Chapter 4 - Snaga 

                The tiny salamander made little sound as it crawled along the rocky wall of the subterranean tunnel in which it dwelled.  The four-legged little creature flicked out its tongue, searching for tiny insects to eat.  The floor of the rough-hewn passage was covered in filth ranging from fecal matter to castaway scraps of metal, cloth, and bone.  Dim, flickering light was shed in a few places by sputtering torches, but for the most part the passages were unlit.  Here and there, corpses were slowly but inevitably devoured by the larvae of cave-dwelling insects.  The salamander didn’t mind the foul stench of the offal, since it was the only smell it had ever known.  The salamander was covered in slime from the walls of its home of stone, which made it barely discernible to anything that wandered by.  It flicked out its tongue, wrapping it around a small black spider.  It chewed the catch slowly and forced it down its throat. 

                There was no shortage of food in the network of tunnels and caverns in which the salamander dwelled.  The passages bent and twisted for miles and were connected to each other or caverns at apparently random intervals.  The other denizens of the cave complex were hardly tidy, and they constantly added debris, feces, corpses, and other waste that provided ideal spawning sites for numerous varieties of insects.  The salamander had never gone hungry for long.

                Unfortunately for the salamander, there was rarely enough food for the other residents of the caves.  A small but gnarled hand snatched the salamander from the rough wall.  The hand raised its catch to a face that was not much cleaner than the cave floor.  A grin revealed rows of pitted yellow teeth, long and sharp despite their lack of care.  Pale yellow eyes, round with black pupils and irises, studied the salamander.  The head was connected to a short underfed body by a thick neck ringed with layers of sweat and grime.  Short, thick legs and disproportionately long arms protruded from the torso.  Intently examining its captured prey, the orc was oblivious to its surroundings.

                “What have you got, snaga?”  A rough voice questioned from behind the creature.  “Catch us some dinner, did you?” 

                The small orc, startled by the harsh voice behind him, squealed and dropped to its hands and knees.  It pushed the salamander beneath the layers of rags that served it as clothing.  A large hairy hand spun the orc around. 

                “I said what has you got snaga?”  The voice growled again.  It belonged to another orc,  which stood nearly a foot taller than the first and possessed a powerful build that showed no sign of malnourishment.  This was a warrior of the tribe, battle-hardened and hot-blooded.  Rather than rags, it was clothed in armor made from strips of hardened leather.

                “I got nothin,”  the smaller orc muttered sheepishly, crouching low to the ground.  “Nothin.”  It clutched a hand to its gut, where the salamander nestled.  The orc’s stomach rumbled loudly, complaining against its lack of food.

                “Let’s see then.”  The warrior shoved the snaga to the ground, then took one ankle in an powerful grip.  It lifted the smaller orc into the air and shook it forcefully.  The little salamander slipped through a hole in the snaga’s rags and dropped to the floor.  “A snack.  Greedy snaga!”  With a snarl of distaste, the warrior threw the hungry snaga against the wall, where it slumped to the ground.

                As the smaller orc whimpered on the ground, checking itself for injuries, its armored oppressor picked the salamander from the floor by its tail.  Gripping it in both hands, it snapped its spine and popped the morsel into its mouth.  It directed its gaze to the smaller orc crouched against the wall.  “Next time share, snaga, or I won’t be so nice!” 

                As the warrior plodded off down the tunnel, the snaga watched it unblinkingly with pure hate in its eyes.  “Share, he says?”  it muttered, careful that the warrior didn’t hear.   “Share?  I’ll share, I will.  Oh yes, I’ll share with that one, now!”  The orc crawled the opposite way down the tunnel, looking for another salamander.  “Shakash will show you how he shares!”  Its stomach voiced its emptiness once more.

                After hours of slinking through passageways and cautiously avoiding additional run-ins with other orcs, the snaga who called himself Shakash had found enough insects and scraps of moldy food to finally quiet his stomach.  He had even found another cave salamander, although he had tucked it into his rags for safekeeping rather than eating it.  Now he was slowly feeling his way along the wall, catching more insects which he fed to the salamander.  “Get fat, so’s I can share you, little one!  You’ll make a nice present!”

                Even when the salamander would eat no more insects, Shakash didn’t stop catching them.  Instead, he plucked off their legs and wings and dropped them into a broken-mouthed bottle which he carried tucked into the long strip of cloth which he wore twisted around his waist for a belt.  This way he wouldn’t have to find more food for the creature later.  The bottle had once contained beer or some other form of alcohol looted during a long-ago raid, but the smell of urine betrayed its most recent contents.  He backed himself into a tiny alcove along a seldom used side passage, his sides scraping the rock.  He had discovered the little niche when he was still quite young, but still used it for a place to rest.  There was never a shortage of predators, especially for a young orc with no means of self-defense.

                When he arose, he crept along the deepest and tightest tunnels, unwilling to risk another lost salamander.  This one had a special purpose, and he wanted to be sure it remained his possession long enough to serve his needs.  After an hour had passed, he found his destination.  Not that an hour mattered to Shakash; time was irrelevant in the sunless world where he lived.  He slept when he was tired, and woke when he was not.  He scrounged for food when he was hungry.  He drank when he thirsted.

