Orc Quest: The Wrong Place...

The Wrong Place at the Right Time

Iylandrea glared at the dozen-plus townsfolk that crowded together before her, pitchforks, torches and makeshift clubs giving them the appearance of a classic lynch mob – and that's exactly what they were.  With her sword raised to point directly at the head of the man unfortunate enough to be standing in front, the red-headed warrior was quickly losing patience with the lot of them.  It was far too late at night for this nonsense, especially when she had wanted nothing more than a quick meal and a soft bed.  Instead she had found herself playing the defense advocate against a village full of idiots.  It was quite definitely not a fair trade.

A growl slipped into her voice despite her best efforts to keep her temper in check; she didn't want to engage in a bloodbath without just cause, even if she was starting to think that the world would be better off without them.  "I'm going to ask this one more time and if someone doesn't give me a proper explanation, I'm going to start cracking heads, got it?"  She waited a moment while they nodded nervously, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she repeated her question for the third time.  "What possible charge could there be to justify fourteen grown men hunting down a child like some kind of rabid animal?"

The incomprehensible cacophony of shouts and accusations did nothing to quell her growing anger, but the simple act of raising her sword in preparation to swing was sufficient to silence them.  "One at a time!"

"She–she's a witch!"

The reply – provided by a thin man who only peeked out from behind his compatriots long enough to speak – left Iylandrea momentarily stunned, even as the rest of the townsfolk nodded with enthusiastic agreement.  Casting her gaze back behind her at the child in question – who stood clutching a ragged and worn stuffed bear – all Iylandrea could see was a small, scared little girl with a face smudged with dirt and dark locks that were in bad need of a brushing.  A street urchin and petty thief she might've believed, but a witch?  Raising a brow, she slowly returned her dubious gaze to the lynch mob.  "Says who?"

In the blink of an eye thirteen of their number had fingers pointed at the fourteenth, a short, bookish man who stood in front of the pack.  A clergyman to judge from the large, ornate tome he carried in place of a weapon, his wide eyes and the nervous sweat running down from his bald head told Iylandrea all she needed to know about him.  The man, while apparently good at riling up the local citizenry, wasn't one for direct confrontation and he shrunk away from Iyla's angry stare.

"What kind of god is it that you serve who would condone the killing of children?"

"The Great Googlymoogly suffers no witchcraft, regardless of the culprit's age!"  The clergyman seemed to find his spine long enough to shout the rhetoric, though perhaps it was simply from practiced habit, as he faltered the instant he was finished.  "Er… ma'am."

Iylandrea had to imagine that he made a habit of hiding behind his holy book, though probably not quite so literally as he did just then.  Admittedly, as thick as it was and with all the metallic ornamentation which adorned it, it might've served as a decent shield, but he was doing nothing to improve his standing with her.  "The Great… what?"

"The, uh, Great Googlymoogly, ma'am."  He held the tome out slightly, gripping it with both hands and looking at it with what she had to believe was genuine reverence.  "We are His chosen people and this is His Great Book, in which all His laws are written."

"He's got pretty low standards."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind." Iyla sighed; why did she always have to deal with the morons?   She decided to take the high road and lowered her sword so that they could speak without the threat of immediate violence – and also because she was getting tired of holding it up high like that.  "Look, not that it's going to change anything, but do you actually have any proof of this so-called witchcraft?"

Several of them exchanged glances with each other, marking themselves as just being there for the witch hunt.  Iylandrea made a mental note that, if the opportunity ever arose, she would beat all seven of them into the ground just on principle.  Still, surprisingly, a couple of them managed to offer up a response – for what they were worth – with the clergyman speaking up first.  "She talks to people who aren't there!"

"She's, what, eight years old?  Didn't you ever have an imagination?"

"She knows things she shouldn't know!"

Iyla gave the large, pitchfork-wielding man an incredulous look.  "Just because you can't count to twenty with your shoes on…"  She had said it primarily to be a wiseass, though she wasn't really shocked when the man appeared shamed.  Why was she even in this armpit of a town, anyway?

