Bors

A Warmaster Jack Novella

By Onyx Tao

Section One

This text is made available under the Creative Commons Attribution NonCommercial ShareAlike License © 2011 by Onyx Tao

---

"Shut up, Bors!" Paw was clearly in one of his moods; and that was not surprising. He might be chieftain, he might be able to kick my ass and any other in the Bleeding Slash clan, but he was still getting older. He wouldn't be chieftain forever, and I already knew who the next chieftain was going to be - me - and I didn't care how much territory the Sharpened Spits had taken, or what weakling clans they'd walked over. Nothing meant we had to tolerate them coming into our land. Nothing. It was an offense and a provocation. I walked over to the scalp tapestry, and stood. As far as I was concerned, anyone on our land was prey, our prey, and deserved everything they'd get.

Only, Chieftain Griter thought otherwise, apparently. "Bring him in." Just seeing this so-called messenger was weakness. Still, at least they brought him in properly. The two guards, Tillent and Dire hauled the intruder in and through him down in front of Paw and the little worm just looked around instead of getting up. He was small for an orc, barely the size of a pinkskin, and I really wanted to see him dead.

He was ignoring me, though, focusing on Paw. "Hi, Griter. Mind if I get up?"

"That's Chief Griter, Iddik -" Paw knew this Spitter? - "and what are you doing here?"

"I made a stupid bet," the orc said. "Can I get up?"

"No," Paw said. "What bet?"

"I've got a message for you, from the Warmaster. He says to enjoy, and you and a couple of warlords - two, maybe three - should come visit and have some more." Iddik grinned at the nonsensical message.

"Enjoy what?" snapped Paw.

"Well," Iddik said, "it might have made more sense if your asshole fuckwads hadn't taken the cask of brandy he sent."

"It would," Paw agreed. He looked at them. "Where is it?"

"It could be dangerous, Chief, maybe poisoned ..." and Tillent faltered as Paw stared the runt down. "Ah ... I'll just go get it, Chief, all right?"

"It was full when they took it," Iddik volunteered. "About getting up ... could we talk about that?"

"Maybe," Griter said. "If it isn't poisoned."

"I'd be happy to test it for you?"

"No," Griter said. "The shaman will do that." He looked at Iddik in that unfriendly way he has. "I'm going to be pissed if it's poisoned."

"It's not, it's not," Iddik said quickly. "Although I don't promise anything if the seal's broken."

"You think my warriors would try to poison me?"

Iddik started to say something, and then apparently thought better of it. "Not really," he said. "Cut your balls off, sure, they'd try, but they're not so much poisoners."

"Damn straight," Paw growled, and sat back down on his chair. "You mentioned a bet."

"I was drunk," Iddik explained. "And I might have said something about knowing you, just in passing, you know, from that whole Urtant ..."

"Hate to disappoint you, but I remember that just fine," Griter said. "The bet?"

"I bet you were smart enough to send me back alive," Iddik said. "Jack thought that was funny." The orc shook his head on the carpet on the tent floor. "I didn't realize he'd remember it - I thought he was drunk, too."

"So he's smarter than you,"

"Oh, yeah," Iddik said, emphatically. "And tougher, too. He scares the shit out of me."

"That seems pretty easy," I said.

"Shut up, Bors." Paw really wasn't happy. "And stay shut up!"

Yeah. Whatever.

"Where'd he come from?"

"I have no fucking idea," Iddik said feelingly. "He just showed up, eight years ago, killed ... gah, whoever it was what was Chieftain that week, and declared himself Warmaster."

"Not Chieftain?"

"Nope," Iddik said, shaking his head. "Warmaster. And right after that this freaky gnoll bitch showed up - Darz, Darzybyquoliaque, monster-shaman. She's bad news, let me tell you, but so far she's just been bad news for everyone else."

"So what do I hear about lodges?" Griter said.

"Damned if I know," Iddik said. "What do you hear?"

Paw just stared at him. "Tell me about them, you stupid fuck!"

