Orcblood Legacy: Skirmishes: Orcs Bernard Bertram (good books to read TXT) đ
- Author: Bernard Bertram
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Bitrayuul watched Theiran as he joined the company and offered a pained smile. âGlad to see you are safe, Senator.â
âAye, lad. Thanks to ye,â Theiran replied, taking the half-orcâs hand in his own. âThanks to ye.â
SAFE
Bitrayuulâs eyes cracked open slowly. It felt as if he had been asleep for a full moon cycleâand the crust in his eyes did little to dispel the thought. His body felt stiff as he strained to pull himself up in the bed. As his weight shifted, an odd crumbling sound came from beneath him. Pulling back the thick cloth on which he sat, the half-orc was surprised to see he had been sleeping on a sheet of gravel.
The half-orc peered around the room as he rubbed his eyes. Everything was made of stone. From the chair in the corner to the table it was paired with, there was naught but carved rocks in sight. Bitrayuul lifted his hands toward his temples but stopped upon seeing bandages on his arm and shoulder.
Just as Bitrayuul struggled to remember the cause for his nearly healed wounds, Tormag entered the room. âOh! Yer awake!â The dwarfâs face lit up in an instant as he rushed over to his adoptive son and wrapped his thick arms around Bitrayuul.
âW-whereââ the half-orc began, struggling to breath beneath Tormagâs strong embrace.
The commander noticed the effect his squeeze was having and relinquished his hold. âSorry, son. Iâm just so happy yer alive.â
Bitrayuul returned the smile but remained confused. âWhat happened? Where am I?â
âHmm, seems ye donât remember. The cleric was right.â Tormag strode to the other end of the room and struggled to lift the stone chair before carrying it back toward the half-orcâs bed and setting it down with a gasp of relief. âYe remember anything at all? The trolls invading the mines, chasinâ after Theiran into the tunnels?â
Bitrayuul shook his head.
âRight . . .. Well, tâ keep it short, ye went and rescued the senatorâafter I telled ye not tâ, mind ye!â Tormag raised a finger at his son and waggled it in disappointment. âBut ye went anyway. And ye saved him from sure death, donât ye doubt. Though, ye got cut up a bit in the process.â
Looking down at his bandages again, Bitrayuul lifted a wrapping to see the edge of a new scar. When he looked back to Tormag, he could see the concerned look on the dwarfâs face. âYou mentioned something about a âclericâ? What is a cleric?â
Tormagâs face lit up once more. âAh, a cleric be a follower oâ Bothainâa healer. She be the one who saved ye. We were lucky that she did, else . . . ye wouldâve been lost in those mines.â The dwarf seemed to be choking back tears. Clearing his throat to avoid the awkwardness, Tormag added, âSo, she said ye needed tâ rest. Yeâve been here fer about three days.â
Three days? Bitrayuul thought. At least it wasnât a full moon cycle. âCan I see the cleric? Iâd like to thank her.â
âEh, weâll see. Clerics are an odd bunch, sure as stones. Besides, the Council has demanded they see ye once ye wake. So have a wash,â Tormagâs hand waved to a large, hollowed stone full of water on the far side of the room. âWhen yer cleaned anâ dressed, Iâll be outside.â
Bitrayuul grew nervous at the thought of meeting the council. When he first came into Tarabar, many dwarves were not accepting of him, and Theiran had warned of the Councilâs expected disapproval. But before he could raise his concerns, his father was already walking toward the door. Bitrayuulâs shoulders slumped with worry and he sighed.
The half-orc failed to notice Tormag had stopped at the door and turned back toward him. A genuine smile was plastered onto the dwarfâs face. âIâm glad yer safe, son.â With a nod, the commander stepped out, leaving Bitrayuul standing in the stone room alone to prepare.
ANXIOUS
Bitrayuul stepped out of the small stone dwelling to greet Tormag after finishing his wash. Seeing his adoptive fatherâs cheeks spread in joy brought the half-orc some comfort, though still his stomach fluttered anxiously.
âSo, to the council?â Bitrayuul asked.
Nodding in response, Tormag motioned for the half-orc to follow. âAinât far, son.â He could see the trepidation on his sonâs face. âDonât worry, lad. Everythingâll be alright.â
The dwarfâs reassurance did little to lessen Bitrayuulâs fears, but he fell in line behind Tormag anyway. Together, they made their way through the passage lined with dwarven hovels. It was the first time Bitrayuul had ever seen this part of Tarabarâor even homes in general. Everything was so different from the simple cave in the woods in which he was raised. For as far as his eye could see, nearly every object was made of shaped stone, iron, or steel. Even the dwellings to each of his sides seemed to be a stout edifice of fortification. Much like dwarves, he realized.
The foreign environment only added to Bitrayuulâs twisting gut and the curious stares of dwarves that he passed didnât help either. He was still an outsider here and always would be. Staring at Tormagâs back, Bitrayuul felt guilty for the devotion the dwarf had for him. When he was younger, the dwarf had always spoken fondly of Tarabar, but now that they had returned, Bitrayuul realized that Tormag had given up everything for him and his
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