Fighting for Food

8/4/2019 Fighting for Food

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Fighting For Food

Brandon Pilcher

Chollo dreaded the moment he and his hunting party had to

return to their village, but since the hot savanna sun had now

started sinking towards the western horizon, he knew it was

time. He had let the people he led down again, for today neither

his arrows nor those of his hunters had struck any game, as had

been the case in the last six days. The local waterholes' drying

had driven the herds away to greener pastures. Chollo was used

to such migrations, but with the past few rainy seasons being so

meager, the animals were spending less and less time in his

people's territory. Meat was now a rare luxury that he would not

enjoy tonight. Instead he would dine on his wife's sorghum

bread, and even that reminded him that the harvests had been

shrinking too.

It was with heavy hearts and remorseful frowns that the

hunters returned to their cluster of mud huts. Everyone else's

eyes were on him, undoubtedly hoping that he had brought

something back. They would be disappointed. To see his people so

scrawny and skeletal filled Chollo's eyes with tears. Most

painful of all was the sight of his wife and two children, a son

and daughter who both resembled twigs.

Joining his sympathy was shame for his failure to slake

their hunger pangs, and then there was a tinge of anger towards


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the people's ancestors for their lack of compassion. Why hadn't

they blessed him for so long? He wondered whether he should ask

the village shamans that question, but then he vividly

remembered how they had desperately sacrificed a young woman to

appease the ancestors. Chollo didn't want his wife to suffer the

same fate.

Strange metallic trumpeting sounded over the villagers'

chatter. Chollo's heart began to throb faster. Was this some

kind of animal he had never heard before? Had the ancestors

heard his people's prayers at last? Chollo hoped so as he and

his compatriots rushed to the village's central plaza.

The sight that greeted them was indeed spectacular, but it

was not quite what he had expected. Trotting into the plaza from

the village's front gate were three large animals that looked

like big zebras without stripes. Atop these creatures' backs

were the strangest men Chollo had ever seen. Two of them had

their bodies covered with glistening iron plates while the

leading third had a crimson silk cloak over a green, gold-

embroidered tunic. If their clothes weren't unusual enough,

their physical appearances were even more alien. Their skin was

pale instead of black like Chollo's kind; their hair was long,

straight, and pale yellow instead of black and crimped; their

facial features were so narrow that they looked pinched; and

their pointed ears were so long that they pierced far out of


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their hair.

At first Chollo could not imagine what these mysterious

creatures could possibly be, but then he remembered the stories

he'd heard as a boy about strange little white men with pointed

ears from the far north. What were they called again--elves?

Whatever, he was so rapt with incredulous attention at them that

he could not blink.

The red-cloaked elf dismounted his animal and strutted

towards the crowd of villagers before him. Chollo noticed then

that the elf was much shorter than any man he had ever seen; the

top of the creature's head would barely reach up to an adult

woman's nipples. Yet for all the stature he lacked, the elf's

grin spoke of smugness, as if he somehow thought himself better

than his human hosts.

"Greetings from the Luminous Elven Empire of Caerlynea," he

began to announce with a strong foreign accent. "I am Dennigan,

an emissary sent by Her Imperial Magnificence, Empress Bethany.

I presume this village belongs to the Nkanja tribe?"

Yes, Chollo said. And I am Chief Chollo. What brings you

to our country?

"It is to our understanding that your people's land and the

human lands in general have suffered from a horrible drought and

famine of late, and we would like to address this."

The once silent crowd replied with murmuring among


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themselves. Chollo's heart rate went up again. Had he heard the

elf say his Empire would do something about the famine?

The emissary continued, "Our Empress is a compassionate and

generous woman, so she has promised that she will share our

country's bountiful food with you. Imagine great mountains of

the finest elven cuisine filling your granaries! I tell you the

truth when I say that your people will never go hungry again."

Chollo and his people erupted into cheering and clapping,

shouting out praises to the ancestors for their blessing.

