The group of soldiers spread out, swords and shields still held at guard, their breath still haggard and their brows slick with sweat. Another raiding band of Underborn had come out of the Hareldrens; another village of defenseless freemen had been slaughtered; and another contingent of warriors had to dispatch them. The corpses of the orcs and gorrlocs lay strewn on the ground, their black blood pooling on the ground, mingling with the noble blood of good, dead, Fellaran men. Herric, the veteran captain of the soldiers, and Godin, their magician, peered through the dimness as they stood at the front of the men; Herric in his full suit of plated armor and Godin in his simple jerkin.
"They're all dead." said Godin, the muttering of the soldiers around him, "It was a blessing there was no kurloc leading them."
"A blessing we'll try to keep. Gather the dead and what ever supplies you can salvage! Double time!" ordered Herric.
The soldiers hurried into the rough camp, lifting their dead fellows from the ground and scouring the dark tents and piles for supplies. The sun descended lower in the sky. Soldiers came back with some extra provisions they had salvaged among the ruins of the orcish camp and others loaded the dead in a wagon, to be taken back to their byrnors and given proper burials. A soldier suddenly ran up to Godin, a bandage on his matted head.
"Ser, you should come see this." he said, then lead Godin between the piles of filth and broken tents; to where another warrior was standing, his sword pointed down at a bundle by his feet.
"I thought you should see this, Ser." the warrior, Thelden, said to Godin.
The bundle of filthy rags squirmed.
"Thelden, what's in the blankets?" asked Godin, puzzled by the soldier's odd behavior. Herric and the other soldiers came clattering up next to Godin.
Thelden shoved the pile over with his boot, sword point never leaving it. A sound like a cry and a growl came from the thing under the pile of rags. It was a creature Godin had never seen before; it was the size of a very young child, but had mottled brown and black skin, wisps of long, filthy hairs on its rounded head, and two, jagged, yellow teth protruded from its mouth, but was the shape and form of a human child. Herric looked down in disgust at it, then up at Thelden.
"Is that a–?"
"An orcish infant." Godin breathed.
"Nasty, ain't it?" said Thelden, eyeing the ugly creature.
"These Underborn must be from Thund; no Deep orc has ever brought their whelps with them... in fact, no one has ever known they had whelps." Godin said.
"Thelden, get rid of the brat immediately." said Herric.
Thelden raised his sword for the kill, when Godin strode forward, peering down at the grotesque orc infant. He looked at the shape and size of its head, the thickness of its limbs.
"This is no orc whelp," he said aloud so the Fellaran soldiers could hear, "but a kurloc child. Look at the size of it, yet it is only old enough to wiggle and cry."
A murmur ran through the gathered warriors. Herric and his captains strode up next to Godin, all looking down and examining the creature, who lay squirming and crying. Kurlocs were born to orcs only rarely, they were natural tribe leaders and warriors, standing eight or more feet tall, with the strength of more than ten strong men, kurlocs were known simply to tear their enemies in half, and they had the endurance of a bull, able to run or fight for an entire day without tiring. It took an entire company of soldiers sustaining moderate casualties to kill a single, full-grown, kurloc.
"Thelden, kill it at once. An orc, much less a kurloc, has no right to live in our world." ordered Herric.
A thought, an idea unlike any he had heard or experienced came to Godin's mind then, just as Thelden's sword was about to come down on the kurloc infant.
"Wait! Stay your hand! Captain Herric, do you not see what a unique situation we are in? Never before has man seen an orcish child, and now here, on this night, we find an abandoned kurloc child. Could we not carry him to Narrin Hold and raise him as a soldier, an immensely powerful warrior to fight for us?" Godin said to Herric and the assembled captains.
"Godin," Herric said, "I see your plan, but he would only have to grow a little to be a threat and a nuisance; he'd be at our throats in only a couple years. And how would we raise him? It, that thing, is an orc, a kurloc much less, one of the Underborn, the sworn enemies of our race. How would we take to being raised by humans? What would we feed it? Entire pastures would be emptied to fill its appetite. And then what about its savage lust for battle and blood? It would quarrel with everyone, no matter if a noble lord or common freeman, and then what about its lust when it grows older? It would frighten the women. No, Godin, we must kill it now."
"But we must at least try, Herric, what harm will that bring? I will raise him, in secret. I can use my magic to help me in the process. As for his appetite, we shall deal with that when the time comes. But please, let me try."
Herric looked down at the crying beast, then up at Godin.
