Chapter 2: Captive

He awoke to vibrations, the sound of cartwheels, clanking metal and snorting horses. He raised his head gingerly and saw that he was lying down in some kind of metal cage strewn with straw. All of his armor had been removed, leaving him wearing only his gambeson and leggings. He was on a cart, and it was moving, the trees to either side of the road passing him by at a snail’s pace. His head pounded, and he cradled it in his hands, shutting his eyes against the lingering pain.

He started as a metallic clang rang through the cage, jumping out of his skin. An Orc ran its machete across the bars, laughing at him as it kept pace with the cart. Where were they going? Why had they not killed him? Anger and indignation flared, why had he been denied his glorious death?

“Good mornin’ sleepyhead.” The big Orc was walking alongside the cart, a smirk on her face as she looked him over. “Ye get a good night’s rest?”

He scowled at her, rubbing his head.

“What do you want with me, creature?” he spat. “Trying to recoup some of your losses by selling me to pirates?”

“Nah, I got other plans in store for ye.”

She leered menacingly, and Bevan recoiled a little. Were they going to torture him? Eat him? Use his pure blood in some evil ritual? His fate uncertain, he rested his arms on his knees and stared out past the bars of his cage at the passing scenery. They had traveled a ways from the village, that much was sure, and his order would assume he had been slain along with his brothers. There was no help coming for him now. He would have to formulate his own escape plan. Orcs were stupid, that much was known to mankind. Eventually, they would make a mistake that he might take advantage of. It was just a matter of biding his time and waiting for the perfect moment.

“Well don’t go all quiet on me, boy,” the Orc chided. “Keep talkin’ yer Paladin shit, it’ll make this walk less borin’ for me.”

“Paladin shit?” he replied sarcastically.

“Aye, Paladin shit. Oh, I’m a big strong Paladin and I ain’t afraid of ye! I say, ‘ave at ye, en garde and so forth! Brings me no end of joy to watch ye fall over yerself, ye little idiot. How old are ye anyway? Ye don’t look to be more than a boy.”

“I’m not a boy, I’m a Paladin. As soon as I turned seventeen, I joined the order to do my duty and slay monsters like you.”

“Aye, and how long ago was that then?”

“If you must know, about a year.”

“So ye are a bloody kid then?” She smirked as his face turned red and he started to fume.

“Well a kid slew at least ten of yours, so what does that say about Orcs?”

“That ye ain’t as smart as ye think ye are. I had that town scoped out before ye even arrived. I knew that if I threw enough Orcs at ye, ye’d retreat into the town square. All I had to do was make sure that we killed enough of ye before that happened so that ye couldn’t cover all the streets. So what happened, brave little Paladin? Ye got overrun, ye were fucked from the moment ye set out.”

That startled him, and he stared at his bare feet. Orcs were not supposed to be strategists, all of the books in the library back at the monastery described them as thoughtless beasts who roamed in hordes and attacked targets of opportunity. Rather than simply being overwhelmed by violent animals, the Paladins had been outmaneuvered. It didn’t make sense.

“Don’t look so glum, boy. Why dwell on the past when ye have so much to look forward to?” He shot her a dirty look, and she laughed at him, exposing her serrated tusks. “I think we’re gonna have a lot of fun together, Paladin. What’s yer name, anyway?”

“You may call me Paladin, or Sir Knight, Orc.”

She grinned, wiping her discolored lips with the back of her hand.

“I think I’ll just keep callin’ ye boy, seen as you like it so much.”

Bevan lay back in the straw and watched the clouds pass overhead, trying to ignore the Orc’s taunting. He closed his eyes and started to sing a hymn, a plea of divine protection in the old tongue. The Orc listened in silence for a while, perhaps enjoying the tune as she walked, her armor clanking and rustling. The other Orcs seemed indifferent, uncommunicative, they marched in no recognizable formation and paid no attention to the conversation or the songs. After a while his captor interrupted him, breaking his meditation.

“So what does that song mean? Is it a prayer?”

“Yes, the twelfth sermon of divine mercy. It’s a call for protection against evil and a blessing of purification.”

“Ye say that as if I should be concerned. Are yer Gods going to strike me down where I walk?”

“The Gods do as they will, mortal men cannot command them, nor beg favors. I merely purify my soul in preparation for whatever their plans for me may be. I accept my fate, whatever they have chosen. Clearly, my trials are not yet over, and I have more to accomplish before I can meet my brothers in Paradise.”

The Orc glanced at him, less snark now and more ... pity?

“Why are ye so quick to throw yer life away? How can ye be ready to die if ye haven’t lived yet?”