"I saw 'er do magic!  She summoned demonic spawn!"

The thin man who had been the first to accuse the child of being a witch spoke up again and despite the absurdity of the claim, she had to think he honestly believed it.  The rest of the crowd were adding their support by rapidly nodding, although she doubted anyone else had actually seen anything.  Iyla supposed that she had nothing to lose by asking for clarification, but the child spoke up before she had the chance.

"They're not demonic spoons!"

"Were too!"

"Were not!"

"Okay, this isn't getting us anywhere."  Iylandrea tried to be polite in ending the verbal game of hot potato, but neither the man nor the child seemed to notice, continuing to argue the point.  Such as it was.

"Were too!"

"Were not!"

"Were–"

"Shut up!"

Both of them fell blissfully silent at Iylandrea's bellow and she took a moment to inhale a deep, calming breath while she enjoyed the quiet.

"Alright, you in the back… care to describe these 'demonic spawn'?"

"They weren't spoons!"

Iyla's eyebrow ticked upwards even as she cast a sidelong glance down at the little girl, who for her part was peering back with wide-eyed fright and pointing accusingly at her stuffed bear.  "Spawn, sweety, not spoons."  It was a good thing she liked kids.  Or, at least, didn't hate them.

"Well, y'see, I was tendin' the pigs th'other day an' I saw this weird light out a'hind the barn, so's I went to investi-look."

Rolling her eyes as the man's full-blooded hick drawl was revealed by his story-telling, she forced herself to pay attention to the whole thing, which was nearly as difficult as resisting the urge to hit him and tell him to get to the point.

"An' that's when I saw her with these li'l coloured lights flickerin' all 'round her!"  The man had gotten sufficiently caught up in his own tale that he'd forgotten his fear and stood apart from the rest, pointing a finger at the child.  "Red'uns like the fires of hell itself!  Blue'uns like the, uh, icy hell.  An' green'uns like… like the…"

"Grassy hell?"  Iylandrea rubbed her forehead; her headache was getting worse by the minute.

"All kinds of coloured hell lights!  Jumpin' and swirlin' 'round her!"

"They were dancing!"  The child angrily corrected the man's description, frowning at his choice of words.  "And they were butterfries, not hell lights!"

Iylandrea looked down at the child, feeling pretty confident that – as dumb as the townsfolk seemed – they knew what butterflies looked like.  "Butterflies don't glow in the dark, honey."

"They're magical butterfries!"

"See!  She admits to her witchcraft!"

Iyla growled at the clergyman's claim, getting some small satisfaction as he recoiled to hide behind his book again.  Still, she had to admit, sorcery took a lot of studying to learn and the child didn't strike her as the type, so there was definitely something unusual going on.  "Alright, I'm going to take the girl out of town and you can all go get some good sleep knowing that the girl with the magic butterflies isn't going to hurt you."

There was a brief moment of confused silence while the mob processed her words, half of them appearing quite disappointed that their witch hunt was getting called off while a few of them actually seemed relieved at the thought.  Iyla wasn't about to wait around for them to think it through and turned to face the girl, offering her a reassuring smile.  "You're going to come with me and we'll see if we can find your family, okay?"

"No!"  It was the clergyman who answered, shouting with all the righteous indignation he could muster and raising a hand to the sky.  "The Great Book of the Great Googlymoogly says that we must purify the world of all witchly taint!"

"You can shove your 'Great Book' straight up Googlymoogly's great ass, pal.  We're leaving."  Iylandrea put her free hand on the child's back and gently guided her, turning from the mob.  The preacher's response really didn't surprise her.

"She's a servant of hell!  We must burn them both to purify the town!"

Iylandrea looked back over her shoulder, her body tensing as she prepared to gut the first one of them to make a move, but the mob was proving less enthusiastic than its leader.  They stood with their various makeshift weapons at the ready, but simply held their ground, glancing back and forth at each other, each waiting for someone else to make the first move.  For all his bravado, the clergyman wasn't any more willing to lead the charge than any of his fellows, although he had no qualms about chastising them for their inaction.

