Chapter 22: [023] [Fire]

Rick’s footsteps traced a circle on the rug, his hands drummed mindlessly against his thighs, his head heavy with too many thoughts. “Eva.” He called out, finally stopping, turning to face the Fledgling.

The pale maiden didn’t react, keeping her gaze locked to a point somewhere near his shoes. There was a strictness about her, something that hadn’t been there before. The martial aspect of it was what gnawed at Rick, like suddenly he’d become some grand general and Eva had accepted the role of a soldier. Where did this come from? Was it because they were in some semi-official setting rather than in private?

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He sent the question out, breaking the silence.

Eva’s neck tensed, her head lowered further. “It is crucial I learn to fend for myself. If I’d been in better control of my powers, then perhaps…” Her gaze flickered, just an instant, a slip of the eyes that landed her attention on the scars on his right wrist.

Rick frowned. “Monica will not be very tolerant, of you in particular.”

She didn’t answer, waiting for his cue.

Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, Rick did a quick check to confirm Monica wasn’t anywhere nearby. Through the bond, he could sense she was somewhere near the edge of the tribe currently. “Ears, eyes, and tail. You need to pay careful attention to those.”

The Fledgling raised her gaze with obvious confusion.

“Monica doesn’t do half-attention. Her ears will always point at the things she is listening to. If she points none of them your way, she is not hearing your words.” He pointed at his eyes. “Do not meet her gaze directly, stare at her shoulder or chin. If you meet her gaze and both her ears are directed at you, be very careful of what you say or do.” He then patted his hip. “And if her tail drops, kind of like… like swinging, with a kind of flick at the end. If she does it while looking at you, it means she is angry, but if her attention is elsewhere, then it means something’s making her feel tense.”

“Oh.” The sound came from behind them, Rick glanced over his shoulder at Dia. The armored maiden shook her head. “Please ignore me, sir.”

“Also, she’s not dumb.” Rick turned back to Eva. “Monica doesn’t enjoy talking. Pay very close attention to her words, but don’t assume she’s thinking the way you do.”

With a moment of hesitation, Eva nodded. “Does that mean…”

“Yes, you can go on this hunt of hers to learn. She’s been asking to take some of the tribe with her, but so far you’re the only one who’s volunteered.” His words sent a wave of relief through the Fledgling. The maiden let out a slow sigh. “Talk to the scouts before you leave. I don’t want either of you walking into something entirely blind.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Fledgling placed her hand on her chest and bowed, sharply turning to leave. It was a salute of some sort. The martial overtone of the whole thing left an unpleasant taste in Rick’s mouth, though not as much as knowing something was eating at Eva. Rotating his shoulders a bit. He glanced at the two others in the tent. Yasir and Dia stared back in silence, clearly waiting for him to prompt them.

“Thoughts?”

“Humans becoming maidens is rare, true.” The healer nodded. “But whether it’s from the threshold, the curse of Eve, or something else, the new maidens need to become accustomed to the full spectrum of their powers. Fighting some weak ferals is the quickest method to jumpstart the process.”

Yasir stepped forward. “Once acquainted with their powers, it is customary in many places that a more experienced maiden takes the former human under their metaphorical wing.”

“And you think Monica’s the right option?”

“There are no others in the tribe that use elemental darkness.” Dia pointed out. “The problem is that Eva’s variant is blood-energy.”

Rick had read about this, how elemental energy was divided into several dozen types, and each subtype was further divided. Most grating was that the books contradict one another. By the looks of it, there were very intense debates about what made something a “main” kind of elemental energy, and what made something a subtype.

“If I may.” Yasir cleared his throat, stroking his beard and putting on a serene face. “Perhaps, upon their successful return, Fortune willing, we could provide Miss Eva with a task to help her regain a sense of control over her life?”

Dia frowned slightly, but was clearly waiting for Rick to comment.

“I think this hunting trip is part of her attempt to do that. But regardless, she’ll need to help with the tribe.”

