They drew their swords. Harruq held an arm defensively in front of Qurrah, his eyes darting in all directions. Slowly, the leader extended the stick, poking it against Harruq’s chest. The soft glow turned into a brilliant flare of emerald.
“Elves,” the man said. “No doubt about it.”
He laughed to the others and then punched Harruq in the gut. As the half-orc doubled over, the guard grabbed his hair and tugged.
“Got to be a disguise,” he said. Another guard used the hilt of his sword to strike Harruq’s back. The blow blasted the air out of his lungs. The leader of the guards tugged all along Harruq’s face, pulling hair and scratching skin.
“I’ll be,” he said. “It is real. No illusion and no disguise. You two cretins have god-damned elf blood in you.”
“You jest,” Qurrah said, hanging back and showing no sign of aggression. The soldiers clearly thought Harruq the more dangerous of the two, and he was more than willing to let them continue thinking that.
“No jest,” the guard said. “You two are leaving this city, now.”
“My things,” Harruq said, his voice coming out as a weak croak.
“I don’t see anything,” said the guard, scooping down and retrieving the scattered coins Harruq had dropped.
“In the shed,” Qurrah said.
“That where you two live?”
“Yes.”
“Fine,” the leader said. “Go and get whatever the abyss you can carry.”
Harruq climbed into the shed, throwing Qurrah a worried look before he did. When he came out holding his sheathed swords to his chest, the guards tensed, readying their weapons.
“Drop those right now,” they ordered him. Harruq clutched them tight, and the look on his face was clear. He would fight, and die, before he gave them up. The lead guard, already having their coin as well as the bonus of having found elves in hiding, was willing to let it slide.
“You draw them, even fiddle with them in their sheaths, you die, that clear?” he told the half-orc. Harruq nodded, again saying nothing.
“Calm yourself,” Qurrah whispered to his brother as the two marched in front of the guards toward the main streets.
“Trying,” Harruq whispered back.
They marched at sword point. Onlookers cackled as they passed, figuring the two were thieves or vagrants caught brawling. Their orcish features lent them no kindness, and a few children even threw rocks until the guards shooed them away. The whole while Harruq burned with shame and rage.
They reached the western gate, which remained open during the day. Without ceremony, they were kicked through, both falling to the dirt and scraping their knees.
“Get going,” one said. “See if somewhere else will take your mutt ass.”
It was not just adrenaline that caused Harruq’s hands to shake, but Qurrah put his hand on his wrist and begged him to calm.
“Never forget this shame,” he said. “Let it burn in you. Let it be a reminder of what I have always said. We are better, superior. Never feel guilt at what we do to them, for you see what they would do to us.”
Harruq stood, brushed some dirt from his pants, and then offered Qurrah a hand. Together they trudged west, without food, water, or blankets. The guards watched them go, smirking all the while.
That night Harruq collected a bunch of sticks and twigs, which Qurrah lit with a clap of his hands. The two huddled over the fire, each lost in their thoughts. Harruq broke the silence first.
“So where will we go?” he asked.
“Where else is there?” Qurrah said. “Perhaps we were meant to go to Woodhaven. The journey will not be long, perhaps a week or two at most. There are enough animals about for me to kill, so do not worry about food. As for water, there are many small streams, and we can beg from the occasional farms we pass. We were to leave anyway, now we do so sooner.”
“Sooner?” Harruq said. “We paraded through the city like criminals and were tossed out with swords at our backs. If we were to leave, I wanted to leave on our own terms, not like that.”
He swore a few times, getting progressively more colorful as he went.
“Two minutes alone with that guard,” he muttered. “I’d have him drinking through a brand new hole in his neck.”
“How skilled are you with those?” Qurrah asked, gesturing at the swords in the grass next to Harruq. Even though they lived in such cramped quarters, Qurrah still knew very little of Harruq’s life other than what he did at his request.
“I’ve watched the guards training new men,” Harruq said, drawing a blade and holding it with one hand. “And I’ve been practicing every night after you’re in bed and no one is around to watch and get curious. Near the castle they have these stumps for smacking with your sword. Not sure what for, but it helps them, and it seemed to help me. I snuck over there plenty of times. No one guards a big, beaten log.”
“But you have yet to face men in combat,” Qurrah said. “Do not be overzealous about your skills. Confident, perhaps, but not foolish. Don’t die on me, brother, for I need you more than ever.”
“Yeah, I know,” Harruq said, growing quiet. The subject of Qurrah’s experiments always made him uneasy.
“This time there will be a slight difference,” Qurrah said.
“What’s that?”
The half-orc shook his head.
“Not now. Another time I will explain.”
The two grew quiet, and they stared at the fire as the time passed. At last, when Harruq was sure Qurrah would not bring up the subject, he spoke.
“About the guards,” he said. “You think they’re telling the truth?”
Qurrah glanced up.
“About the elven blood in us?”
“Yeah.”
Qurrah chuckled, but it was mirthless.
“I do, and it does not surprise me as much as it should. I’m not sure who would mate with our mother, but some elf man did. We are smarter than most realize, you know that. Our features are sharper, and we only resemble the orcs that attacked Veldaren. It is a part of us. Unwanted, perhaps, but I shall not cower and hide a part of who I am.”
“Just strange, is all,” Harruq said.
“Life is strange.”
They both lay down to rest, a new life awaiting them in Woodhaven.