"She's only one woman!  In the name of the Great Googlymoogly, I command you to k–"

Iylandrea was appreciative for the preacher's abrupt, slack-jawed silence, if confused at its source.  True, the appearance of her green-skinned companion as he strolled into the firelight was unexpected, but the wide-eyed stares from the townsfolk seemed a little much.  "Hey, Iyla, what's going on?"

Semmek's baritone voice held a note of weariness to it, as though he'd just woken up – which he probably had – and he scratched at his bare chest.  Iylandrea had seen plenty of people who were intimidated by his muscular physique but the locals were reacting like a monster from the deepest pits was about to charge them.  Hadn't they ever seen an orc before?

"A demon!"  The preacher's voice cracked as he squeaked out the word, which was echoed by several of the others.  "The child has summoned forth a demon!"

Apparently, they hadn't.

The mob huddled together, their pitchforks and torches pointed at Semmek in a bizarre formation that resembled some sort of demented porcupine.  Their collective intellect was probably about the same level, too.

Semmek looked to Iyla for an explanation of what was going on, but she had to wonder if there could possibly be a real accounting for the locals.  "They apparently think you're a demon."  She paused to nod in confirmation as Semmek pointed at himself, then summed up the rest of the situation as best she could even while the clergyman chanted passages from his Great Book, apparently trying to exorcise them.  Or banish them.  Or possibly just bore them into submission.  "They also think that the girl is a witch and I'm a servant of hell.  Oh, and the Great Googlywhatever says that they have to kill us."

"They think I'm a demon?"  Semmek blinked at her, having stopped listening the instant that suggestion hit his ears.  "Reeeeeeally?"

Iylandrea's eyes narrowed as the orc gave a wide, toothy grin.  "Semmek, what're you–"

Before she could even finish asking him, he had wheeled around from her to face the mob head-on, raising his powerful arms into the air and yelling at the top of his sizable lungs "OOGABOOGA!"

She was about to tell him to stop goofing around but it would've been pointless; she would've been drowned out by the terrified screams of the townsfolk as they went running in every direction.  Iyla watched in disbelief as weapons fell haphazardly to the ground, discarded without a thought.  Only the clergyman was left behind, standing alone in the middle of the road, hiding his face behind his holy book as though believing it would somehow protect him.

"Oogabooga!"  Semmek, for his part, was having an immense amount of fun and continued yelling until all thirteen of the townsfolk had vanished from sight.  And then kept shouting it anyway.  "Oooooogabooga!"

Heaving a great sigh, Iyla massaged her aching forehead again, swearing to herself that she'd never again let the orc choose which road they followed.  "Semmek, they're gone.  Stop that.  Semmek… SEMMEK!"

"Uh?"

"They're gone.  Shut up."

"Oh."  With the grin plastered across his face once more, Semmek turned his focus on the one man who did still remain.  The preacher's legs were visibly shaking and it was a safe bet that his eyes were shut tight, which meant that he could have even more fun with the cowardly clergyman.

Walking up to the preacher with a casual stride, Semmek looked down at the much shorter man for a moment, then tapped on the ornate tome which blocked his view.  "Excuse me, sir, might I have a word?"

He had spoken about as softly and calmly as he could manage and, after a brief hesitation, the book was slowly lowered so that the clergyman could peer over it.  The sight of a tusked grin wasn't at all what he'd been hoping to see and Semmek took excessive pleasure in watching the man's eyes grow wide.  Not nearly as much pleasure, however, as in what he did next.

"OOGABOOGA!"

Iylandrea might have given the preacher credit for not running away in terror, but she was pretty sure that fainting was even worse yet.  At least they'd managed to avoid bloodshed, something of a miracle in itself; she really hadn't wanted to start killing people in front of the child.  "Alright, stop fooling around and let's get out of here before they come back with the rest of the town."