“There are plenty of tasks in need of doing.” Dia perked up. “The preparations are coming smoothly.”

“Something I want to reiterate is that we need to change the working conditions in the kitchen and farm.” Rick shook his head. “And I also want to put in place some learning time for everyone.”

“In what way?”

“Classes.” He commented. “From reading to writing, to anything. The tribe has no elders, not officially anyway. Knowledge is important, and it’s clear that things have been running by the seat of their pants for a while.”

“Why would pants…?” Yasir frowned.

“It’s an expression he uses sometimes.” Dia muttered in response.

“Look, the tribe’s going to be heading towards Sinco. We need to acclimate everyone to the potential shift in lifestyle.”

“Learning is a very important virtue.” Yasir nodded. “Though the tribe might not be open to the art of writing just yet. May I propose we start with music?”

Rick perked at that. “Music?”

“I have visited many tribes during my travels. Music has always been something that has been at the heart of their customs.” He made a slight bow. “During my time as a captive, I couldn’t help but notice that the only ones who partook in music were the bandits and not the tribe itself.”

“If you think you can get the ball rolling using that, then let’s go for it.”

A courteous nod. “I will investigate and prepare.”

Rick turned to Dia. “And I’m going to need you to think up some ways that we could incorporate basic hygiene into this whole mess. For the human’s sake if nothing else.”

“Oh, I have many things I’d wish to teach everyone here regarding hygiene.” Her smile had the tightness of a bow ready to shoot. Rick imagined she’d have flashed her fangs had she had them.

Great.

With that out of the way, time to head out.

“Are matters well with the tribe’s Spear?” Yasir spoke before Rick had made his escape. The bearded man’s tone carried a chiding edge to it.

A softly spoken question that had the sharpness of a concealed knife. Rick grimaced. “Hopefully, they will be in about an hour.”

The man perked up. “Is this a joining celebration? Should I start-”

“No celebration, just follow procedure, get the bond, keep on working. We need things to do.”

The expression on Yasir’s face was a mix of shock and horror. But he quickly hid the emotions behind a tentative tone. “Would this have to do with how you came to bond with your current partners?”

“Rick will do things at whatever pace he wants it to be.” Dia dropped with a deadpan, shaking her head. “It’s for the better. Unless we somehow get the ability to eat gold, the tribe’s resources are stretched thin.”

“Exactly.”

Rick didn’t give either of them the time to say anything else and stepped out of the meet-tent. Urtha aside, his biggest concern were all the ferals still trapped in boxes at the edge of the camp. The Vampire had killed some humans and taken just about every collar they could get their hands on. It had left the tribe stretched thin enough some maidens were on collar rotations.

Sinco was not just a hope of conquest. It was a deadline.

He’d agreed to go for Kiara’s approach tonight, but that was something for future Rick to be worried about. Ideally, he’d be able to use Yasir’s and start waking up the ferals by the dozens. But until he learnt how to go about it in that way, something had to be done.

It was with those thoughts in his mind that Rick wandered about the tribe. There was plenty of activity going about. It was clear most of it was in preparation to leave. Maidens packing things, filling out water-skins, and so on. But there were some exceptions to this theme. There were more huts now than before.

Whatever the case, Rick noticed a rather bothersome eavesdropper flying overhead.

“You let the leech leave.” Kiara’s tone was incriminating.

“On a hunt.”

“She’s running away, metaphorically.”

“If all she needs to get her head on straight is some space, I’m more than happy to provide it.” He shrugged. “Your complaint wouldn’t be regarding whatever you did to her, would it?” Rick could almost hear her mouth closing shut with an audible snap. “No comments?”

He could feel her eyes fixed on the back of his head.

Something had changed since the Vampire incident, and it hadn’t been with just Eva. Kiara in particular. Normally, he’d suspect she was only keeping tabs on him, but it was hard to be sure with her.

“What do you know about Succubi?”

Rick glanced back up to her, at the maiden floating, lounging on her own private invisible ride. “The maiden or the myth?”

