Author's note: Thank you to Liter Knight for her careful editing!
Lands of the Vay
Chapter 1
Ronan Mordha crested a hill and reined in his horse. He gazed at the hillfort in the distance that acted as the seat of Sept E'Allain. The fort was a log palisade enclosing the top of a large hill. Between the fort and Ronan was a scattering of farms worked by the vay bound to the E'Allain. Ronan could just make out the details of the closest farm. He saw fields of wheat and potatoes ready to be harvested and a flock of sheep being herded by a pair of orcs. The E'Allain had been allies with his father for decades. When Ronan's father had taken the Dawnfort, the great human fortress that had held the vay back from the western lands for over a decade, he had helped the E'Allain claim some of the richest lands of the newly opened frontier. Based on the growing farms that dotted the vista ahead of him, those lands were prospering under the E'Allain's protection.
Ronan heard footsteps behind him and turned to see his two thraka walking up to him, leaving his ten orcs to lounge on the grass. The sight of his thraka and orcs filled him with pride. His father had given him permission to breed his own orcs when he had turned eighteen a few years ago and the thraka had been a gift from his father last year. Before the thraka had been bound to him they had served his father in his fight against their human enemies, and Ronan deeply respected their skill and experience.
His thraka were great specimens; Brug was a fighting thraka, over six feet tall and well muscled with the blue-gray coloration that was common among thraka. Lum was a scout thraka, shorter, thin and wiry, with dark green skin that would fade into forest and grassland easily, pointed, hand sized ears, and oversized eyes. They both had dark black hair they kept shiny and clean.
Ronan looked back at his orcs laying in the grass. His orcs were a more standard lime green, with their hunched postures and bow legs they were only a few inches over five feet, but their broad shoulders and muscular arms hinted at their tremendous strength and stamina. A lot of vay thought orcs were ugly but Ronan had always thought they were cute, with little piggy noses, pointed ears, and wide fanged mouths. They were lounging on the grass of the hill, a few were leaning against the cart they had been pulling that contained gifts for the E'Allain. They were having a quick snack of dried mushroom bars and the occasional insect they found picking through the grass. Resting orcs always had an ease to them that Ronan envied, their innocence left them free to just enjoy life. Orcs couldn't speak and could only follow basic instructions, but his were well trained and were easy to direct with whistles, clicks, and simple commands from him or his thraka. Most important of all, they all loved him. Whenever he looked at one of his orcs they gave him a pant of joy or a squeal, delighted to have his attention.
As his thraka reached him, Brug gave him a lazy salute.
"Hey, Brug," said Ronan.
"Boss. Admiring the view?" asked Brug.
"Yup, impressive, isn't it?" he asked, gesturing at the fort.
Brug looked at the hillfort on the horizon and took in the rough log walls, the small wooden gatehouse. Her broad, muscular shoulders rose in a shrug.
"It does look pretty well put together," she said, her tone carefully neutral.
Ronan smiled at the thraka's measured enthusiasm, "They did have to build it themselves. There wasn't a convenient human fort here for them to take over. And they did it in three years."
"Yeah, fair enough. And it'll keep the humans out. That's the important thing. Did you want to try and get there before dark? We might have to jog a little."
"That's true. We could stop at one of those farms," said Ronan, "The horses and orcs are going to be working hard for the next week so maybe we should take it easy now. I'm sure the E'Allain won't mind if we request a night's hospitality from their tenants."
Brug chuckled, a deep rumble from the center of her chest. Ronan tried to suppress his smirk but failed. They had stopped the last two nights at one of the many farms scattered across the new frontier. The farms closest to his home were his father's tenants, bound to his sept. Now that the summer harvest was in, the farms were looking to breed new orcs to help clear new fields for the fall planting and watch the ever expanding herds. His father had given him permission to help his farmvay with any of their needs and the vay at each farm had appreciated a visit from a young, handsome savay like Ronan to help breed those new orcs. He had not slept alone on any of the farms where they had stopped.
"I'm not going to complain about taking it easy, but these border savay get ornery if you poach their vay," said Brug.
