The Cursed Tribe - Chapter 5

• Posted by Karver the Lorc October 26, 2015 - Filed in TSC: CB Story - #"Karver"  #"Cursed Tribe"  - 1,740 views

  

  Chapter 5

  Grow Up, Gularzob I

  4E 187

   

  Gularzob opened his eyes when he heard a loud crack in next room. He was still half asleep, so he couldn't really tell what it was. His confused mind, having just been awakened, worked slowly.

   

  He was lying in his bed in the Longhouse; he heard Garakh's deep breaths on the bed next to him. There was darkness, because the fireplace had died out sometime ago. He moved his head and blinked. Garakh still slept, so she had likely not heard the noise.

   

  He sat up and looked around him in the faint light. Directly opposite him lay Ragrarz - the chieftain's hearth-wife - on her back, with hands on her huge belly. She was complaining about the baby kicking too much. A strong warrior, he will be, thought Gularzob. At least she thinks it will be a boy.

   

  Then he heard another loud sound. A growl. Followed by a groan. And then another loud crack.

   

  So they're doing it again, he thought. Since chieftain Yamarz had brought Ghorurz to Largashbur six winters ago, this had been happening quite often. One would think that there was a fight going on in the chieftain's bedroom, but the truth was that… It isn't far from truth. Yamarz and Ghorurz were mostly doing both things at the same time.

   

  There was a rumble followed by another loud crack. He pressed her against the wall. And she punched him. Yamarz growled and then they knocked down a nightstand, judging by the wooden sound of the crash. Which was, unfortunately, followed by the ringing of metal. They had their weapons on that nightstand.

   

  That woke Garakh and, by her growl, Gularzob could guess that she wasn't really happy. “Could you be at least quiet while you're doing that for tusk's sake?” she half-whispered and half-yelled.

   

  “Shut your mouth, female,” replied Yamarz without even lowering his voice. Ghorurz groaned again, but this time it was like a purring sabrecat. “Or I will close it myself,” added Yamarz after another pant.

   

  The forge-wife didn't reply, but she got up and made her way to the chieftain's bedroom. Gularzob shivered and lay down again. It's cold here, he thought as he pulled a fur over his body.

   

  The Young Orc blotted out all the sounds made by three Orcs and focused his thoughts on the last six years. It was strange, but Largashbur was slowly becoming the most powerful tribe in Skyrim, ever since Yamarz had allied himself with Adal Matar. Once every two years he and a few other warriors went to the other side of Velothi Mountains, to raid Morrowind fortresses. Never villages, Orcs didn't fight peasants. Only warriors. And the Redoran Dunmer proved to be admirable warriors.

   

  At least, that's what the chieftain said. He remembered how reluctant Yamarz was about joining those raids. But the wise-woman had said that if the warchief wields Volendrung, he fulfills Malacath's wishes. So it would be profitable for Largashbur to follow the will of Malacath.

   

  And it was profitable. Yamarz returned with exotic weapons and armors from Morrowind everytime. He traded most of them for his new hearth-wife from Dushnikh Yal, but the prospect of more weapons didn't make him regret that. The warchief of Adal Matar even gave another daughter to Yamarz as his new hunt-wife.

   

  Largashbur was getting powerful indeed.

   

  He hadn't slept much for the rest of the night, so the morning caught him rather unprepared. Ragrarz, the hearth-wife, got up first and started making a fire. The first thing she did was to open the door leading outside to fetch some firewood. The draft of freezing air served as a very unpleasant method of rousing him. Gularzob pulled the fur closer to his chin, convincing himself that it wasn't time to get up yet.

   

  But the shield-wife was of a different opinion. Ghorurz poked Gularzob and he opened his eyes to see her scarred face above his. She had a few new bruises and Gularzob was sure that the chieftain had some too.

   

  “Get out of the bed, runt,” she said loudly and somewhat angrily. “You should already be up. Get dressed and bring the training weapons out.”

   

  Gularzob wanted to talk back, but he stopped himself. He was an Orc. He shouldn't have been in bed so long. While it was freezing outside, it would only make him stronger. He would endure. He was no longer a baby, he should be responsible now. Not like Grulmar.