“You have myths about us?” She perked up.

“Demons summoned out of a hellish plane of existence, beautiful beyond measure, stealing the souls of the men they fuck.” He cracked a grin. “In some interpretations, rejecting the Succubus can cause them physical harm.”

Kiara snorted and rolled her eyes. “And what do you think about the ones of flesh and blood you’ve met?”

“Dunno, I’ve only met one so far.” The shrug came naturally. “And the only thing I know is that she’s a terrible liar.”

She blanched, her body dropping almost a full meter before she caught herself, stopping mid-air and closer to eye-level with him. “If I were to convince you of my ability to lie, you would distrust me.”

He shrugged in response. “I’ll just give you a warning that Eva’s part of the team. Whatever it was you planned, there’s a line now.”

“A line,” she deadpanned. “Do I get a line too?”

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

He considered it for a moment. “Off the top of my head? You can decide when to say no.”

The Succubus snorted, shaking her head. “That is a gift for a weakling. What do you take me for?”

Rick paused, looking at her for a moment. “An ally.”

“Just an ally?”

“What else do you expect?”

That shut her up for a good minute, even though she continued to trail behind him. But silence was golden, and she was expensive. Her feet touched the ground with a soft crunch of dirt. “Tonight, you’ll be bonding with the two ferals your healer picked up.” Her finger pressed against the center of his back, trailing its way down his spine. “Be ready for that.” Her tone was half-way between threatening and alluring.

And Rick wondered why it felt like there had been a question hidden somewhere in her words.

The moment was over when he spotted Urtha. The massive green maiden stood near one of the new huts that had been built over the past day or so. Partially dug into the ground, its ceiling was low for someone of the Orc’s proportions. The green maiden wore an equally green toga that was a size too large.

“You’ve come.” The begrudging acceptance was thick. She gave him a curt nod. “Father.”

“‘Rick’ works just fine.” He nodded in return. “Or is it part of the ceremony?”

“If this ceremony were proper, it would not involve her.” The Orc gestured at the Succubus with her chin, growling.

Kiara stepped forward. “If the human already has others bonded to him, then any of his wives may take part as witness.”

“You’re not…” Rick sighed, shaking his head, turning to Urtha with a questioning look.

She relented, crossing her arms and looking away. “As long as she does not disrupt it.”

The maiden gestured at him to enter the hut, following close behind. Within, he found a large cooking pot, THE large cooking pot. Someone had cleaned the thing and filled it with water. Rick could almost smell the veggie broth, but the water was clear. He could see all the way to the bottom. The thing would have served as a jacuzzi, but Rick had doubts that would be the purpose of its use.

Kiara took one look at the pot, then at Urtha. “You’re missing your fire-keeper.” There was an unnerving certainty to her words.

Urtha growled. “Right.”

The Succubus’ golden eyes followed the green maiden as she stepped outside. “Keep her out of balance and this might even prove amusing.” She chuckled, shaking her head as she moved to lie down at the opposite end of the hut. “Wake me up if things get interesting.”

“You’ve been to an Orc wedding before?”

Kiara shrugged. “Orcs are Orcs. When and where don’t matter to these things.”

They didn’t wait long. Urtha was back again, this time closely followed by a red-headed Hobgoblin, one that looked almost to be Rick’s age. The newest addition to the hut glanced around the dark room until she locked on to Rick and bowed. “Father. It is an honor to be the fire-keeper for the little bean.”

“Little bean?”

“Only Sheel may call me that.” Urtha snarled, shoulders tensing and then easing.

“Her first wedding.” Sheel declared smugly, sitting cross-legged in front of the pot and caressing its surface. Her hands glowed a soft red, a glow that permeated through the walls of the pot and into the water.

Within seconds, the pot had boiled, and she cut the glow off.

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Rick and Urtha glanced at one another. “So…” He awkwardly broke the silence, turning to Sheel. “What am I supposed to do?”

With a growl, Urtha handed him the collar. “Put it on me. And comb my hair.”

“That’s it?”

