Alchimia Rex

Urtha woke in a tangled mess of green flesh and limbs. Her body vibrated with the soft hum of something flush deep under her skin. She grunted, swatting away at the others and sitting up, idly scratching at her stomach. The Orc’s eyes danced over the naked, well-honed and battle-hardened bodies of her sisters. With an itching of her tusks strode toward the sound of waves, the sky above hinting at the imminent dawn.

Dragging her feet, the maiden grabbed a fistful of sand and rubbed it against her skin to get rid off the mud, sweat, and blood. It left a tingling sensation under her flesh, one that made her want to move her fingers away from her arms and closer to her core. Urtha grit her teeth and pressed on, finishing her cleansing and wadded into the chilly water until it reached her hips.

She splashed her face and upper torso until the coldness had taken away the hunger within her. With a growl, she cupped some of it, took a long gulp, and with one quick glance to the deeper blackness of the sea, she suppressed the shudder and hurried back to harder soil. She stomped twice once on firmer dirt, enjoying the feel against her toes, glancing up at the sky and the coming of the morning rays.

Facing the east, she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Willing her power to seep through the soles of her feet and then pulled at it. Bit by bit she pushed her energy as far as she could before drawing it until there was none. With every inhale she would spread her energy, every exhale would draw it back in. And with the first touch of warm sunlight, Urtha’s tusks rose higher, arms spreading wide to invite the warmth to chase away the chill of the shade and the water and the doubt.

Her body relaxed, her shoulders eased, and her whole body thrummed as it stirred into full wakefulness.

Satisfied, she turned to the heap of maidens that were her sisters and began kicking at them. “Wake up you lot!” She merrily declared. A couple rougher kicks sent them careening through the dirt, only those who’d seen it coming avoided the worst of it. “It’s a good day today!”

“You can’t replace a man’s touch with fighting!” The words were accompanied by a wave of chuckles and affirmations.

“That’s because you’re not going hard enough!” Urtha’s laugh was tight as she joined in the mirth. “Today we’ll be-”

A shriek shattered the calm.

Without hesitation, Urtha broke into a sprint, followed by her sisters in arms. Her feet hammered against the dirt as she sought the source. The farmers pointed at the healer’s hut, the tiny wooden structure surrounded by knee-height stones to ward off any from getting too close by accident.

The Orc leader pulled the door out of its flimsy hinges and rushed inside, fists ready and energy surging through every fiber of her being.

The sight before her took a moment to fully comprehend. Spikes was on the ground, lashing out with a tiny blade against a mass of vines that were as thick as hair, but that were so many they appeared more like a cloud that refused to pull away from the pink-haired healer. Each of these tendrils were wildly flailing in the air, those that had found purchase on the maiden’s body digging their tips into her flesh, drawing droplets of blood.

“HELP!” The maiden shrieked, cutting away at the tendrils, but unable remove them from her person.

Urtha reached out with her large hand and grasped at the thickest part of the conglomeration. And then yanked. The healer screamed, but didn’t miss a beat as she pulled the parts that hadn’t been taken away, pulling at those that had attempted to burrow under her skin.

With one look at the writhing mass of tiny vines, the Orc frowned as the thing was now trying to poke through her skin, but failing to find any purchase. She squeezed until she felt something deep within the mass ‘crunch’. The thing stopped moving entirely there and then, going entirely limp. “What is this?” She glanced around the dank room, nose curling at the smell of rot. There was a corpse on the table, its stomach open and blood splattered all over. “It came from the corpse?”

“Open your hand, open it!” Spikes was on her feet and glaring at the thing that now hung limp from Urtha’s fist. She hovered over the wide palm and watched the thing as it withered and flaked like a plant that’d been thrown into a fire. “Nononononono! Why did you kill it!?”

“What?” Urtha shoved the healer away with her other hand. “I saved you.”

“But this was the only sample we had!” Spikes’ shrill voice was grating to listen to, the maiden trying to get closer. “Shit!”

The Orc raised her fist out of the maiden’s reach. “What’s so important about this thing?”

“This is the cause!” She flailed, fighting to get a better look at the bits of dried up plant, ignoring the bleeding spots that littered her arms and legs. “No, no!” The maiden pulled up a piece of parchment and, with careful strokes, brushed the content off of Urtha’s hand and on to it. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“This what made the ferals go weird?”