   

  He nodded and Ghorurz went to wake up Grulmar. Gularzob didn't want to be around when that happened. Grulmar was just...Argh, I don't even have a word for it. He was always acting like a baby. Everything was amazing, other Orcs were mean to him and he always cried when he got hit. He was... Just say it, Gularzob. It's true. He is weak. He will be a liability and the chieftain will exile him. It would be better if the chieftain had killed him when he was born. Even the four winters old Ghor - Ghorurz and Yamarz's son - was more of an Orc than Grulmar.

   

  He quickly dressed himself and went out. Cold air attacked his body and he shivered. Bloody cold out here. The Rift wasn't known for being the coldest Hold in Skyrim; it looked like there was an eternal Autumn there, but this winter was really strong; the whole Rift lay under snow. It looked strange. Gularzob had already gotten used to the colourful forest of birch trees.

   

  The cold was really biting and he started to move quickly with his limbs to warm himself. He went to the hut to the right of the Longhouse. It was full of weapons. Swords, axes and warhammers and there were even a few pieces of orichalcum armor. His eyes found a massive orichalcum warhammer. I will use this weapon one day, he said to himself. Only the strongest and mightiest warriors were users of this massive weapon of destruction. And he knew he would be the strongest Orc in Largashbur one day.

   

  He grabbed two training short swords and two small shields made of wood and iron. He grunted under all it's weight, then grunted again. It didn't matter that it was too heavy. The more heavy things he carried, the stronger he would be.

   

  The training weapons were orichalcum daggers - more or less, for two runts they were more of short swords. They were a little bit thinner and dull, so that the younglings wouldn't kill each other. But they could break a few bones nevertheless. The reason why they trained with orichalcum weapons was that they had a very different shape, weight and other more complicated things which he still didn't understand to other weapons, and the runts were supposed to get the feel of precisely these weapons. Garakh had tried to explain it to him, but he still didn't get it. It was something about other weapons being made more elegantly and that made them cut the air differently to the way brutish weapons made by Orcs did.

   

  He was exiting the hut when he watched the doors of the Longhouse open, and through them flew a small figure. So Ghorurz had to throw him out. Literally, scowled Gularzob with disgust written in his face.

   

  Grulmar landed hard, his face carving a groove in the snow. He got up with a wet face and it was hard to distinguish between what was snow and what was tears. “Why do I have to train now?!” he yelled at Ghorurz. “It's feezing out here!”

   

  Gularzob saw that expression on shield-wife's face. She was really angry. Grulmar was in over his head now.

   

  She growled and moved closer to the young Orc. He knew what was going to happen and he turned to run. Now, that made Gularzob angry. Grulmar chose to run past him - wrong choice. Gularzob threw a shield at him and it hit him sideways on. He ended up in the snow again and Gularzob stepped on him.

   

  “Why can't you at least act like an Orc, for once?!” he screamed at him, trembling with anger and shame. Yes, shame. He was ashamed that this poor excuse of an Orc was his brother.

   

  “But I don't want to trai-” Grulmar tried to say, but Ghorurz came, grabbed him by his neck and lifted him. She was holding him with only one hand; his feet were at least one step above the ground and she put her face nearer to his.

   

  “If you disobey me one more time, runt, I swear on Malacath's hammer, I will break several bones in your skinny little body. Are we clear?”

   

  Yes, skinny. Not only did Grulmar fail to act like an Orc, but his physical strength failed that of an Orc too. While he was only six winters old, he was skinny, much thinner than any other Orc of his age. With long thin limbs with almost no muscles on them, he looked like a bloody Frostbite Spider. Except for his head, which was too big for his frail body. Grulmar was a joke.

   

  The young Orc nodded, or, at least, he tried to, because Ghorurz's hand on his throat didn't really help him to move. “Yes,” he said with a faint voice, cleary terrified by the prospect of broken bones. Gularzob wanted to vomit. Maybe it would wash away that disgusting feeling he had everytime he looked at his… No, I can't even bring myself to call him that.

