Search
Column Editing
Tales of Wicked Fantasy #2: Mishin
Jacob Turner stood in his tavern and felt the winter sneaking under his front door. He looked for his son and found him at the sailors’ table, singing their songs, and they were singing right along with him.
When the boy finished, the sailors cheered and ordered more drinks. Jacob Turner called out to his son, “Jerek, fetch more wood for the fire!” The boy nodded and picked up his crutch, leaning against the sailors’ table and limped to the back door. Jerek opened the door just as the front door opened. A stream of ice cold wind thrust through the tavern and everyone shouted, looking to the front.
Jacob Turner looked, too. What he saw there was an ork.
Standing against the moonlight, it took up the entire door frame. It had to duck to come in. It stepped forward slowly. Jacob saw the ork had no weapons. The Watch must have taken them away when it entered the City. But it claws and it had teeth. And it had scars. It seemed its whole body was made of scars. Its hair was thick and coarse like whiskers and when it moved, it made Jacob Turner think of an animal, prowling after prey.
“Shut the door!” Ban Illven shouted. He was always drunk, always shouting. Turner doubted old Ban even knew what was at the door. Everyone took one short breath. The ork looked confused, then turned and closed out the wind.
Jacob watched the ork losely. It moved through the tavern, looking at faces. Laughter had long since died when the ork opened the door. Every move it made just dug the grave deeper. Jacob saw men reaching under the tables. He needed to do something.
“Hey there!” he said in his biggest, friendliest voice. “What can I get for you?”
The ork stopped and looked at him. It walked up to the bar and stood still.
“Something to drink?” Jacob asked.
When Jacob heard it speak, he thought the words were fighting to get between the ork’s teeth.
“Yes!” Jacob smiled. “Drink!” At least this ork knew some words.
“Nah,” the ork said, shaking its head. Then, it spoke in a slow voice. “Al-thon-shish.”
“Althon?” he asked, hoping the ork was not asking for who he thought he was asking. He felt his smile suddenly drop.
“Al-thon-shish,” the ork said again.
Jacob felt his mouth echoing the ork’s word. “Alton Siss?” he asked, hoping.
“Hah,” the ork said. “Al-thon-shish.”
Jacob knew the man. In fact, he saw him sitting next to the fire, just behind the ork. He tried not to glance, but the ork caught it.
The ork turned and looked where Jacob looked. He turned back to Jacob. “Al-thon-shish?”
Jacob knew this would not end well. Alton Siss was a marked man. Protected. His tattoos told everyone exactly who he belonged to and the consequences that fell on anyone who touched him. Consequences for Jacob and his tavern if anything happened to him here.
He could see Alton now, just behind the ork, reaching under the table to his boot. He had two friends with him, all with the same tattoos.
“Alton!” he said, shouting around the ork. “I donna want any trouble!”
The ork walked toward Alton. The man stood and drew the knife. Alton slashed at the ork with his blade, but the beast did not move. Did not dodge. Did not flinch. There was a long, bloody gash across the ork’s chest.
Jacob saw the ork’s face. There was no sign of pain or anger or anguish. The ork just smiled. Then, it spoke in the language of men. “Blood callsh for blood,” it said.
Alton’s face changed. It wasn’t fear. It was deeper than that. Jacob watched a man who used violence all his life to get what he wanted suddenly realize that violence would not save him. He could not intimidate the ork. He could not bully it. He was in a place he had seen others but had never been himself. Jacob saw Alton Siss wilt like a water lilly in the desert sun.
Alton thrust the nife again. The ork caught it, by the blade, with his left hand. Then, it pushed its right hand forward, just under Alton’s throat. The man staggered back, losing his grip on the blade, clutching at his neck.
The two other men stood. The ork knocked both of them back down. One fell with a broken jaw, the other with a broken arm.
“No!” Jacob shouted. “Please!”
The ork did not seem to hear. It stepped up to Alton and put its hands on his shoulders. Then, it snapped its head forward, crushing Alton’s nose. The man screamed and fell forward, his eyes losing all focus. The ork picked up him and walked to the back door. Nobody moved.
