Fantasy | War | Morality

A Severed Past

The shackles that tie orcs and humans

Content warning: This story explores mature themes like death, physical violence, and psychological trauma.

The setting sun shrouded General Karghuk’s orcish features in a fiery outline as he watched me with crossed arms. The sky was painted a bloody red over Baktra, the war village, and soldiers marched about in their training gear.

My feet shifted on the dust of the sparring field as I studied my opponent, the weight of the General’s gaze on my shoulders. We were different, my opponent and I. She was a full orc, while only half my blood was orcish. She wielded a flail — a spiked ball attached to a handle by a thick chain — and was protected by a wooden shield. I, on the other hand, had no shield and no armor. The only metal over my chest was an amulet.

She watched my movements as I gripped tightly at the handle of the massive war axe I used as a weapon, thick orcish skin covering my muscles. We both had the same goal — impressing General Karghuk — though our motivations differed.

She raised her flail on a tall arc and attacked. I dodge at the last moment, sliding my hands toward the blade of my axe. I used the handle to hit her on the chin, and she stumbled back, disoriented.

Karghuk watched me, his expression unchanged. He nodded ever so slightly at my opponent.

When I looked at her, she was already leaping into another attack, the spiked ball flying over her head in a swift movement. I lifted my axe at the last moment and blocked the blow, the spikes swinging inches from my face as the chain wrapped itself around the handle.

I swung the axe free and the blade hooked the weapon away from her hands. She stepped back, hiding behind the wooden shield.

I looked at the General and he gave me a subtle nod.

Then I raised my axe and let it fall with all I had. The blade found the wood protecting her, splinters ejecting from it. The impact was so powerful that my opponent stumbled and fell. Raising my axe with a roar, I swung at her once more.

“I yield!” she said, bracing behind the splintering wood.

With a growl, I attacked again, ignoring her call — such was Karghuk’s way. The wood of her shield gave and cracked. Then, a sharp voice cut through the daze.

“That’s enough, Saskul,” the General said.

It was all it took to make me stop mid-movement. I took a couple of steadying breaths, lowered my axe, and stood at attention.

Karghuk’s lips curled into a shape that looked faintly like a smile. He was proud, and a small fire came to life inside me. I hated that smile, but I craved it like the blade of my axe craved the blood of our enemies.

With the fight over, I helped my opponent to her feet as the General approached.

“Good job, soldier,” he said. “In a real battle, yielding is not an option, and you shouldn’t be tricked into submission by your foe’s lack of skill. True warriors never yield — that’s the Karghuk’s way. Be that a lesson, Zagra.”

“Yes, General, Sir,” she mumbled as she walked to retrieve her weapon.

He ignored her response and addressed me. “You’ve been doing impressive work, Saskul.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“We’re raiding a human village south of Eregon tomorrow. I want you to be there.”

The invite sent a cold shiver down my spine. A human village, the words echoed in my mind.

He went on. “Bring a few prisoners. Kill the rest.”

My insides churned with the chaos of a battlefield. I couldn’t answer.

He frowned at my silence. “Is there a problem, soldier?”

I shook my head. “Not at all, General, Sir. It’s just… they’re just humans.”

Karghuk’s eyes burned with violent flames. “And…?”

I fumbled for words. “I’ve been trained to fight bigger foes, Sir. I’ve rarely ever fought someone smaller than me.”

He eyed me in silence. General Karghuk had known me ever since I was a little orphan, growing up in the fields of Baktra. He had personally trained me when I was just a boy, and he had the power to peer into my past.

I instinctively reached for the pendant around my neck, strings of bronze intricately entwined in an eternal embrace. It was the only thing left from my mother — the only thing he had allowed me to keep.

“No reason to be afraid of ghosts, my boy,” he said in a cold tone. “Your mother is dead. I’ve made sure of it.”

His icy words bit at my soul. It was a subtle reminder that he had spared my life.

I took a deep breath and let go of the amulet. My hands found the handle of the war axe. The wood was carved with ragged patterns, and the blade had detailed runes etched onto it. It was a beautiful weapon — a gift from Karghuk himself.