   

  “That's enough, Ghorurz,” said Yamarz emotionlessly. Gularzob looked at the doors of the Longhouse and saw the chieftain standing in them, his body covered with fur clothes. He rarely wore his orichalcum armor these days. “Just let them train already,” he continued.

   

  She nodded and dropped Grulmar to the ground. He rubbed his neck and tried to hold back tears, but he didn't really acomplish that. Gularzob throwed training sword and shield before him and made few steps towards a clearing before the Longhouse. He circled his shoulders and then raised his shield.

   

  His brother grabbed shield and raised it too. “It's just too heavy,” he complained which earned him another warning look from Ghorurz. He raised the sword and came before Gularzob, who clearly saw that he had some trouble with all that weight.

   

  “Alright. Let's start with some blocking practice,” said Ghorurz. “Grulmar, attack Gularzob with everything you have. Put all your strength into it.”

   

  And that's what they did most of the time. Swinging their weapons and blocking with their shield. Gularzob would have liked to learn something new, but Yamarz explained to him that he needed to learn how to wield his weapons first; to get accustomed to their weight. After that, he could practice something more difficult than simply swinging his weapon.

   

  Grulmar interrupted his thoughts when he attacked with his sword. Gularzob raised his shield a little bit and blocked the blow. He didn't even feel the blow on his shield, so weak it was. There came several more blows and he blocked all of them with ease. Grulmar was breathing heavily, exhausted.

   

  “Alright. Now you, Gularzob,” said the shield-wife.

   

  He nodded and swung his sword at Grulmar's shield. He was told to go easy on him when they were training, because Grulmar was four winters younger, but he couldn't hold back too much. Grulmar had to get used to the strength of his opponents.

   

  Grulmar blocked the first swing and grimaced when it nearly sent him to the ground. That made Gularzob angry again. He was holding back and that shrimp wasn't able to block even his weak swings!

   

  He put more strength into his second attack. Grulmar blocked and, with some effort, he managed to stay on his feet. “Hey, you should go easy on me!” he moaned. And that infuriated Gularzob. He furiously attacked, banging into Grulmar's shield until he fell to the ground. And Gularzob didn't stop. He was still slashing that shield imagining it to be Grulmar's body. He enjoyed the loud cracks of wood, hoping they were actually bones somewhere in the back of his mind.

   

  Grulmar's shield was thrown to the side by one of Gularzob's swings, leaving his body unprotected. Gularzob really wanted to swing his sword once more, to know how it felt when you hit the body of another living creature. But he stopped.

   

  Grulmar was crying and holding his hand. Ghorurz stood nearby with her arms crossed over her chest and Yamarz was leaning on the wall of the Longhouse. They were not going to stop him.

   

  “Come here, Gularzob,” said Yamarz. “And you stop crying, runt!” he growled at Grulmar. “You're an Orc! Don't make me regret my decision to let you live when you killed your mother. Go inside, the hearth-wife will take a look at that hand of yours.”

   

  When Grulmar didn't obey and continued to lie in the snow, Yamarz stood up, intending to pull him up, but Ghorurz did it first. She grabbed him by his fur tunic and put him on his feet. He was holding his wrist and sobbing like a little baby. She pushed him towards the Longhouse and he slowly walked over there. Grulmar shot a hurt look towards Gularzob when he was near the door.

   

  “Why are you so mean to me?” he asked and Gularzob opened his mouth to answer, when the back of Yamarz's hand hit Grulmar's mouth. He ended up on the ground again, this time with blood on his lips. His eyes grew wide with shock and surprise. Yamarz leaned over him and yelled: “Mean?! He's just an Orc! Not like you, you little bastard! Get inside or I will be forced to beat that nonsense out of you. You should follow the example of your brother, not complain.” He opened the door and shoved Grulmar inside. “Stop acting like a baby.”

   

  And that was it. That was how Gularzob knew the chieftain. He was a little bit worried that the chieftain was too soft on Grulmar, but this proved otherwise.

   

  “Come here, Gularzob,” reminded Yamarz and Gularzob swallowed. Will I get a beating too?

   

  He came closer and the chieftain put his hands on the young Orc's shoulders. “You're angry with your brother, right? Tell me why.”