"Hold on, hold on!" Dennigan said. "We will provide your

people with food on one condition. You see, unrest is boiling in

our Empire's northern provinces; the native orcs refuse to mine

gold and ore for us and have rebelled. Now the orcs are a very

large and strong race, whereas we elves as you can see are puny

and weak, so we have little hope of suppressing them by

ourselves. This is where you humans come in."

"So you want us to fight these orcs for our food," Chollo

said.

"That is correct. Your race is the second-strongest in the

world that we know of, so your warriors' aid would be

invaluable."

Chollo hesitated for a moment to consider what the elves

were offering. Finally he replied, "You intend to use us as

tools to keep these orcs down. I do not know if we can in good


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conscience help you oppress them like that."

"Fair enough. If your conscience wants you and your people

to starve, then so be it."

That stung Chollo worse than any hornet could. He didn't

want to deny the orcs their freedom, but neither did he want his

own tribe to die of hunger. He had to choose between an alien

race living in the distant north and the people he had known

since birth.

"No, we will fight for you," he said.

"Wise thinking, my good man," Dennigan said back. "Anyone

else?"

Male hands shot up and waved in the air. The elf smiled. So

did Chollo, who gazed up at the cloudless sky and thanked the

ancestors for finally listening to his prayers.

#

The needly branches of spruce trees scratched each other as

a cool spring breeze whistled through the woods. Feeling this

wind brush against his skin made Chollo shiver. Besides that, it

was barely warm enough for him and the other human warriors to

wear only their traditional leopardskin kilts. Any cooler than

this and they'd have to don the itchy woolen cloaks the elves

had provided.

All that being said, the weather was the least of Chollo's

worries. He and his company were deep in a forest that was


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technically part of the Caerlynean Empire, but was home to an

indigenous population of orcs. Chollo had not actually seen an

orc for himself yet, but elven descriptions of them he'd heard

were enough to have dread's icy claws gripping his spine. He

knew that, somewhere in the forest's pervasive blackness,

perhaps behind the trees or within the brushy undergrowth, the

creatures were lurking, perhaps watching him with frosty blue

eyes. That thought made his skin crawl over his flesh.

It didn't help that these northern woods were a very

unfamiliar environment to a human from the savannas of the far

south. Chollo's kind were used to rolling, open expanses with

only scattered acacia and baobab trees, a habitat where animals

could easily be spotted from a distance. Here, only sparse,

narrow beams of light poking through the needly canopy allowed

him to see anything. Still, he applied as many of his savanna

survival skills as he could as he stole through the woods. He

held his torso low, closely studied everything around him, and

listened carefully for disturbances to the forest's tranquility.

He heard vegetation rustle again, but there was no wind

this time. That was strange.

"What was that?" Chollo whispered.

"Probably just a deer or something," Captain Haldrean, a

middle-aged elf who was in charge of Chollo's company, answered.

His plate armor shone dimly in the forest's gloom. "Carry on."


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The rustling returned, this time louder than before. Twigs

snapped. Chollo's heart pounded like battle drums and he

tightened his grip on his spear. He had seen deer a few times

before while traveling through the elves' country, and he knew

the antelope-like animals were nowhere near big enough to make

that kind of noise. "You think it could be orcs?" Chollo asked.

"Possibly, but don't worry too much," Haldrean said. "Orcs

aren't smart enough to plan ambushes. More likely it just went

out into the woods to defecate or something."

Chollo shrugged. He wasn't sure whether Haldrean was right

or if he was merely expressing typical elven arrogance, but

either way Chollo didn't have the authority to question him, so

he let it go.

The dirt path they had been marching on eventually led to a

wooden palisade with a closed gate. Chollo could make out the

thatched roof of huts rising from behind the wall, which

painfully reminded him of his own village back in the far south,

yet he knew the settlement had to be orcish. Despite that, no

one stood by the gate. That was odd. One would think a large

force of orcs would be guarding it, ready to attack any

invaders--

Thundering roars shattered the silence. Shock paralyzed

Chollo. To his left and right, he saw bushes thrashing. Dozens

of huge brown blurs crashed out of them and raced down to his


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army's flanks. When these forms were just feet ahead of him, he

saw them for what they were.

