Bors

A Warmaster Jack Novella

By Onyx Tao

Section Seven

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

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Maybe he should have, though. Just two weeks later, Timdon lost the orclet. I woke up to find my bed soaked through with blood. Timdon was pale, and wouldn't wake up, although she was still breathing. I shook Jack out of his sleep, and he sent me to fetch Darz, and then kicked me out. We could hear Jack yelling, although it wasn't in any language any of us knew. It was nearly morning again before Jack came out, curtly ordered me shackled and tossed into the stockade.

I lost count of how long I stayed there. More than week, less than a month; I don't know. Usually they remembered to feed me, but I think they forgot every now and then, or just didn't bother. All I could think was that somehow Jack blamed me ... but I hadn't done anything that Jack himself hadn't ordered. Not that that really mattered that much. If Jack wanted to blame me, if he wanted his warriors to think I was at fault, then ... it's not like I could stop him. Except if he had, why hadn't he had me killed? I couldn't stop him; Darz wouldn't stop him, and I couldn't think of anything that would convince Jack to keep me alive, or even anyone who could convince Jack of anything.

I was disgustingly weak when the prison opened, and a warrior stared down at me. It was Murhtok, a Bear warrior, and one who was slow, stupid, and weak. Or who had been slow and weak; now I was the one who was slow and weak. He didn't say anything, just picked me up - and there was nothing I could do about it, except twist and try to force him off me.

It didn't work, and Murhtok and I got pulled out of the pit by three more Bears, Urdrant and two more I recognized, but didn't know. They didn't say anything to me, just pulled like some kind of scrawny pig. I wasn't expecting the first bucket of water, or the soap, or the brushes, hard enough to rip my skin here and there.

Wet, dripping, and raw from the scrubbing, they dragged me naked into Jack's cave, and tossed me down onto a huge sewn fur rug; it looked like it had been pieced together from elk skins. Jack was there, of course, sitting on his desk, drinking out of a wineskin.

"Warmaster," Murhtok said, cautiously.

"Good. Now get out." They started to take me out, and Jack snapped, "Leave him! The rest of you - get out." They went quickly; and I suddenly realized they'd been awfully quiet, even for ... I looked up at Jack, from where I'd been dumped.

He was wearing new clothes, they looked awfully human to me, from the dark blue tunic and pants, to the boots. The boots were new, too, but already scuffed and scarred. "You look like shit," he said, presumably to me. "Didn't they feed you?"

"I think they forgot, every now and then."

Jack's fist tightened on the wineskin, and the liquid inside bulged from the sudden pressure, but that was the only hint of anger I could see. "You lived," he said, dismissively.

Damn right I lived. "Yes," I said.

"Timdon lost the child," Jack said, and if I hadn't noticed the white creeping up around his knuckles I might have thought Jack didn't care about it, although I couldn't imagine why he would care. It would have been mine, not his, and it was that much bad luck, but even then I'd guessed that had happened. I'd known it from the moment I woke and saw the bedding soaked in blood. What else could it have been?

That had upset Warmaster Jack? I started to say that it happened all the time, and I didn't really care, but I thought better of it the moment I opened my mouth. The last thing I wanted was Jack to direct any of that anger at me . But I still had to say something. "Bad," I said.

"It ... wasn't what I wanted to happen," Jack said, putting down the wineskin. He had a faraway look in his eyes.

"It wasn't something I did," I asked, cautiously. I still wasn't sure what would set him off, and what wouldn't.

"No," Jack said again, from whatever faraway place he was with his thoughts. "My fault, this time, I should have listened to Baxs ... or even Darz, for that matter. Well. The real trick is not to fuck up a second time, right?"

"I guess," I said, trying for some kind of neutral remark.

I wish I knew if it was what I said, or just the sound of my voice, or something else but Warmaster Jack was suddenly very much back in front of me. "Hungry?" In response to my nod, he tossed me a half a loaf of bread. "There you go." It was a little stale, but I didn't care. It was good ... really good, and not just because I was hungry. I could taste good flour, human flour, and this bread had olives and nuts baked into it. It would have been amazing when it was still fresh. Jack just watched me gnaw it for a minute or two, and then tossed me the wineskin. "Something to wash it down with," he said.