I exhaled. “Yes, Sir.”

“Atta boy,” he said briefly.

His eyes lingered on me for another few seconds and, before leaving, he said, “Don’t leave children behind, Saskul. The world already has too many orphans.”

The venomous words left his mouth with a target, and they found their mark with deadly precision — the work of an experienced assassin.

I managed a slight nod.

He turned and strode away, leaving me alone in the sparring fields, unprepared for the battle that awaited me — the one against my past.

Screams, roars, and the clash of weapons sang a bloody opera as the moon watched from above. The song of death was an old acquaintance of mine, but tonight it sounded different. It sounded wrong. Each time I ended a life, my victims’ last scream caused more damage than their weapons ever could.

I swung my blade with unwavering discipline at another human soldier, his blood splattering on the ground. My amulet hung heavy on my chest as I watched the moonlight kiss his body with nightly blessings.

Tonight, the moon witnessed a massacre. My fellow orcs showed superior prowess — the battle was over the moment it had started. At this point, the remaining humans were either running or hiding, praying not to be found.

I saw shadows move through the open windows of a house, denouncing a refugee’s presence. I rushed to it and broke in, my eyes surveying the environment in a flash. There was a shape in the corner, and I raised my axe to attack, only to freeze in place the next moment.

A woman cowered where the walls met, her arms wrapped around a small boy. Her eyes met mine with terror, and she whispered a short plea for mercy. The woman’s eyes spoke a lot more than her words ever could, and so did the boy’s. I could tell he had never seen someone this big.

I blinked, unable to move, unable to fulfill my mission. The axe felt too heavy in my hands, and the amulet burned against my chest.

They are the enemy, I told myself. Why can’t I do it? I’ve always been loyal to my people. My people…

The mother’s eyes implored in silence, and the child’s frightened moans filled the room. As her eyes talked to me, they said she believed there was a chance I would spare her life. Even though I held a massive axe over her head, she believed I could let her and her boy go.

Could I? Should I?

In an instant, Zagra, my sparring opponent from the day before, was by my side, swinging her flail menacingly. Without hesitation, she brought it down on the mother and child with a thud, their blood splattering the walls, their lives ended in an instant.

“No!” I screamed despite myself.

It was too late. They were dead.

“I’m sorry,” Zagra said, “but if you want me to leave them to you, you’re gonna have to be faster than that.”

She turned and left the house.

I fell on my knees, alone with the two lifeless bodies — what was left of them. My eyes were lost in a world painted in red.

My chest raised and fell rapidly as I breathed, my mother’s amulet resting there. Under the surface, a burning pain consumed my insides, bringing tears to my eyes. I held them back, confused. Why did it hurt so much?

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the sickening smell of their blood. I pushed myself to get up and leave the house, abandoning the corpses there.

I wished I could abandon my past too.

We brought back a dozen prisoners — young men and women. They were left in cells, and officials reported to the General. I kept my encounter with the mother and her child to myself.

For the next week, I could hardly concentrate on training. Whenever possible I’d walk by the cells to watch the humans. Compared to an orc, they were small and feeble, but despite their frailty, their spirits were unbreakable. They watched me back as I walked, unphased, their eyes burning with unyielding defiance.

Their courage bordered stupidity. Some of them even had the audacity to attempt escape. They were caught and received beatings, but when they were thrown back into the cell, they were received by the others like heroes. Even their failures riled their spirits.

They took care of the wounded and shared the scarce rations fairly. Even though they were in a prison cell in Baktra, being digested in the guts of the beast, they were still fighting for a better life.

Isolated, they were meek. Together, they were undefeatable.

I began to suspect part of me could be too.

It was the middle of the night when the alarm rang. I rushed out of my cot, axe in hand.

I joined soldiers exchanging cautious looks. Everyone gathered around General Karghuk at the main sparring field. He was holding a human, clutching tightly at the back of her neck. She was barely an adult.

