Chapter Sixty-Five: Captivity

Chapter Sixty-Five: Captivity

Tom and Rosa sat in silence for a while, watching the tired captives. Toms heart sang that she had come back, that they had found her and freed her. The comfort he felt at their simple togetherness was indescribable. Eventually, she spoke, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.

I thought I would die. Thank you, you brave, stupid fuck.

Its nothing. What else could I do?

She stared at him, her brow slightly creased. You could have done nothing, but that is not you, is it, Tom Cutter? I hoped you would come. Does that make me selfish? That I wished you would endanger yourself, and your friends, to save me?

It makes you human.

I thought myself invincible. With these powers, I had imagined smiting orcs by the dozen. And then they rolled through the village in the middle of the night, a hundred of them or more. We killed so many, but there were always more And then they just dragged us away. Like sheep. I felt so useless.

Tom knew the feeling well. Goddess casts our lives as she will. Some things cant be helped. And you seemed to get your own back well enough during the rescue. Dont confuse circumstance with ability.

Youre sweet, Tom. Im lucky to have met you.

They sat in companionable silence a while longer, her resting her head on his shoulder, him slowly rubbing her back. Even after having to run for their lives, it was nice.

Eventually, Tom saw his mother finish her rounds of the captives. Rosa had fallen asleep, so he laid her gently on the grass, and walked over to her.

She was washing her hands in the spring when he joined her. Tom decided it was as good a time as any to freshen up himself, and scrubbed his face and hands while they talked. She was fine, but tired. She hadnt suffered any mistreatment, thankfully, under the orcs. They had determined she had Healing, and once they had, they had treated her as though she were made of fine porcelain.

Once they had washed, they began setting up a small fire near Rosa. Val, Scriber, Cub and Officer Dale joined them too. Scriber set Cub and Tom to building another two fires. He produced three big enchanted pots, and a sack of assorted foodstuffs, and the trio each began cooking over a different fire.

The smell of the stews began to draw the hungry captives in. The healthiest seemed happy to sleep, for the most part, but the most wretched looked as though they couldnt ignore the cooking if they tried.

Toms mother oversaw the distribution of the food. She ladled servings into bowls and handed them out. She mentioned they needed to be careful with the worst off: feeding them too much at once could kill them, and they would do exactly that if they let them.

While everyone settled in to eat, they discussed logistics. This many people would need a lot of food. Tom, Scriber, and Cub each had decent stocks in spatial storage, but it wouldnt last long spread between so many.

They would have to hunt. Luckily, there was a relatively easy solution to that problem. Tom set Sus and Sol searching the nearby forest. The birds could kill relatively large prey with their crushing grip and sharp talons. After a quick word, the wolf and cat familiars also slunk out into the woods to hunt for them. It would not feed everyone, but it was a start.

That night they all went to sleep with food in the bellies, and allies around. Officer Dale and Val set up a rotating roster of sentries from among those combat capable Idealists. The night was broken sporadically with nightmare-induced cries, but everyone had the best sleep theyd had in a week. If not far longer than that, for some.

In the morning, Val and Scriber gathered everyone around. The pair stood on top of crates by the pool to address them. The captives looked remarkably better for a single hot meal, one nights decent sleep, and a thorough wash.

Morning all. Im glad to say we actually pulled this off. There was some small cheering at that. Were safe enough for now, but we cant stay here forever. The orcs wont just let a hundred odd Idealists wander around behind them. People began to look to their neighbours nervously. Others stared at Val with fires burning in their eyes.

How..? How did they do it? It sounds impossible, said Dale.

Tell that to the folks that near had their Ideals stripped out of them every day. Lis shivered again. Their leader, his Ideals, theyre twisted. I still dont know how he managed it, not exactly. All I know is this: he is special. A leader among the orcs, but more than that, too. His Ideal of the Forge, it was the only way they could copy our Ideals from us.

There was one thing though, the most important. He copied his own Ideal onto his chieftains, so that they could produce even more. But they were weaker than his own, the original. Every copy they made was weaker, and every time they copied from the same Idealist, it would hurt that Idealist more and more. They would eventually have to stop, let them recover. It caused delays.

The leader, the Great Smith, they called him, was often angry. But the angriest I ever saw him was when he realised he couldnt simply rip our Ideals and stamp them on his foul ilk as often as he wanted. He was impatient. And worse of all, zealous.

One day I was in the forge, and I almost died. It felt like they were tearing out my soul. One of the chieftains was forging. The leader arrived. He was blind with anger, almost out of control. He was mad that they couldnt keep forging at speed, mad that us frail humans couldnt keep up with their demand, mad that theyd almost killed me and lost a resource.

In his anger, he said something I have never forgotten, much good as it will do us. He said the Plan would not work if they were so slow. He said his Kin would outdo him, and he would be relegated. It was clear from his context he was not talking about his chieftains. Lis paused, gulping.

I think there are more, like him, out there. Somewhere. More like him, able to forge more Idealist orcs.

Her revelations met stunned silence. Tom couldnt think of a single thing to say. It was insane, and yet he knew it must be true. They were forging new Idealists. And not only that, there seemed to be some grand plan, some massive, coordinated effort too.

Well, Val said, at length. At least weve taken his Idealists from him. He cant forge any more, now. As to these Kin of his, you didnt see any other orcs with equal authority to him? No others that could forge freely, without restrictions, like him?

No. Never, and thank Goddess for that. We were used enough as it was. I dont think its harmed our Ideals, but, well she gestured at Tam, sitting stonily, like a dead man. To the young woman, Erin, who looked like she might bolt off into the woods at any moment. They hadnt escaped without injury.

He had his favourites. Erin, with her Shadow. Tam was exiled originally for having Rage. I was popular for my Growth. The Smith, he copied Ideals from all of us, but we three in particular were used up as often as they dared.

Im not sure how much help thatll be to you, but its all we know. We spent the most time in the forge, the most time around the Smith. Im not sure theres much else worth knowing.

Thank you, truly, Val said. It takes courage, to do what youve done. Reliving it, I mean.

Lis gave a sad smile. I see it every time I close my eyes. I wake up feeling like my Ideals, the part of my soul they make up, is getting drawn through my chest with hot tongs. This is nothing. She dithered a moment, chewing her lip.

I dont know about these two, but if youll have me, I want to fight. Those fuckers ruined my life, and I want to ruin theirs. She had an almost feral gleam in her eyes as she said it.

Ill fight too, Tam said suddenly. His voice was slow and gravelly, like a boulder turning over.

I -I want to go home! Erin said, and the fright in her voice was almost painful. Toms mother patted her leg gently.

Youll all get what you want, said Val. Ill make sure of it.

Every one of us has scores to settle with the orcs. I mean to collect.