I caught the thrown skin, and took a swig. I'd been expecting beer, or but what I got was wine, thick strong sweet wine. Human wine. What city had ...

"Where did you go for this?" I asked.

"Absalom," Jack said. "Went for three days." The half-orc got up, and started pacing in the study. "Thought some distance would help ... clear my mind."

"Did it?" I asked, chewing down more of the bread.

"Some," Jack said. "Some." He laughed, but it wasn't a good sound. "I needed some new clothes, anyway."

"I saw the boots," I said.

"Yeah, I did ... " Jack turned, stopped pacing. "A few other things. Got some supplies for Darz and Urdris." He smiled. "Got an entire keg of wine. You like?"

"Yeah, it's ... it's really good." Jack didn't respond to that, simply started pacing again. "So ... uh ... is ... Timdon still ..."

"Alive? Here?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Alive, yes, no thanks to me. Here, in my warren, no. In camp. I passed her to Ythill."

Who?

Jack must have seen my look of confusion. "The leader of Wolf Lodge. The Wolf Lord. Ythill. Darz says she'll bear for him, just not ..." his voice trailed off. "You won't see her again," he said.

"So, what went wrong?" I asked.

Jack stopped, and was motionless for a moment, and then turned to me. I wasn't sure he was going to answer, but he did. "Fear. I made her afraid, and ... she couldn't be that afraid and bear, so ..." he stopped talking but something in his voice kept me saying anything. "I should have realized a human, even a war-trained soldier, would be weak."

"But if she's going to bear for ... the Wolf Lord, won't ..."

"No," Jack cut me off. "Yll isn't as, as, ... scary, I suppose, as I am." He turned a disconcerting smile on me. "Still hungry?"

"Yeah," I said. I was chewing on the last of the heel of the loaf, and I took another swig of the wine before I offered it back to Jack. "You?"

"Keep it," Jack said, waving it off. "There's more, plenty more." He turned back to his desk, pulled out another loaf of that same bread - a full loaf, this time, and tossed it to me. It was a lot fresher. "And maybe some clothes ..."

"Are they in the den? Still?"

"No ..." Jack said. "They got burned."

Burned? What the hell happened while I was stuck in that pit?

"Let's see what we have, eh?" Jack left the den, and I followed with the bread and wine. I might have rejected it a month ago, but now, it was food, and really good food. I kept eating as I followed Jack back into ... into what had been the sleeping room. Everything was gone, or at least different. The orcskins were still there, but in a big pile at the back, thrown there out of the way instead of covering the bare rock. They hadn't been replaced, either. My cot was gone, as was Jack's old bed, but there was a new one, a bigger one, with ... I prodded it; it was a huge bag stuffed with feathers, and heavy woven human-style woolen blankets of dull gray instead of furs. Jack went straight to a huge wooden chest, and swung it open. From the little I could see it was filled with clothes, all tight-woven fabrics, human style. He pulled out a long shirt and trousers, and tossed them at me. "There."

"Burned?"

"Everything stunk," Jack said, in a tone that suggested he didn't want to discuss it further. "It's all gone."

It looked like he was right. It was the same room, but the only thing that was still the same was the pile of skins. I looked at it, and Jack must have followed my gaze.

"No, not those," he said. "I'm going to move them, somewhere else," The Warmaster looked around. "I wanted it ... to be different. It was a mistake for everything to be so orcish."

"Why?"

"Because then the human comes out in other ways," Jack said quietly. "Humans are worse than orcs, Bors. Worse beyond your fortunately limited imagination. Never forget that. Never."

I just looked at him, and then he laughed again, something that did nothing to make me feel any better at all. "Warmaster?"

"You doubt me?"

"Uh ..." That, at least, had an easy answer. "No, I believe you, I ... I just don't understand."

"Hope you don't," Jack said. "Hope as hard as you can."

"My paw always said hope was worthless."

"Did he," said Jack, sounding mildly interested, and then he chuckled again. "He's pretty much on target with that one.

"Still hungry?" he asked, sitting down on the feather-stuffing.