Sheel laughed, a guttural sound that reminded him of rocks rolling down a hill. “If combing an Orc’s hair was a simple task, I would not be here.” She pointed at the pot. “You will need the water. Urtha has far too much stone and too little grass.” Sheel commented with amusement.

Rick was mostly sure they weren’t talking about literal stones. It was most likely that the elemental energy in Urtha’s body made it so her hair would be too stiff. “So Orcs are stone, and Hobs have fire. What about Goblinas?”

“They are sprouts,” Sheel said. “It is the leaves within us that let us feed from the sun, how we grow our woods.”

“Fire and wood looks like a dangerous mix.”

“More dangerous still when making glow-wood. Too much or too little, too dense or too light, and a human might lose a hand.” She nodded solemnly. “It is easier to learn how to make wood tougher. It is why most Goblinas will grow to become Orcs. Particularly if there are many good fights to be had.” She made a gesture at Urtha. “Not the little pea. She was born an Orc, the strongest the tribe has ever seen.”

Urtha made an affirmative noise, removing her toga and tying it around her waist with little fanfare. The maiden appeared entirely uncaring for the eyes in the room, exposing her thick bush and near spherical breasts to the casual observer.

It was only courteous for him to at least look slightly away and focus on the other aspects, such as how the Orc dunked her head into the boiling water without even a flinch. With a grunt, she used her meaty fingers to work her hair, loosening knots and scrubbing away bit by bit.

“Water’s gonna scald you if you’re not careful,” Sheel spoke.

The words were intended for Rick.

He had little doubt on what’d happen if he wasn’t careful, keeping happy to just watch for the time being. Urtha was moving with experience, dipping her hair into the pot and pulling it back out slowly. Each time, it looked like there was more and more hair, the air in the room slowly growing more humid and hot with every passing minute.

It was a sauna.

“Lots of stone, huh.” He muttered.

“Her head’s full of them.” Sheel laughed, ignoring the glare. “What will be your gift? Do you have any hairstyles in mind?”

Kiara let out a loud snort. “We handle our own hair. Why do you think the cat always looks like she came out of a bush?”

Sheel eyed Rick for a quiet second. “Do you not have familial ties?”

The question brought a somber tone to the room, Kiara was quick to look away, while Urtha eyed him with what looked like… pity?

“I had a large family, and I know several hairstyles. It’s just that we didn’t give hairstyles much importance.” Rick explained.

Sheel and Urtha nodded, relaxing.

Kiara pipped up. “Orcs use hairstyles to distinguish tribal ties. Tattoos and paint wear off quickly.”

“As the Spear, Urtha would be the one to display our tribe’s new style.” Sheel nodded.

No pressure, then. Rick grimaced. “Would you like something short?”

“No.” Urtha declared flatly, eyeing him with yellowed eyes as boiling water streamed down her muscular, green frame. Her black hair was definitely longer than it’d been minutes ago, long enough to be half-way down her back. “If I wanted to look like a man, I would’ve stuck boar-fur to my face.”

“That’s a lot of hair you’ve got there, just saying.”

“Just don’t make it something that will get in my way.”

With a grunt, the tall Orc sat down on a wooden stool, green skin glistening with perspiration. Steam rose from her shoulders and head, giving the impression she’d just come back from an intense workout. Urtha’s hair cascaded down her back and all the way to the ground. Just looking at the thing felt challenging, not just the heat, but the heft. Orc’s hair was dense and coarse.

“This will take a while,” he proclaimed, wary of the heat.

“Use these.” Sheel handed him a pair of thick leather gloves, giving him a rueful smirk and returning her attention to the pot of water, placing a ladle at the edge. “And this.”

Urtha growled. “Get a move on.”

“I wouldn’t anger him if I were you.” The Hob shot an evil smirk as she eyed Rick. “The hair will shrink once it dries. If you braid it really tight, the only way to stop the headaches would be to cut it all off.”

“I will keep that in mind.” He chuckled, sensing Urtha tense, but otherwise not make a move. “Better not squirm too much.”