“Two humans tried to escape tonight,” the General said as a crowd of orcs gathered around him. “I caught this one myself. She was wielding a dagger and wounded two guards.”

The human was struggling and almost managed to escape his grip. The General jabbed at her with a heavy fist and she yelped, collapsing on the dust.

“This insolence ends today,” The General said.

Soldiers led the remaining chained humans from their cell, lining them up in front of the girl.

“From now on,” Karghuk said, “escape attempts will be punished with death.”

He surveyed the crowd with deadly eyes and the world stopped when his gaze landed on me.

“Saskul. Come here.”

My insides went up in arms. I swallowed and marched forward, beyond the row of humans. They shot defiant looks at me.

I stopped by the General, the girl crumpled on the dust before me. He raised a hand and touched my axe’s dull blade.

“This will do,” he said. Then he addressed the crowd. “These humans have been undisciplined prisoners. They’re insolent. Disrespectful! They make sure their very existence is an act of rebellion. Well, let’s see if ending their existence can finally end their rebellion.”

“Leave her alone!” a young human called, barely more than a boy.

A soldier yanked on his chain, forcing him to his knees. He clutched at the shackle, a harsh cough erupting from his throat.

The girl in front of me tried to get up. “Sebastian!”

General Karghuk stepped on her back, pushing her against the dusty ground.

“Saskul, will you do the honors?” he said, his red eyes on mine.

For the first time for as long as I could remember, Baktra was silent. General Karghuk waited for my answer, and so did the entire world — even the moon watched with interest. A night wind swept the village, whispering confusing thoughts into my ears. Did I know the human before me? Was she part of my past? Was she part of me, and me of her?

“Go on, soldier,” Karghuk commanded.

My eyes traveled the length of the axe in my hands, the intricate carvings on the heavy blade. Karghuk had given me that axe back when I was barely strong enough to carry it around. I had used that weapon in so many battles, ended so many lives with its blade. It fed on blood, and I served its cravings.

I reached for the pendant hanging from my neck. It carried a soul vastly different. It was filled with love of the bravest kind, one only a human could have. Part of me wanted to be that brave.

I was suddenly disgusted to be holding my axe, an object brought into existence with the only goal of causing death and destruction. I dropped it before me, my hands dirty with the blood of so many. It fell by the girl with a thud.

Orcs and humans joined in a single gasp.

“Pick up your weapon, soldier,” the General said. “That’s an order!”

I closed my eyes and filled my lungs with the night air as the moon watched from above. “No,” I said.

“Saskul,” Karghuk said in a low voice, “what are you doing, my boy?”

My hands closed into fists at my sides, and a controlled rage burned in my chest.

“I’m not your boy,” I said. “I’m the son of Elara and Throgar, a human and an orc who were brave enough to choose love, even at the risk of death.”

Karghuk’s eyes widened and he stepped back. “Guards,” he called, pointing at me. “Take this traitor.”

A couple of soldiers immediately rushed toward me. I ducked as I heard someone approach from behind and used their momentum to throw them against the orc coming from the front.

More and more soldiers detached from the crowd to attack me. I managed to reach my axe and dropped a couple of them, but was soon disarmed and immobilized.

They pushed my face against the dust, and my eyes met the girl’s. Even in the chaos of battle, the brief encounter allowed for a silent conversation. Our eyes shared an unknown understanding, something I’d never found in an orc’s eyes.

Then Karghuk grabbed at the girl’s neck and lifted her.

I grunted, and to the soldiers on top of me, he said, “Take this traitor to the cell. If he likes these vermins so much, he can share a cell with them. I’ll take care of this one myself. A quick death wouldn’t be enough punishment.”

He turned, dragging the girl away.

“Elena!” a human called. It was the same young man from before — Sebastian.

He was soon dragged back to the cell with the others.

I gave the soldiers some trouble, but it was useless. They put thick metal shackles around my neck and my wrists. They took me to the cell where the humans were kept and attached the shackles to the heavy chains that hung from the stone wall.