"Fine, if you want to raise the monster and burden your kingdom thus, it is not on my head. Take it, if the high king approves, raise the thing as your own if you have such love for it, but I doubt any honest maid in Narrin will nurse that thing. And when it runs wild and brings ruin on you and Fellaran, just remember I warned against it and had no part in this." Herric turned and strode off to the waiting horses, followed by his captains and the other soldiers.
Godin scooped the grotesque child up, wrapping it in an extra cloak he had. Godin could see his thin face and light brown hair reflected in the tiny monster's black eyes. The growling crying stopped and the creature lay there in Godin's arms, silent and heavy as a stone. Godin hurried to join the others and mounted his horse. The company rode through the night across the fells and moors of Fellaran, reaching Narrin Hold in the hour just before dawn.
The kurloc child lived with Godin at Narrin, the seat of the Fellaran high kings, where he lived in secret, known only to the king, Godin, Herric, and the highest ranking byrns. The king, Ethelic, provided Godin with nurse maids and caretakers to help raise the kurloc as a weapon, a weapon to fight for the kingdom of Fellaran in its losing war to more and more Underborn. Godin named the kurloc Tordric, after the unlikely Fellaran hero of legend. Tordric fought and squirmed when he was fed or held, his natural instincts crying out at being raised by humans; but eventually he grew to like the milk of humans and grew to see Godin as his father. Godin, who had simply wanted to save his kingdom when he rescued Tordric, did grow to love the kurloc child. Tordric grew at an incredible rate, able to throw small boulders at five, and nearly as tall as Godin at ten, Tordric was given sword masters and trainers from across all the human realms to teach him swordplay. Tordric grew in might and talent, taking quickly to the arts of war. He was also taught strategy and all the trappings of war and military campaigns. Godin, in his spare time, taught the child court manners, reading, writing, poetry, and music. When Tordric was twenty, he was finally allowed to go and fight, everyone was wary how he would react to seeing and fighting his own kind for the first time; Godin had prepared him and told him about the Underborn and their savage behavior. Tordric, weened on the milk of women, was taller than normal and driven, and because of the love of his father, was civilized, strong, and loyal to his adopted race. All the byrns and teiyans protested and were outraged that old King Ethelic had secretly raised one of the enemy within the walls of Narrin Hold itself, but all that rage turned to grudging respect as Tordric, raised to be a super-soldier, led daring assault after daring assault; always victorious, and his men always returned home. Tordric was given a new title, "Thane of All Fellaran", meaning the entire kingdom of Fellaran was his to protect. Tordric led a small cadre of men and retook the city of Ætheling nearly single-handedly, and massacred a host of orcs and trolls that had arisen in the Hareldren Mountains. Tordric is known as the Wolf of the North and is the envy of the other human realms who desire such a loyal super-warrior to fight for them.
"They're all dead." said Godin, the muttering of the soldiers around him, "It was a blessing there was no kurloc leading them."
"A blessing we'll try to keep. Gather the dead and what ever supplies you can salvage! Double time!" ordered Herric.
The soldiers hurried into the rough camp, lifting their dead fellows from the ground and scouring the dark tents and piles for supplies. The sun descended lower in the sky. Soldiers came back with some extra provisions they had salvaged among the ruins of the orcish camp and others loaded the dead in a wagon, to be taken back to their byrnors and given proper burials. A soldier suddenly ran up to Godin, a bandage on his matted head.
"Ser, you should come see this." he said, then lead Godin between the piles of filth and broken tents; to where another warrior was standing, his sword pointed down at a bundle by his feet.
"I thought you should see this, Ser." the warrior, Thelden, said to Godin.
The bundle of filthy rags squirmed.
"Thelden, what's in the blankets?" asked Godin, puzzled by the soldier's odd behavior. Herric and the other soldiers came clattering up next to Godin.
Thelden shoved the pile over with his boot, sword point never leaving it. A sound like a cry and a growl came from the thing under the pile of rags. It was a creature Godin had never seen before; it was the size of a very young child, but had mottled brown and black skin, wisps of long, filthy hairs on its rounded head, and two, jagged, yellow teth protruded from its mouth, but was the shape and form of a human child. Herric looked down in disgust at it, then up at Thelden.
"Is that a–?"
"An orcish infant." Godin breathed.
"Nasty, ain't it?" said Thelden, eyeing the ugly creature.
"These Underborn must be from Thund; no Deep orc has ever brought their whelps with them... in fact, no one has ever known they had whelps." Godin said.
"Thelden, get rid of the brat immediately." said Herric.
Thelden raised his sword for the kill, when Godin strode forward, peering down at the grotesque orc infant. He looked at the shape and size of its head, the thickness of its limbs.
"This is no orc whelp," he said aloud so the Fellaran soldiers could hear, "but a kurloc child. Look at the size of it, yet it is only old enough to wiggle and cry."
