Escape from Undermountain - Mark Anthony [32]
"Then be my guest," Artek grumbled. He turned his back on the wizard.
Anger burned in her brown eyes. She ran a frustrated hand through her close-cropped brown hair. For a moment she bit her lip, considering something. Then, abruptly, she spoke several harsh, guttural words.
"Morth al haugh nothok, Artek Ar'talen! Bettah al nothokari!"
The words sliced at Artek like knives. It had been years since he last heard them. Drawing in a hissing breath, he spun around, advancing on the wizard. "Where did you learn to speak that?" he demanded fiercely.
Beckla stepped backward, momentarily startled by the fury blazing in his black eyes. Corin stared at the two in open alarm. Then, visibly, the wizard steeled herself. "I once traded spells with an orcish sorcerer," she said evenly, a sly smile on her lips. "Of course, I learned a few things other than spells from him. And I heard him use that oath once or twice."
Artek shook with rage. Old memories surfaced in his mind, of a father berating his child for being too afraid to pick a rich merchant's purse. "Do you know what those words mean?" he choked.
Beckla nodded solemnly. " 'Your heart is not that of an orc. It is that of a goblin.' I think that's an accurate translation, don't you?" She clucked her tongue at his shocked expression. "Come now, Ar'talen. Don't be so surprised. All the stories say that orcish blood runs in your veins."
Artek opened his mouth, but he could find no reply. Only once had Arturg used those words with him, but once had been enough. There was no greater insult among orc kindred than to have one's heart compared to a goblin's. It was an accusation of cowardice, a brand of worthlessness. As a child, Artek had done everything he could to please his father in order to make certain that he never heard those hateful words again. Now this arrogant wizard had dared to speak them herself.
"You have no right," he began, clenching his hands into fists.
"And why not?" she snapped harshly. "It's all true, isn't it? You're the one who's giving up." She shook her head. "Maybe the stories are wrong. Maybe it isn't fell orcish blood that runs in your veins, Ar'talen. Maybe it's the blood of lowly goblin worms after all."
The wizard had gone too far. Artek felt a fierce, primal fury stirring deep inside. As always, he fought to contain it, but this time it was no use. The rage welled up hotly in his stomach, burning as it coursed through his veins. A red veil descended over his eyes, and a rushing sound filled his ears. The dark, animal part of himself that he always kept carefully locked away now rose to the fore. It terrified him, but it was intoxicating as well. Raw power trembled in his limbs. His orcish side was free.
Artek snarled, baring his pointed teeth, his handsome face twisted into a sinister mask. Corin let out a cry of fear, leaping backward. Beckla paled, shocked by the fury her words had unleashed.
"Damn you!" Artek hissed, advancing on the startled wizard. Words sprang from his mouth as if someone else spoke through him. "You have no right. I am Garug-Mal! I will rend your flesh for this insult. I will splinter your bones!"
Artek grabbed Beckla and shoved her roughly against a stone wall. His hands encircled her throat. The desire to kill seared his mind. The wizard's body shook, but she clenched her jaw and gazed unflinchingly into his eyes, refusing to show fear. This only enraged his orcish side further; his fingers contracted tightly. Beckla gasped for breath as her airway inexorably closed.
No, Artek! Don't do it!
The voice was faint and distant, barely piercing the roaring in his brain. He ignored it, gritting his teeth as he tightened his grip.
Don't kill her!
This time the voice was stronger. Uncertainty tinged his rage. He hesitated.
This doesn't have to be you!
At last he recognized the voice. It was his own-at least, that of his human side. For a second, dark and light halves warred within. Then, with a strangled cry, he tore his hands away from the wizard's throat and lurched back. Beckla stumbled