"Oh," Iddik said. "Yeah. So, he - and the gnoll, don't forget her - put together a bunch of ... warbands, lodges, all reporting up to him. And only him."

"You're in one of them?"

"Yeah."

"Which?"

Iddik shrugged. "Wolf Lodge."

"And?"

"S'great," the orc said, with a shrug. "I'm a Wolf Brother, Wolf Scout, respected by all who know me. And the booze is good. And I by good, I mean, plentiful. It's actually swill. Anyway ... you coming?"

"I'll think about it," Paw said in his best chieftain voice, and stuck his head outside the tent. "Where's that fucking brandy?" he roared, and then turned to me. "Bors - go find out what's going on."

I knew better than to cross Paw in this mood - hell, in any mood - so I headed out to see where Tillent had gotten to. If that keg, or cask, or whatever wasn't still sealed ... well, knowing my father, that would be bad. I heard my father ordering Iddik locked up for now.

While he decided what to do. Not hard, I thought. Spike the bastard to a tree on our border. They'd find him soon enough and that would be that. I only wish I actually thought Paw would do that.

A huge log burned low, barely more than a red glow, and a half-deer was cooking slowly over it, practically smoking rather than cooking. My little brother Kett was just finishing a quick fuck of Paw's newest sow. She was pulling on the stake where her collar was chained to it, but her ass was over the bench, and my brother was taking full advantage of it. He might as well, after all it was his ass as often as not for me and Paw. It was just wrong, but better him than me. Silently, I offered Paw the cask. It had been opened, but most of the brandy was still there. I'd wanted to try it, but I also knew if Paw smelled it on my breath there'd be trouble. I had no real desire to end up chained where that sow was. The three warriors I'd taken from hadn't suffered any - aside from my cracking their heads. You don't help yourself to anything that's the chieftains. I'm sure Paw'd find a way to make that point himself, too.

Yellem was crouched in the corner, wrapped in a filthy hide covered with his blood and chalk scribblings, muttering something under his breath. I'd never liked the old shaman, and he'd never liked me. The one time I'd given him the thrashing I'd wanted to, Paw had ripped the skin off my back; I don't know why Paw tolerated him. It's not like Paw was god-fevered or anything. He looked balefully at me, and I just stared back at him; I'd be chieftain soon enough, and then I'd clear the old fraud out soon enough.

"Well?" Paw asked, sniffing the liquor, and giving an appreciative nod.

"Got it from Bekker and his buddies, Paw," I said, and he nodded. Yup, they were gonna pay heavy for that. "They didn't look sick or anything," I said. "At least, not before I took it away from them."

Paw shot me a questioning look.

"They didn't want to give it up, I had to convince 'em."

That made him snort. "I see you got it, though."

"Yes, Paw." I said.

He handed it to Yellem, who hadn't stopped his muttering, and didn't, even when he was staring into the cask. Yellem handed it back to Paw after a sip.

"Clean, then," Paw said.

"As if he knows," I said.

"Shut up, Bors!" Paw snapped. "You tell Yellem you're sorry. Now."

"But ..." no point in arguing though, not when Paw was in a mood, "Yes, Paw, sorry, Paw."

The blow hit me right across the face. "You apologize to Yellem , you stupid git. The God gives him the power, boy, and we need that power."

I wiped the blood away and faced the mumbling old boar. I hated him almost as much as I hated Paw, but somehow I managed to say "Sorry, Yellem. I know if you say it's clean, it's clean." Not that anything that foul old boar touched was clean. He proceeded to prove that by pulling out a foul old set of gnawed yellow bones, and tossing them on the ground. Yellem kept muttering as he peered down at them, and then back up to me. "Shouldn't doubt the Gods, boy Bors," he said, and then turned to Paw. "Don't thrash him on my account, Grit. Boy'll give ya sons, many sons, that's what the bones say, but only if you let him live."

"That's what the bones always say," Paw said. "But I'm sure you're right."

A a pathetic wheezing laugh interrupted the muttering. "Oh, I'm right, sure I am." He peered up at me. "Lots of sons."