Odd, but I was. While pulling on the clothes he'd given me, I'd finished the second loaf, emptied the wineskin, and if anything, I was even hungrier now than I had been. "Yeah. I didn't get much to eat ..."

"I wanted you out of sight," Jack said. "Mine and everyone else's." The Warmaster gave me another of those disconcerting smiles. "Nice and safe."

"Safe?" I said. "I'm a warrior. I don't need to be safe."

"I meant, safe from me," Jack said, and grinned. "Or do you think you're that good a warrior?"

"No," I answered quickly. That was another easy question. I wasn't anywhere near Jack's league with a sword. He could probably take me even if I were armed and he wasn't. Although ... what did he mean, safe from him? I wondered again just what I'd missed. "I don't think anywhere would be safe from you."

The Warmaster just shook his head. "Not what I meant, but I suppose it will do."

At this point, I had no idea what we were talking about. "So, where's Heam?"

"With Urdris," Jack said, leaning back. "I sent him away, too."

"Why? I thought ..."

"What?"

"I thought you liked him."

"I do," Jack said, nodding. "Plus, he's not enough of a warrior to make hurting him any fun."

"What?"

Jack snorted. "I could tear him to shreds without effort. No fun in it. I don't think he'd even fight back."

"So you sent both of us away so you wouldn't hurt us?" I said. "Is that right?"

"More or less," Jack said, and added in a whine, "Does that hurt your feelings?"

"Fuck you," I said, standing up.

"Oh, sure, anytime, baby Bors," Jack said. "Feel free to try."

"I don't need your fucking protection," I said, starting to get angry.

"Of course you did," Jack said. "I was furious, and I knew somebody was going to get hurt. I didn't want it to be you or Heam."

"Why not?"

"Heam has served me faithfully for most of his life," Jack said, and at my dubious look, he added, "It's not the orcish thing to do, I know, but remember, I'm not an orc."

"Half-orc."

"Half-human," Jack corrected bitterly. "Remember?"

"What?"

"Humans are more monster than any orc ever has been. I say half-human, but what I mean is monster. After that ... that ... disaster with Timdon, I knew somebody was going to suffer."

"Who? Darz?"

"Darz can take care of herself," Jack said flatly. "She's the second-to-last person I'd worry about."

"Who's the first?"

Jack paused, and said flatly, "It is vanishingly unlikely that you would ever meet or interact with him."

"Oh," I said. "I thought it might be Urdris."

"Urdris ..." Jack said thoughtfully. "No, although I don't really worry about him, either. Don't you wonder who did suffer?"

"No," I said. "Should I?"

"The saving grace of orc-kind," Jack said. "Limited empathy." He shook his head. "A little frustrating sometimes, though."

"Huh?"

"Exactly," Jack said. "Well, if you don't care who, do you care about what?"

"I guess," I said.

"Brilkig. Senior Panther warlord. Know him?"

I shook my head, to Jack's evident frustration.

"You've spent all this time in my camp without learning who the senior warlords are?" Jack sounded incredulous.

"You're the one who makes decisions," I said, "You, Urdris, Wolf Lord, Darz, I guess ..."

Jack sighed. "Orcs," he said, like he might have said idiots, or pigs as a curse. "Fine. He got in my face."

"That was stupid," I said.

"Yes."

"I bet he got hurt," I said.

"I broke his arms, and then his legs, and then I fucked him in front of ..." Jack paused. "I'm not sure who was there; I was seeing red at that point. He screamed loud, that I remember." He game an almost satisfied chuckle.

"He shouldn't have challenged you," I said.

Jack just shook his head. "And it doesn't occur to you that I could do the same to you?"

"Uh, I guess you could," I said, a little confused. "Why would you?"

"Because I would enjoy it," Jack said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Because I would enjoy hurting you." He took a step towards me. "I would love every little whimper and cry I pulled out of you, just like I did him." And then he took another step towards me, and I fought the urge to step back.

Oh. I swallowed. "But ... you haven't. I mean, I thought you might, at first, but I've been here for ... I don't know, months, and you haven't ..."

