23. Emilia
Chapter 23
Emilia
I have been pacing the floor since before dawn. In the early morning, I was startled awake, and a spike of adrenaline coursed through me. I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t fall asleep after that. I feel anxious knowing that whatever is happening, there is a chance something could go terribly wrong. What if they get there and can’t find my father, or what if something happens to Timas? The fear twists in my stomach like someone has reached in and placed my insides in a vice. These walls seem to be closing in on me, and I decide that a walk may be my only hope for distraction. Stepping out into the morning, the smell of spring fills my senses as the chilly air hits my face. The shock of the cool air hitting my lungs removes a bit of the panic that has been slowly growing inside me.
A small sitting area to my right has a table, chairs, and fur hanging over a wooden fence nearby. A cough startles me out of my thoughts. Looking up, I see an Orc woman standing before me. She has ornate beads braided into her hair, a large nose ring, and dark black paint around her eyes: this is the chief’s wife.
“Throm-ka, Dorgan Emilia. ”
“Throm-ka, Lady Chief.” She sets a tray of food and a mug full of hot liquid on the small table.
“No need to be so formal, Emilia. You are a clansman. My name is Borgha. You must be hungry, so eat.” Her gruff tone is typical of an Orc woman, so I am not offended when she commands me to eat. The food smells good, especially the freshly baked bread, so I take a chunk, break off a small piece, and place it in my mouth. The bread has a strong yeast taste. It’s a nostalgic sensation, but it only reminds me of my father and sours my mood further.
“You won’t make them return quicker by pacing the ground.” She sits at the table and grabs the other mug of likely warm malt beer. Reluctantly, I sit as well and grab the second mug. The warm, slightly sweet taste coats my mouth–I didn’t realize how thirsty I was. Along with discovering my own thirst, a growl from my stomach makes itself known. Grabbing a piece of cheese, I put it onto the bread I already served myself and, very impolitely, shoved the whole portion into my mouth.
“You are quite famous.” I stop momentarily chewing my food and look over at Borgha. I don’t know what she’s saying. Maybe I’ve become well known since discovering I’m the spirit bond to the King of the Day Court?
“I didn’t really choose to become Timas’ spirit bond.” She lightly shakes her head and takes another sip.
“No, you were well-known far before you met him. Your story is told across the clans. The story of Dorgan Zornak is an example of why Orcs shouldn’t get involved with humans. Though his standing and respect as a warrior could never be diminished, he changed after the pain of his youth.” My brow scrunches together as I take in her words. Is she saying my father having a human daughter should be something to be ashamed of? I knew he was treated differently because of me and that some–well, many–people commented on the odd choice of raising a human, but I had not heard that his life was an example of ‘what not to do.’
“Do not take some great offence. This was before you, when your father met your mother. Sylvia was her name, correct?”
“What do you mean?” Father never really talked about the time he spent with my mother. All he has ever said is that he once thought they would be together forever, but that isn’t what happened.
“Your father was a high-ranking warrior in the Clan at one time. One of his scouting trips led him to the river that bordered the human kingdom. The story goes that he stumbled upon a young human woman curled up by the river bank, wearing rags for clothes and looking sickly. Despite Dorgan Zornak’s reputation as a cold and brutal warrior, he saw something in this frail woman and brought her back to his home. He tended to her, fed and clothed her, and they fell in love. Many had scoffed at the idea that he would take a chosen bond, but he was undeterred in his affection for your mother. Years passed, and no binding ceremony took place, but she stayed and eventually became pregnant with Dorgan Garrick. They had quite the family for a while, but she was never really accepted into our Clan. Many did not believe it was a good idea to inter-bond with the humans and instead used that prejudice to make her life difficult. I believe Dorgan Garrick was three when she disappeared into the night. Zornak mourned her for years and became a shell of a man. The fierce warrior he once was disappeared the very same night she did. He went from being a warrior to becoming a blacksmith–a very good one–but his drive to fight left with her that night. Then, to everyone’s surprise, she returned with a daughter all those years later.” My head is swimming, making me feel dizzy. I have had little sympathy for my mother since she left me all those years ago, but what she would have gone through must have been so difficult. The fear of not being accepted by the Fae rises to my mind as she continues the story.
“It was quite an event to see her return with a small child. Some speculated that you were Zornak’s somehow and were cursed to look like a human, but that was quickly put to an end by the elders. This time, she didn’t stick around a full day and left in the night, leaving you behind. But you know that part. You might not know that you gave him a new purpose and life. He took to you quickly, even fought many who said he should get rid of you and that you were not his responsibility. He stood strong and immediately claimed you as his daughter, even going to the temple to make it official just days after meeting you. After your family moved to the Mogd, on the border, the story took on a life of its own. Dorgan Zornak was no longer ridiculed for falling in love with a human, but he was respected for raising Garrick and a weak human to be good Orcs. Though the story still stands as a way to discourage the young from seeking a bond with a human, it also represents loyalty, faithfulness and strength.”
I hadn’t realized I was crying until a tear fell on my hand. Being called weak isn’t unusual compared to the Orc people–I am–but it hits me differently when thinking about what Father did for me. He has been a shield for our family for so many years, and he was just left to rot in Ezuren. Chief Ruk should have done something, a thought that greatly angers me. I will not feel better until I know for sure that my father is safe and away from the Northern Orcs.
“My father is a great man. The story that circulates is just that: a story. I am glad many people respect him, but he is more than just a warrior or a great blacksmith to me. He is an example of someone taking in an orphan he did not have to and loving her. He has always been my protector, and he taught me to stand up for those you love, no matter what.”