   

  Gularzob was afraid to speak his mind, but he knew better than to say nothing. So he told the truth. “He's weak. That makes me angry. I am ashamed that he's my brother.”

   

  There was an understanding look on Yamarz's face. “I know. But he's still young, just like you. There is still a possibilty that he will grow up from that. If he remains weak, he won't pass the Trials and will be exiled. But until then, he is still your brother. I understand you are angry with him, but don't let it grow into hate, because-”

   

  “We don't hate each other,” finished Gularzob.

   

  Yamarz nodded, pleased with Gularzob. Gularzob saw it in his eyes. The chieftain then looked at his shield-wife. “What do you plan to do with the runts today, Ghorurz?”

   

  “I wanted to take them out hunting. I noticed a bear's footprints yesterday, so I might show them how it's done.”

   

  A bear! Gularzob had never hunted a bear before. He had hunted deers and elk before, but they never took him on hunts for bears. Or for sabrecats. That was because it was dangerous. He looked at Yamarz, worried he would say no, but he was surprised that the chieftain nodded.

   

  “Do you plan on taking Ghor too?" Yamarz asked.

   

  His shield-wife seemed to think about that and then she waved her hand. "Still too young for a bear. His time will come."

   

  "Very well, shield-wife. In that case I'll come too. And we could take Osha with us, she was complaining of boredom lately,” grinned Yamarz.

   

  Ghorurz shook her head. “That isn't necessary, chieftain. I'm sure-”

   

  “I'm bored too, female!” growled the chieftain. “I could use some action. The next raid will be in the summer, that's almost five full moons away. I'm going with you, and so is Osha.”

  

  Gularzob was happy they got out of Largashbur, and it was really great that the chieftain had come with them. And Osha too.

   

  Osha was Yamarz's sister, much younger than him and if Yamarz hadn’t have become chieftain, she would have been sold to another stronghold, but now no one wanted her as a wife because she was from a weaker “brood” - because Yamarz had proved he was stronger than previous chieftain, he had proved that his children would be even stronger. So that was why only his children had any value.

   

  Osha was meant to go through the Trials of Passage the following winter, so a hunt for a bear was a good way for her to learn more about the wilds. Yamarz actually let her lead and she was doing a great job tracking that bear down. Her pace was also really refreshing for him; it was great to feel cold air in his lungs, the steam coming from his body as the running warmed him. Grulmar, of course, wasn't able to keep up the pace, so they had to slow down often, and Osha used those stops to teach Gularzob - and Grulmar if he managed to catch up with them in time - more about tracking, explaining the bear's customs and such.

   

  “See this? That's his footprint. But you know what's strange, Zob? He's supposed to be asleep. That's what bears do,” Osha said.

   

  “Maybe someone woke him up,” said Grulmar, panting, and all the Orcs looked at him. That wasn't a bad conclusion for a six winters old runt. Gularzob didn't want to admit it, but Grulmar was sometimes much smarter than him. But still, he's weak.

   

  Osha nodded and took the lead again, following the bear's footprints.

   

  Somebody woke him up, thought Gularzob. But if someone had done that, why would the bear go outside of his cave? He would probably eat those who had awoken him.

   

  Gularzob looked at Yamarz, in full armor again. He was so mighty and strong, his breathing didn't even change at this pace. He had his two orichalcum axes, his two handed sword and a long hunting spear, just as Osha and Ghorurz did.

   

  Osha suddenly stopped and Gularzob almost collided with her. She was staring at the black mouth of a cave entrance in front of them. Gularzob checked the ground and noticed that there were a lot of bear footprints leading in and out of the cave. So it had to be its lair.

   

  Ghorurz lit two torches and handed them to Gularzob and Grulmar. “Hold these. Animals are usually afraid of fire, so you should be safe. Just stay behind us.” Both young Orcs nodded and Gularzob pulled out an orichalcum dagger. Sharp. Grulmar noticed that and pulled his own out too. Gularzob noticed that his brother was trembling, but he himself was trembling too. Not with fear, but with excitement.