Turning on his heel to return to his partner, Semmek wore a broad smile.  "Are you kidding?  They barely escaped the demon with their lives!  They're all hiding under their beds and trying not to piss themselves."

Returning her sword to its scabbard, Iyla rolled her eyes.  "Don't let it go to your head.  This entire town is filled with half-wits."  She turned around with the intent to start walking but realized she had forgotten something – or someone, rather – when she very nearly ran over the child who'd been at the heart of the whole situation.

With flailing arms, Iylandrea caught her balance – albeit at the expense of her dignity – and managed to avoid knocking the girl over as a bonus.  "What're you–?  Uh, kid?  What–"  It was proving impossible to speak to the child, who was rapidly shuffling back and forth to ensure that Iyla remained between her and Semmek.  Whenever the orc leaned one direction to get a look at the girl, she quickly moved to prevent it and Iylandrea was finding herself an unwilling participant in what was turning into some kind of game.  "Would you two stop that!"

Her demand was met first with giggle from the child, then a deeper laugh from Semmek as they each dodged from one side of her to the other.  Iylandrea wasn't fond of being ignored and even less so of being used, but she reached her limit when the orc decided to outsmart the girl and stuck his head between Iyla's legs.  "Semmek!"

The angry shout gave him just enough warning to realize why he was being punched before the blow connected with his back, but not so much that he could do much about it.  Having already been off-balance thanks to the awkward position, Semmek found himself knocked fully to the ground and, as thick-skinned as he was, Iyla was quite adept at throwing punches; he was going to have a bruise.  "Ow."

The girl just blinked at the abrupt violence, then lifted wide eyes to look at the red-head, wondering if she was going to be next.  "I'm sorry..."

"My fault."  Semmek spoke from the ground, laying flat except for his head and a slightly raised hand.

"Yes, it was."  Iylandrea's mutter and frown were aimed at her partner, but she forced herself into a more cheerful disposition before turning to face the girl.  "Don't worry about it, I just really want to get out of this village before it sucks the intellect out of me.  Come on, let's start walking and you can tell us about yourself, okay?"

"'Kay!"

The girl eagerly accepted Iyla's offered hand, holding it gently in her left even as she held her stuffed bear in a death grip with her right.  Semmek climbed back to his feet, catching up to the pair in a few quick strides, placing himself on the child's left.  He smiled down at her, happy to get one in return, before asking the question which Iylandrea had forgotten about.  "So what's your name?"

"Jalera!"  was the perky response, her comfort with talking to an orc a stark contrast to the locals' reaction.

"That's a pretty name."  Iyla finally allowed herself to relax a bit as they left the loose cluster of buildings behind and moved out into farmland.  "So where are your parents?"

It was a simple enough question, but it seemed to confuse Jalera.  It wasn't concern that crossed the child's face, however, but rather a complete lack of understanding; she didn't know what the word even meant.  "Your parents, honey… you know, like your mom and dad?"

The light of comprehension lit up Jalera's face, though it was quickly replaced with puzzlement.  "Mom?  The mean ladies that made me?  I dunno.  I haven't seen them in a long time."

Iyla and Semmek traded curious looks, wondering at the girl's choice of wording.  The orc offered a shrug, figuring that she was a bit of an oddball, but he could relate to that.  "So who takes care of you?"

"Tommy does, mostly.  He's in Tressel!"

A frown crossed Iylandrea's face at the mention of the city of Tressel.  It wasn't any worse than most cities, really, but it was a long way away.  "Tressel's over a day's walk from here.  Why'd he leave you behind?"

Jalera's brows furrowed as she pondered the question, but her answer was quite succinct.  "He didn't."  There was a moment's pause as the girl bit her lip before she explained "I kinda accidentally terraported here."

"You… teleported?"  Skepticism tainted Iyla's tone, but she was starting to wonder if the girl really did know magic.

"Noooo, I terraported.  Through the ground!"  She smiled cheerfully as she made the correction, though it gained a hint of embarrassment as she elaborated.  "I was chasing a rabbit and I kinda went too far.  A lot."