"Maybe I've waiting," said Jack. "For ... just ... the ... right ... moment." The huge half-orc smiled, and it wasn't a reassuring smile.

Fuck it. "Have you?" I said.

Jack's eyes narrowed just a little. "Do you mean to rip you apart and fuck what's left?"

I nodded.

"I was at first," Jack said, nodding slightly at something only he saw. "When I saw you there, standing next to Griter, I wanted you. That's why I didn't kill you then. Oh, it worked out, but ... it was a personal decision, not the strategic one like I told Darz."

"But ... you changed your mind?" I really didn't like where this conversation was leading.

Jack nodded. "I did."

"Why?"

"I came up with something better," Jack said quietly. "Much better."

"Ah ..." I said, glancing around the room. Jack usually had daggers and swords and weapons laying around ...

"Finally," Jack said, sounding more relaxed "There's a dagger directly behind you. You should have seen it when you came in."

Was there? "Why ..." I started, and then I realized. "You want me to attack you!"

"Oh, yeah," Jack said in a deep, low voice, like he was talking about the most desirable sow in the world. "Fuck yeah," he said, almost a groan. "Attack me, Bors. One way or another, I'm going to fuck you tonight," he said. "Oh. Unless you can stop me, of course. So stop me, Bors." Jack stood up. "Stop me. If you can."

"I ..." I stepped back, groping behind me.

"Up and to the left ... your right," Jack said. "It's on the wall. Higher. A little more away from ..."

My fingers closed on the hilt of a long dagger and I brought it around in front of me. It was long, not quite a sword, and it looked sharp.

"It's silver," Jack said, in that same low voice. "It will lose its edge fairly quickly, and it will nick like you wouldn't believe, so you need to be a little careful with it. There's another dagger, hidden somewhere in the room, enchanted cold iron, but I don't think you'll find it."

"You will, I suppose," I said, crouching in a knife-fighter's stance. The stance, I was belatedly realizing, Jack had shown me.

"No!" said Jack, as if that was the furthest thing from his mind. "The point is to ... give you enough of a chance to make this ... exciting." He grinned again. "If I pulled that dagger out, it would spoil it."

"But it's there if you want it," I said.

"Or if you find it," Jack said, encouragingly. "Although it wouldn't make a difference if you did."

"So this is all for my benefit, then," I said, holding the dagger steady.

"No," said Jack, shaking his head. "Oh, no. Mine. My benefit. You wouldn't have any chance against me unarmed."

"Yeah, I'm just holding all the cards here," I said.

"Funny," said Jack. "Come on, Bors," he said coaxingly. "Show me how you use that long deadly thing ..." and he stepped towards me, bringing me into his reach, but still not attacking.

Damn, he was waiting for me to attack, but I didn't think he'd wait long.

"Unless you're too scared," he whispered, staring right into my eyes. "Are you scared, Bors?"

Fuck yeah I was scared, but ... I just held still. It would be easier to cut him if he moved on me, rather than my attacking him.

Jack just watched me hungrily. I'm not sure exactly what he meant to do - but I had a sick feeling that I wouldn't like it. The trick would be ... the trick would be to get past him, I decided. Through the door and out. Maybe he could catch me, maybe he couldn't, but I doubted that even with a dagger I could hold him off, much less kill him. And I'd have to kill him, if I couldn't get away. Although I was at a disadvantage even with a dagger; everything I knew about knife-fighting I'd learned from Jack. If I had a sword instead ... or if I could just distract him ...

"Tell you what," I said. "Let me use a sword, instead. I mean, you could take me unarmed even if I had a sword, couldn't you?"

"Probably," Jack grunted. "You might get lucky, though, so ... no."

Damn! "I thought you wanted me have a chance," I said.

"No, not really," said Jack conversationally. "I just want it to feel like you have a chance. You don't."