They were men almost as towering as elephants. Brown furs

and leather armor covered their bulky bodies. Blue paint striped

their white-skinned faces, which had burning blue eyes and

mouths with jagged fangs. With thickly muscled arms the beings

carried wooden bucklers and great gleaming axes. These creatures

matched the descriptions of orcs Chollo had heard, yet to see

them in the flesh charging at him made them much more terrifying

than anything he had imagined before.

An orc was heading towards him with its ax raised right

now. Chollo was tempted to run, but he was blocked by fellow

soldiers and more orcs. He was trapped. Praying silently to the

ancestors for luck, he thrust his cowhide shield in front of

him. The orc's weapon struck the shield so hard that it tore

through it. Now Chollo, to his own horror, was without

protection.

The human warrior recoiled. His attacker swung its ax at

him twice but both times he ducked out of its movement arc. Now

that he was low, Chollo thought he could perhaps trip the brute

with a jab to its foot. As he drew his spear back for momentum,

the orc sent its foot crashing into his abdominals. Now the

human was on his back with pain burning in his torso.

While Chollo wrestled with his agony, his opponent lifted


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its ax up again. Seeing such an enormous figure about to kill

him from low on the ground struck him with enough terror that it

spurred him into rolling away before the ax-blade could cut into

him. Chollo then shot up onto his feet. Now he was in a good

position to attack the orc's flanks. Feeling empowered, he

lunged towards his enemy with spear forward. It was an

unpleasant shock for him when the orc shoved its buckler into

his way and blocked the spear's point.

The warrior thrusted his spear again and again at the orc's

exposed areas, but each time it parried him with the buckler.

Frustration and fear together racked Chollo as he struggled with

his offensive maneuvers. He really wanted to kill the beast

before it killed him, but it seemed impossible.

"Try surprising him!" he heard Haldrean's voice yell over

the clamor of battle.

Chollo stepped back to consider what his captain had

advised, all the while continuing to dodge the orc's attacks.

How could he possibly surprise his enemy? He would have to do

something unexpected, something he had never done before--wait,

he had an idea.

The human jumped high into the air. The orc stood there

stunned as he then plunged his weapon into its mouth. A fountain

of blood poured out and the giant collapsed onto the ground with

an earthshaking thud. Pride swelled within Chollo's breast as he


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gazed at the huge corpse. Never before had he killed anything so

big!

Now it was time to help his company.

Chollo saw Haldrean continually running around, evading

another orc's attacks. He ran into the fray, leapt again, and

speared the nape of the orc's neck.

"Thank the Goddess you came along," Haldrean panted once

the brute had fallen.

Fear did not sting Chollo for the rest of the battle. He

darted around the battlefield stabbing orcs in the back,

escaping their axes with speed and agility. Eventually his

muscles began to burn and ache and his breath shortened, but

bloodlust and newfound boldness distracted him from this minor

discomfort.

Apparently the ambushing orcs had not been numerous enough,

for although the path was swamped with human and elven bodies,

it was the orcs who ultimately routed. Crying out their panic in

their guttural language, they stampeded away from the scene and

through the now open village gate.

"They're escaping into the village," Haldrean said. "After

them! Kill them all and raze their den to the ground!"

Chollo was stunned by his captain's command. "But we have

won the battle. Is that not enough?"

"We want to send a message to these orcs that they'll never


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forget. Let no man, woman, or child live."

No orc had horrified Chollo like what he had just heard.

"Even the children?"

"Do you want food for your people or not? Now go!"

Chollo did not want to argue any more. Instead he and the

other humans charged through the gate and began to attack

panicking orcs all around them. Screams and hollers of death

filled his ears as the bodies of orcs--male and female, young

and old--littered the dirt roads. Torches were tossed onto the

huts' thatched roofs, which blossomed into flame. The settlement

now stank of blood, spilled entrails, and smoke.

Chollo spotted an orc woman huddling against a wall, a

child clinging tightly to her. Running up to them, he saw the

twinkle of tears filling up their terror-widened eyes. The orc

woman wrapped her arms around her son and murmured what were

undoubtedly soothing words to him. That was exactly what a human

woman would do with her child in the same circumstances.