“Yes!” She said, then twitched, then frowned. “Probably. It’s very likely, almost assuredly, but we don’t know enough, and-”

Hearing her hesitate and speak so weakly was grating, it was one particular aspect the healer had yet to learn from the tribe. Urtha just pushed on. “So we won’t risk our male’s health?”

“Just because it seemingly isn’t contagious doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous!”

Urtha frowned at the flaking plant-thing, pondering.

It was true that ferals driven to madness was something to be wary of, but the plant hadn’t been able to even scratch her. Whatever means the thing had of working, it only worked on weaker maidens like Spikes. And they’d defeated a horde of weaklings with just a fraction of the tribe’s might.

“It’s not something worth panicking over, we can deal with things as they come,” she said, nodding. “And since it’s not this ‘virus’ thing, the tribe can be whole again?”

“What? Yes, it’s not a virus, but-”

“Good.” She turned to leave, ignoring Spikes as she tried to babble on about things that Urtha couldn’t really do anything about.

The warm sun greeted her outside of the cabin, the Orc found herself surrounded by the others. Everyone had been ready for a fight, but now were vibrating with anticipation of good news.

“You lot should mind your business!” Urtha barked out, earning mock glares.

“Well!?” Bula insisted.

“Spikes nearly got beaten by a plant.” She waggled her brows and smirk. “But you lot better get some of the good rags on and look pretty, we’re clear!”

“YEAH!” The roar spread amongst the gathered maidens, her sisters roaring and turning to sprint away, each heading out to get cleaned up.

Like any Orc, Urtha didn’t enjoy covering herself up for two reasons. The first being that it was a needlessly annoying layer between herself and sunlight. The second that just about everything they got their hands on would rip and tear with the smallest of strains. Still she trotted to the bundle she’d prepared for exactly this occasion.

“If you don’t get any, I could lend you my hubby!” Bula laughed.

The chuckling turned into a yelp as Urtha punted the Orc towards the shore. “Better clean your tusks!” The Spear of the tribe declared as she crouched over the ball of furs she’d gotten her sisters inside the city to throw over the wall.

It contained her best boar-fur cape, a gift from the late chieftess when she’d bested the champion of the Red-Fur tribe. It had unified the steppe tribes under their banner… for a year. Just one measly year, and then the Vampire… Urtha’s hands shook as she frowned at the cape, shaking away the memory and pulling on the piece. The upper halves of two boar skulls adorned her shoulders, the maiden carefully slipping the string over the button with her thick fingers.

Next came the tusk-rings, gold and silver, won from another from the tribe when she’d bested five Orcs and a Goblin at the same time. Urtha squeezed them slightly into place so that they wouldn’t fall off if she moved her head too much. Looking down at herself, she donned the plant-leather straps to cover her chest, and the rabbit-fur loin-cloth. The soft white pelt tickling against her thighs and leaving her with a grin at things to come.

The Father would be knocked off his boots with this!

“You’re forgetting your hair again, little bean.” Sheel patted her arm, looking up at her with a smirk as she put a bristle brush on her hands.

Her lip curled, her hair was always too hard for her own liking. It felt like trying to get dirt off of a rock. “Fine.” She brought it up, to use the bristles to remove whatever muck there might be in the little nooks in her braid. “The Father should’ve given me something less bothersome to clean.”

“Mhm.” With barely a nod of acknowledgement, the Hobgoblin handed her a damp cloth. “Rub this on.”

A quick sniff confirmed it was oil, Urtha’s nose wrinkled, but she didn’t comment, following the older maiden’s guidance. “Would rather see the Father wearing only this,” she commented with a low chuckle, licking her lips.

Sheel slapped her arm, glowing red hands leaving a fiery sting that singed. “If you let your tits do the thinking, you’re going to fuck it up.”

“Easy for you to say.” Urtha rubbed at the minor burn, giving the matron-to-be a small slap of her own. “You got that man-meat of yours to fondle you as much as you want.”

Sheel glared, slapping again, hard and hot enough for Urtha to flinch even as her burnt skin grew back, leaving behind not a sign of the wound. “The Chieftess will have your head if you’re not careful. Remember the plan.”

Grunting in affirmation, the Orc kept still, allowing the oiling to continue. “Take it slow, I know.”

“I’ve talked to Spikes.” Sheel nodded solemnly. “Just be patient, talk about things, make him laugh, maybe tell him he’s got a great ass. The Chieftess will help you with the rest once she’s back.”

“No one’s heard anything?”

“Too much of a wind-kisser.”

“More like a shadow lurker.” The Orc shuddered, dropping the rag and using her arms to dry the oil off.