Yeah, I kind of figured that. I shifted from foot to foot, and then, instead of going for Jack with the dagger, I kicked a some kind of metal thing - like a brazier, only without the tripod, that was sitting at the floor, right towards him. He moved to avoid it, and that's when I went for him with the dagger. Jack moved out of the way at the last moment, like he'd expected it, and his arm slammed into mine, nearly knocking the blade out of my hand. I knew he was faster than me, but ... I moved in again, using the blade more like a sword, leading with the point rather than trying to slice, and Jack danced out of the way again. His expression had gone from wary to ... I don't know what it was; it wasn't battle rage. I knew that look, and Jack didn't move like someone in a battle frenzy. He was as controlled as he ever was, just fast ... blindingly fast, faster than he'd ever moved in our practice and he was ...

He was playing with me. He could have disarmed me. He could do so at any moment; nothing I could do could stop him. Nothing. Unless I somehow surprised him. I pulled my arm back and then snapped it forward, as if I were throwing the dagger at him - only I didn't let go. He moved, though, as if I had and I rushed past him for the door, only to be tripped as I moved. My face slammed into the floor; it felt like I cracked a tusk and I felt a hot sharp burn from my nose where it hit the floor. I managed to keep hold of the dagger, though, and started to get up when Jack kicked me into the wall. I didn't break anything, but I bloodied the hand holding the dagger. I managed to get back up, and punched him.

He hadn't been expecting a punch, and that let me swing the dagger more effectively - I managed to graze him with it, leaving a thin line of red on his arm. Finally! I stared back up at him. He might be able to take me, but he'd know he was in ... A double blow knocked the dagger out of my hand and slammed me back into the wall. I tried to hit him back, and even connected a couple of times but again, I just wasn't fast enough or strong enough to stop him. His blows got harder, as if he'd been treating me lightly and was starting to use his full strength. I finally ended up against the far wall, as he pounded me, and then I wasn't aware any more.

The first thing I was aware of was the aching where I was going to be bruised. But ... as rough as Jack had been, I didn't think any bones were broken, and that's the split-second I knew I was tied, face-down, to the bed. I clenched my ass, just in case, but it wasn't sore, and in the next split-second I realized I was still clothed. Maybe I hadn't been out that long? I was blindfolded, so I couldn't see the restraints, but I could test them. Whatever they were, they weren't just a rope looped around my arms and legs. Something, like a sheet of leather maybe, was tight around my upper arms, and they were secured, somehow, probably to a bedpost. As were my legs; the restraint was at least a handswidth and ... I tried softly, and then harder, to get out of it.

I hadn't expected it to work, and it didn't.

"I didn't think you'd be out long," Jack said, from somewhere to my left, and then I felt the bed shift as it took his weight. "I didn't mean to hit you that hard. Ah," he said. "Who am I kidding? Of course I did. I knew you'd bounce back. And if you didn't, I've got a curative potion around here somewhere. You know what that is, right?"

"Healing magic, yeah," I said. "But ..."

"The dagger? The magic cold iron dagger? Under the pillow," Jack said. "If you can reach it. Oh, you're all tied up."

Yeah, funny.

He crawled over me, and reached around my head, under the pillow, but no so close that I could bite him. Although he'd probably just knock my teeth out for it, so on second thought I might have been lucky I couldn't bite him. He pulled the dagger out, slowly. "See?"

"So?" Jack didn't respond, didn't say anything, just slipped it under the shirt - the fine human shirt he'd just given me - and started cutting. Slicing it. I was shocked, and then, as I listened to his breathing, I realized it was ragged, the way Paw's was, when he took Kett.

Or me. I glanced down at Jack's trousers, and I could tell he was more than ready to take me, and he was taking his time cutting the shirt off. I could feel the cold steel on my chest, slipping down, but there was no sting; he wasn't cutting me, although it was all to clear he could, if he'd wanted to. Given what he'd said earlier, he just might, and I shuddered.

It might have been coincidence, but I think that shudder made him pause, and then continue, more slowly, and I could hear the sound of the cloth giving under the knife, and then, as he reached my waist, he ripped it off me, the cloth tearing around the arms. The sound made him lick his lips. "Oh, yes," he whispered, and I didn't think he was talking to me.

Paw usually just tied me down, like a sow on a bench - usually on a bench, taking me from behind. Never on my back. Never ...

