Private Tales The Beating of Skin Drums

[Urosh]

“Then…” Urosh rumbled, the word drawing out and nearly drowned in the roaring fall, “I will not give you back.”

His band would not allow for this. They had need of coin. They would not welcome her. But Urosh had ever been headstrong. He would do as he desired.

“I will keep you.” His nostrils flared. “You are mine.”

Jade eyes looked down at her, primal and possessive.

She would say no of course. She wanted to be returned. A beaten dog still crawls home to its master. And she was not his people. She would say no and he would have to return her for the coin.

Rori

 

[Rori]

For a heartbeat, all she could hear was the thunder of the waterfall and the low, steady thrum of his voice beneath it. I will not give you back.

Her breath caught. She looked up at him, wide-eyed, the meaning of his words settling in her chest. Her lips parted, but no words came at first. He couldn’t mean that. He shouldn’t mean that.

“I…What about your coin?” It was the only thing she could think to say. “My uncle.. They’ll know where I am. They’ll come for me. They’ll take me back.”

She shook her head, her wet hair clinging to her cheeks. “They’d kill you… and the rest of your tribe,” she frowned, shaking her head. “I won’t be the cause of that.”

But then, despite everything, despite reason and fear and duty, her hand rose, trembling, to touch his face. Her thumb brushed the sharp edge of his jaw, the warmth of his skin meeting the chill of her fingertips.

Her voice softened, barely audible beneath the crashing water. “But I would stay with you, Urosh… If it were possible." It wasn’t a declaration, shouted to the gods, just a quiet truth, fragile and sincere.. "If I could stay out here with you forever, I would."

 

[Urosh]

“It is,” he scowled.

Why did she speak in such double tongues?

“If you want to do a thing, then you see it done. What else is there?”

He looked down into her frightened features, her hair clinging to her face in wet strands of auburn. Her hand felt gentle on his cheek, but it was only a passing thing then as she said - a moment of snow upon the mountain’s shoulders, soon to fade with the coming of spring.

“If this was your heart’s wish, then why not stay? My coin is nothing.” He shook his head, “My band is one of war. Not a true tribe. Not meant to last. If you wished a thing then you would do it.”

Why did it feel like someone had thrust a spear into his chest? He did not like this feeling.

“But if you wish to go back, then you will go back.”

Rori

 

[Rori]

Her brow knit as if his words physically pressed against her, demanding answers she didn’t have.

“Because...that isn’t real life,” she breathed, frustration and disbelief tangling together. “I can’t just… just leave everything and run off into the wilds like some..”

She cut herself off, unable to even find the word. Some lovesick girl? Some idiot woman without sense or duty? None of them felt right. None of them felt true.

Her hands fell from his face, and she stared past him for a moment, her mind reeling.. What was she leaving behind? A husband who treated her like a beast to be broken. A house that never felt like home. A family that bartered her life for advantage. No friends. No freedom. No purpose.

Her voice wavered. “Everything seems so simple to you. You see a thing you want, and you take it..” She shook her head, hair clinging to her cheeks. “But it’s not simple for me…"

She swallowed hard. “They would kill you. All of you. You took me and others hostage. You killed all those people. They would never just… allow you to keep me.”

Yet even as she said it, something inside her tugged painfully, like a thread pulled tight enough to snap.

Her gaze lifted to his, wide and searching, as if she desperately needed to hear it again. “You would really choose keeping me… over my weight in coin?” she asked softly, almost afraid of the answer.

 

[Urosh]

What would her gold buy him except a life of extravagance, with every moment spent trying to defend what he’d purchased from those who would seek to take it from him for their own?

“I wish for it,” he grunted, “but I wish for you more. You and your fire hair, Aurora. What is the worth of a good woman? Or the many sons you would bear me?”

His nostrils flared for he was still wroth at her turn of phrase. Like some barbarian, she’d been about to say, he was sure. And what of it. He was a barbarian.

Urosh stood tall and thrust his chest out, at home with the roar of the falls and the cool water around his hips. Not her. This was all foreign to her. She made simple things complicated, as all the southlanders did from the comfort of their big cities.

“But I will return you. You do not want this life. Too simple,” he grunted.

The orc began wading toward shore and started to don his clothes once he reached it.

Rori

 

[Rori]

He wished for her?...

He.. wished for sons.

The words struck harder than any fist. Her brows drew together, lips parting with a soft, pained breath as her hands drifted instinctively to her stomach, an old habit and useless habit. Her fingers curled there, trembling. As though she could simply give such things. As though she wasn’t already a failure in that regard. She had tried, and she had suffered for her incompetence, for her inability to give her husband the heirs he wanted.

She would only be a disappointment to another male who wanted sons that she could not provide.

