Chapter Fifteen: Both the Marble and the Sculptor
They were never left alone even for a moment. His best chance would be at night time, when they were only watched by a single orc, but that orc would still beat them senseless if they tried to talk. The other orcs all slept a decent distance away - Tom assumed that for them sleeping close to the humans would be like sleeping in a kennel - but the single orc watching them was always close enough to count their pores.Visit no(v)eLb(i)n.com for the best novel reading experience
There was another hitch in his plan too. Gad was beside himself. Utterly terrified. Tom didnt even know if he could talk in that state he was in, and had no idea whether he would talk even if he somehow managed to get a hold of himself. Courage was not amongst Gads foremost virtues. Still, Tom had to try. At the end of the day it was worth Tom taking a beating for it.
They carried on for another day, and Tom got no opportunity. He bided his time, patiently waiting for his chance.
On the next night, the fourth after being captured, they stopped to rest beside a small river. The orcs seemed to be arguing with themselves after they stopped. Eventually, the massive male beat a smaller one round the head until it squealed, and after that the group set to chopping down trees with their crude stone axes.
They stopped for the night after felling several smaller trees, set up their cookfire, and fell into their usual wild squalling. Tom supposed it was good-natured on their part, but it included a lot more brief fights and snarling than a human camp. The trees rested in an untidy pile between the humans and the orcs.
They must have been arguing over whether to bother transporting us across the river or not, Tom thought tiredly. The orcs could surely just swim across if they werent burdened with captives. He couldnt muster up much enthusiasm that they hadnt decided to just kill them and be done with it.
Tom lay awake for hours that night. The orcs had all fallen asleep, bar the guard watching them with its beady eyes.
His hands ached. His wrists burned. His ribs were a mass of bruises. He was exhausted. His stomach felt like it was turning itself inside out. He had never been so miserable.
If I wasnt such a useless excuse for a person, maybe this wouldnt have happened. Maybe I could've stopped this, Tom lamented. If I had the Sword, Clairvine wouldnt have been so exhausted. I couldve shared the burden. Maybe the rest of the Guards would be alive too. Elensfield might not have had to sacrifice himself for us to flee.
Pain built up inside him. This was worse than enduring endless bullying with no friends for respite. Worse than returning from two Reapings, not having manifested. Worse than his fathers love slowly turning to hate. Worse than lying awake at night wondering why his mother wouldnt stop it.
He recalled Ellas conversation with him, knew he was falling into a spiral. Hed fallen into it too many times before not to recognise it. The fact that hed found some measure of clarity from her words, had made improvements, was so close to some kind of revelation, only made the fall greater this time. This was failure. True, utter and abject.
In a strange way, he relished it. At least when he tortured himself as a fuck up, it was within his control. At least when he flayed himself for his failures, he was feeling something.
Around midnight the orc watching them stood and stretched, wandering away to the main group. Tom rolled over, looking for Gad, and found him lying near to his feet. He looked like he was asleep. Tom nudged him with his foot, and he startled awake, gasping.
Gad! he whispered furiously. Gad! We dont have much time. Theyre switching guards. Whats happening? Where are they taking us?
Gad just stared back at him his eyes wide and full of tears. He shook his head furiously.
Gad! Talk to me! What have they been saying!? he urged.
Gad kept shaking his head, his eyes scrunched up tight. Tom nudged him again.
I cant, I cant, I cant, I cant Gad whispered back at him, his voice trembling.
Tom let his head fall back against the earth. It was pointless. Gad was too terrified to be of any help at all. Hopelessness swallowed Tom once more. His thoughts fell back into a spiral, harried in their fall by Gads pathetic whimpering.
At the edge of his perception, he noticed the replacement orc guard wandering over to them.
Shhh, Gad! Theyre coming! he whispered desperately at him.
Gads face went wild with fear. He snorted like a piglet, over and over, as he struggled to bring his breathing under control.
The orc arrived. It snarled at the disturbance and kicked Gad in the kidneys. Gad squealed and writhed about in the moist river soil.
Tom couldnt deal with this. It was too much. Please, Gad. Just shut up. Please, shut up.
Gad kept whimpering. The orc stared down at him impassively. In one hand it held Toms leaf-bladed short sword. This male orc, while not as big as the leader, still made the sword look more like a knife. It looked over to where the rest of the orcs slept for a long minute. Finally, it seemed to come to some conclusion. It slowly drew the short sword and dropped the sheath to the ground. Then it crouched over the top of Gad.
He started trying to wriggle away from the orc on his back. It grabbed Gad by his neck, pinning him in place. It pointed the sword right at his eye, making strange, soft growls at him. Almost cooing.
Skill One (Classic):Agony (Active).
Mana cost: Low.
Cooldown: Short.
Range: Medium.
Duration: Moderate.
Damage: Low.
Damage over time: Moderate.
Inflict pain on target. Damage and damage over time is typeless.
His heart dropped a little. Not the Sword, then, Tom thought. Ive never even heard of Suffering as an Ideal.
Well, I'll have to worry about that later. Resolve flooded him. If Suffering is to be my Ideal, then so be it. Suffering has always been my lot; I may as well turn it to my own ends.
The thought tickled something in his mind. Has suffering always been my strength? I can endure much more because of it.
It is, Tom decided. My life has changed me. I suppose its true what they say: There is no growth without change, no change without suffering.
He felt the truth of the declaration ring through his soul. The grass around him stirred in a sudden breeze.
The wisp - his wisp - pulsed with pink light.
Skill manifested (Suffering).
Skill Two (Classic):Sweet Suffering (Passive).
Debuffs and poisons are negated, and instead give an equal and opposite buff. Buffs last for as long as any debuffs would have. Immune to disease and damage-over-time effects.
Skill activated:Sweet Suffering (Passive).
Infection - Negated: Minor buff applied to total health and health regeneration. Duration: Long.
Blood Poisoning - Negated: Minor buff applied to total health and health regeneration. Duration: Long.
Toms eyes widened. That was an epiphany! Epiphanies were greatly sought after by Idealists. They gave a boost towards manifesting or uplifting skills from gaining a deeper understanding of ones Ideals. Skills could still be trained the normal way, via regular use, of course, but epiphanies were a valuable, if unreliable, shortcut. Some Idealists at later Tiers sequestered themselves for years searching for them.
Reading the description from his wisp, his mind reeled at the implications. It was definitely a strong ability. His body felt much more hale already. He hadnt even realised he had an infection, being unable to check himself properly with his hands bound. It was not surprising though, given his condition.
Goddess, I can't die now. I need to do something, Tom thought.
He looked over at Gad, now absolutely covered in blood and deep cuts. As Tom watched, the orc lifted his hands in front of him and indifferently sliced off one of his fingers. Gad goggled at the stump, his mouth working like a fish, then his eyes rolled back and he passed out.
The orc grunted in disgust at the weakness. Its eyes lingered on Gads prone form for a moment, then it snorted, looking over the rest of the group. Its eyes locked on to Tom as it noticed him watching.
A growl issued from deep in its chest and it stalked towards him, brandishing the sword.