“A good lesson to learn. I’m afraid you will need that unmoving love in the future.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means the King of the Day Court has a war coming, and he will need someone to stand beside him while he faces the onslaught of attacks. I suspect your loyalty to each other will be tested. It is good that he will be bonded to a woman raised by an Orc who values such loyalty–only an Orc can do it well. You will need to be steadfast for the challenges ahead of you. ”
Is this about the problem going on in Sonas? Timas hasn’t really mentioned what is happening. I was so consumed by what was happening in my life that I never even asked what was happening in his . Guilt sinks deep in my stomach; for someone who is the other half of a person’s spirit, I haven’t been considering his own pressures. I resolve even in that moment to support Timas as he has supported me. Before we can continue the conversation, the drums ring loudly from the towers. Quickly, I stand and run further into the settlement, my eyes on the sky, searching for my father and the man I have fallen in love with. Mere specks in the sky show larger than normal birds, but they are coming in quickly, and their shape grows to show the Noble Guard and three people being carried. That can’t be right, only Father and Garrick can’t fly. My hands shake slightly. The only reason I can think of for another person to be carried is if they are injured. An image of Timas pops into my mind, bruised and wounded. The group descends and lands softly, as I’m sure they have practiced a hundred times. The first guard I notice sets a thin-looking man down on his feet. The man stands upright, his brown eyes turn in my direction, and my entire world just about spins out of control. My legs take off in a run. Father! He opens his arms to me, his smile and watery eyes hitting me right in the heart. I finally reach him, wrapping my arms around his body and sob uncontrollably into his chest as he lowers us to the ground. Wrapped up in the protection of my father’s arms, I feel relief now, having my family safe and whole. Pulling back, I take in his sunken cheeks and the bruises that litter his body, all in different stages of healing.
“Father! You’re hurt!” I barely choked out.
“I’m fine, little swallow, but he is not.” Looking up, I see Timas holding a limp Milori. Scrambling to my feet, I race over to them.
“What happened?” I notice blood coming from Milori’s side. A chill passes through my body looking at his wound.
“They shot white iron arrows at us as we left. Milori was grazed by one. The cut isn’t deep, but it looks like the arrows were dipped in a liquid form of white iron, which has spread and is infecting the area.” An Orc herbalist pushes her way through the crowd of onlookers.
“Move ye big ole oafs, let me see h’m.” A large Orc woman with a satchel in her hands approaches us. I step out of the way so she can look at Milori. Milori starts to move a bit, tipping his head in the direction of the herbalist.
“This was not the wake-up call I was hoping for. Where are all the pretty ladies?” My mouth drops open at the blatant insult he gave the old herbalist, but she laughs as she pulls at the fabric around the wound.
“Afraid ya get me. I may be old, but I’s got some spring still left in me yet.” She waves for someone to take Milori. Though reluctantly, Timas releases Milori into her care. I can’t wait any longer. I fling myself into Timas’ arms, embracing him fiercely. I want him to feel the happiness and relief he has given me by bringing my father back and returning safely himself. He lifts my head and cradles my face in his hands. He takes my mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth, testing its depths and showing me how much I mean to him. Unspoken messages of fear and relief, of trial and victory, of need and want, pass between us. Breathlessly pulling away, he pulls me closer to hold me tight again.
“Thank you. Thank you so much, Timas.” I can’t seem to get the wobble out of my voice, but he doesn’t care.
“Anything for you, my flower, anything.” He kisses the top of my head, causing warmth to spread across my body.
“Will Milori be ok?”
“I believe so. So long as the herbalist can clean the wound and give him the right herbal concoction, he will be fine. I saw one of the guards go with him with supplies from the palace. We will need to tell him, however, that he insulted the woman trying to help him.” Smacking his chest, I look straight into his eyes.
“We will not! We will be nice to him and make sure he has everything he needs. He was injured rescuing my father, after all.”
“You are only going to contribute to his already annoying and whiny personality, you know. He doesn’t need any encouragement.”
“I agree with the King.” Garrick’s deep voice forces us to turn around. Garrick and Father stand side by side. Stretching out my arms, I wrap the only family I have ever had in them.
“I’m so glad you are both safe.” I don’t know how to explain my relief at seeing them standing in front of me. The weight that seemed permanently affixed to my shoulders has fallen off, knowing we won’t be used against each other again.
“I’ll go check on the pest and make sure he isn’t insulting the entire camp with his big mouth.” Garrick walks toward the herbalist’s hut, leaving Father and Timas with me.
“King Timas, I don’t think I can express in words how much it means to me that you have kept my children safe. You did not need to risk your life and that of your men to rescue me, but I appreciate it nonetheless.” Father sticks his hand out toward Timas. I suck in a breath because I didn’t exactly explain Orc customs to him.–add that to the things I should have told him earlier–but Timas grabs Father’s arm, Father reciprocates and shakes once. It’s a form of respect shown between clan members for those you trust and acknowledge as a respectful Orc. Father hugs me tightly and walks away, showing his approval of Timas and trust in his ability to watch out for me. Timas turns his gaze to me.
“So, I guess he approves?” I laugh at his observation.
“Yes, he approves. How did you learn how to do that?”
“I saw your brother do it to the chief and figured that was the custom.”
“Huh. You’re a quick study.” I mull that over for a moment.
“On some things, perhaps, but I am afraid you are going to have to teach me more about the Orc customs, especially if I am to continue having meetings with the chief later.” I hum in agreement. “Now I need to find a bed. It’s been a long night.” We head toward the sleeping accommodations together. Taking a nap sounds wonderful, but seeing my father sounds better. So, as Timas goes off to sleep, I spend some much-needed time with my reunited family.