As the soldiers left, I tried to rip the chains off the wall, but it was like trying to reach the moon. On the other side of the cell, the young man — Sebastian — protested as ardently as before. He banged on the metal bars with meek human arms. I could easily tear those bars apart, but the thick chains kept me safely away.

The other humans tried to comfort the young man, but he said, “They’ve got Elena! We have to do something.”

They told him that first, they needed to take care of their wounds and, after that, they’d think of something. Until then, they could just hope for the best.

He finally nodded, defeated.

The cell was soon silent, and that’s how they spent the night. Caring, thinking, and hoping.

The next morning, the soldiers shoved the second escapee into the cell, after beating her all night. She knew nothing of Elena.

I watched on my knees from the opposite side of the cell.

The other humans treated her most worrying wounds and soon started a hushed argument. They shot judgemental glances and pointed accusatory fingers at me.

I lowered my head and my eyes caught my pendant swinging back and forth like a pendulum, coming and going, again and again. My parents had been killed for loving, and I was in prison for refusing to hate.

“Sebastian, don’t — ” a voice called, and I raised my head.

The young man was crossing the cell toward me. He approached with the apprehensive stare only humans had, as they challenged nature for a duel. He was close enough that I could grab him, and my muscles instinctively prepared for action.

He licked his lips and said, “Thank you for sparing her life.”

His words stabbed at my chest and left me disoriented. I had never been thanked by a human before — I was rarely thanked at all. This was a kind of combat I hadn’t been trained for, and I didn’t know how to attack back.

“If there’s anything we can do to thank you,” he said, “let us know.”

Maybe attacking back wasn’t always the answer. I weighed his offer. Considered accepting it.

I finally said, “It’s hopeless. No one can help me now.”

He dared to touch my arm, and my skin was suddenly as thin as fine parchment.

“We can help.”

The other humans offered gentle nods.

How did they have the courage to think we could work together when we inhabited different sides of this war? How could such a frail being be so impossibly brave, enough to work with their enemies?

I saw in their eyes something long gone from my life. I saw a passion for life so strong it could make them drop their weapons and forge new alliances if that meant surviving.

Did that passion exist inside me too?

“How can you help me?” I asked.

“We’ve been on the verge of escaping a few times now,” Sebastian said eagerly. “I believe we’d have a better chance with a full orc from Baktra on our side.”

“I’m only a half-orc,” I said.

His face brightened

“Even better.”

It was the dead of the night when Zagra walked by on her night watch. The humans were on their knees, surrounding me. They bowed before me with adoration.

“What the…” Zagra said. “Saskul? What’s going on?”

“I convinced them to yield,” I said in a meditative tone. “They obey me now.”

She didn’t believe it, but I could see curiosity digging an opening through her defense.

“Sebastian,” I said, and the young man stood up at once.

“Yes, Lord Saskul?”

I nodded at Zagra. “Tell Zagra of your learnings.”

He promptly spun around and bowed down saying, “Oh, Great Zagra, the Fierce, please forgive our past of insolence. Our limited primate brains couldn’t understand the truth of nature until Lord Saskul enlightened us. Orcs are the true rulers of the earth. Please forgive us for defying nature itself.”

Zagra watched in amazement. “Is this real? How did you do this?”

I shrugged. “I talked to them.”

Then, Sebastian raised his voice, throwing his arms to the heavens. “Oh, Zagra, the Fierce. I implore you not to oppose Lord Saskul. He’s but an instrument in bringing an end to this war. He doesn’t deserve to be in chains; we do!

“Why? I ask the skies, why had I to be born such an inferior being, shoving sticks and stones into the intricate mechanisms of nature? Lord Saskul was put in a cell because of us, but he doesn’t belong here. Orcs were made to rule, and humans were made to serve.”

Wow, I exclaimed silently.

Zagra raised a hand. “Woah, relax boy.” She reached for her keys and opened the cell door. “Here, I’ll free ‘Lord’ Saskul.”