“Best of luck.”

“I don’t need luck.” Urtha laughed with a tough grin.

What she needed was a miracle. The maiden walked to the city.

The wall blocked out the morning sun, the frail stone buildings not being of much use either. She stepped into cool mud, the air stale and thick with the rancid smells of shit and desperation, with only the stiff sea breeze helping ease the assault to her senses. The Orc scowled, wondering why anyone would ever build tall stone huts that were this close together. Why block out sunlight and wind?

But it was a necessary inconvenience for those who were weaker. The thought felt bitter in her mouth. As strong and mighty as the tribe was, the kingdom and the Vampires would one day come looking for war. Urtha caressed the scar on her right biceps, a recent reminder of how much larger the world was, how much more powerful others could be. The Succubus had been the one to put it there.

Her steps took her to the only sunny spot in the tiny city, the place where the fortress had been. Now it was a pile of stones that’d been neatly stacked at one side of the plaza, leaving empty cobblestone to occupy the rest. Apparently the blood-sucker had been the one to knock it down, though Urtha found that hard to believe.

It was where all the other Orcs of the tribe were. Those who’d remained within the city walls as well as those that had rushed ahead in search for their husbands. They greeted Urtha with half-hearted growls, the Goblins being the only ones showing enthusiasm about anything, running around, chasing one another, or trying to pester the Orcs into some fight.

The larger maidens were just sitting there, basking in the morning sun, a few were playing games of chance, the rest mostly chatting and sharing the events that had transpired while the tribe had been split.

“Where are the men?” Urtha intoned.

“In a meet, with the Father.” one spoke up, lazily gesturing further into the city.

She scoffed. “This early?”

“They’ve been at it all night, apparently.”

“Men talk too much.” Another correctly called out.

Bula glanced over, the Orc’s shoulders slumped as she scratched her tusk nervously. “Maybe you can help make things move quicker?”

That sounded like a boring prospect, but after so many days split from the men, she was sure her sisters were practically ready to charge in. “Sure.” She’d been away from things for too long, she had responsibilities to fulfill.

The meet was taking place in a house that was too big to be one. The ugly thing looked like a tiny mountain. It had large glass windows with steep walls. Urtha could mildly sense the energy pulsing from it, there was power in the place, the cold stone under her feet didn’t allow for her power to course through, blocking her from the earth as much as it blocked out sunlight from going inside.

This was supposedly the house of the previous human in charge, whoever else had lived there was no longer around. Urtha nodded absently at the thought of the Father opting to live anywhere else. The ceilings were too low, and the corridors too narrow, likely because the walls were so thick.

Why were the humans meeting here of all places?

Following the directions provided by the others, she found her way through the place, stopping only to stare at the cloth that covered the walls. Everywhere she looked there were battles depicted on silk tapestries. The angles were off and the fights portrayed there were nonsensical. Humans wielding spears and swords defeating maidens, forcing them to kneel, to put them in chains and have them bow their heads to the ground.

It made her hackles rise and her skin crawl. She couldn’t even fathom how expensive such a thing would’ve been, perhaps to arm the entire village? Just looking at it made her want to gag.

Urtha’s fingers caressed her throat, devoid of the bond-collar, one of the things she’d come to enjoy from having formed a bond with the Father.

“I almost didn’t see you there.” The Succubus spoke with a cool gaze, snapping shut a heavy book that’d been on her lap. “So it’s not a virus?”

“The healer said as much.” Urtha nodded, glancing at the door the maiden sat next to. “Is the Father inside?”

“And the other humans too. They demanded none else can go in until they’re done.” The maiden’s eyes coursed over the Orc’s body with an appreciative nod. “Cute.”

The Orc scowled, standing taller as she approached the door. “I’ve come to meet the Father.”

“It’s humans only.” The Succubus insisted, leaning further to block her path, the maiden’s claws were out, the smile thin, and her posture prepared.

“As Spear of the tribe, I came to talk to my husband, the Father of the tribe.” Urtha’s voice remained even, her thick brows flat. Hands on her hips, she leaned down, and meeting the golden gaze with a scowl. “Under tribal law, you have no place to stop me, charmer.”

There was a moment of silence as the blue-haired maiden smoothed her posture, lips curling into an icy grin. “I guess you’re right, Spear,” she said, mocking a bow and moving aside. “As a lowly ‘charmer’, I don’t have the authority. You should make that clear to the Father. Go ahead.”

