Page 1 of Valpar

Chapter One

Valpar

The gleaming chestnut coatof my horse glistened under the warm sunlight. As I secured the leather tightly around his shoulders, I felt the tautness against his powerful muscles. A slight tension coursed through him when my claws came too close to his neck. With each stomp of his hooves, the ground reverberated beneath us. Protesting, he threw his head back, and his ears flattened against his skull, conveying his displeasure.

I relaxed my face and tensed shoulders, as my palm smoothed down his neck. The horse, whom I have named Ulam, calmed,and I could feel the thrumming of his drum beneath my large hand. My nails ran up and down his neck, his skin shivering at my touch and he leaned into me.

Horses could read an orc. They knew when an orc was sad, happy or angry, and most of the time, territorial. We had been gifted several horses by the Golden Lights’ King Osirus, and a stableman to teach us how to care for them. Only a few of us wanted one to keep, as the forest wasn’t ideal for these creatures, who often needed open spaces. They had seen us in war, so they knew how ferocious we were. It took months for us to gain these beasts’ trust.

Most of the tribe didn’t like them, they found them too jumpy. I found them to be smart and useful, if one had the patience.

Patience with animals, I had… with other creatures, not so much.

“Is that the last of it?” Alark called from behind the wagon, which was attached to my horse.

Ulam jerked his head, and his front legs stomped into the soft ground.

I sighed and ran my hand through my messy hair. “Yes, now stop barking near the horses or we won’t get anywhere,” I replied quietly.

The horses were used to my grunts and barks since I spent more time with them, but this fat fattyu understood nothing. His head was not completely formed.

“They fear everything. We should leave them with Osirus. You must treat them like orclings to get anything from them,” Alark said, putting his hands on his hips. He was tall and covered in scars from the war. He was a fool, hot-headed, and dumber than a pixie.

I did not know how his clan could stand him. His ogamie would be sad to know the moss in his skull gets smaller each day.

“Fine, we’ll do that. You can haul the cart with all theexports,then.”

Exports was a word Osirus taught us. We ‘exported’ food, furs and other goods from Monktona Wood that came from nowhere else in Bergarian. In return, we gained gold or other materials such as sugar, flour and other things we could not get calledimports.

I grunted and turned away from the male. He rolled his yellow eyes, and I didn’t have time to explain simple things. Today was enough to bear.

I let out a low, guttural groan, and the sound echoed through the dense forest. Anger surged within me, causing my hand to clench into a tight fist. As my sharp claws dug into my palm, a surge of pain shot through my body, but I welcomed it, relishing in the release.

It had been an entire year since I last ventured beyond the towering trees of Monktona Wood, and the thought of leaving now filled me with an overwhelming sense of unease.

I wanted to hit something.

I could hit Alark’s face.

I enjoyed staying in the Monktona Wood to look after the elders. It was welcomed; it was quiet. I didn’t have to dress up infor-malcloth. I did not have to smile and talk to funny-smelling fairies or shifters.

Thorn, our unofficial leader of the tribe, said he would stay behind to watch out for the elders this time. He told me that I could not stay behind for a third migration.

My chest felt like a boulder was sitting on it. It pushed heavily on my bones as I observed Thorn’s slow approach. Exhaustion seeped into my body, weariness accumulating with each visit to the Golden Light or the Cerulean Moon Kingdoms, always returning empty-handed, and my hopes shattered like fragile glass that hung in those fancy castles.

It had been over ten years since the Moon Fairy came to the tribe and promised that our tribe would have females again. She called them mates, not miresas, but it was all the same to us. She said we would have one for each male and never have to share if we did not want to, and we all believed her.

I wanted one so badly. My body ached watching the last female orc pass this world and go to the stars. There were no females left and none to be given to the youngest generation. Our orgamos were withering away with no females, and they were ready for death and to meet them on the other side.

Thorn approached, his eyes trying to give us false hope. His grin stretched across his face. The warmth of his fake happiness was sickening. I could almost hear the joyous hum of his contentment, as he reveled knowing that I was assuming leadership of the tribe, while he would stay behind to rest in peace.

Stupid, ugly-faced ogre.

I grunted and grabbed my sword from the side of the cart. “Are you sure I cannot stay?” I took the sword and slid it into its sleeve behind my back. “I can be of more use here.”

Thorn’s disappointed gaze pierced through me, then his judging eyes looked straight toward my gut. I could almost taste the words he wanted to utter hovering on the edge of his tongue. I stood before him, distinct from the rest of the tribe, my figure softer around the midsection. Yet, my strength remained unwavering and fierce enough to protect our tribe from any enemy.

So what if my body differed from the others? I could still slaughter more than the rest.

---