When it reached the door, it opened. Jerek stood there with one arm on his crutch and the other holding a clutch of firewood.
Jacob saw his son standing between the ork and the door. He shouted his son’s name.
The ork looked down at the boy. Jerek’s eyes went wide. Jacob saw Jerek’s knees buckle. The boy stood perfectly still, as if he had come face-to-face with a bear.
The ork looked down at the boy. “Jair-ek?” it asked.
Jerek nodded. “Yes,” he said. “That’s my name.”
Jacob saw every sailor stand up behind the ork. Some grabbed bottles and others grabbed tankards. The ork turned to look at them.
When Jacob saw the look on the ork’s face, he knew the sailors were doomed.
But then, Jerek said, “Please.”
The ork turned back and looked down at the boy.
Jerek said, “They’re my friends. Please don’t hurt them.”
Everything stood still. Jacob couldn’t even breathe.
After a moment, the ork nodded. “Hah,” it said. And it stepped aside. Jerek limped on his crutch, coming in from the cold. The ork waited for him to pass, then stepped out into the winter, closing the door behind it.
The sailors cheered. They rushed forward and lifted Jerek on their shoulders.
“Mighty Jerek!” they shouted. “He stared down an ork and the ork stepped aside!”
Jacob moved through the crowd and embraced his son, his tears of fear turning to tears of joy. The sailors kept chanting the boy’s name, but all Jacob could think of were the broken men on the floor of his tavern.
* * *
It was late, and Constable Vennus was working at his desk when he heard someone trying to open the door of his office. He was working by candlelight. He looked up and heard the sound again. Not a knock. Someone was trying to use the handle. Either the man on the other side of the door was the worst burglar in the City or he was someone in desperate need of help.“Who is it?” he shouted at the door.
A deep voice answered. It sounded like it had marbles in its mouth instead of teeth. “Al-thon-shesh.”
Vennus paused. “Alton Sess?”
The voice on the other side of the door said, “Hah.”
Vennus got up from his desk and went to the door. He opened the peephole and saw the bloody, broken face of Alton Sess. He was gagged and furious.
“Hehp he.” Sess said through the gag.
Vennus looked further and saw an ork standing behind Sess. The same ork he saw earlier in the morning. As soon as he saw the ork, everything made sense.
Vennus unlocked the door and opened it. Alton Sess fell to his feet, gagged and bound. The ork stepped in. “Bown-thee,” it said.
Vennus nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Bounty.”
At his feet, Sess tried sitting up. He made a complaining noise from behind the gag. Vennus walked to his desk, took a knife from the drawer and cut the gag from Sess’s mouth.
“Blast this ork!” he shouted. “Vennus,” he said, looking at the constable. “This thing assaulted me. In the Hook and Key.”
Vennus raised an eyebrow. “Turner’s place?”
“Yeah,” Sess told him. “Him and his cripple kid. They both saw it.”
Vennus looked at the ork. The ork said nothing.
“I’ll ask them both all about it tomorrow morning,” Vennus told him. “Meanwhile, I think I should hold you overnight.”
“Are you joking?” Sess shouted. “You think this is funny? You know who I am? You know who I’m marked to?”
Vennus grabbed Sess’s bound wrists and lifted him. “I know,” he said. “I also know you have a bounty on your head from three different Cities.” He looked back at the ork. “Give me a second, all right? I’m just going to throw him in a cell.”
The ork said nothing.
When Vennus came back, it was standing in the same place. Vennus walked to his desk and opened a drawer.
“I can’t give your weapons back until you’re leaving the city,” he said. “As for your payment, I can only give you coins.” He looked at the ork. “Is that all right?”
The ork said, “Mishin.”
Vennus frowned. “I’m not sure what that means.” He counted out the coins, put them in a small paper envelope. “Here are your coins.”
The ork looked at the envelope. It took the envelope in its huge claws. Then, it looked at Vennus. “Mishin,” it said.
Vennus shook his head. “I dunna know,” he said. “But you can sleep here tonight if you like. You saved me a lot of trouble. There’s a cot back there.” He gestured to the back of the office.
The ork looked confused. “Caht?”