“Thank you,” Sebastian said. “Only a powerful being such as yourself would be capable of such a tremendous act of mercy.”

Zagra entered the cell, sifting through her keys. “Humans are so intense.”

As soon as she freed me, I threw a heavy hook against the side of her head. She tumbled down, knocked out, and I managed to click the heaviest shackle around her neck.

I was sorry for her, but I opened the cell door and let the humans out. “This way,” I told them.

As we left the prison, I found my axe abandoned near the entrance. I grabbed it and I waved it in the air, enjoying the familiar weight.

The humans shivered and I said, “We might need protection.”

Sebastian nodded. We ran.

We sneaked through alleys of Baktra, as I guided them through the maze of huts. The moon watched from its usual balcony. Tonight, it was wearing a bloody red dress.

After one final turn, I pointed at the path that would guide us safely through the wall and away from the village.

Sebastian halted. “Wait! We can’t leave without Elena.”

The others protested. As they argued, they studied my reactions. They would never be able to rescue her on their own. They needed my help, they knew it.

I knew it too, I just didn’t know if doing it would be an act of courage or stupidity.

“Saskul,” Sebastian said, “you’ve done more than enough, but would you help us rescue Elena?”

The amulet felt heavy against my chest, and I was suddenly aware that the decision had already been made. For the first time in my life, the decision to fight was my own, and this time, I’d be fighting for my mother’s people. I’d be fighting for myself.

“Go on,” I told them. “I’ll rescue her. We’ll meet you by the river.”

Before I could leave, Sebastian said, “I’m coming with you.”

I told him he should go with the others, but my words were met with his usual resolve. Even his fellow humans were unable to dissuade him.

I was stunned. Coming along was a foolish decision, but his mind couldn’t be changed. He had seemed so intelligent just a moment ago, but now he was thrusting himself into danger, blatantly manipulated by his own feelings.

I had a lot to learn about humans. That fire in their hearts was, at the same time, their most powerful strength and their most devastating weakness.

I abandoned the paradox and offered a brief nod. “Let’s go.”

Sebastian and I left the others and General Karghuk’s hut soon loomed before us, the red moon perched over it.

I peeked inside through the window and saw no one but Elena, her limp body crumpled in a cage in the corner. We crept inside under sharp shadows as tall torches burnt outside. Sebastian rushed to Elena while I surveyed the room. It was covered in sets of armor and ancient weaponry.

With a quick movement, I broke the lock to the cage with my axe. Sebastian shook Elena awake and she moaned. She was hurt and tired, but conscious — alive.

As he helped her to her feet, I thought I saw movement in the shadows. I peered into the darkness and saw red eyes hiding, burning with anger.

“Sebastian,” I said, raising my axe. “Leave!”

I parried General Karghuk’s blow with my axe’s blade. He was wielding a sword as big as Elena herself. I stumbled back.

“Saskul!” Sebastian had wrapped Elena’s arm around his shoulders. “I won’t leave without you.”

“Go!” I said, adjusting my stance and preparing for combat. “Go now!”

General Karghuk stepped into the light and lowered his sword. “Yes,” he said. “Go, vermin. Skitter away. This isn’t about you anymore. This is between Saskul and me.”

His words dripped with scorn.

I swallowed, my mother’s amulet burning against my chest. “Let’s settle this the Karghuk’s way.”

His lips curled into a poisonous smile. “I taught you well, boy.”

I heard Sebastian and Elena’s steps finally leave the hut as the General prepared his sword.

“The son of a human and a traitor,” he said with contempt. “I should’ve killed you the day I killed them.”

I gripped my axe tightly. “I agree.”

He rushed toward me and swung the sword at my neck. I rotated the axe in front of me, deflecting his blow. He stepped beside me and threw a powerful kick against my chest. It sent me stumbling back through the sets of ancient weaponry and out of the hut.

I recovered my balance just outside, the red moon watching intently. I couldn’t see Sebastian and Elena, but I didn’t have time to know if that was a good or a bad thing.

