Children of Elium

1

       Betham stood silent. The oranges and pinks streaking across the sky made the village almost beautiful. On any other evening, the girl named Behler, who lay hidden in the tall weeds just at the edge of the village, might have paused to take in the sight, but not this evening. This evening she hid and watched the Gorlog who stood guard outside a small depot on the outskirts of the village. She’d seen him around many times. He was easily recognizable thanks to the large scar that ripped jaggedly across his missing right eye. While she waited for the day to give way to the night, she daydreamed about different ways the guard lost the ugly orb, and she smiled slightly as each way was more horrific than the last.

Gorlogs were despicable creatures. They had a tough, gray hide covered in hundreds of sharp, coarse hairs that could pierce a human’s skin. They lumbered about with bulky bodies, smashing and crashing through whatever may lay in their path. This particular one’s hulking frame took up the entire doorway behind it. Behler tried not to gag when it snorted and a large string of saliva slipped from its gaping mouth, trailing unbroken from its puffy lips to the ground. It wiped and slurped green globs of snot from its oozing snout.

“Gross,” she said to herself, happy to be upwind of it. She knew from experience it smelled like rotten eggs and pig kak. All the Gorlogs did.

She could have overlooked a lot of the physical ick if they’d had an ounce of decency toward any other living thing. 

Her attention was diverted when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

“Kak!” she cursed as she watched Dax, a boy just a bit older than her, walking down the path and heading their way.

The guard wasn’t remotely aware Dax was approaching. Gorlogs weren’t the highest quality guards, but they were cheap labor, happy to be paid in meat and ale.

The boy was carrying a wooden bucket. Behler knew he was heading to the river to collect water.

“Why are you taking the main path?” she whispered.

Most villagers believed the Armigoth’s guuns had contaminated the well at the center of the village. Anyone who drank much of the water changed. They become angry – or sad – or just empty. Once those types of feelings became strong enough, it was easier for the Armigoth to take hold.

No one really understood what the Armigoth was exactly. Behler had heard from others that it looked like a giant summer storm that never went away. But it was no summer storm, and it brought no rain. It only brought destruction to everything it touched.

It was still centered to the north, at Kilgen Castle – but it spread a little more every day.

In Betham, villagers often snuck to the river for water. Dax must have thought he could get by the Gorlog without trouble. He was probably right; Gorlogs usually didn’t give a kak about much except where their next meal was coming from.

As soon as Dax rounded the curve by the depot, though, the Gorlog jumped and shouted, “Stop right there! What do you think you’re doing?” It drew a stubby sword from its belt and pointed it directly at the boy's throat. Startled, Dax dropped his bucket. Behler tensed, but then the Gorlog started laughing. “Rik ta yuna,” he said in his native tongue. Clumsy moron. “What are you doing here?” It demanded but didn’t wait for an answer before it grabbed Dax by the nape of his neck and forced him to his knees.

Dax let out a little cry. “My mother needs water,” he explained, his voice meek and pitiful. Behler’s heart leapt as she watched the scene unfold.

“Water?” The Gorlog snarled. “Your mother needs water?” He taunted and released him. “Drink out of the well then, yuna,” He leered down at the boy, chuckling, then walked over and lifted his leg high and brought its foot crashing down onto the bucket, shattering it into splinters. The guard walked back over toward Dax then leaned down so that his face was just above the boy’s head. “How can you get water without a bucket, yuna?” Another string of drool fell from its mouth and across  Dax’s cheek – Behler had to grab the tall grass around her to keep herself from leaping out from her hiding place and challenging the Gorlog then and there.

She was completely wrapped up in the scene unfolding on the road, so when a rustling came from behind her she nearly jumped out of her skin. It was only Mathias, though, and she had been expecting him.

She looked back to see him crawling toward her through the thick grass. Once beside her, he sat up on his haunches. When he saw what was transpiring on the road, he glared at her with his best stern impression and gave his head a quick shake. He knew exactly what was going through her mind.

“Don’t. Do. Anything,” he ordered.

Dismissing him, Behler looked back toward Dax. “If it goes near him again, I will.”

Mathias shook his head. “No, you won’t.”