And then he turned from her, his broad back cutting the moment clean in two. Her vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes. She stood there shivering in the falls’ mist, staring at him as he waded away, this great, impossible creature who had just offered her something she’d never been offered before. Something that terrified her. Something she’d wanted enough for it to hurt.

But want was dangerous. Want got people killed. Did he not hear her? That she would not allow him to die for her sake?

Her gaze dropped to herself, her pale, scarred skin, soaked underclothes clinging to her form like accusation. Gods, what was she doing? What was she even thinking?

Her throat tightened, and her heart clenched.

“Yes. Return me,” she said at last, her voice suddenly cold and distant. “That is for the best.” A lie. A shield. A wound. He would not hear the shaking in her voice.

She turned, arms wrapped tight around her ribs as though she could hold herself together by force alone. She moved toward the shore quickly, head bowed, body trembling so violently she nearly stumbled. She reached his discarded clothes - her clothes, now - and dragged the fabric to her, pulling each piece on with stiff, shaking hands, unable to look at him.

 

[Urosh]

Urosh said nothing, only grunting noncommittally at her words as he picked up his weapons again. A scowl darkened his features. She made her choice. Why seek to change it? Besides which, he should not have asked this of a captive. It did not seem right. And now he felt a tightness in his gut of disgust and shame.

He could not look at her. Of course she said no. She was his hostage. She wished to be among her people, no matter how terrible they might be or how they might hurt her. He hated it.

"Come," he barked after he'd donned his gear.

They set off once again and in a very short space of time, Urosh tracked down a deer and shot it himself. He cleaned the deer, not even speaking to her. Barely looking at her except to make sure she had not wandered off. This took some time. Eventually, he slung the deer over his shoulder and began the long trek back. Down hill and without the rain, they only had to stop for a brief rest.

Urosh only spoke to her in gruff commands. There seemed little need for anything more. Whatever bond had been growing between them felt severed.

In due course, they reached the woods where the camp had been, but as they crested a rise in the treeline on a small hill, Urosh spotted smoke on the horizon, so thick and black that it choked out all else around.

"No," he whispered.

The half-orc broke into a sprint and left her behind. He did not know how long or how far he ran. Every sinew burned and his lungs begged for air, the cold air sharp and painful with every breath as he pounded into the camp. Or what remained of it.

Burnt out husks of tents and yurts stood like charred skeletons. The soil was thick with ash. And blood. Bodies lay like scattered leaves, piled atop each other where they'd fallen, limbs askew. Urosh collapsed to his knees before a series of pikes someone had shoved into the ground outside the camp. Upon them were mounted the heads of the war leaders - his captains and lieutenants. Their mouths hung open, tongues lolling out. The birds had not yet gotten to them

Urosh felt a stinging in his eyes from the smoke. And tears rolled silently down his cheeks as his chest shuddered.

All around the camp he saw the signs. Shod hooves. Human riders.

Her people had come looking for her.

Rori

 

[Rori]

Her eyes burned as she trudged down the valley behind him, the world around her, that she'd admired so deeply, now blurred and meaningless. She couldn’t stop shivering. Her fiery hair clung to her neck and shoulders in dark, sodden curls, her clothes soaked through until the cold seemed fused to her bones. Her skin had gone pale, lips trembling, the fragile body of a sheltered human girl utterly unprepared for the wilds.

More than once she thought of running again. Just slipping away into the trees. But she’d die out here, and she knew it.

So she kept her distance instead. Silent. Careful. Afraid even the smallest word might provoke him. Had she hurt him? She hadn’t believed someone like him could be hurt. Yet the way he wouldn’t look at her, wouldn't speak to her..

She hadn’t meant to wound him. She’d only wanted to protect him from the men who would come for her without mercy. She knew what they were capable of. She knew what they’d do to him. And to his people.

The realisation struck her with a sharp, aching clarity: she cared. More than she’d allowed herself to care for anyone or anything in years. Enough that the thought of leaving him felt like something tearing inside her chest.

She cried silently when he shot the deer. It felt like an ending in every sense.

They walked on in silence, her feet burning by the time they crested the hill, and her eyes widened at the sight of smoke staining the horizon. Her heart seized, a quiet gasp catching in her throat. She'd been about to speak, but he was already gone.

“No! Urosh!” she shouted after him, panic cracking her voice.

Her pain vanished beneath a surge of adrenaline as she ran, stumbling, sliding down the slope. She followed him to the edge of what had once been the camp. She took in every gruesome detail, each familiar face twisted in death. She had never loved these people, but they had been his kin.

Rori glanced around, wide eyes scanning through the smoke, looking for signs of movement, her pulse roaring in her ears..

“Urosh…” she whispered, stepping behind him. Her hand trembled as she reached out, resting lightly on his broad shoulder. “You need to leave, now.."