Certainly that was what his wife would do with their children.

That realization watered Chollo's eyes.

Then he remembered what Haldrean had said. He remembered

Dennigan's promise. And he remembered his starving people far

back south.

But was that really worth taking the lives of innocent

people?


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What are you waiting for? he heard Haldrean shout from

behind him. Send that spear through them!

Chollo simply stood there.

All right, Ill do it myself! the elf said. He stormed

over to the orc woman and drew his sword. Chollo shut his eyes

so he couldnt see it, but he could hear screaming and the sound

of metal slicing through flesh.

He was too mortified to move.

#

Chollo twisted and turned inside his tent that night, but

he could not sleep. Horrible images of what he and the other

human warriors had done to the orcish village at the elves'

command haunted his mind. He could barely believe that he had

been part of the army guilty of the carnage. What would he tell

his wife when he returned home? He didn't want to lie about it,

but he knew she would be rightly horrified if he admitted to

having served among those who had slain women and children.

You did the right thing for your people, a voice inside his

head repeated, but a rival voice scolded him for going along

with the massacre. The two voices chanting at the same time

drove Chollo mad.

Why did he have to kill innocent people to feed his own?

Why did he have to choose between his own tribe's starvation and

the extermination of another? Either way, one of the tribes


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would be wiped out. Then it occurred to Chollo that perhaps

there was a third way. It would be a difficult and risky way,

but it would be better than starvation or genocide.

Chollo carefully slid out of his sleeping sack and peered

outside his tent. Scanning the camp around him, he saw that no

humans or elves were standing outside; everyone was apparently

asleep. Silver light, reflected from an almost full moon, beamed

down from a starry sky. That was good; it meant he could see in

the darkness. The Nkanja grabbed his spear, slipped out of his

tent, stole across the camp, and vanished into the forest beyond.

He knew exactly where he was going. He had seen maps on

parchment of this particular province before, so he recalled

that there lay another orcish village a day's travel north of

the one his army had razed. Using the moonlight poking through

the spruce needles as his guide through the woods, he began his

journey northward.

A day passed. The sun had begun its westward descent by the

time Chollo reached his destination. Like the other village, the

one he was approaching girdled by a wooden palisade, but this

time two orcish warriors armed with axes stood by the gate. Both

of them bared their teeth when he entered their line of sight.

"Hey, blackskin!" one of the orcs roared. "Who do you think

you are to come here to Grokkholm?"

"I mean no harm this time," Chollo said. "Now could you


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please let me in? I need to speak with your chieftain."

"You mean no harm? Ha! 'Says one of the brutes who

massacred the population of Nekrik just yesterday! I bet you're

an assassin sent by the elves."

"I speak the truth. Now please give me a chance! I promise

you that humans and orcs alike will benefit from what I have to

offer."

The two orcs looked at each other, shrugged, and pushed the

gate open. When Chollo entered the village of Grokkholm, he was

greeted by hostile glares from the native orcs. He had full

empathy for their rage at him, but it made him uneasy

nonetheless. He knew that if his diplomacy somehow went wrong

today, they would eagerly cut him to pieces.

Chollo recognized the chief's hut as the largest in the

village, which was saying a lot since orcish huts in general

tended to be significantly larger than human ones. The chief

himself sat inside on a bearskin mat. Despite his hut's grand

size, he wasn't a particularly large orc, but his moose-antler

headdress, necklace of bear fangs, and head held up high made

him look imposing despite what he lacked in height. When Chollo

prostrated before him, the chief replied with a glare that was

even sharper and more spine-chilling than those of the other

orcs.

"Who is the black man that dares cower before me?" the


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chief boomed.

"It is I, Chollo, chieftain of the Nkanja humans," Chollo

said. "I am in the service of the elves, but I wish to recant

this."

"Recant? Wait a moment, you're one of the humans who

slaughtered the good people of Nekrik yesterday! Do you honestly

think you can just recant such a massacre?"

