Page 22 of Running from the Orc
Heleftme.
After two more days of hard riding, of not touching me more than he had to, of sullen silences, Varkaan rode into his village, reined in before the cutest little cottage, and said, “This is Lady Roxanna Tarbert” to the old female who met us.
Then he turned around and rode out again.
I stared after him, flabbergasted by his rudeness, but too angry to do aught besides plant my fists on my hips and glare after him.
Atbothhorses’ backsides: the one belonging to our faithful steed, and the other the idiot riding him.
Beside me, the wizened orc clucked her tongue. “What an arse.”
That surprised a laugh from me and I swung around to stare incredulously at this female who could read my mind.
She grinned and offered her hand. “I am Gelma, Varkaan’s grandmother.”
I was not sure what she expected. Did orcs shake hands? I reached out and clasped the spindly fingers, surprised by how much they reminded me of my own grandmother, long gone.
“Roxanna,” I said quietly.
“Aye, so he said.” She bobbed her head, and I decided this grandmother of his was quite sweet. “Come sit in my garden and have some tea, my dear.”
Again surprised, I followed. The woman was so bent she was no taller than me, with her shoulders covered in a wrap of colorful embroidery and her throat and neck adorned with beads which jangled cheerfully. Since her hands looked too wizened for such endeavors, I decided she was likely adorned with gifts. Had Varkaan not said she was a holy woman for his clan?
Bah. We are not thinking of him right now.
Nodding firmly, I pushed thoughts of Varkaan aside and rushed to help carry thetray of simple mugs and sweet-smelling liquid through the house and out the backdoor to the well-tended herb garden.
And thus began my tenure at Bladesedge village.
I slept in Gelma’s cottage on a neat cot hidden behind a quilt for privacy. I took my meals with her at the scarred table or out in the garden beneath the spreading yew tree. I helped prepare those meals at her hearth, or gratefully accepted the gifts of meat and bread and cheese from the villagers.
And I helped her.
We traveled among the people, me carrying her bag of holy totems, and I watched her set broken bones and whisper encouraging words and tell stories of her gods, which didn’t sound too different from the stories Father Andrew used to tell in the Tarbert chapel. I recognized the unlikelihood of a female priest, but Gelma’s gods did not seem to mind her keeping their names alive, and I could appreciate that.
Here in the village, and among the outlying crofts and farmers, the orcs treated their women as equals. Females were revered, and more than once I saw the respectful nods and pleased smiles sent to pregnant orcs, or those nursing bairns.
In my world, a woman’s ability to bear sons was her only worth. Here, ‘twas seen as an additional blessing, because her skills and knowledge were valued first and foremost.
Here in the village, the Bladesedge orcs helped one another, ensuring that every member of the clan was well fed and safe. It mattered not if ‘twas the alewife’s orphaned twins or the blacksmith’s widowed mother…even if they could contribute naught to the clan, they were honored and cared for.
In my world, gold ruled, and if a man could not work or a woman grew too old, they relied on charity and prayed the church would grant them a crust of bread.
The Bladesedge clan might be orcs, but they were better, more compassionate beings than the ones who raised me.
Aye, as the days passed, I came to realize something. Ilikedit here.
I did not understand all of their language—although Gelma helped, and most of them spoke mine, thanks to the raiding—and I did not understand their customs.
But I wanted to learn.
Despite the lack of guards, I no longer wanted to run. I could be content here, if Sorcha and Effie ever arrived…but for one thing.
‘Twas almost the new moon when Gelma assured me my sister would come, but Varkaanstill stayed away.
“He is a hunter,” the orcs assured me. “He often disappears for weeks at a time and returns with bounty.”
I didn’t want his bounty or his meat. I wantedhim.
