Orcblood Legacy: Skirmishes: Orcs by Bernard Bertram (good inspirational books .TXT) 📕

happens, I’ll be with ye, don’t ye doubt.” He looked into the half-orc’s face and wiped away the tears with his thick fingers.

Bitrayuul continued to cry, though his fear was beginning to subside. Tormag always knew how best to calm him. The dwarf was the best father he could have asked for, a fact that he was eternally grateful for. Taking strength from his father’s assurances, Bitrayuul sniffled away his tears and took a steadying breath. After his nerves were driven back, he stood and turned to face the large door to the council’s chamber.

Looking back to Tormag, the anxious half-orc asked, “Will you come with me?”

“Aye, lad,” the dwarf replied with a smile. “Always.”

COUNCIL

Bitrayuul slowly pushed open the heavy door and walked into the chamber, Tormag at his rear. Almost immediately, the meager shred of courage that he had mustered fled upon the eyes of all seven council members boring down at him from their raised seats. But he took another step, then another, until he was in the center of the room. It was obvious that a few of the dwarven senators seemed to have grown impatient at his delay. Three scowled openly at him while another three showed indifference. In the middle sat Theiran, a gleeful expression on his face.

Beckoning the half-orc closer, Theiran raised his voice to fill the chamber—though no spectators were present. “Welcome, Bitrayuul and Tormag. This chamber be called to determine yer eligibility to stay in Tarabar.”

Bitrayuul swallowed hard.

“Normally, we would hear testimony from ye and yer allies. But that’s already been done while ye were restin’. Fer the purpose of this chamber, those who spoke on yer behalf were: Tormag, meself, and a petition signed by over five hundred of our own army’s forces.”

Bitrayuul gasped in surprise at the news of the warriors’ petition. In response, he could see the three council members who scowled at him roll their eyes.

Theiran continued, his voice still booming through the room. “At this time, any council members who wish to offer requests for rejection may do so.” He stared at his peers.

Almost immediately, one dwarf stood from his seat. He was the most lavishly dressed of the group and had yet to remove his scowl. “We cannot allow such a beast such to live among us! How are we to know if he doesn’t plan to find our weakness and report them back to his kind?”

Upon his testimony, other senators stood and began barking words of agreement or contempt. Within moments, six of the council members were in a heated argument, including Theiran. After a long while of angry curses amongst each other, Theiran smacked the dais in front of him with his maul. “Enough! It seems we be at an impasse. Three for, three against.” As one, all the dwarves turned to the lone member who had not partaken in the dispute.

To Bitrayuul’s surprise, he realized that the reserved senator was female, though it was difficult to tell aside from the lack of facial hair. But it was her eyes that gave her away. They were not the usual beady orbs tucked beneath a furrowed brow like her male counterparts, but gentle.

“Go ahead, Myra. Speak yer piece,” Theiran instructed.

Remaining in her seat, the senator leaned closer while looking at Bitrayuul. “How old are ye, half-one?” Her voice seemed sweet, though her thickened accent caught the half-orc off-guard.

“Uh . . .” Bitrayuul flustered. He didn’t expect such a question. “Sixteen winters, senator.”

“And where did ye spend those winters?”

“In a cave, with my mother and brother.”

“And Tormag?” Myra asked with a raised eyebrow.

Bitrayuul’s heart quickened with alarm upon missing the detail. “O-oh, yes. For the last few years.”

“And what is Tormag to you?” The senator’s gentle eyes seemed to stare right through him. Her words were lined with sweet tones that made her feel welcoming, but her gaze felt even more intimidating than the scowls he had been met with by the others.

Bitrayuul eyed the rest of the council, hoping his response would not spark another dispute. “He is my father.” Luckily, the news seemed to already be known, as none reacted.

Myra leaned forward even more, her gaze piercing Bitrayuul. “I only have one more question, half-one.” She waited for a long while, scrutinizing the half-orc’s every twitch. Finally, she asked, “Why did ye save Theiran?”

DECISION

Bitrayuul took a deep breath. He was uncertain of whether his response would be what the council wanted to hear. He turned to Tormag, though knew that every action he took was being analyzed.

Tormag nodded to him. “Tell the truth, lad. Like I always taught ye.”

Turning back to Myra, the half-orc let out a sigh. “I don’t know why I went after the senator.” A few gasps and whispers came in response, prompting Bitrayuul to elaborate. “Tormag told me not to, for my own safety. But I couldn’t just let Theiran get dragged away! He saved me in the battle. How could I just watch as the trolls took him? No one else was going after him, so I felt I had to do it.”

Myra leaned back in her chair. “Dwarves fight in a strict formation. It is known that if one of us be removed from the formation, they are lost. We cannot risk the battle fer the life of a single warrior—senator or not.”

Bitrayuul looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

This time, Theiran chimed in. “No, lad, ye didn’t. But I’ll be thankin’ Bothain every day that ye chose to act anyway.” Once again, the council members began to dispute.

Myra finally rose from her seat and smacked a small mace against the dais in front of her, claiming everyone’s attention. With the senators silent, she turned her gaze back to Bitrayuul. “What is your name again?”

“Bitrayuul, senator.”

“Were ye named that fer a reason?”

The half-orc shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, but not for my own part.” Myra motioned for him to explain. “My father is an orc, my birth mother a human. My conception was