Zhura gazed out the window, watching as Urgon fed the wolves. Almost three winters had passed since the bonding, yet still, she marvelled at how her heart leaped as he turned to her with a smile.
“Like what you see?” he asked, tossing some raw meat to the ground.
“Best be quick,” she answered. “I yearn for your embrace.”
"In that case, I shall be there directly." He dropped the last of the food, then made his way inside, where Zhura waited for him. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight.
“I missed you,” she said.
"I have been gone but a moment."
"And yet it feels like forever. Now come, I prepared some food for you."
"You prepared food for me? I was unaware you could cook.”
She smiled. "I have been watching you, bondmate mine."
He let her lead him into their private quarters, where two wooden platters held a collection of meat, fruit, and crushed roots.
"What have we here?" he asked.
“The mountain goat you have had before, but this is something new, at least to me.”
"Red berries," said Urgon. "One of my favourites."
"Try these," she said, holding up a root.
He took one, chewing it quickly. "This is good. What is it?"
“Blackroot,” she replied. “Maloch told me of it.”
“You appear to have no end of visitors these days.”
“Yes, and I owe it all to you.” She was about to say more, but they were interrupted.
“Urgon? Zhura? Are you in there?”
"Yes," replied Urgon. “Where else would we be? Come in, Urzath. We shall meet you in the living area.”
He held out his hand. “Shall we?”
Zhura took it. “Of course.”
They walked into the next room to see Urzath. The hunter was obviously excited, for her face was a dark shade of green, with sweat beading on her brow.
“I just came from the chieftain's hut,” she said, the words rushing out. “Shuvog is dead.”
“Dead?” said Urgon.
"Yes. She had been ailing for some time. She joined the Ancestors in the middle of the night.”
“We never saw eye to eye, but she was an efficient leader of the tribe.”
“Is that all you can say?” asked Urzath.
“What else is there that needs to be said?”
“This is your chance, Urgon.”
He screwed up his face, trying to reason what she meant. Zhura was the one who grasped the significance first. “The tribe will gather to choose a new leader, Urgon. That leader could be you.”
"Me?"
“Certainly,” she continued. “Who better to lead us?”
“Are there not those more suited to such a task?”
“We live in a time of change, my dearest. The Humans are encroaching on our lands. It will take someone with imagination and foresight to deal with them.”
“And you believe that should be me?”
“Without a doubt.”
“She is right,” said Urzath. “As the master of wolves, you have gained many allies. Who better to lead the tribe?”
The hides parted again, revealing Kraloch. He quickly scanned the room, then looked at Urzath. “Well? Has he heard?”
“He has,” she confirmed.
“And?”
“He is hesitant.”
Kraloch turned towards Urgon. “Is this true? Where is the brash, young Orc I knew so well? The one willing to bend… pardon me, break the rules to accomplish his goals?”
“I am bonded now,” replied Urgon. “I have much more to consider. Zhura’s happiness for one.”
“Nonsense,” said Zhura. “I shall only be happy if you are happy. You often talk of this, dearest. I know it to be close to your heart.”
“I would not have it take my time away from you.”
“And why should it?” said Kraloch. “Do you think Shuvog spent much time being chieftain?”
“I had always assumed so.”
“Then let me put your mind at ease. Aside from the occasional gathering, there is precious little to occupy a chieftain’s mind.”
“In that case, I shall put myself before the tribe. Have we heard of anyone else interested in the position?”
“Not yet,” said Urzath, “but there is still time. Tradition calls for a ten-day of mourning before the new chieftain is selected.”
“A ten-day?” said Urgon. “I had expected less.”
“This is not the simple selection of a village elder,” noted Kraloch. “The entire tribe has to be gathered. That has not happened since we welcomed Zhura into the Black Arrows.”
“Who rules in her absence?” asked Urgon.
“Your mother is the senior shaman. She will oversee things until a replacement is selected.”
Urgon frowned. “I doubt she will be pleased with my decision. Even now, when she visits Zhura, I must make myself scarce.”
Zhura squeezed his hand. “I tried to talk to her about that, but she refuses to be in your presence.”
“She took your bonding badly,” said Kraloch, “and the only reason she meets with Zhura is because of her ability to communicate with spirits.”
Urgon looked at his bondmate. “Does she speak of nothing else?”
“She is proud,” she replied, “and is unable to let go of the past. It grieves me to know of your estrangement, especially considering I am the cause of it.”
“Do not blame yourself, Zhura. It is she who is the cause, not you.”
Urzath interrupted. “The tribe will be interested in what you would do as chieftain. Have you given it much thought?”
Zhura laughed. “When has he not given it thought? He is forever telling me of his plans.”
Urgon blushed. “I admit the truth of it. I believe there is much we could do to improve our lot in life."
“Such as?” asked Urzath.
"We could reach out to the mountain folk."
"To what end?"
"They have many goods we would find to our advantage, and I know they have few hunters. Meat and skins could buy us better quality weapons.”
