The Mother of Monsters

Watching the preparations for the evening’s festivities was eye-opening about orcish life and culture. Teyva and Azrael found themselves sitting for the majority of the day though not without trying to get up and help. Both of them were chastised on more than one occasion by Ola, who insisted on playing a role in planning the celebration. That role had quickly evolved into a full leadership position with most of the women from the village following her lead. Save for Sari who had set up just off to the side in case someone got themselves hurt.

Most of the work was focused on the round-a-bout with Elat explaining that the circular space at the center of the Settlement was common for Orcish towns as a place for meetings and celebrations like this. The big orc had taken a seat next to Azrael just ahead of his father’s private abode. The old man had stepped out over an hour after their meeting, departing without a word.

“I have so many questions,” Teyva began, running her fingers through Nephrals hair while she watched a few men setting up an impromptu archway between the buildings leading out towards the main gates. Hemp rope was bound to the corners before being drawn around the circular space and tied to another archway leading down one of the attaching roads. This continued all the way around with the women barking quick orders here and there.

“Females take quite a leadership role in situations like this,” Azrael pointed out as she leaned against the thickly armed orc. Elat tried not to pay attention though Teyva made sure to give Azrael a sidelong grin.

“In our native tongue, the words for man and woman roughly equate to, lord of the hunt and lord of the home, respectively,” Elat explained, drawing a glance from Teyva.

“This is going to be a strange question, but what language are we speaking right now?” She asked, gesturing between the three of them. Elat’s face fell a little as he turned her way, trying to understand whatever hidden nuance she was intending.

Azrael, in contrast, shook her head as she stared forward. Her expression was stony in the presence of so many strangers; “The Common Tongue, Talami or Orumic, depending on where you come from. It’s a trade language used by most races. Not to be confused with the human variant Katali which sounds like this but with a mouthful of cotton. That and the words are all rearranged in their sentences.”

“You don’t know what language you are speaking?” Elat asked, glancing toward Teyva with a bit of concern on his face.

“Let’s call it amnesia,” Teyva said, rubbing her arms, “Had a bit of an unusual start in life out here,” she tapped her chin thoughtfully. “So humans don’t speak the ‘Common’ tongue?”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Azrael grunted, “No, only humans who are involved in a trade or live on their kingdom’s borders tend to speak the language.”

“It’s the same with most cultures,” Elat added, “Most of the folk here barely understand what we’re saying right now.”

“Same goes for Azar. I still struggle with it on occasion but my father insisted that I learn if I was to travel.”

“The well-read princess, what a cliche,” Teyva joked.

“For the last time, I am not a princess!” Azrael snapped, giving her friend an elbow.

“You are a princess?” Elat asked, looking down at Azrael with a hint of wariness in his eyes. Azrael turned her gaze fully on Teyva and shot her the biggest bug-eyed look Teyva had ever been given. She held up her hands defensively and shuffled back a few paces.

“Woah Woah!” Teyva blurted, her lips still twisted into a grin. “Gonna have to tell him at some point, right?”

There was a vein that pulsed in Azrael’s throat, she sighed and turned back to Elat and looked him square in the eyes; “My adoptive father is King Thrake of the Azari people,” she crossed her arms; “Is that an issue for you?”

Elat let out a breath and ran a hand over his head. “N-not at all, glad to meet you, princess?”

“Not. A. Princess.” Azrael ground out.

Teyva fell onto her back and laughed, knocking over a sleeping Nephral who yowled irritably and took to the sky, looking for a new place to sleep while casting his mother a frustrated look. The three of them watched the sphinx circle around a few tables before landing on one of the archways that had been erected and resuming a restful pose. Teyva groaned and looked over at Azrael who was sending her a surreptitious grin before returning to her stony face as one of the working men came over to ask for Elat’s help. A few moments later he was walking away.

“Awfully close for two people who just met,” Teyva said to the sky.

“One could say the same thing about us,” Azrael pointed, out, falling onto her back and joining her friend.

“Okay fair, but-”

“I am an Azari woman, I see what or who I want and I take, so long as I am not stealing what is the harm?” Azrael said, crossing her legs and exhaling. “I-” She paused and sniffed at the air, confusion crossing her features as she sat up. She glanced around before looking toward the main gates.

“What is it? They already started cooking?” Teyva asked, sniffing at the air.