Vennus nodded. “Yeah. Sleep. You know? Sleep?” He flattened out his hands and laid down his head.
The ork nodded. “Shleep,” it said. It mimicked Vennus’s gesture. “Gah-nah,” it said.
Vennus smiled. “That’s the first ork word I’ve ever learned,” he said. Then, he said, “Gah-nah.”
The ork nodded. “Shleep.” It walked to the back of the office, found the cot and laid down. Vennus watched it for a moment, then walked to the door, re-locked it, and went back to work.
* * *
Jeff Jonse reached up to the tall shelf to pull down a can of jellied peppers when he heard his shoulder and elbow pop. He said, “I hate winter.”
At the bottom of the ladder he was standing on, Missus Petrie got all flustered. “It’s only because your joints get stiff,” she said. “You aren’t a young man anymore Mister Jonse.”
Jeff Jonse scowled, but when he turned back to face Missus Petrie, he was smiling. “We only have two more of these left,” he said. “You had better make them last.”
Missus Petrie giggled. “Mister Jonse,” she said, “you have the best shop in the whole City.”
Jeff Jonse smiled and nodded. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said. She handed him coins and he handed her change. “Thank you for thinking of us,” he told her. Then, he watched her leave, letting the cold slip in the door as she did.
“I despise that woman,” he said, his voice curdling.
A young woman’s laugh reached his ears and he saw his granddaughter smiling at him, peeking down the staircase. “Grandfather,” she said. “Were you always so bitter?”
“Go back upstairs and keep studying!” he said. “You don’t want to be a shopkeeper when you grow up, do you?”
The girl came bouncing down the stairs. “Mayhap I do!” she said.
Her name was Eloise and she was only ten years old. But, her teachers said she was already ahead of everyone else in her classes. Ready to go to university, in fact.
Jonse ruffled her hair, suddenly finding his smile. “No, you do not. I know you do not. It is not kind to tease an old man like that.”
She grinned with her eyes shut. “Can I have a piece of candy?” she asked.
Jonse made a sigh. “Didn’t you have one earlier today?”
“Nope,” she said, putting her hands behind her back.
Jonse nodded. “All right,” he said. “But you go back upstairs. No more coming down here. I want you studying.”
She laughed and clapped and ran to the candy jar. She got a red one, her favorite, and plopped it into her mouth. Then, she ran back to the stairs.
“Only studying!” he shouted after her.
“Studying!” she shouted back.
“Promise me!”
“I promise!”
He watched the staircase for a while, forgetting that he was smiling. Then, he got his duster and walked over to the back shelves.
The door opened then, whipping in the cold air. Jonse found his frown. He walked from the back shelves to the front desk. “How can I...” he started.
The ork standing in the doorway was almost as tall as the ceiling. It must have turned sideways to come in through the door.
Jonse stood still. He had never seen an ork before, but he knew what one looked like. The soldiers told him. The ones that went off to protect the border villages. They told him orks were big.
“Big” was too small a word.
Jonse felt his jaw tremble. He tried to speak. The ork spoke first.
“Mishin,” it said.
Jonse felt his bones bending. His muscles nearly failed him. The sound the ork made echoed through the small room, shaking the glass.
“I’m -- I’m sorry,” Jonse said. “I -- don’t understand.”
The ork dropped an envelope on the counter. It spilled open, tossing coins all over the counter and the floor.
“Mishin,” it said again.
Jonse swallowed. He didn’t know what to say. “I...”
The ork spoke again. This time, louder. Angrier.
“Mishin.”
Jonse held himself up on the counter. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Then, he heard another voice from the stairwell.
“Grandfather?” Eloise asked.
Jonse spun around. “Get back upstairs!” he shouted. “Go on! Now!”
The ork’s voice bellowed. “Mishin!”
Jonse wanted to run for the door and call the watch, but how could he? The ork stood between him and the door. He started to back away, but his legs had no strength. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to plead with the thing, but he heard Eloise speak first.
“Shoosha. Paloo vana tel tana?” she said.
The ork’s eyes lit up and Jonse thought he saw something resembling a smile cross its lips. He looked back at Eloise. She was looking straight at the ork.