“Would you have us go to war?”
"No, but the same weapons would be put to good use on the hunt. You and I both know the quality of Dwarven steel. It is much better than that used by the Humans.”
“Speaking of Humans,” said Kraloch, “what do you think we should do about them?”
“In what way?”
“Their hunters encroach on our lands.”
“Then I would suggest we seek common ground with them.”
“We do not speak their language,” said Kraloch.
“I suppose that is also something we must remedy. Should we send a delegation to meet with them, much as we do with the other villages?”
“I doubt that would work,” said Urzath. “We share the same culture as the villages, while we know very little of the Humans.”
“What else can we do?”
“We could fight them."
“No,” said Zhura. “The Humans far outnumber us. Going to war against them would spell the end of all we know.”
They all looked at her in shock. "Are you sure?" asked Urgon.
She nodded. “The Ancestors speak of Humans breeding like rabbits. They move into an area and then reproduce at an alarming rate. Possibly, in days of old, when we lived in cities, we might have been a match for them, but then again, they only came to this land long after.”
“Then we must learn more before making a decision.”
“A wise move,” said Urzath. “You sound like a chieftain.”
“Yes,” agreed Kraloch, “but you should adopt a pose that makes it look like you are wise.”
“He IS wise,” defended Zhura.
“True, but he doesn’t LOOK it. A chieftain is typically much older and therefore wiser. See the problem?”
“I am twenty,” said Urgon. "That means I still have at least another ten or fifteen winters left in me.”
“Yes, but that would still make you younger than any of the village elders. We need some way to demonstrate your desire to better the tribe.”
“I doubt that would work,” said Urzath. “Many of our people dislike the idea of change. You broke tradition when you bonded with Zhura; that is not easily forgotten.”
“Then I suppose we shall have to wait and see who else covets the position,” said Urgon. “Until that time, there is little we can do.”
In the end, it didn’t take long for Urgon’s opponent to announce himself. Agrug, the sibling of Arshug, was an experienced hunter and several winters senior. He regularly led hunting parties to the far reaches of the Rugar Plains. Some even said he tempted the wrath of the Elves of the Darkwood.
The period of Shuvog’s mourning concluded with a feast in her honour, followed the very next day by the gathering of the Black Arrows.
With no other Orcs presenting themselves as potential chieftains, it came down to a simple choice—Urgon or Agrug. Each was allowed their say, and then the tribe would vote, casting their stones to decide who would be awarded the honour of leading them.
Urgon was nervous. Zhura had chosen to remain in the hut, the presence of so many Orcs and their spirits being simply too much for her to handle. Thus it was he found himself sitting amongst the tribe, surrounded by his friends.
“Nervous?” asked Kraloch.
“I am,” he replied, “although I am loathe to admit it.”
“You must relax. You are popular here in the village.”
“True,” replied Urgon, “but Agrug is well known amongst the other villages, an advantage I do not share.”
“Yes, but you display a wisdom far beyond your age.”
Shular rose, holding her staff on high, and the tribe grew quiet. The shaman swept her gaze over the assembled Orcs. “We are gathered here this day to select a new chieftain. Two Orcs have stepped forward to take on this heavy burden, and so it falls to you to decide which is more worthy.” She paused, letting the words sink in.
“Chieftains must, by their very nature, have the courage to make hard decisions,” she continued, “and the wisdom to guide our destiny. Choose wisely, fellow tribemates, for your choice will determine our future. We shall start the process by allowing each applicant to say a few words, then the counting of stones will begin. Is there any here who questions this?”
Gorath, eager to participate in the process, stood.
“Sit down, Gorath,” said Shular. "You are still a youngling, and are only here to observe."
The Orcs around him all chuckled.
She waited, then, with no other Orc desiring to speak, looked to her right. “Agrug, as the elder Orc, you may speak first.”
Agrug was an imposing sight, easily a head taller than Urgon, and physically very powerful. He towered over the seated assemblage as he spoke in a low, rumbling tone.
“I am Agrug,” he said. “Many of you know me as a hunter. I have ranged far and wide, into the mountains to the east, and as far as the Deerwood, which lays to the west. South I have also been, skirting the edge of the Darkwood, and to the north, a desolate land of rock and stone. In that time, I have led many hunting parties, enriching the tribe with our bounty. I know what is required to survive in this harsh environment and what is needed for our tribe to prosper. Let me show you how we can be strong, like our Ancestors before us.”
Orcs thumped the ground with their fists, showing their appreciation. Agrug sat, letting Shular take centre stage once again. She looked at him with a smile. “Wise words, Agrug. You have done yourself proud."
Urgon felt the heat rise within him. Shamans were supposed to remain neutral in these gatherings, yet it felt like favour was bestowed upon his rival.
“We will now hear from Urgon,” continued Shular.
Urgon stood, feeling all eyes turn to him. He stared back, sweeping his gaze as he had seen his mother do, but was shocked at the looks of disapproval.
