Aruna. The Queen of the Orcs

Chapter 3

I sat on a mat in the shade of the hut, with an almost finished basket in front of me. I had never done anything like this before, but the principle was not difficult, and after a few hours of silent swearing and cursing, I was getting pretty good at it.

All last night, right after a meager supper, Rayla had devoted herself to her daughter, which meant me. She had taught me again how to weave baskets, fed me a few crumbs of dark dough and told me a great deal about the world I was to live in.

I cannot say that I was pleased with what I heard. Now, staring dumbly in front of me, I tried to sort out the information I'd been given.

By the way, no one bothered me during the few days I spent in the New World. According to Rayla, it was all thanks to Vita. Without her, the local youths would have started picking on me again yesterday. Trying to seek self-affirmation at the expense of the weak. Can't stand such individuals.

However, the new mum added that the healer's protection wouldn't last for long, and that I just shouldn't go too far away from our hut.

- Can I go to the forest with you? - I asked.

- No, it could be dangerous, Aruna, - Rayla said sharply.

- It's no more dangerous than me being here, - I grinned irritably, - but as soon as I'm fine, I'm going to the forest, - I added firmly, looking into the tired woman's eyes. She just sighed, but for some reason she didn't argue, knowing that if I was beaten again, her daughter wouldn't just get away with amnesia. I didn't get away with it, but I'll never tell anyone.

As I continued to think, I kept my eyes fixed on the visible rim of a bowl rising a little above the ground. Such urns, or pots, were set into the ground at intervals of three meters, enclosing the settlement in a large, regular circle. According to Rayla, there were over a hundred such protective circles, and the orcs lived inside them.

Who had done it before and why? I didn't know the answer. I wondered what it all looked like from above? Some kind of alien pattern, perhaps? I imagined the most fantastic images, one more incredible than the other. I'm not a fan of puzzles, because if I don't see a solution, I get nervous and agitated, irritable and gloomy. So, I chased away various assumptions, trying not to speculate on a question for which there was too little input data.

Towards sunset, as the mighty orcs and women returned from the forest with baskets full of carilla, root vegetables, berries and mushrooms, I waited to see who would fill these bowls with kindling and set them on fire. I waited and waited, but as far as I could see the main settlement, everyone was doing their usual things, eating, laughing, talking. In general, life went on as usual, and no one thought of building a fire for protection. And only I turned to Rayla to ask: - And when exactly....? Something crackled softly, and I turned around in surprise and froze, stunned: the bright scarlet flames of fire raised half meter up high, puffing, and retreated back into the vessel, crackling softly. My mother stood beside me and, looking at my shocked face, explained what was happening:

- When the undead approaches the passage between the bowls, the flames, like living things, join together to form a solid ring, or even a wall if there are many creatures. But nothing like this had ever happened in my memory.

Am I spellbound, am I watching the real miracle, magic, sorcery? It doesn't matter, but at that moment I've realized that the world is unusual, strange and unfamiliar.

- Don't go near the fire, - Rayla warned, returning to our meager supper.

Sighing, I could barely take my eyes off the magical vessels, looking at the basket, pursed my lips in frustration: I have to finish the work I had started.