The trousers went in two quick slices, and maybe Jack was less careful, or maybe he intended it, but this time the dagger cut me, leaving two thin lines of oozing green along my legs. It stung, a little, and I tried not to flinch. It wasn't that it hurt, that didn't bother me, just the surprise.

"Why ..." I said, and my voice broke. I could see Jack watching me, and his face twitched as he leaned closer.

"Why what?" he breathed, so softly I could barely hear him.

"Why ... why am I on my back?"

That stopped him. "Why ..." Jack closed his eyes for a second, and I could see his jaw grinding. "Would it help if I told you I was going to kill you?"

I'd already figured that out. I shook my head. "I don't understand."

"Gah," he said, an explosion of frustration. "Orcs. It doesn't matter ..." and then he paused, thinking. "Too many words," he growled, and stripped his trousers off. He was hard, as long as Paw and maybe thicker and I felt myself tensing up, this was going to hurt, whatever he was going to do. What he did surprised me.

He reached under me, and pulled my legs up - the rope seemed to just stretch up and hold my legs in the air, and my ass was exposed. Jack didn't say anything, just slid a handful of grease along his length - something I wondered at, in the back of my mind - but then I didn't understand him. Although, I had to admit, it made his entry impossible to resist when he pressed himself against my opening. The way I was suspended, it was impossible to resist him, although I struggled. I expected him just to start thrusting into me, like Paw did, but only the first thrust was like that, and he waited until I'd stopped struggling to move again.

He pulled out - not all the way, and he shifted, plunging into me at an angle. And again, shifting again, as he watched my face, keenly, not the dreamy half-state he'd been in when he stripped my clothes - why had he done that? - from me. He was watching for something, waiting for it, and I didn't have a clue what it was.

Until I did. Each tiny shift of his body had changed the way he was inside me, and on one of those strokes, I could feel it. His dick touched something inside me, and mine jumped in response. It hurt, it always hurt, but that ... that felt good, and then I realized that was what he was waiting for. He'd ... he'd known it would happen, and then he started fucking me seriously, and he hit that ... that ... whatever it was, over and over, and damn if I didn't get hard right there, leaking fuckslime out of my own cock, watching it bob and throb not just to his movements, but to mine, it felt ... I'm not sure when it stopped hurting but the good feeling didn't stop, it just got stronger, and Jack was still watching me, I'd lost track of it for a while but now I was feeling close, he hadn't so much laid a finger on my cock, and I was about to shoot anyway. Paw had never made me feel like this.

Was that what Jack meant? He was going to make me like it? Like being fucked, and then kill me? As I shot? It made a strange sort of sense, and I half-expected to see the dagger in his hand, ready to gut me or stab into my heart, or whatever he planned, but no, his hands were on my legs, holding me up and pulling me onto him in the most intense way ... he wouldn't need a dagger to kill me, I thought, and I shot, hitting him in the face with orc seed, and I couldn't help but cry out a little as it happened, and then I braced myself for the blow.

But it didn't come; Jack continued to fuck me, and what had felt good ... changed into something almost unbearable. It was good, it was ... it was too good, and I was screaming for him to stop, to slow down, and I shot again, less fluid this time, not reaching him but spattering hot on my chest, and he still didn't stop and what was unbearable became torture, but somehow I couldn't stop myself from moving against him, meeting his trusts with my body, trying to pull his length inside me as if I could slow him down. I clamped down on him, tried to hold him, but the grease defeated me and I came a third time, a single soft jet and then a dribble of seed down my cock and I felt him tense.

I remembered, then, that Jack came human-slow, and if ... I couldn't tense, not after that experience. If Jack was going to kill me then I was going to die, but that had been true from the moment he took me. He didn't kill me. He just pulled out of me with a sigh, and set my legs back down and - somehow - adjusted the ropes. "There," he said, with a sound of great relief. He picked up the shirt he'd torn off me, and wiped himself clean. After a moment he fastened a heavy steel collar around my neck - it just clicked shut, and dragged me over to the wall where he looped a steel chain - so new it was still shiny - through the collar.

Jack went back to the bed, tossed me the now-stained shirt, and lay down. "Day."

After a while, I could hear him snoring, and I guessed he wasn't going to kill me. At least, not tonight.