Chapter 13 #3
The movie shows humans developing bombs.
Weapons of mass destruction that I’ve read about.
Several land in Uzrirgard, but the biggest blast is on the other side of their border.
A mushroom cloud fills the entire screen, and when it finally dissipates, the sky is ripped open, horrifying creatures pouring out of the rift.
“Demons,” I say, my eyes widening.
“Straight from the damn underworld,” King Lix’tuk growls.
The focus of the war changes. The orcs and wolves are no longer fighting humans.
Now they’re fighting demons. Thousands of orcs and wolves die on the battlefields before they finally get close enough to close the rift.
The demons that remain seem to lose their will to fight once they no longer have access to the underworld.
They settle in camps that become towns that don’t look much different from Troona.
Humans take advantage of the distraction, launching more attacks, dropping more bombs.
They’re losing, but the only ones who surrender are the ones on their knees, begging for mercy before they’re whipped and beheaded.
As human atrocities rise, fewer prisoners are taken.
The whippings become brutal, the beheadings televised and celebrated.
“We realized they were too cowardly to surrender. So cowardly they began sending children into battle,” King Lix’tuk growls.
More battles are shown. I see boys that don’t look much older than Abigail being used as human shields.
The men hide behind them, firing their weapons, bombing battlefields with no concern for the casualties, regardless of which side they’re on.
Then women are dressed up in military uniforms and marched off to war, most dying horrible deaths.
“That could have been me,” I mutter, sipping more of my drink, the alcohol not giving me a pleasant buzz like before. I’m sure the movie has something to do with it.
As The Great War continues, King Lix’tuk is shown making a speech to his people.
I can’t understand what he’s saying, but it seems to be about The Salting.
That’s confirmed when the next scene shows the orcs and wolf shifters loading planes with salt.
The aircraft looks mostly human, but it’s clear the orcs are catching up with the technology being used against them.
“Salt from the Valley of the Dead,” King Lix’tuk rumbles, taking another drink of grog. “It roots in the soil and spreads like a plague.”
I’ve never heard any details about how The Salting occurred.
I always wondered. I get to see it firsthand on the screen as the country I used to call home withers before my eyes.
The green fields turn brown. The forests decay and collapse.
The transformation continues until the only thing for miles are smoldering cities, bones of towns, and sand. Sand as far as the eye can see.
Humans are shown starving. Revolting against the government.
Demanding an end to the war. A war most of them seem to have never wanted in the first place.
A ceasefire comes first. Then a treaty. The scene that unfolds is one I’ve seen in old books.
King Lix’tuk shaking hands with our president, a scowl on the orc brute’s face.
“The only thing that saved them from extinction, after all they’d done, was that they were the key to our survival,” King Lix’tuk murmurs.
King Lix’tuk gives a speech. This one is in the human tongue, so he must be speaking to everyone. I’ve never seen this speech before, so I lean closer.
“Today, we close the history books on The Great War, but the atrocities committed will never be forgotten,” he proclaims.
He outlines the terms of the treaty. Orcs will provide food and heal the soil they ruined to force the humans into ending the war. Humans will provide women to ensure that orcs and wolf shifters do not go extinct. There’s no mention of orcs buying human women. No mention of the auction.
After some words in orcish I can’t understand, the movie shows humans arriving in Uzrirgard.
None are whipped. None are abused. They’re shown bringing happiness to orc families, giving birth to babies that are placed in the arms of a woman who lost her fertility during The Great War.
I think it’s supposed to be a happy ending.
“Damn,” I say as the movie ends and words appear on the screen.
“It makes us look a lot better than we were,” he growls. “Like all propaganda.”
“If even half of it was true, then I understand why you hate humans,” I admit, shaking my head. “But I promise we’re not all bad.”
“Maybe one day I’ll meet a human who makes me believe that,” he rumbles, standing up. “I’m going to bed. You can take a bath first if you want.”
“Probably a good idea,” I say, realizing I’m a little unsteady from the drink.
King Lix’tuk leaves the theater. The screen goes dark and the artificial torches light up. I gather his empty bottles and what’s left of my drink so I can dispose of them.
History is a lot more complicated than I realized.
So is King Lix’tuk.