With a slight frown, Urtha fumbled a moment with the small handle on the door before getting it to open. Ducking under the frame, she stepped into a cramped corridor that had not been built for maidens her size. The Orc grimaced as she had to twist herself slightly, keeping her shoulders from touching the walls while her head remained low to avoid bumping into the ceiling.

She picked up on the chattering sound of men trying to speak over one another.

Urtha cursed under her breath and slid across the thick rug that was far too soft. Her elbows brushed against the stone walls, knocking over objects that’d been hanging from the walls or laying atop useless pieces of furniture.

“ENOUGH!” The Father’s voice rung like the crack of thunder, it sent a shiver through Urtha that made her skin tingle.

The Orc grinned as she slowed down, resting on her ankles as she paid closer attention, a trickle of curiosity urging her to stay still.

“This is going nowhere.” He repeated, more slowly this time. “If you want me to break the tie, I will.”

The proclamation brought disgruntled sounds of approval and bitterness from the other males, Urtha had to lean nearer to the edge of the corridor just to make anything out of the useless muttering.

“I think this subject is important to be presented to the whole tribe. Thus I vote yes.” His proclamation rang with bone squeezing authority. “It will be brought in the next tribal meeting.”

Instantly, the hall was drowned with sound again, cheers mixed with screams and accusations. Furniture was dragged around, and it was clear violence just might happen. Not wanting to wait any further, the Orc shuffled forward the remaining distance and opened the door, stepping into the room and stretching out to her full height.

Instantly, everyone went deathly quiet.

Every male present froze on the spot, pale faces all around. Urtha locked on the figure opposite to her own, the Father stood on a table, muddy boots staining the overly waxed useless furniture. They were practically eye-level.

The white shirt clung to his torso with glistening sweat, his neckline low enough to reveal the scars barely hidden underneath. His throat and chin had a stubble, unshaven for at least a few days and hiding the slight tan he’d earned just recently.

There were no bags under his eyes, his complexion betraying barely irritation more than exhaustion. Her throat was dry as she met his gaze, black piercing eyes and slick hair combed back by messy fingers. Urtha felt unable to look away as she took a step closer, catching a whiff of perspiration in the air that had something about it that made her body tingle.

Another step, and her gaze flickered down, back to his scars. Her tongue licked the inner edge of her lips, remembering how he’d earned them, survived through them. The human who’d fought a blood-sucker into a standstill. The glow-stones in the room cast flickering edges of light over them, accentuating every mark.

Letting out a soft growl, she stepped closer, thrusting her shoulders back and chest out, her core sucking up the heat that was radiating out of him as he stood over the other humans in the room.

“Why is she here!?” one man abruptly turned to look at her male, trembling hand pointed at the Orc.

“Why shouldn’t I be here?” Urtha challenged. “I am the Spear of the tribe, and the Father is my husband as much as he is the Chieftess’.” She savored the word, imagining her fingers gripping the neckline of the white cloth wrapping the Father’s chest and tearing it off in a single move.

Fuck.

“Urtha.” He spoke her name, and it was like she was trapped back during the ceremony, staring into her soul as he cupped her cheeks.

The man let out a startled noise as she bumped against the table he’d been standing on, moving the whole useless piece of wood enough he nearly fell over. The Orc flinched, stepping away, finally broken from the spell and trying to calm the thundering sound trapped inside her chest.

“She’s right,” the Father said quickly, breaking the silence. “This might be a human meet, but my role as Father of the tribe means that if I come here, then so do the Spear and the Chieftess. It’s why me taking part in these votes should only be under special circumstances.” His gaze was hard, a warning hanging in his lips that cowed the others to look away. “Unless anyone else has anything to say, let’s conclude things here. It’s been a long night.”

The other men were all too happy to leave the room, with the merchant taking a moment longer to give the Father some papers once the man had hopped off of the table. Urtha’s eyes lingered on the tightness of his pants around the human’s calves as he stretched, waiting for the sound of the shutting door to try and say something.

What came out was a slight choking voice she twisted into a cough to pretend she’d been clearing her throat. “What was the vote about?” She lamely asked, unable to find anything else to bring up.

He glanced her way for a second as he tucked the papers into an envelope, using his free hand to pull away some loose hair that had fallen against his forehead. The gesture was slow, his eyes distant.

Urtha wished it were her fingers combing his hair back instead.

“It’s about a concept called divorce.” His voice was tentative, turning to look up at her as if he were trying to read her thoughts. “Some of the men were seeking to merge tribal law with the law of the kingdom.”