 

[Urosh]

He did not move where he knelt on the ground. All around him seemed ash and bones. He felt her fingers on his shoulder. The urge to shrug them away came and went. He did nothing, just sat there.

"No," the orc grunted.

Shoulders hunched forward, he felt as though the weight of a mountain pressed upon him.

Small embers still crackled in the ashes of the tents. The air smelled of blood and ash. And everywhere there buzzed a chorus of flies, swarming the corpses of the dead and Urosh too. He did not move as they crawled across his face. His black hair hung across his face, his top knot loose some time ago.

His mouth twitched around his tusks and his jade eyes grew cold. The warrior tightened his fingers around the haft of his axe. When had he drawn it? He didn't remember. His gaze went to the trail of shod horse hooves.

"Blood must have blood."

The half-orc sucked in a deep breath of air.

"I will kill them all."

Rori

 

[Rori]

Rori froze at the sound of his voice, at the words he spoke. Her heart climbed into her throat, panic thundering through her ribs as she stared down at him, he looked less like the orc she had come to know, and more like a weapon honed for vengeanc.

Tears welled before she could stop them, hot and blurring the ruin around them. They slipped free, falling soundlessly down her cheeks and onto the scorched earth between them.

“On your own? That’s suicide and you know it.”

He didn’t look at her. His eyes were fixed on the tracks in the mud, like a predator scenting blood, like he could already see the men responsible even miles away. Her fear spiked, sharp as broken glass in her lungs. She stepped closer, desperate.

“Blood already had blood,” she said, voice shaking. “Your tribe killed those people, so they came for your tribe. When does it end? When there’s no one left alive?”

Her fingers curled around the shoulder she’d touched before, more firmly this time, grounding or pleading, she wasn’t sure which.

“You cannot fight all of them alone” she insisted. “You have to get away from here." Her tears kept falling, her voice soft but fierce with terror.

“Please, Urosh,” she begged. “Don’t let this place be your grave too.”

 

[Urosh]

Urosh shrugged away her touch with a savage motion of his shoulder, ripping himself free of her grasp.

"Quiet."

If he had been more attentive to his people than the needs of this woman, this would not have happened. In trying to do good, he had done evil. And now the war band paid the price. He was no true chieftain. No great leader.

But.

At the least...

He could avenge them.

Urosh rounded on her and his eyes were like twin pools of frozen jade, colder than the heights of the Spine itself. Heedless of her human tears.

"I will not leave here."

The sound of hoofbeats grew in the distance, Urosh's eyes swung toward the noise. He took up a javelin and readied himself.

Rori

 

[Rori]

Rori flinched as though struck when he tore himself from her touch, the recoil cutting deep. For a heartbeat she just stared at him, at the ice that had replaced the warmth she’d been growing used to, at the fury that she hoped wasn’t for her.

Her chest ached. Her breath trembled. But she refused to let that be the end. When he rounded on her, she did not shrink back this time. His eyes were cold, but hers burned.

“No,” she said, voice breaking but unwavering. “I will not be quiet.”

She moved in front of him, stepping directly into his path, forcing his gaze to meet her own. Her lower lip trembled, but she lifted her chin, defiant in a way she hadn’t been in years.

“You think I’ll just stand by and watch you go to your death?” she demanded, breath shuddering. “This isn’t justice. It isn’t honour. It’s mindless. It's suicide and you know it.”

The horses were getting closer. Her panic surged, but she didn’t back down.

“The rest of your band couldn’t stop them,” she insisted, voice rising over the thunder in the earth. “What makes you think you alone can? Don't be a fool, Urosh!” Her hands balled into fists at her sides, whole body shaking with fear and desperation.

“Please,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Please go.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek. “I don’t want to lose you.”

 

[Urosh]

"Lose who?" the half-orc barked. "Your captor?"

The hoofbeats drew even closer, sounding like thunder. A rider appeared around a copse of trees, then two more behind. Humans all. Lightly armed and armored. Scouts, Urosh thought.

"Go, run. I will slow them down."

His footsteps took him to the middle of the camp and he stood with chest swelled proud, shoulders back.

He beat his chest and let loose a roar of pain and fury that cracked the air like that of a wild bear.

The riders drew their blades at the sight of him, each bearing a riding sword. Urosh bared his teeth as the rode toward him at a wrothful pace.

"I am UROSH. Spine Father bear witness, I will kill you all."

Then he hurled his javelin as the first rider. The blade punched cleanly through the horse's unarmored neck in a spray of red mist, sending the rider hurling from the saddle where he crunched into the earth with the sound of broken bones.

The two others hurtled toward him. Urosh drew another javelin and took steady aim.