"I acted under orders. The elves promised that they would

cure our people of a famine if we fought for them. You would not

believe how hotly my conscience burns me for that."

The orc chieftain paused to pluck his silvery beard. "That

must have been a difficult decision to make, I admit."

"It was, but it has occurred to me that there is a third

choice: we humans could join your rebellion and fight against

the elves. That way, we could scare them into giving us food and

your people freedom. Do you think that is a good idea?"

Again the chief paused to consider what Chollo was

offering. His thin-lipped mouth curved slightly into a smile.

"It sounds like it could be beneficial to both our

peoples," he said. "I will speak with my council about it

tonight. Persuading them in light of yesterday's events will be

difficult but I will do my best to do it. You have my word.

"Thank you," Chollo replied. "I promise you that my people

will never again slaughter yours. We shall be allies from now


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on."

And with that, he ran out of Grokkholm and started his trip

back to his camp.

The closer Chollo got to his camp, the more he shuddered.

The problem wasn't that he was worried about convincing the

other humans that they had to join the orcs, for he was sure

that most of them felt as guilty as he did about the massacre

two days ago. It was their elven commanders that he feared. They

may have been short, but they had authority and plate armor.

Then again, there were more humans than elves in his army.

Perhaps his compatriots had a chance after all.

When he finally re-entered camp, he was greeted by Captain

Haldrean, whose now scarlet face was contorted with rage.

"So where have you been, deserter?" he screeched. "You've

been gone for almost two days! Do you know what the punishment

for abandoning your camp is, human?"

Chollo tightened his grip on his spear. "No, and I don't

care!" he said. "I have had it with your elven arrogance and

cruelty. You force us to oppress and kill innocent people just

so we can feed our own. Well I for one will not go along with

it. I believe we humans should side with the orcs from now on

and pry your food out of your clutches!"

The other humans in the camp roared and brandished fists in


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support of his proposition.

Haldrean raised his sword and aimed its tip at Chollo. "You

do that at your own peril, you kinky-haired barbarian!"

"So I shall," Chollo replied. He jabbed his spear at

Haldrean's face, but the elf escaped with a sidestep. Spinning

around to face his opponent, Chollo repeated his attack. This

too Haldrean evaded. Again and again Chollo tried to stab the

little villain, but the elf dodged his every thrust. That was

when Chollo realized that he was to elves what orcs were to his

own race: bulky and clumsy.

Dizziness from all his twisting had disoriented the human

warrior and sickened his stomach. The only thing tearing him out

of his daze was a forward thrust of Haldrean's weapon. Chollo

bent his torso to avoid the blade, but it grazed his flank. So

sharp was the pain that it forced a holler out of him. Another

sword stroke from the elf slashed his back and brought him down

on his knees.

Haldrean cackled. "Funny how you blackskins can beat orcs

but not elves," he said.

Earlier Chollo had let his wounds torture him, but his

captain's insult distracted him from the pain by rekindling his

hatred. How badly he wanted to tear this little monster to

pieces! Yet he had to take Haldrean's armor into account. He had

to somehow find a gap in it where he could insert his weapon,


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but then how would he get the elf to stop moving?

Chollo had to use his head.

He thrust his body forward and rammed his head into the

captain's breastplate. The impact was dizzying but it knocked

Haldrean onto his back. Chollo then took his spear and sent it

down towards his nemesis's mouth. The elf rolled away. He then

started pushing himself back up, but before he could get onto

his feet, Chollo pounced on him and pinned him down with his

weight. Then he pushed his spear into the back of the elf's

skull, staining his once yellow hair red.

Chollo looked up from his kill to see that the other humans

had begun to gang up on their elven officers too. This time,

they had the advantage of numbers, so the elves' armor counted

for nothing. Chollo grinned with triumph. It would not be long

before he and his fellow human warriors would rid themselves of

elven authority and join the orcs. Then human and orc together

would storm towards the heart of the Caerlynean Empire and give

Empress Bethany a piece of their minds. Then the orcs would have

their freedom. Then Chollo's own human race would have food.

A new war had begun.

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Fighting for Food