   

  Yamarz went in first, followed by Osha, then came Gularzob and Grulmar, Ghorurz right behind them. It was dark and damp inside. It smelled of moss and decay in the cave. There was a short, narrow, corridor which lead to a larger cave with some light coming through the ceiling. There were bones on the ground, but no sign of the bear.

   

  “Malacath's curse!” said Osha and kicked the skull of something that could have been elk. “Why is that stupid animal outside in the middle of winter?”

   

  Yamarz shrugged. “Don't know. Me and Ghorurz will go back, he might be outside. That means he's dangerous,” he looked at Gularzob and Grulmar. “Stay here with Osha. Learn something.” With that he went outside, with Ghorurz right behind him. She shot them one last look and then disappeared outside.

   

  “Malacath's curse!” repeated Gularzob after Osha. “I really wanted to see that bear.”

   

  “Yeah, Malacath's curse!” echoed Grulmar and Gularzob shot a look at him.

   

  “Don't repeat what I say.”

   

  “But you repeated it after Osha-”

   

  “Oh, shut up, you two,” groaned Osha, ending their fight. “Stop acting like children.”

   

  “Yeah, stop acting like a child, Zob,” said Grulmar.

   

  “You want another beating, you little-”

   

  “Quiet!” interupted him Osha and he obeyed. There was something in her voice. She was deadly serious now.

   

  And then he heard it too. There was noise at the entrance of the cave. But it wasn't Yamarz and Ghorurz. At least he didn't think so.

   

  “Stay behind me,” she whispered and they obeyed. Gularzob looked at his dagger. While it was more or less a shortsword he didn't really think it would do him any good if it was the bear.

   

  But then the cave's walls were lit by another torch's light and he heard voices.

   

  “You're sure this is the right cave? I mean, there could be dozens of them,” said one, a male, with a strange accent. Probably human.

   

  “Yes, I'm sure. The instructions were quite specific,” answered another voice, with the same accent.

   

  And than they appeared from behind a corner. Five men, armed, wearing leather and fur armors. They looked at the three Orcs and one said: “Hey, there were supposed to be only two. There are three.”

   

  “So you can count, Ilof? I'm impressed. Two or three, it doesn't matter. Let's take them.”

   

  Osha pointed her spear at the first who stepped forward. “Walk away,” she growled.

   

  “Be careful, Ilof. The beastie has teeth,” laughed the others.

   

  Gularzob was getting scared. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was really starting to feel fear crawling into his head and limbs. He felt somehow weaker. What was he able to do? He was just a runt.

   

  “Haha, very funny,” said the man called Ilof, as he walked towards Osha. “Now put that aside, you green beast. You don't want to get hurt.” He walked right in front of the spear's head and grabbed it. Or at least he tried. It all happened too quickly. Osha pulled the spear back, causing his hand to miss the shaft, and then she stabbed.

   

  The man gasped, blood splashing from his throat when Osha pulled it back. Gularzob watched with surprised eyes as the man slowly choked to death on his own blood. He can't believe he's dying. The man dropped to his knees and fell to the ground.

   

  The others cried out.

   

  “Shit!”

   

  “She killed Ilof!”

   

  “Kill them!”

   

  “Get them alive, you maggots!”

   

  It all happened so fast. They attacked, Osha stabbed with her spear, but the first one struck the shaft with his axe, splitting it, and then they were on them.

   

  Gularzob dropped his torch when someone fell on him. He tried to stab the man with his dagger, but the man held his hand, stopping him from striking. Then the man suddenly screamed into Gularzob's ear and Gularzob saw Grulmar with wide eyes and his torch in both his hands. He lost his dagger. He dropped it. Weakling!

   

  The man on top of him raised himself to his knees and Gularzob noticed an orichalcum dagger protruding from his thigh. Grulmar's dagger.

   

  He was surprised that Grulmar was brave enough to stab someone. He didn't see Osha, but he noticed another man ripping the torch from Grulmar's hands and then lifting him from his feet. He tried to stab the man that was sitting on him, but he grabbed his hand again. Gularzob managed to bite him in that hand which was rewarded by another scream and some strange words he had never heard before - probably curses.

   

  Then he saw a fist and after that, there was only darkness.