Rori

 

[Rori]

Her breath caught, sharp and painful, and for a heartbeat she couldn’t move at all, could only stand there as the old, familiar guilt reared up inside her. The reflex that told her this was somehow her fault. That it always was. That if anger and violence followed her, then she must have invited it. Earned it.

“Urosh, please..” she tried, voice breaking. But he was already moving, already turning away from her and toward death.

The thunder of hooves swallowed her words. Riders burst into view and her blood ran cold, her gaze snapping to the familiar shapes of men on horseback, steel flashing, purpose hard in their eyes. She reached out instinctively, fingers grasping at air where his arm had been only moments before. She called after him as he moved, but still, he refused to listen to her.

He roared his name and it tore through her chest, through her bones, trough every fragile piece of her heart she hadn’t yet learned how to protect. She watched in horror as he stood alone amid the ashes, enormous and defiant, a monument of rage and grief and pride.

And then there was blood and the horse screamed, its rider falling.

“Urosh!” But the chaos drowned her out. Then, cutting through it all like a knife to the gut, a voice rang out behind her.

“Aurora!!” Her stomach dropped. Her vision swam as recognition slammed into her, terror blooming fast and hot in her chest. They were closer than she’d thought. Too close. She didn’t think. She ran.

Ignoring the pain in her feet, the smoke burning her lungs, the fear screaming at her to hide, she chased after the half orc, desperate to stop what she had set in motion, or at least to stand between him and the men who would kill him.

 

[Urosh]

Another javelin hissed from his hand with all the force of a hurled thunderbolt and took the rider full in the torso. The man dropped back limply with a scream, then slumped off the side as the horse galloped on.

The last charged forward alone, but Urosh could smell the fear in him, could see the terror in his eyes. He had him.

Behind, a voice.

Aurora.

Urosh frowned. Who?

Distracted, he half-spun to glance behind him and caught a glimpse of a figure riding her down.

No. No.

He only had one javelin left. And he had no time to face both opponents at once. He made the choice swiftly. With alacrity he sent the last dart sailing. It arced well through the air, struck the hindquarters of the one pursuing Aurora, and toppled him.

Then Urosh felt as though the back of his head exploded, pain blotted out his vision to black and he fell into the mud, limp as a dead man.

Rori

 

[Rori]

She ran with everything she had.

Her wounded feet ached, mud slicked beneath her boots, smoke burned her lungs, her heart thundered so hard she thought it might tear free of her ribs, but she did not slow. She saw the javelin streak past her in a blur, heard it strike home with a brutal clang and a man’s scream, armour clattering as the rider fell. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t.

“Urosh!” she yelled in warning, but it was too late. The crack of metal against bone sounded impossibly loud.

“No!!” she screamed, the sound ripping out of her raw and broken as she watched him crumple, his great body collapsing into the mud like a felled tree.

The man who stood over him raised his sword, and Rori knew that face.

Jared. Young. Barely a man. Her husband’s cousin. Someone she’d once shared bread with, who had laughed too loudly at feasts and blushed when elders corrected him. His hands shook on the hilt, hesitation flickering across his features as he looked down at the unconscious orc.

Rori didn’t give him a chance to decide. She threw herself forward, hitting him full force, shoulder to chest, the impact knocking the breath from both of them as they went down hard in the mud. Jared swore violently, scrambling, trying to pin her.

“What the fu-!”

She drove her elbow into his face with everything she had. Bone crunched. He yelled, reeling back, and she ripped free, crawling the last few feet to Urosh. She covered him with her body, arms flung wide, pressing herself against his broad chest like a living shield.

"Stop!"

Hooves thundered in around them. Riders closed in, a ring of steel and horses and shouting men. Blades gleamed above her. She didn’t move.

“Aurora.”

Her blood turned to ice, and she looked up slowly. Lord Alistair Valewyn, immaculate even now, jaw tight with fury and disbelief.

“Thank the Gods you’re alive,” he said, voice cold. His eyes, colder, flicked to the fallen half-orc beneath her. “But do you care to explain what the fuck you are doing?”

“He saved me,” she cried, words tumbling over each other. “He’s not one of them. He didn’t kill any-”

Alistair’s gaze hardened, looking over the borrowed clothes she wore, the state she was in. “Did he not just murder a man in front of your eyes?” He stepped closer. “He’s a savage. Enough of this.”

She clutched Urosh tighter as he reached for her, fingers digging into coarse leather and blood-matted fur.

“No, he isn’t, please..” she begged, shoving at Alistair’s chest when his hand closed around her arm.

He didn’t relent. With a sharp yank, he hauled her up, ignoring her cry as he dragged her away toward his horse. She twisted, reaching back desperately.

“Urosh! Get up!"

Alistair didn’t look at her as he swung her toward the saddle. “Bring him,” he ordered flatly, already turning away.