“Many of you know me,” he said, “for I am Urgon, master of wolves, son of Urdar, who gave his life to save this very village.” He paused, trying to gather his thoughts, but it had just the opposite effect, for he was now unsure of what to say. His eyes wandered to Kraloch, who simply nodded.
“If you do not know me,” he continued, “then you likely know of my reputation, as I am bonded with Zhura, ghostwalker of the Black Arrows.” His voice faltered, and he began to sweat.
“Agrug is a worthy choice for leader,” he said, “but he offers nothing new. Choose him, and life will continue as it always has, stagnant and dead. Our people are dwindling, despite the efforts of our predecessors. Choose me, and I will see us thrive!”
He sat. A few thumps could be heard, but not nearly so many as had been given to Agrug, and he felt the sting of defeat. Urgon had no doubt how things would turn out, yet he swore to himself he would accept his fate with grace and humility.
Shular rose once more. “We shall now tally the stones.” She held up the wicker basket. “The presence of a stone is a vote for Agrug, its absence marks one for Urgon.” She nodded to Kurghal. “You may begin collecting the stones.”
Urgon watched as his sister moved amongst the tribe. Orcs reached up, casting their stones into the basket, and it soon became clear he would be outvoted. He looked at Kraloch and shook his head. “We will not win today,” he said.
Eventually, Kurghal returned to Shular’s side, dumping the stones on the ground.
“Kraloch,” barked out the senior shamaness. “Come and help count the stones.”
Urgon closed his eyes, trying not to get his hopes up. Time seemed to stretch out for an eternity before Kurghal and Kraloch finally conferred. His sister then whispered something to Shular, prompting her to raise her staff once more.
“We have a decision,” she announced. “The new chieftain of the Black Arrows shall be Agrug.”
Everyone thumped the ground, save for Urgon and his closest friends. The defeat left a bitter taste in his mouth, yet he rose, offering his congratulations to his opponent. The rest of the tribe swept forward to offer their best wishes, pushing him aside. He felt Kraloch guide him from the scene, and the next thing he knew, he was sitting at home as Zhura took his hand.
“It is not yet your time,” she soothed. “You are still young, and Agrug will not live forever.”
“He will live for a long while yet,” said Urgon. “And what have I accomplished?”
“You have me,” said Zhura, “along with many other friends.”
He smiled, gripping her hand all the more firmly. “I do,” he admitted, “and I would not change that for anything.”
“What will you do now?” asked Kraloch.
“Do? The same thing I always do. Look after the wolves, of course.”
“Might I suggest an alternative?” said Zhura.
They all looked at her in surprise.
“Go on,” urged Urgon.
“The next time Agrug goes on a hunt, accompany him.”
“But I am the master of wolves. Who would take care of the pack in my absence?”
“I can,” said Gorath. “If you would but show me how.”
“There, you see?” said Zhura. “The problem is easily solved.”
“But why would I accompany Agrug?” asked Urgon.
Now it was Zhura’s turn to smile. “Associating yourself with him will let your name carry far and wide.”
“Yes,” added Urzath, “and the more Orcs who know your name, the more likely you will become chieftain one day, should that be your desire.”
Urgon nodded. “It is, and I see the wisdom in this. The next time he sets forth on a hunting expedition, I shall ask to accompany him.”
“As will I,” said Urzath. “It will provide me with the opportunity to show you these Humans of which I have spoken.”
“I should like that. They sound like a fascinating race.”
“They are, but I think them dangerous as well. I have seen their hunters from afar, and they wear armour of metal.”
“Those are not hunters,” said Zhura, “but warriors trained to kill others. The Ancestors say the Humans are not to be trusted.”
“This cannot be true of all of them?” Urgon asked. “Urzath herself has traded with them from time to time.”
“The Humans are complex. Our people follow their leaders once they are chosen, but Humans feel no such obligation. They fight amongst themselves, and that conflict often spills over into our lands.”
“And this has happened here? In these hills?”
“Not within recent memory,” said Zhura, “yet the Ancestors tell of a time when the Humans first came to this region. Our conflict was great, and the villages that sat upon the Rugar Plains were lost to us. Now, all that remains of our people are the villages we now call home.”
“Did we not fight back?”
"We did, but the Humans came in overwhelming numbers, far too many for us to defeat."
“Yet we still survived,” said Urgon.
“Only because the enemy turned inward. Had they continued much longer, they would have driven our tribe to extinction.”
“Then it is best we leave them alone.”
“I would not suggest that,” said Zhura. “The Humans spread across the land like a plague, and sooner or later, they will find us again. When that happens, it would be best we were prepared.”
"Prepared, how?"
“We must learn all we can about them,” she replied. “Only then can we truly learn how to keep our people safe.”
Urgon chuckled. “What need have I for a shaman? I have the wisest of all bondmates.”
“Do not dismiss us all so readily,” said Kraloch. “Zhura may be wiser, but we can still heal those who are injured.”
“And I would not deny your place amongst our people, my friend.”