“This world is fleeting, Orc, though I wouldn’t expect an evil creature like you to understand the divine. Materialism is an illusion, a distraction. You cannot buy your way into heaven with the gold you steal from these poor villagers, and you cannot bribe the Gods for their favor. Your body will die one day, but your soul will live forever.”

“Aye, I’ll die one day, but isn’t that all the more reason to enjoy meself while I can?”

“The pleasures of this world are base and ephemeral.”

“Says the boy who hasn’t spent a day outside his monastery since he came of age.”

“That’s not true,” he snapped, annoyed. “I’ve traveled plenty, I’ve seen much of the kingdom, and what I haven’t seen I’ve read of in the library.”

“Have ye ever lain with a woman? Gotten drunk in a tavern and fought yer friends? Done anythin’ for yerself that yer parents or yer Paladins didn’t arrange for ye?”

Bevan reddened and turned away, staring out at the withered trees as they passed by the cart.

“Aye, I thought as much. I pity ye religious types, yer Gods give ye a whole world to play in, going by yer scriptures there’s nothin’ here they didn’t invent. Have ye considered they made loose wenches and tall mugs of frothin’ mead for yer own benefit? Hell, they gave ye a cock and two hands, then told ye not to play with ‘em. It’s like givin’ ye flint and kindling and tellin’ ye not to make a fire.”

Bevan’s face burned, and he began to sing another hymn in order to block out her obscenities. The Orc shrugged, her heavy boots sinking into the muddy road.

“Ye can’t just block out things ye don’t want to hear, kid.”

They marched for hours, their destination unknown to Bevan as the cart trundled through mud and potholes, bouncing and shuddering. The sun began to get low in the sky, and there was still no settlement in sight. They had nowhere to take shelter, nothing but empty fields and patches of woodland. At least the previous night’s rain had passed them by, but it had left the earth wet and slippery, even the horse struggled through the uneven terrain.

The big Orc called out to her soldiers in their crude language, and they turned off the road and into one of the islands of forest that dotted the farmland. The canopy blotted out the waning light of the sun, casting him into darkness inside his cage. The twisted trunks of the gnarled old trees passed by the cart as they reached a clearing and came to a halt. Were they stopping here for the night? Camping out in the open air? He prayed that they wouldn’t just leave him exposed to the cold wind overnight, but to expect mercy from these beasts was folly.

He watched as the Orcs unloaded heavy packs and rolls of fabric, and after maybe a half hour of activity they had erected a small village of tents, a roaring fire crackling in the center upon which metal pots and pans brewed unfamiliar stews and soups. He hoped that he would not become one of the dishes.

The big Orc walked to the back of the cart and withdrew a large, iron key from a pouch on her belt. She unlocked the door of his cage with a mechanical clunk, and Bevan scurried away to the far end. She rolled her eyes and beckoned to him, her black fingernails pointed like claws.

“Come on, boy. Ye ain’t going anywhere with no shoes, and we ain’t gonna eat ye.”

Bevan inched towards her warily.

“Man flesh tastes like shit anyway, I prefer pork,” she added with a toothy grin. She laughed as he recoiled. “I’m jokin’ ye big baby, now come out here so I can feed ye. A dead slave is of no use to anyone.”

It didn’t look like he had much of a choice. He scooted over to her, refusing to take her hand as he dropped unsteadily from the cart and into the cold, wet mud. He felt the dirt between his toes and pulled a disgusted face. The Orc laughed at him again, her hands on her wide hips.

“This way, Sir Knight. Get some stew in ye while it’s hot.”

She was right, there was no way that he could make a break for it in these conditions without any shoes, he’d be too cut and bloody to walk by the time he got out of the forest. Where was his gear? Did they intend to sell it? His stomach gurgled audibly, and suddenly the idea of stew didn’t sound so bad. He followed her to the campfire and sat down gingerly, still sore and bruised from the beating that she had meted out in the village.

There were a few other Orcs milling around the fire, stirring the food as it boiled and chatting in their odd language. Most had removed their armor, and with a start, Bevan realized that they were all female. He couldn’t see a single male among them.

“Where are the men?” he asked, looking up at the tall Orc. “Did we kill them all?”

She put a hand to her mouth, chuckling at his confused expression.

“Nah, we had no men. Ye think too highly of yer Paladins, boy.”

Bevan scowled and watched the flames dance in the glowing embers.

“This here is my warband. If ye think female Orcs are violent, ye ain’t seen males before. Practically fuckin’ feral. I don’t like dealin’ with ‘em, except when the mood takes me, if you know what I mean.”