I didn't say fuck you you stinking old cripple. Paw'd already hit me once tonight and I didn't want to tempt him again, so I looked around, instead. Me, Paw, Kett, and of course Yellem. Paw's closest advisors. Paw hadn't decided what to do, then.

"You done yet, Kett?"

"Just finishing," my brother grunted, and let out a loud sigh. "Sweet."

"You just remember she's mine," Paw said. As are you, but at least he didn't say that in front of Yellem. Not that he had to, I'm sure the foul old freak knew what Paw did. I doubted he cared, either.

"Yes, Paw, thank you for bringing her," Kett said quickly, fucking little snot brown-noser that he was, pulling his trousers back up. Wouldn't help him, though. If he'd just stand up a little more to Paw, maybe Paw wouldn't be so rough with him. Toughen you up, that's what he'd told me. Or, maybe Paw would just hammer him down harder. Hard to know with Paw.

"Now what we got here is an invitation from the Spits," Paw said, tapping the cask. "Pretty nice one, real polite."

"But a threat, too, Paw," Kett said, seriously. "What that fellow - Iddik - said about you being smart enough to send him back, that's pretty clearly a threat. We don't treat that pig right, it makes their chief unhappy. And we've seen what he does."

"Yeah," Paw said, with a nod. "Still, it's what you'd expect. Proper, point out that he's not begging us for anything."

"Pay," the endless muttering from Yellem resolved into actual words. "He'll pay. Gifts," and his voice trailed back off into the mutters.

"Yeah," Paw said. "But ... why?"

"He's afraid of us," I said.

"You figure?" Paw asked, interested.

"If he weren't, he'd just take what he wants, and he's got to want something."

Yellem spit in the fire. "No." I wasn't sure if that meant he didn't want something, or he couldn't take it.

"Yeah," Paw said, more to himself than us. "Bors?"

"I think we should nail this pig up on the border. We don't need anything from the Spits."

"Could do that," Paw allowed. "Could. Kett?"

Kett looked at me, and then said, "I don't think so, Paw, unless you want all the Spits to come for a visit. We should find out what they want - and what they're willing to pay. 'Cause the last thing I want is for us to go the way of the Bone Snappers."

They'd been the traditional feuding partner of the Sharpened Spits, and nobody was really sure what had happened to them other than they'd been wiped out. Everybody thought the Spits had maybe joined up with one of the other clans to do it, but depending on who you asked, it was some other clan. And a lot of those had since upped and vanished, too. That's why I wanted to keep our borders tough.

"None of us want that," I said. "But if we're not strong, we're weak." Which is to say, we had to act like we didn't have a care or this warmaster - and every other two-bit clan around us - would see us as weak. And that would be a disaster.

"True," and Paw took a deep breath. "Yellem, I want you to ask the God," he said, finally. "Will this Warmaster meet with us fair? I'll admit I'm a little curious."

A "Tomorrow, then," bubbled out of the muttering, and Yellem uncrouched painfully and pulled himself out of the tent. I shot Paw a look, but a respectful one, before I went out to my own tent, where I wished I'd taken advantage of that sow. Paw kept most of the sows for himself, although he lent them out. Just ... not to me or Kett. Kept us on a leash. And he'd kept Kett, again, I noticed. I wondered if anyone else did.

"You want a drink, Kett?" I asked.

But it was Paw who answered. "Sounds good, Bors. You stay. I'll pour." I turned around, caught an angry glare from Kett before it vanished into a blank expression. Paw was holding a bottle of something. He took a swig from it, and tossed to me.

I caught it, not spilling a drop, and took a swig. It was fiery, burned, and left a strange acrid taste in my mouth, but it was sure strong enough. I moved to offer some to Kett, but Paw shook his head.

"Kett's got to work for it," Paw said, gesturing to the bench where the sow had been, and pulling his trousers off. I don't know what was worse, that Kett just moved to the bench without saying anything, or that I just followed Paw. Better him than me.

Besides, it would be fun.