A murmur ran through the gathered warriors. Herric and his captains strode up next to Godin, all looking down and examining the creature, who lay squirming and crying. Kurlocs were born to orcs only rarely, they were natural tribe leaders and warriors, standing eight or more feet tall, with the strength of more than ten strong men, kurlocs were known simply to tear their enemies in half, and they had the endurance of a bull, able to run or fight for an entire day without tiring. It took an entire company of soldiers sustaining moderate casualties to kill a single, full-grown, kurloc.
"Thelden, kill it at once. An orc, much less a kurloc, has no right to live in our world." ordered Herric.
A thought, an idea unlike any he had heard or experienced came to Godin's mind then, just as Thelden's sword was about to come down on the kurloc infant.
"Wait! Stay your hand! Captain Herric, do you not see what a unique situation we are in? Never before has man seen an orcish child, and now here, on this night, we find an abandoned kurloc child. Could we not carry him to Narrin Hold and raise him as a soldier, an immensely powerful warrior to fight for us?" Godin said to Herric and the assembled captains.
"Godin," Herric said, "I see your plan, but he would only have to grow a little to be a threat and a nuisance; he'd be at our throats in only a couple years. And how would we raise him? It, that thing, is an orc, a kurloc much less, one of the Underborn, the sworn enemies of our race. How would we take to being raised by humans? What would we feed it? Entire pastures would be emptied to fill its appetite. And then what about its savage lust for battle and blood? It would quarrel with everyone, no matter if a noble lord or common freeman, and then what about its lust when it grows older? It would frighten the women. No, Godin, we must kill it now."
"But we must at least try, Herric, what harm will that bring? I will raise him, in secret. I can use my magic to help me in the process. As for his appetite, we shall deal with that when the time comes. But please, let me try."
Herric looked down at the crying beast, then up at Godin.
"Fine, if you want to raise the monster and burden your kingdom thus, it is not on my head. Take it, if the high king approves, raise the thing as your own if you have such love for it, but I doubt any honest maid in Narrin will nurse that thing. And when it runs wild and brings ruin on you and Fellaran, just remember I warned against it and had no part in this." Herric turned and strode off to the waiting horses, followed by his captains and the other soldiers.
Godin scooped the grotesque child up, wrapping it in an extra cloak he had. Godin could see his thin face and light brown hair reflected in the tiny monster's black eyes. The growling crying stopped and the creature lay there in Godin's arms, silent and heavy as a stone. Godin hurried to join the others and mounted his horse. The company rode through the night across the fells and moors of Fellaran, reaching Narrin Hold in the hour just before dawn.
The kurloc child lived with Godin at Narrin, the seat of the Fellaran high kings, where he lived in secret, known only to the king, Godin, Herric, and the highest ranking byrns. The king, Ethelic, provided Godin with nurse maids and caretakers to help raise the kurloc as a weapon, a weapon to fight for the kingdom of Fellaran in its losing war to more and more Underborn. Godin named the kurloc Tordric, after the unlikely Fellaran hero of legend. Tordric fought and squirmed when he was fed or held, his natural instincts crying out at being raised by humans; but eventually he grew to like the milk of humans and grew to see Godin as his father. Godin, who had simply wanted to save his kingdom when he rescued Tordric, did grow to love the kurloc child. Tordric grew at an incredible rate, able to throw small boulders at five, and nearly as tall as Godin at ten, Tordric was given sword masters and trainers from across all the human realms to teach him swordplay. Tordric grew in might and talent, taking quickly to the arts of war. He was also taught strategy and all the trappings of war and military campaigns. Godin, in his spare time, taught the child court manners, reading, writing, poetry, and music. When Tordric was twenty, he was finally allowed to go and fight, everyone was wary how he would react to seeing and fighting his own kind for the first time; Godin had prepared him and told him about the Underborn and their savage behavior. Tordric, weened on the milk of women, was taller than normal and driven, and because of the love of his father, was civilized, strong, and loyal to his adopted race. All the byrns and teiyans protested and were outraged that old King Ethelic had secretly raised one of the enemy within the walls of Narrin Hold itself, but all that rage turned to grudging respect as Tordric, raised to be a super-soldier, led daring assault after daring assault; always victorious, and his men always returned home. Tordric was given a new title, "Thane of All Fellaran", meaning the entire kingdom of Fellaran was his to protect. Tordric led a small cadre of men and retook the city of Ætheling nearly single-handedly, and massacred a host of orcs and trolls that had arisen in the Hareldren Mountains. Tordric is known as the Wolf of the North and is the envy of the other human realms who desire such a loyal super-warrior to fight for them.
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