She laughed at his disgusted expression.

“Why am I alive?” he blurted abruptly. She was taken aback, and waited for him to elaborate. “I killed at least a dozen of yours, you killed the rest of my brothers, why spare me? Don’t you hate me?”

“I don’t hate ye, boy. War is business. We attacked ye, ye fought us, that’s the way it goes. If we wanna take what ain’t ours by right, then we gotta expect to lose a few soldiers in the process.”

“It’s not business to us,” Bevan snapped, indignation in his tone. “You attack innocent people who have done you no wrong and who can’t defend themselves. You kill them, steal everything they own, sell their families into slavery. You’re evil, abhorrent. I hate you, and I’ll kill you the first opportunity I get.”

“Now that’s just impolite, do ye want to go back in yer cage?”

He shook his head, crossing his arms and seething.

“It’s just business kid, it ain’t personal. Not like an Orc could get honest work round these parts with yer bloody Paladins marching around tellin’ all and sundry that we’re demons.”

“Are you not?”

The Orc shook her head in exasperation, leaning towards the campfire in order to spoon soup into a wooden bowl, then she handed the steaming brew to him. He took it reluctantly, putting it to his mouth and sipping the hot liquid warily.

“I didn’t kill ye kid, because yer brave, and ye fought me good and fair. If there’s one thing Orcs respect, it’s bein’ a brazen little shit and trying to punch above yer weight. Yer only little, and ye weren’t any real threat to me. Don’t make that face, it’s not an insult. Most men woulda begged, and I woulda killed ‘em for it, but ye were good and ready to gut me. I guess that amused me. Orcs have children too ye know, I’m not about to kill a young man when I could just as easily take him as a slave.”

“Is that my fate then? Slavery?”

She drank deeply from her own bowl, pausing to chew a floating vegetable.

“We’ll see. Dunno how much a scrawny kid like ye would be worth to pirates. Can’t picture ye climbing rigging and swabbing decks. Where the fuck did ye come from anyway? Ye act like ye never seen mud and grime before.”

“A noble house, and I won’t tell you which. I gave up my inheritance and my title when I joined the Paladins, so you won’t get any ransom money for me. I hold no value to my family.”

“Alright, alright, point taken. Now why the fuck would a highborn like yerself give up a life of luxury and leisure to join an order of warrior monks with staves shoved so far up their arses they shit splinters?”

Bevan sipped again, the brew warming his belly and taking the edge off his anger. He allowed himself to relax a little. He was in no immediate danger, not right now. Might as well eat while there was food going, and the conversation could be worse if he looked past the Orc’s vulgarity.

“I took an interest in the scripture and came to the conclusion that a comfortable, safe life would hinder my admission into heaven. I took a vow to live and die in the service of the Gods in this life so that I might enjoy their rewards in the next.”

“How noble of ye,” she said sarcastically. “Most people in this world spend their time wishin’ they had a few moments of comfort and safety, but ye were born into it, and ye squandered it.”

“There’s no nobility in a life of luxury,” he snapped.

“And do ye think there’s nobility in war? Look where ye are, boy. Bloody kids think ye know everythin’ don’t ye?”

Bevan took another drink from his bowl, sulking as she lectured him.

“Ye should consider yerself lucky to be alive, lucky to have come across me and not some ugly cunt who’d kill ye for the sport of it. I didn’t put ye in that battle, that was yer own doin’. Maybe yer Gods are lookin’ out for ye after all.”

“You should have just killed me...”

“I could kill ye right now if that’s what ye want.”

He shook his head, and picked up a twig, prodding at the orange embers as the flames crackled around the cooking pots.

“I liked ye more when ye were talkin’ shit. Yer no fun when yer sulking. Only kids sulk ye know.”

“That’s not true,” he mumbled.

“Oh aye, little kids.”

“I’m not a little kid, I’m a man. I’ve fought in battles.”

“Battles don’t make ye a man, I’ve been in plenty of battles, and I didn’t grow no fuckin’ beard. Only one thing’ll do that for ye, and ye ain’t done it yet.”

His face reddened, and he turned to look away, a knowing smile spreading across the Orc’s lips as she leaned closer to whisper in his ear.

“If ye ain’t been with a woman, ye ain’t no man.”

“Ridiculous, all Paladins are celibate. It’s part of the vow we take in service of the Gods. There is no force on this earth more corrupting and more likely to lead a noble man astray than ... that.”

“That may be, but there ain’t no force on this earth more likely to change yer perspective on base, earthly matters than a good lay.”

Bevan rose to his feet, placing the bowl down on the ground.