Semmek was feeling rather lost in the conversation and looked at Iylandrea with a raised brow.  "Did I miss something?"

"I told you; they were accusing her of being a witch and doing magic."  She waited for a moment while he tried to remember her mention of it, but she knew that he hadn't been paying attention.  "You were busy scaring the lynch mob senseless."

"Oh!"  He smiled, pride at his successful terrorizing filling him all over again.  "Was I great or what!  So, what's wrong with being a witch, anyway?  I mean, unless she's going around cursing people or something."

"I'm not 'lowed to use curse words."  Jalera piped up casually, even as she swung her teddy bear back and forth by one of its arms.  "Tommy says I'm too young."

Both of the adults looked down at her as she completely side-tracked the conversation with her misunderstanding.  She seemed to do that a lot, actually.  The pair traded shrugs, then smirks before Iyla finally agreed with the girl's mysterious keeper.  "He's right, you shouldn't use bad words.  It's impolite."

They walked without conversation for a while, although Jalera filled the silence by humming a peculiar tune that seemed to change as it went, never really repeating.  Iylandrea looked down at the girl with a smile, marveling at her innocence.  Far from home, threatened by deranged hicks and stuck walking a long road in the middle of the night with complete strangers, yet she seemed perfectly happy.

"Uh, hey, Iyla?  Where're we going, exactly?"

Iylandrea lifted her gaze to meet Semmek's then fell back to the child.  "We're going to Tressel.  We're taking Jalera home."  She smiled at the girl, who returned it enthusiastically, and gave a gentle squeeze to her hand.

Semmek nodded slightly, having no problem with the change in plans – it wasn't like they'd really had any specific destination before – and he certainly didn't mind helping the kid out, although he would've liked to at least had a chance to eat a proper meal before they'd left town.  "Hey, if we veer south a little–"

"No."

"But there's a town that–"

"No more hick towns."

"But they've got an inn and–"

Iylandrea shot a sidelong look at him, her eyes narrowed dangerously.  "No.  More.  Hicks."

"But we could get pancakes!"

"PANCAKES!"

Jalera's outburst managed to shock Iyla into a moment of silence but she recovered herself quickly, focusing her attention on the orc.  "The last town thought you were a demon!"

Semmek grinned around his tusks, pride filling his words.  "Yeah, wasn't it great?"

"The one before that threatened to put your head on a pike!"

"Only if I ever tried to use their outhouses again."  His grin faltered, but only because a touch of embarrassment at the memory of what had raised their ire – and very nearly evacuated the town.  Looking down at Jalera's confused visage, he shrugged nonchalantly.  "They had some reeeeally good chili there and–"

"Semmek!  She doesn't need to hear that!"  And Iylandrea really didn't want to be reminded of it, either.  The memory alone was turning her stomach.  "The point is that the only orcs any of the towns around here ever see are raiders and criminals!  Who knows what the next one might do when you walk in there!"

The crestfallen orc sighed, his shoulders sagging pathetically as his hopes for a good breakfast were dashed, but Iylandrea's attention was drawn by a light tugging on her arm.  She looked down at Jalera to find the child staring at her with wide, pleading eyes.

"Pancakes?"

Iyla opened her mouth but couldn't bring herself to say no, her voice stuck in her throat.  She pursed her lips and looked away, staring out into the darkness as they continued to walk, but after a few steps she glanced back at Jalera only to find those eyes still gazing up at her.  It wasn't even remotely fair; she was used to dealing with Semmek, but the child was a master of the puppy eyes.

"Alright, already!"  Iyla frowned, refusing to look at either of them.  "We'll head towards the town."

"YAY!"  The celebratory shout didn't just come from the girl, but the orc as well, even as they traded big, toothy smiles.  "Pancakes!"

Iylandrea sighed, rubbing her eyes with her free hand.  She had a feeling that she was going to regret the side-trip, even if the town wasn't as hostile as the last one.  Something would go wrong.  Something always went wrong when Semmek picked the destination.

They'd better have some damned good pancakes.


(End Part One!)