the crowd.
“There is someone I wish to speak to before we head home,” Khazak explains.
“Well, this has been a really fun weekend, but we have work tomorrow,” Ragnar tells us as we split up for the evening.
“I miss sleeping in a real bed,” Nylan complains as he hugs me goodbye. “See ya, David. Goodbye, sir.”
As the two of them make their exit, Khazak leads me down a hall to a wooden door, knocking twice. A familiar orc woman opens the door, one of the two who seem to run this place. I spot her counterpart standing in the room behind her.
“Khazak!” She looks happy to see us and steps to the side, waving us in.
“Curator Brightdrum, I wanted to congratulate you and your sister on another successful festival.” Khazak smiles at them both warmly.
“Please, Khazak, we have known you your entire life.” The second orc crosses the room to meet us. “We are just Agra and Ti’gat.”
“And you know we cannot take all the credit,” the first orc continues. “The whole city works very hard to make this festival happen every year.” Everyone around here is so humble. “Tell me, did you happen to see the new panel we added to the Hall’s walls?”
“Yes, we did. It is truly an honor.” He puts his fist across his chest and bows. “Do you not agree, David?”
“Yes, it’s an honor,” I try not to say too stiffly.
I get a small laugh at my response. “You know, we were not sure you were gonna make it after you lost your match. Glad to see we were wrong.”
“He is nothing if not resilient,” Khazak clasps my shoulder, and I try not to roll my eyes.
“That certainly—” Agra pauses at the sound of a cat meowing, all four of us turning our heads up to the rafters to see the cat in question poking out from a hole in the wall above the rafters. The hell?
“Spirits be damned,” Agra mutters before turning to her sister. “Some of the actors are having issues removing their makeup glamours.”
“We better get over there,” Ti’gat says with a sigh before standing. “I hope you both had a wonderful festival.” She looks at me thoughtfully, clearly wanting a response.
“It’s been a lot of fun. Really interesting.” It wasn’t anything like I could have expected, that’s for sure. “Is it a lot of work cleaning up after all this?”
Ti’gat waves off my concern. “Oh sweetie, once everyone has gone, we are just gonna hose this whole place down.”
Khazak and I make our exit after that, the sun setting behind us as we walk home.
“I forget what a big deal you are around here sometimes.” Like really big. “Also, what was that thing with the cat?”
“I am not a ‘big deal.’” Yes he is. “And that cat was Agra’s familiar. She and Ti’gat are both witches. I believe Ti’gat’s is a crow.” That explains it.
“They’re the ones in charge of the festival? What was it that you called them?” Besides witches.
“Yes, much of it.” Khazak nods. “Their official title is ‘curator.’ They are responsible for recording important events in the city’s history, not just like we saw on the panels but actual written documentation.
” His voice drops low as he continues. “Underneath the Hall of Honor is a vault that not many in the city are even aware of. It contains a number of important records and artifacts, things too important or dangerous to be left out in the open. The two of them are the guardians of its contents. I meet with them regularly to discuss security concerns.”
“See? You are a big deal.” He should just own it.
He rolls his eyes (I’m rubbing off on him) and presses forward. “So, what did you think? Of the play and of the festival.”
“I liked it a lot. Both of them.” Some of it for obvious reasons. “Even aside from the fun stuff, it was nice to get to know a little more about your friends, and the city, and I guess your great great great grandfathers or whatever.”
“‘Or whatever’ indeed.” He smirks down at me. “I am glad you had fun, David. It was nice to have someone to celebrate with this year.”
I return his smile, though I can hear the sad unspoken message in his words clear as day. He won’t have someone to celebrate with next year.
Maybe... Maybe I can come visit next year. Just for this... Just for him.