“What if it tries to kill him?” she whispered harshly.

“Bale. It's a Gorlog. You know they don’t kill anything.” He made a face of disgust as he looked through the weeds at the ogre-like guard. “Except maybe my appetite.”

  “I don’t care about your stomach right now, Mat” Behler snapped. She kept her eyes on the giant pig of a creature. “Something’s different about this kakweed.” She turned and looked at her best friend. “He just shoved Dax down. Hard.”

Mathias cocked his head to one side, contemplating the situation. “Yeah, I’ve never seen one do that…BUT—” he continued quickly, “Shoving him to the ground is a lot different than actually trying to kill him.”

She pointed toward the broken bucket remains. “He smashed his bucket,” she said, as if that changed everything.

“Oh, I see.” He nodded. “We should kill him then.” He rolled his eyes.

Behler still refused to yield. “We’re just going to knock him out anyway. What does it matter if we do it now or wait?”

“The whole point is that no one else will see what we’re up to,” he reminded her. “Dax can’t know we’re here.”

“If that pig makes one more move toward Dax, I’m going to do it.” She picked up her bow and started to place the arrow’s notch on the string.

Mathias sighed. “If he escalates any more, I’ll create a distraction, okay?”

She thought about it for a moment then said, “Okay,” she reluctantly agreed.

“What’s going on here!?”

Behler stiffened. The voice that had demanded that answer was one she knew well, but her heart still sank when a little old woman from the village came from around the back of the depot.

Tilda.

This plan was not going well.

The Gorlog growled. “None of your business old woman,” it snarled. “Move on,”

Tilda looked down at Dax, then back up at the guard. It was hard to tell what the guard was thinking under the layers of fatty skin covering its face.

Behler whispered to Mathias, “Something is definitely wrong with that Gorlog.”

Mathias nodded. “Maybe he has rivertick fever.” Behler shot him a dirty look. Only dogs got rivertick fever. “I’m serious,” he insisted. He wrinkled his nose. “They’re barely more than animals anyway.”

Behler raised an eyebrow. “Good point.”

“Release this boy,” Tilda said, her voice small but steady.

Behler’s heart was pounding in her chest. Tilda had been like a grandmother to her since she’d been small. She wasn’t surprised the feisty woman had stepped in, but she was terrified for her.

The Gorlog had still been leaning over Dax. It straightened and faced Tilda. “Move on, old woman.”

The cold, uncharacteristic hatred in the Gorlog’s voice had Behler gripping the arrow in her hand. If she let it fly now, there’d be no hiding. She’d be revealed to Dax and Tilda, and that was not part of the plan. Still, she wanted to put that arrow straight through the guard’s heart – but that was wishful thinking since the arrow she carried would only penetrate the Gorlog’s thick outer layer of skin. There was no way she could get it all the way to its heart, plus she wasn’t exactly sure where the thing’s heart was anyway.

She assumed it had to have one – somewhere.

Just as the tension on the road seemed to reach a breaking point, Samuel came from the same direction Tilda had only moments before.

“It’s a party now,” Mathias said in a low voice.

Samuel was one of the only people in the village who knew Behler and Mathias were hidden and waiting. He looked from Tilda to Dax who was still on the ground. “Enough of this,” Samuel said in a loud voice. He looked squarely at the Gorlog. “Enough.”

The Gorlog’s demeanor changed and his body language indicated he was backing off.

Tilda walked over to Dax and helped him up from the ground. She started guiding him back toward the village center.

As Samuel turned to walk away with Tilda and Dax, he looked over his shoulder and said, “I’ll be watching you, Gorlog.”

“I’ll be quaking in my boots, human.” He made a sound that must have been laughter, but there was nothing happy about the noise.

Tilda stopped and turned back to face the Gorlog. Without a word, she spat at his feet. That only made the Gorlog  laugh and wheeze even louder.

Mathias scanned the road. “No one’s coming and the light is almost gone. Shoot that son of a pig.”

Behler smiled and pulled the arrow back until the bow’s string was taut. She took aim with the arrow tipped in green nettle root – strong enough to knock a Gorlog out cold.

“Goodnight,” she whispered, then let the arrow fly.

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