Karghuk ran at me, thrusting his blade at my chest. I sidestepped and hooked my axe’s blade on his leg as he burst forward. He roared as he fell, rolling back to his feet in an instant.

He got up and dusted himself off, patiently. I waited, my axe in position. He approached, his sword raised.

“Come on, boy,” he said. “Attack me!”

“I know better, General.” I backed away.

Karghuk laughed, then lunged at me in a flurry of attacks. I managed to dodge the first and block the second, but on the third attack, the tip of his blade cut across my chest.

Then he stopped and stepped back, nodding at the wound. I touched it and found a small streak of blood. My heart sank when I reached for my amulet and my hand found nothing. I looked at my feet and found it on the ground, glinting under the moonlight.

With another roar, he attacked again. I managed to block the blade but the blow sent me stumbling back, and I dropped my axe. I fell to the ground and he was quickly on top of me.

The moonlight kissed the tip of his blade as he pressed it against my neck.

“I wish I could keep you, my boy. But I can’t give you another chance.” There was pain in his voice.

I groaned under his foot.

As he prepared the final blow, the moon watched in awe as a human scream filled the night. Sebastian leaped from behind the General, wielding an orcish dagger as a sword. In a swift movement, he dug its blade at Karghuk’s neck.

The General stumbled and his heavy blade tore across my chest and my arm. I grabbed at the wound. Karghuk fell, dropping his blade, and Sebastian with him.

“Stupid human!” he roared.

On the ground, he reached and pulled Sebastian’s leg, the dagger sticking out the side of his neck. He grabbed at Sebastian’s throat with one massive hand, and then another. His muscles started shaking as he tried to crush the young man’s neck.

“No!” I screamed, managing to get on my feet, pain keeping me from using my left arm.

I reached for my axe and swung it at Karghuk’s wrists, severing both his hands.

His screams tore through the night as he squirmed on the ground, blood gushing out of him.

I checked on Sebastian but it was too late. Karghuk had extinguished the rebellion from him. His lifeless eyes contemplated the red moon, and mine cried for him.

I didn’t feel it happen, but my face was covered in silent tears. Growing up, I wasn’t allowed to cry. The sensation was new and strange.

I held Sebastian’s body in my arms, and the center of my chest collapsed under its own weight. Hugging his limp body, I allowed myself to cry. I sobbed with a roar.

I screamed at the bloody moon as it watched silently from above. I cried at the skies and the universe.

When I finally let go of his body, I realized there were eyes on me. A crowd of orcs was watching. I knew all their faces. I had called them “friends.”

None of them moved.

I got up and hooked Sebastian’s body, placing it over one shoulder.

“Don’t follow me,” I told the orcs as Karghuk moaned on the ground.

When I started to leave, he grabbed at his fleeting consciousness and said, “Why did you betray me, boy?”

I turned to see him sprawled on the ground. The moon’s nightly blessings were over him. He lay on a puddle of his own blood, Sebastian’s blade sticking out of his neck, his sword on one side, my axe on another.

“My goal wasn’t to betray you,” I said, “just to stop betraying myself.”

With Sebastian resting limply on my shoulder, I left. “Goodbye, General.”

No one chased me. As I was leaving the village, I found Elena. I heaved her over my other shoulder. When she learned of Sebastian, she cried.

I joined the other humans by the river. They hugged Elena, and shed tears for Sebastian.

Even crumpled under the enormous pain that rested on their shoulders, their eyes still told me tales of courage and strength. They were unstoppable, and part of me was too.

I looked up at Baktra as the red sun rose behind it, gently ushering the moon away. There lay Karghuk, my axe, and my past. I reached for my pendant and found nothing, finally remembering I had left it behind too.

After a short moment of panic, I settled into warm acceptance. Maybe it was for the best. That amulet had helped me learn the most important lesson of my life. Now, it was time to start learning lessons on my own.

“I won’t be coming with you,” I said, and the humans watched me apprehensively.

I thanked them for their help, and they thanked me back. Then I left, walking under a bright orange sky, as a new day rose over Baktra.

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