The ork spoke to her. “Hah shoosha. An paloo. Doth fotha fenay?”
Eloise looked at her grandfather. “He said that he has come a long way.”
Jonse just looked at her. “You speak...?”
She nodded. “A little,” she said. “We only started learning it a few days ago.” Then, she looked back at the ork. She put her hand on her chest. “Eloise,” she said.
The ork nodded and put his hand on his chest. “Futhka,” he told her.
She looked at Jonse. “His name is Futhka.”
Without knowing why, Jonse turned to the ork and looked up at its face. He saw its smile. Saw knowing behind its eyes.
Futhka’s eyes. His eyes.
“Jeff Jonse,” he said.
Futhka nodded. “Jeff Joh-nsh.”
Eloise spoke again and the ork listened. Then, it replied. She translated.
“He says that he is part of a winter hunting party,” she told him. “And that they were attacked. One of them is hurt badly...” she paused and asked what sounded to Jonse to be a question. Then, she nodded. “He is poisoned.”
“Attacked?” Jonse asked. “By who?”
Eloise frowned. “Men,” she said.
Jonse looked at the ork. Then, he said, “I’m sorry.”
The ork looked down at him. Then, he extended a hand and put it on Jonse’s thin shoulder. He spoke.
“He says,” Eloise translated, “that you didn’t do it.”
The ork spoke again. Eloise continued.
“He needs something to cure the poison,” she told Jonse.
The ork said, “Meshin.”
Jonse felt a quivering in his belly, like he had just solved a riddle.
“Medicine,” he said to the ork.
Futhka nodded. “Meshin,” he said again.
Jonse went to the medicine cabinet. “What does he need?” he asked Eloise. She asked the ork.
“He doesn’t know,” she said. “He doesn’t recognize the poison.”
Jonse asked, “Is the wound festering? Or is it green?”
She talked to the ork. Futhka answered.
“He said it is black. And there is puss.”
Jonse nodded. “I know what they used,” he said. He pulled three bottles from the shelf and came back to Futhka and Eloise.
He spoke to his granddaughter. “Tell him this. Tell him that one of these three will work. He can use all three if he needs to. Apply drops to the wound. If his friend says it burns, then they have the right antidote. If it doesn’t burn, they are using the wrong one.”
The ork listened to Eloise, then asked a question.
“It won’t hurt him if they use the wrong one?”
Jonse shook his head. “No. Old Mother Kane makes her elixirs for just such a circumstance.”
Eloise explained that to Futhka and he nodded. He took the bottles, then began walking toward the front door.
“Wait!” Jonse said.
Futhka stopped and looked.
Jonse grabbed the coins on the counter. “This is too much! You don’t need to pay me this much.”
Eloise translated. The ork shrugged. “Keep,” he said. “You can not eat gold.”
Jonse shook his head and gathered up the coins. “No, no,” he said. “Fair is fair.” He took a few of the coins and put the rest in the ork’s hand.
“There are other men,” he said, “who will trade you for this. Trade you good things.”
Futhka shook his head. “Nah,” he said.
Jonse nodded then said, “All right.” He turned back to Eloise. “Tell him to take more,” he said. “Blankets. Food. Whatever he wants. He just gave us enough coin for ten week’s business.”
Eloise translated. She opened her hands and gestured around the store. Futhka looked around. Jonse could see he was confused. So, he grabbed a blanket and put it at the ork’s feet. Then, he grabbed some oil and some dried fish. He took handfuls of stuff off the shelves and put it all in a large sack. Then, he handed the sack to the ork.
“Please,” he said. “If your friend needs help, I want to give it.”
Futhka looked down at Jonse for a long while. Then, he smiled. “Hah,” he said. He picked up the bag and gave the coins to the old man.
Just then, Jonse thought of something. He moved as fast as his old bones could carry him to the back of the counter and climbed the ladder. He took the last two jars of jellied peppers down.
“Here,” he said, giving them to the ork. “Take these.” He rubbed his stomach. “Yum,” he said.
Futhka laughed. Laughed as loud as his roar from before. He put his hand on his stomach.
“Yum,” he said.