“Wolves,” She paused, “Wolf. Deshan?”

“How the hell would you-” Teyva began before bringing her palm to her face with a groan; “Wolf Lord, right. Okay Perdita, lead the way.”

Azrael was already up and moving before Teyva had finished her quip. The Labyrinthian clicked her tongue, disappointed, that had been a good one. Her sense of humor was wasted on people who knew nothing about the world she came from. She got to her feet with a quick motion, rustling her bag and sending a tremor of thoughts and reactions cascading through her mockeries. They queried her and she insisted that everything was fine but to be on alert just in case trouble came up. The wave of excited bloodlust that came to her in response was, admittedly, a little concerning. She let it go, more focused on catching up with Azrael.

The Azar took a more direct route to their destination than Teyva could have. Bursting with speed from the start and leaping over tables and onlookers. Was it Teyva’s imagination or was Azrael even more agile than before she’d been wounded? A canid sense of smell and a bonus to agility. That Aspect Stone of the Wolf Lord had been an enviable boon to her friend. Teyva chose a more indirect route, darting around the tables and obstacles while apologizing quickly to those she passed for Azrael’s haste.

They arrived at the gates just as Elder Yol was stepping back in, waving at Hakal and Mors as he entered the settlement. Azrael was the first to stop at his side while Teyva pulled up the rear a few moments later. Yol had already begun laughing by the time Teyva had arrived.

“Worried were you?” He guffawed, waving a dismissive hand in Azrael’s direction; “Fool girl, I am plenty capable of defending myself.”

“I smelled wolves!” Azrael insisted, “They were just here. Did something happen at the grove?”

“Smelled?” The old man rumbled, “How on earth could you-” He paused and then turned to Teyva, eyebrows raised. “Her too? By the aspects how did you manage that?”

It took Teyva a few seconds to catch up with what was being said. She glanced at the harried Azrael only to let out a sigh and shake her head; “Deshan did it,” She said, “It was his reward to her for helping reclaim his home.”

The old man crossed his arms; “Lord Deshan,” he said, emphasizing the title, “Is truly a mysterious being. To think he would grant such a blessing on your first meeting. Though I suppose it makes sense.”

“You didn’t answer my question!” The frazzled Warden practically shouted, “I still smell wolves, what happened? Are they okay?” She demanded.

The wizened orc squinted at her disapprovingly but exhaled and nodded, he gestured to the south with a withered hand and began walking back towards the center of town; “I went to go see them, pay my respects. You said the tree was their home, yes?” Yol pointed out, the old man grinned at the two women as Nephral came diving into his mother’s arms.

“Are you well mother? What is the crisis?” Nephral asked, peering at the old man with suspicious eyes; “Does the sorcerer cause you worry?”

The old man burst into laughter as Teyva’s face warmed.

“Now now, no danger here. On the contrary, the Wolves have decided to protect this settlement after my conversation with the mighty Lord Deshan, of course,” He winked, pulling both arms behind his back and resuming his trek towards the center of town. “I daresay our warden has seen too much excitement recently; she could do for a breather. Yes?”

Azrael looked away, crossing her arms.

Teyva squinted at the old man with a look of consternation; “How did you manage a treaty with the wolves?”

“I may be old but I am full of surprises, no need to give them all away little miss.”

She sighed and shook her head; “You are a piece of work, yeah?”

The old orc burst into laughter as they entered the round-a-bout, nearly a hundred pairs of eyes turning to face them. He caught his breath and came to a stop, stepping out in front of the gathered population of the settlement and turned around to face the two women and their feline companion. The aged male raised his hand to his heart and dipped his head low, cocking his head to the left before raising it to point dark nails at first Teyva and then Azrael.

“Lady Akura, Warden Unabi,” He brought his hand to his chest again and bowed low; “You have done what none before you have accomplished. You have cleansed these woods of the great evil that has plagued it for centuries. For the first time, a settlement in this green sea will survive and thrive. Thanks to you, our children will grow up with a home to be proud of,” He hobbled forward toward Teyva and took her hands; “Thank you, both of you,” He turned to Azrael and clasped hands with her.

“This celebration is as much for you as it is for us, please, join us tonight, yes?” He beamed, a snaggletoothed smile working beneath a pair of dark twinkling eyes.

Eyes Teyva would always remember as kind ones.