Ronan knew Brug was right. They had left his father's territory and the vay living on the farms ahead of them would be bound to the savay of Sept E'Allain. It would be a gross insult for any other savay to put a litter in one of them without his permission.
"Good point, good point. Alright, you and the orcs up for a little jog? I'll make sure you get a pig or sheep to roast when we get there."
Brug smiled at his promise.
"I think we can handle it. For a roast pig I'll carry you there myself."
Ronan laughed and nudged his horse into motion, and his little party continued on its way to the fort.
...
A few hours later, Ronan and his thraka and orcs approached the fort. It was more impressive up close. The palisade was a good fifteen feet tall, made of logs that had been fused together and strengthened with the Song of Making. It would take a big force of humans to really threaten those walls. And there was a scout thraka on duty on the wall, her keen senses always on the lookout for the enemy.
By the time they reached the fort the E'Allain had come out to greet them. It was an impressively large group, a testament to the E'Allain's wealth and success. At the front of the group was Darragh, the sept's chief and senior savay. Darragh was short for a savay and everything about him was broad; broad shoulders, a broad square head with broad features. He had bright emerald skin and darker olive hair cut short and practical. He was dressed plainly, in a gray cotton shirt and tan pants, but all his clothes were handmade by a very skilled weaver. It was clear he was someone who cared about function, not ceremony.
Standing next to him was a tall, slender vay with skin the color of summer grass. If she was standing next to Darragh she would be the head housevay; the vay who had borne Darragh his eldest son and heir. She was absolutely striking, with fine cheekbones and sharp, hawklike features accentuated by blazing yellow eyes. She wore a fine white dress with red and pink embroidery that was cut to show off her figure. The arms of Sept E'Allain, a white horse on a blue field, were expertly embroidered on one shoulder. Her dark green-black hair was in a long braid threaded with thin gold chains that showed off their sept's prosperity. The housevay was so beautiful Ronan actually felt a small burst of surprise. All vay were beautiful, of course, in their own way, but he usually encountered vay this beautiful running households in the more settled lands back east, enjoying the comforts of civilization, not stuck roughing it on the border.
Arrayed behind the leading couple were four more vay, all with leather cords on their wrists indicating they were bound to Darragh. They were all very pretty as well, though none as striking as the head housevay. They varied from early middle age to only a little older than Ronan, some having been bound more recently than others. Most of the vay had a younger daughter standing next to them. The youngest was still a child and the oldest looked about his age.
Behind the bound vay was a cluster of their women servants. The human women looked just like vay, just as men looked like savay, but with all the green washed out of their skin and hair. Their skin was pink or pale or shades of tan and their hair was brown or golden or sometimes red. Most savay found women as attractive as vay, they had the same pleasing faces and curved bodies after all, and Ronan was no exception. There were some very pretty women in the small group of servants that made Ronan hopeful he would have another pleasant companion in bed tonight. Sleeping with a savay's bound vay was a serious insult but most savay did not mind if a guest bedded a willing human servant.
Ronan looked at the assembled vay and women with a fair bit of longing. Darragh's household was the ideal household every savay sought to build for himself; five bound vay who used their crafts for the benefit of the household and provided orcs in return for their savay's protection and support. A gaggle of daughters to dote on, orcs and thraka to do the menial labor and defend the home, and, more recently, a few women servants for the tedious chores that needed a sharp mind and to warm their savay's bed. This was not the household Ronan had grown up in. His father was one of the wealthiest and most powerful savay in the Brightlands and had a dozen bound vay that he replaced whenever he grew tired of them. The vision in front of him was what he had been taught to strive for and in many ways preferred. If he was lucky, he would be taking his first step towards achieving this dream while he was here, earning enough wealth to bind his first vay and start a household of his own.
Twenty pairs of red, yellow and orange eyes watched Ronan as he approached the fort. He worked hard to maintain his composure. This excursion was as much about diplomacy as it was about fighting humans. He was sure all the Vay looking at him would be judging his every word and action.
A moment later he reached the welcoming party and dismounted. Brug held his horse while he approached Darragh. Ronan gave him a small bow.
