Read Grunts for Free Online Page B

detail.
    “What…?”
    Marukka, beside him, echoed, “
What
the—?”
    Nin-Edin’s war-band leader, a hulking orc named Belitseri, elbowed his way to the front of the crowd. Orcs lined the parapet and massed in the bailey compound, yelling and screaming questions. Belitseri rested an elbow on Barashkukor’s helmet.
    “What’s
that
?” he demanded.
    “I dunno!” Barashkukor stared. The wooden traverse trailed dust back down the pass. What could be seen of its load glittered metallically in the sun. Two orcs, a one-eyed male and a hulking female, pulled it by brute force.
    Both were wearing odd round helmets, visorless, with painted designs. He saw they also wore long breeches withthe same green-and-brown patterns, but—never before seen—worn tucked into Man-boots.
    The standard-bearer wore the same loose belted green-and-brown breeches, but with a similar jerkin from which the sleeves had been ripped off. One of the patterned sleeves had been used to tie up her purple hair in a horse-tail. The other sleeve hung from the nameless standard. Bulky metal ornaments hung at her belt and on bandoleers across her breasts. At thirty yards he could see the brightness of her eyes and the flecks of foam around her fangs.
    Barashkukor, gaping, fixed his eyes on the largest orc: surely the leader. This one wore black-and-white patterned breeches tucked into heavy black boots that laced halfway up his muscular calves. The breeches had at least a dozen exterior pockets. Metal objects like fruits dangled from his belt and the straps that crossed his chest. Something very bulky and metallic hung across his back. One of his fangs was broken off short, he wore a strip of scarlet cloth tied around his forehead, and he was chewing a thick black roll of halfling pipe-weed, unlit.
    “Erm…” Barashkukor stared. “Those are
Agaku
.”
    None of the four Agaku slowed their pace at the gateway. Barashkukor, caught in the crowd of spectating garrison orcs, elbowed back out of the way of the traverse. Leader, standard-bearer, and burden-carriers walked through the gate with a peculiar, rhythmic stride.
    By that time the whole garrison crowded the compound and the walls surrounding it, staring and jabbering, calling questions, laughing, throwing small rocks. Barashkukor gripped his mace fervently and used it to make himself a place in the front rank of the crowd.
    The largest Agaku held up a horny hand.
“Halt!”
    Instantly the other three Agaku stopped, slamming their booted feet down onto the earth. Something in Barashkukor began to fizz excitedly. He stood up on his toes to watch.
    The big Agaku strolled over to stand beside the standard-bearer. His gaze swept the garrison, the orcs clinging to parapet and ruined buildings. He spat the unlit pipe-weed out onto the ground.
    “Now listen up!”
    Barashkukor’s ears rang. He shook his head and just managed to grab his helmet as it fell off. The big Agaku surveyed the assembly with an expression of utter disdain.
    “Do you know what you are?” His words bounced back from the heat-stricken walls. The orcs—by now several hundred strong—fell silent out of curiosity.
    “I’ll tell you what you are. You’re scum! Call yourselves soldiers? You’re the lowest form of life there is—scum who
think
they’re soldiers. I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong.”
    Orcs to either side to Barashkukor began to rumble, tempers rising. Marukka’s eyes flashed yellow.
    “Who the hell are you?” a voice bawled from the back of the crowd.
    The big Agaku grinned, showing more than one broken fang. “Who am I? Perhaps you’d like us to introduce ourselves?”
    “Yeah!” Marukka challenged. “Who
are
you?”
    The big Agaku strolled over until he was looming head-and-shoulders over the orange-haired orc. His voice carrying in the sudden silence, he said, “That, with the standard, is
Marine First Class
Zarkingu. You, soldier, are not fit to wipe her arse, lowly though she is. Over there