Thank you as always to Emma Kendrick for providing her thoughts on the chapter!
The humid air hung heavy around the party as they made their way through the underbrush. A grotesque insect, as large as a baby bird, with spindly limbs and iridescent wings, buzzed past Gwennalyn, circling her for a moment before flying off, repelled by the special balm the members of the group had applied to any exposed skin.
The princess had spent enough time in forests to be unperturbed by nature.
But this is a different world than the forests back home.
The trees were taller and boasted thick crowns of multicolored leaves. Long, gnarled branches provided plenty of places for animals to perch. On the jungle floor, plants bloomed, in green, red, pink, yellow, and all sorts of vibrant hues. Some were small and humble, tucked into the curls of a tree's roots, while others were large and proud, with thin stalks swaying in the air or brilliantly colored petals demanding attention.
And then there were the animals.
Back in the Free Lands, wildlife in the forests, especially in those areas heavily trafficked by people, generally stayed clear of interlopers unless directly threatened.
But the animals here had no fear.
In the first few minutes of their trek through the jungle, they had encountered a group of angry copper-furred monkeys chittering at them, a large slug-like creature that had been inching its way over the ground before slowly disappearing into a bush, a shaggy-feathered bird of decadently colored plumage that had burst from one of the trees, a small blue-skinned rodent unlucky enough to be unceremoniously snatched up by that bird, and finally, what had looked like a boar with a turtle shell on its back snuffling at the roots of a tree with dirt-stained tusks.
The boartoise is definitely my favorite so far.
Some of the other animals Gwennalyn had seen in menageries, but most were completely new and entirely bizarre. She stayed alert so that she could see every animal that revealed itself. That effort also distracted her from the stifling humidity and the soreness at various points on her body.
The party had left Coronhar two days ago. The first part of the trip had been by boat, along the coast and then into the mouth of the God's Wrath River. Partway up the river, they had disembarked and spent the night in a small village. The next day, they had set out on horseback, headed towards a mountain range, its peaks rising above the horizon. At the foot of one, they had been met by Valenzian rangers, orcs tasked with safeguarding the idyllic jungles of Eastern Valenzis. The rangers had provided the party with mountain goats for the next part of the trip, a trek through the treacherous passes threading the formidable peak. The goats were more surefooted than horses, but their herky-jerky gait made for an uncomfortable ride, and her mount, Bastard, had lived up to his name with an unpleasant attitude and general rebelliousness towards anything she tried to get him to do.
The trek had started out arduous, due to the uncomfortable ride, and the thinning air high up on the peak.
I would think I'd be used to a sore ass and asphyxiation by now...
The view on the way down the other side of the mountain more than made up for the arduous trek. Thanks to Bastard's natural surefootedness, she had been able to take in every detail.
The jungle lands were spread out before them, a shimmering green swath, the color almost impossibly rich. The other peaks in the range hemmed the green in, each one jutting up majestically into the sky. A silver sliver sliced through from the east, the God's Wrath River after the portion of its length that had earned it its name. The party had begun the trek down just as sunset had begun, so that waning light had bathed the vista in a soft glow. The princess had not taken her eyes from it until they reached the bottom.
Once there, more Valenzian rangers had met them, and after relieving the party of their mounts, set them up in a nearby lodge for the night.
After a quick breakfast, the party had set out several hours ago, traipsing through the jungle towards their destination, two rangers serving as their guides.
Although her feet were sore from walking in her riding boots, and her back and shoulders ached from hoisting her bag, Gwennalyn was entranced by the landscape, shrugging off the discomfort to better enjoy such a different and strange environment.
She bumped into the orc in front of her then.
As she was the smallest of the party, and there were plenty of dangerous animals around, they had placed her in the middle of the group.
And now, they closed ranks around her. The orc she had bumped into closed a hand around the haft of the massive axe slung over his back. She glanced around in confusion but saw nothing.
The leaves on a tree to their right began to rustle. When she looked over, she saw something moving there, flashes of a large figure visible through the cover of those leaves.
That large figure leapt from the tree a moment later and landed gracefully.
More followed, leaping from other trees. The party relaxed their defensive postures, the orc in front of her taking his hand off his axe.
These must be the tribals.
Their large, muscular frames, and skin in varying shades of green marked as them as orcs.
However, their features were more brutish, with heavier brows, deep-set eyes, and small, tusk-like fangs jutting up from the lower jaw. Orange tattoos decorated their bodies here and there, different orcs boasting different patterns and symbols. There were plenty of tattoos to see, as all they wore was a loincloth. Splashes of orange also showed up in their hair, again in different symbols and shapes, although some eschewed coloring their shaggy black hair and instead had trinkets threaded through the thick tresses. Each one wielded a weapon, either a crude axe or a sharp spear; the first who leapt wore a curved horn around his neck.
He now strode towards the party, calling over enthusiastically with guttural chuffs. The king stepped forward to greet him with a similar enthusiasm and his own chuffs. The two spoke for a few moments, and then the king turned back to the party.
"They will lead us to the village," he said, waving for them to follow as the tribal orcs began to walk away.
After a few minutes, the group came upon a large cairn, the stones emblazoned with orange symbols. A second stood a dozen yards after the first, and a third stood a dozen more after that.
Finally, the group came upon a long row of tall stakes rammed into the ground. Each stake had a small, orange flag tied to its top. As the party made their way past the stakes, the leader of the tribal group raised the horn to his lips and blew two quick notes, followed by a third, longer one.
A few minutes after they crossed the row of stakes, the ground began to slope upwards. There was a path hewn from the underbrush, cleared of trees and other vegetation. It followed the slope, and then turned left.
When the party rounded that bend, they were met by a large crowd of tribal orcs, who let out a boisterous cheer. The tribal orcs who had met the party earlier led them through the crowd, who parted to either side.
The crowd's collective attention was on King Victorin, who waved and nodded. A few young children peered at her in curious amazement, but besides them, no one spared her a second glance.
I thought I would be more of a spectacle here.
The path wound around languidly. The trees on either side gave way to more cleared-out areas. Some held a large hut, others gardens, others livestock pens, others simply empty.
The crowd grew larger as more orcs appeared, the new arrivals also cheering for the king. She glanced around, taking in as much as she could, of the sprawling village but mainly the gathering orcs.
During the walk into the village, she had studied the tribal orcs who had met them.
Do they all wear loincloths? What do the females wear? And do they all have tattoos and things in their hair?
The walk had given her plenty of time to think of what the rest of the tribe would be like, and now, she had her answers.
Every orc had tattoos and some sort of differentiation in their hair. The tattoos were different from one to another, with unique patterns, shapes, and symbols. Some orcs had splashes of orange in their hair, others instead had small items threaded there, and a few had both. The only bit of clothing was a loincloth, although a few orcs wore a sling over their chests, the sling carrying a baby and thus only incidental clothing. The females left their upper bodies uncovered except for the ubiquitous tattoos, so there were exposed breasts all around.
When the king had explained the trip to her, he had mentioned that they would wear clothing provided by the tribe once with them.
"No dresses, gowns, or even trousers," he had said. "They dress very simply."
I had imagined something simple. But not just a loincloth.
A shiver ran over her at the thought of wearing just a loincloth and showing off her body to these tribal orcs.
