Jacob

The fire pit was cold in the beast’s chambers. The creature that ruled this house was long passed his prime, and he liked his bedroom warm when he retired for the night. This beast was what men called Orc, a hero among his own kind and whispered to be singularly cruel even by the standards of his own heartless people. Aged or not, this one was dangerous when angry. He was usually angry.

There was a woman by the hearth, and she was crying. She was not an Orc, like the master, but a human woman. At one time she may have been pretty, but now her face was only a shadow of its natural state. Her cheekbones stuck out at odd angles and one of her eye sockets was larger than the other, as if it had been reset by an unskilled surgeon. Her nose appeared to have been intentionally cut off by a ragged blade. Her jaw was an explosion of color, purples and reds swirling against blue and yellow. Her tears flowed freely as she worked desperately to restart the dead fire.

A blur of motion flashed by her head and she instinctively ducked. The hearth exploded in a blast of soot as a rotten melon covered the woman’s tinder with foul-smelling goop. She screamed with surprise, and then franticly began scooping the wet muck into her tunic in vain hope of salvaging a dry space to work with. She ignored the cackling of the child and even refused to respond as the toddler commenced to pelt her with dirt clods.

She heard a crash as the door was roughly kicked open. The child’s taunting stopped as the huge form of the master blotted out the door. She whispered under her breath for the boy to leave. The child howled his resentment, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“You don’t talk to me, Human! I don’t take orders from Humans! I am Orc and I say STAY!”

The boy’s challenge was stifled by a huge fist to the back of his head. The child flew forward into the floor, and she watched, afraid to move, as the master strode forward purposely and picked the child up by the hair.

The master’s voice was deep and cold. “Your voice hurts my ears half-breed. You shriek like woman. Next time you squeal like woman I rip you tongue out! Now get out of here!” He let go of the child’s hair and the boy fell to the ground and scampered away. The master took no notice as he walked toward the woman, a low growl building in his chest.

The boy ran, not wanting to hear the sounds of brutality behind him. He was just playing a trick on her, he didn’t mean for her to get in trouble. His eyes were stinging, and he began to chant to fight back the tears.

“Orcs don’t cry, Humans cry. Orcs don’t cry, Humans cry.” The boy knew that he was only half Orc, but everyone told him that if he wanted any respect with the tribe he would have to be a better Orc than the master’s pureblood children. The boy ran faster, heedless of the direction.

“Hey JACOB!” The boy stopped running at the sound of his name. Two Orc boys were advancing quickly with menacing intent. They were Jacob’s age, but being pure Orc were almost twice Jacob’s weight. Jacob decided trying to outrun them would be futile, so he stood and waited as they reached him. The Orcs looked at each other confused. They had obviously been looking forward to a rousing chase.

“Why you not run half-man? You know we gonna cream ya, doncha?”

After staring at the master’s angry face, Jacob felt that these two were possessed of comparatively mild wickedness. “I don’t run from women.”

The Orc boys looked at each other for a moment, and then simultaneously comprehending the insult they both charged. Jacob dove between them as they cut the air wildly with their fists. He ignored a backhand that managed to catch him on the hip and sprinted for the log pile. He managed to grab one of the spars supporting the woodpile as the two boys grabbed him by the legs. As the boys pulled the spar broke, and an avalanche of wood tumbled down on all three children. Jacob felt explosions of pain as he was barraged by lumber, and in the distance he heard the garbled yells of his tormentors before all went black.