Was this some sort of mark of pride? There were many things about the culture Rick had yet to unfold. He guessed that an Orc going bald or cutting off her hair was a sign of weakness.

Urtha became still as a statue, her muscles growing taut. It was like touching a steel wall. “Maybe not that tense.”

He couldn’t help but compare the Orc to Monica. Both were incredibly tall maidens, so much so that even on the tiny stool, she was a full head above Rick in height. The two maidens had other similarities, a muscular frame and a lethality about their presence. But that was as far as the similarities went.

Where Monica was strong in a physique similar to a runner, Urtha was closer to a professional wrestler. Where the feline was a body that had grown out of slick curves, the tribal warrior had grown out of a wall of bricks. And though Monica was infested with scars both large and small, Urtha only had a handful, most of her expanse being smooth.

“Can’t take your eyes off of her, eh?” Sheel asked with a teetering smile.

“Leave him to his work,” Urtha let out a grunt.

Rick took the cue.

The gloves were cumbersome; the humidity made it feel like he was inside a sauna, and the Orc’s hair wasn’t just coarse and heavy, but the dryer it became the closer it felt like he was handling metal wires. They had to use a ladle to drench it over and over, the dirt becoming muddy under their feet.

There was one aspect that Rick found interesting, and it was how the hair would shrink and harden like some sort of quick cement, and this process being directly tied to how wet it was. With a couple of attempts, he quickly got the knack, and an image formed in his mind.

“My first scar was against a feral Centaur.” Urtha broke the silence, raising a hand to point at her right shoulder. “The hoof was sharp, it hit at a weird angle. Ripped out bits of bone. The herd got away, and the chief was not happy about it. We fought for hours.”

“Mhm.” Rick muttered, nodding along as he kept his focus on her hair and how it fought against his efforts.

Urtha shifted slightly, letting out a slow breath. She caressed her throat, touching the collar but stopping slightly lower. “My second scar was against the yellow-fang tribe.”

“I remember that one.” Sheel nodded. “You challenged their chief to a fight.”

“I would’ve won if she hadn’t called for her daughter.”

“And in the end?” Rick asked, finding it easier to keep a grip on the hair if he wrapped it around his fingers. How could something so coarse be so slippery?

“She refused to get help.” Sheel chuckled. “An excellent lesson.”

“Do tribes kill in these fights?”

“They tried.” Urtha chuckled darkly, then frowned when she noticed Rick fighting to hold multiple clumps of hair separate from one another. “Do not waste time with pretty things. I do not have the face for it.”

She shook her head, liberating her hair and undoing half of Rick’s work.

He growled, walking around to look at Urtha’s face. The closeness made her tense up. Her jaw was square, tusks giving her an under-bite in contrast to Monica’s fangs, her nose was squatish and her brows thick enough to be bushes. Her skin was the brownish-green color of thirsty grass, her sclera was feverishly yellow, and her irises an angry black. The lines of her face made her look like she had a permanent snarl in place.

But there was a subtle curve to the roguish angles, in her high cheekbones and thick lips, on the way her almond-shaped eyes were large and expressive, in the volume of her lashes. It was a face that hid its expressions behind the naturally intimidating default glare.

“I disagree.”

A thought struck Rick, thinking to Yasir and his wife. Slowly, he reached up to Urtha’s cheek, meeting her eyes as he tucked a strand of black hair behind her clipped ear. There was a tugging within his chest, pulling him closer to her.

This was it, just open up, right? Trust her, love her, just-

TWANG

Like a string breaking in a violin mid-performance, but without carrying actual sound. It only left a sting inside his chest, a sensation that left Rick blinking, while it caused Urtha to tense and pull back. “Finish your work, male.” She ordered brusquely, looking away.

Rick was of half a mind to remind her who was who in the hut, but he was too focused on trying to understand what had just happened. His heart hammered inside his chest like he’d just come out of a marathon. Almost, it had been so damn close. Had he done something wrong? Had it been her? Had it been the timing?