She wasn’t quite paying attention, something about laws, his tone had a little of that derisive annoyed edge. “They’re stupid.” Her brain catching up after half a second. She lifted her arms and squeezed, flexing her muscles. “I’ve crushed many from the kingdom, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” She added a small chuckle.

He didn’t laugh, and Urtha faltered the moment he’d turned to look out the window. What was going on!? Had the Succubus done something to her!? She froze with a nervous smile when he turned to look at her again.

“I am trying to remove slavery entirely, but it’s not easy. I could just erase the thing, claim freedom for all, but it’d do nothing if the people don’t accept it.” He grimaced. “And I definitely can’t do it on one side without doing the same on the other.”

“The other?” She perked up.

“Humans.”

The word, the tone, the way he went back to watching her closely, it set off an alarm inside her. The Orc frowned ever so slightly. “Humans… are free.”

“In the kingdom, sure.” The Father nodded tentatively. “And in the tribe?”

“Humans only remain slaves until they marry.” She shook her head. “After that, they are free.” She stated more firmly now, trying to not focus on the way the dark orbs made her feel like her skin had become as thin as a leaf. “They can refuse to bond with any slave they don’t like.”

“But they can’t decline their wife.”

Urtha growled. “It’s not slavery,” she said. “They are free to pledge their oath, and if they don’t want to, we keep them protected anyway.” If they were slaves, he’d be pinned against the wall and not talking about this nonsense!

The Father didn’t move, meeting her gaze squarely, the black eyes that sent delicious shivers down her spine. The annoyance wasn’t helping either, suddenly Urtha wanted him back on the table, looking down at him made her loincloth itch against her thighs.

“I didn’t intend to mean they were slaves in the same way maidens are.” He spoke slowly, enunciating every word and nodding along, his voice low and making all the wrong things happen inside her. “But there are men who’re unhappy with their situation, and wish to change it.”

Was he one of those men?

“Then tell me who!” The thought gave her something to grasp, something hot and powerful to grip tight and rally against. Her hands flailed to point at the window, gesturing at the sun-kissed stone outside. “Show me who among my sisters broke their oaths and I will carry out the law of the tribe and shatter their limbs and leave them to the ferals!” She’d done everything right, everything properly, it couldn’t be her. “Show me the proof and I’ll punish them myself!”

The man’s expression darkened, and it only made things worse. “The choice between marriage and slavery is no choice at all. How many of them were taken from their homes, shoved into a relationship they wanted no part of?”

Her mouth felt hot as she spoke. “It’s only natural that the strongest get to protect the ones they want to protect.” She snarled. “What other option is there? Let them die while bonded to weaklings? Or to have all the fighters married to just one person?”

The words struck him, the Father looked away, lips curled, pained as he lowered his gaze to the floor.

Urtha stepped closer, pressing on. “If a man hates their wife so much, then they can just keep their beds cold, like you do.” As soon as she heard herself, seeing the wide-eyed shock and anger in his eyes as he turned towards her, Urtha flinched. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that.”

He took half a step away, and she took a full step closer, yanking the table from between them with a sound of breaking wood.

“STOP!”

The cry came from the Father’s shadow; the Fledgling emerging with raised hands, interposing herself between Urtha and the human with uselessly small claws and fangs, hissing angrily like some half-domesticated pet.

Urtha’s gaze shifted from the meaningless gesture to the table she’d just shoved out of the way. It’d been broken beyond repair, having smashed against the stone wall hard enough to become splinters.

The maiden looked down at her hand, holding back the grimace, imagining what she might have done had it been the human within her immediate reach instead. Her gaze flickered to the door.

“Don’t run away,” he said with a soft voice.

She hesitated, glancing at him, then at the door. The man raised both his hands and lowered his shoulders slightly, adding a demure smile. Just looking at him twisted her stomach into a knot.

“I am a warrior.” Urtha stated with a growl, not stepping closer, ignoring the tense, pale blood-sucker. “I fight for the tribe, to protect the tribe, and to protect our men. To protect you.” Her hand shoved the Fledgling aside, finger pointed at Rick, though nowhere close enough to actually touch. “If you want equal rights, then the punishment for oath breaking should be equal too. And none of us, not one soul amongst my sisters, would be cowardly enough to kill a human.”

His eyes widened, stepping back and going pale.

Her heart in an icy grip, Urtha couldn’t stand it.

She walked out.