Too many questions, too many variables.

The work with her hair consumed his focus as his mind kept going over the sequence of events. The heat and humidity were chipping away at his temples, his back was drenched, and his lungs felt like they were drowning. Removing his shirt didn’t help, especially when he felt like the eyes in the room were staring at him far more intently.

“You should eat more. Get some meat on you.” Urtha commented under her breath.

He didn’t miss how she made a point not to stare at the scars on the front of his torso. Rather than comment, he just kept fussing over the braids.

“He’s quiet because your tits keep distracting him.” Kiara commented with a smirk. “He prefers them large and perky.”

Urtha’s green face took a slight purplish tone to it. Her focus rose to Rick’s face to read him. There was something the maiden wanted to say, but she blurted something else instead. “Are you done?”

“Just about.” He nodded, glancing at the braid. He was no artist, but he’d made a braid that looked pretty close to a Mohawk. The tail end of it snaked down to her shoulders. It added a fierceness to her features, but in a way that was sophisticated.

After a moment of appreciating his work, Rick decided it made Urtha look a bit like a viking.

“Good.”

The Orc avoided his gaze, shooting to her feet, and slamming her way out of the hut without another word.

“The green giant couldn’t take the heat.” Kiara yawned, amused. She stretched and stood, looking like she’d come fresh out of a spa and beauty salon.

Rick suspected she had a special set of superpowers that were only used to ensure her hair was perfect at all times. It wasn’t even combed, just loosely draping her shoulders and back like a cascade.

He glanced between the two maidens. “Did I do something wrong?”

“I will talk to her.” Sheel looked somewhat cross, but didn’t make further comment.

Kiara waited until the Hob was gone, grasping Rick’s arm and pulling him out into the soothing dry air. “The half-giant’s anxiety messed things up.”

“How?” He asked. “Aren’t I supposed to be some sort of-”

“You can’t do miracles, Rick.” Kiara chided, cutting him off. “For a bond to form, one or both need to feel something towards the other, and the opposite side needs to accept it. It’s why sex makes this entire process so much easier.”

“There’s an entire section of the tribe occupied by ferals that need to be snapped awake.”

Kiara laughed. “So a challenge.”

“It’s not.” Rick was feeling too noodly to stand. He found a shade to rest in while Kiara leaned against the wall of the hut. “So what now?”

“She’s been two days without a bond. I’d say give her three more days, have your cat beat the tusks out of her until her regeneration can’t keep going. And take things from there.” The maiden smirked. “Or you ask me nicely, and I convince her to come to our little bonding session tonight.”

Rick looked her way with a frown. “I need to learn how to form the bond consistently, and quickly.” He brushed his fingers through his damp hair, sighing. “The tribe is important, unity in particular, for the fights to come. But the ferals in the coffins are key to cementing a position in Sinco.”

“Or…” Kiara sauntered over, sitting next to him, soft fingers landing on his knee. “...you ask nicely, and I take care of Sinco.”

With a loud snort, he shook his head. “What, you’re going to put a city on my lap or something?”

“What do you plan to do when the people of Sinco learn of what I am? The tribe knows, word would inevitably slip.” Her tone carried an abrupt seriousness to it, the whimsy gone in a flash.

Rick rubbed his temples. “If they find out and they don’t like it, we punch some faces in. Monica can help.”

Kiara snorted, rolling her eyes. “You truly believe it would be that simple?”

No, it wouldn’t be.

But he had enough to deal with, and not enough information about Sinco to make plans for the future. That lack of information was part of the reason they were going to awaken those ferals.

“We’ll have to handle things as they come, roll with the punches.” With a groan, he stood. “I think I'll rest a bit, and recover my strength for tonight. Take a good long nap.” He glanced at her. “Wanna come?”

The maiden shrugged. “If you want someone to cuddle with, ask your healer.”

Spreading her wings, the Succubus flew away.

She left Rick with mixed feelings over what would await him tonight.

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