                The wall where he now stood was covered in a black mold that emitted a pungent odor.  Using a bone which he also kept in his makeshift belt, he scraped some of this mold into his broken bottle.  “Some spice for our little gift,” he muttered with a grim smile.  He began working his convoluted way back to the more heavily traveled portions of the cave system.  After another hour, he squatted in the darkness of a small side passage which intersected one of the larger thoroughfares.  From his position he waited patiently for the warrior for whom he had prepared his gift.

                Finally, leaning slightly into the intersection of the two tunnels, he spotted the muscular orc stomping along the corridor.  Moving quickly, Shakash retrieved the salamander from inside his rags.  Next, he gripped his bottle and tapped a few of the now-dead insects into his palm.

                “Eat little one!  Eat fast!  He comes!” he whispered urgently to the salamander.  Although Shakash’s words had no influence with the salamander, the little creature nevertheless flicked out its tongue and chewed one of the limbless insects.  Shakash moved his body further into the intersection to ensure that he would be seen.  The salamander snared the mold-covered body of a dead beetle and chewed it as well.

                The warrior shambled to a halt as it arrived, glowering down at the smaller orc.  Shakash cradled the salamander in his cupped hands, hiding it from view.

                “What has you gots for Grang, snaga?”  the larger orc grunted out.

                “I ain’t got nothing,”  Shakash whimpered.  He twisted his body somewhat to further hide his hands.  The salamander twitched slightly.

                “Then what’s you hiding?  You isn’t trying to not share again, is you?”  The warrior bent and began to reach for Shakash’s foot.

                “No!  I’ll share,  I’ll share.”  Shakash cowered on the ground.  “You can have it.  Don’t hurt me!”  He wimpered as he spoke the last, holding his cupped hands above his prone body.  The salamander quivered again.  He opened his hands slightly to reveal their contents.

                “Ah!  Another snack!  Good snaga!”  The warrior plucked the salamander from Shakash’s upheld hands.  The poor creature twitched uncontrollably as the armored orc dangled it by the tail above his gaping mouth.  Releasing his fingers, he dropped the salamander.  The tail, protruding from his mouth, twitched and trembled as Grang slowly chewed, then disappeared as he swallowed.

                “Get out of my way now,” the warrior grunted at Shakash.  “Stupid snaga.”  With a swipe of a club-like arm, he shoved him out of the way.

                Shakash watched the other orc warily over his back as he slunk back along the side tunnel.  He stopped after only a few paces.

                “I said get out of here!”  Grang bellowed.  Moving with a speed that belied his squat frame, he stomped forward and delivered a vicious kick to Shakash’s back.

                Shakash moved a few more paces before stopping once again.

                “That’s it, snaga!  I’ll teach you to respect your betters!”  Grang pulled a long, wicked-looking knife from a sheath at his side.  “I ain’t killed nothing yet today!”  He stalked forward, leveling the blade at Shakash.  “But I’m going to kill...”  Grang coughed roughly, then continued with a hoarser voice,  “You.  I’ll have...your ears...for...break...fast!”  The warrior clutched his throat with his free hand.  Gasping for breath, it collapsed mid-step to the ground.

                With a hateful gleam in his eyes, Shakash watched the Grang’s limbs twitching helplessly as the warrior died.

                “Oh yes, Grang.  I’m happy to share with you!” he whispered victoriously.  He tossed his bottle to the ground, the insects dusted with toxic mold no longer needed.

                Prying the knife from Grang’s hands, Shakash slit the fallen orc’s throat to make absolutely sure he was dead.  Next, he awkwardly removed the armor from the body.  Shakash also gathered the corpse’s belt, sheath, boots, and a small pouch.  Finally, he used the dagger to cut thin strips of meat from Grang’s body, paying special attention to the ears.

                “But it looks like I’ll be the one having ears for breakfast!”  Taking the pile of gear, he crept stealthily back to his hidden alcove.  He stuffed the overlarge boots and armor into the alcove’s deepest recesses.  Chewing on one of Grang’s ears, he carefully opened the pouch he had scavenged from the body.  Shakash gasped as he saw its contents:  a fair number of coins.  Most of the coins were crudely minted from copper, but here and there was a glint of silver.  Although he had managed to find discarded copper coins before, Shakash had never had any silver.  He certainly had never before had any coins as valuable as the three discs of gold that also gleamed brightly in the pouch.

****

                The recent months had been kind to Shakash.  With the knife he had obtained from Grang he was able to hunt larger prey than the insects and other small creatures on which he used to depend.  Now, he was able to pierce the thick hides of cave lizards and was occasionally able to stab the small blind fish that swam in the underground rivers and pools connected to the caves.  As a result, his body was quickly gaining bulk that his previously sparse diet of insects and scraps had prevented.

                Furthermore, he had been able to arrange a deal with an orcish warrior:  he traded Grang’s armor for some extra items that the other orc possessed.  Now, rather than draping himself in whatever rags he could scavenge from the refuse littering the ground, he owned a plain but comfortable set of clothing.  He had used some of his copper coins to purchase a pair of used leather boots from a merchant that had set up a rickety stall in one of the larger caverns.  From another merchant he had bought a sack to hold the rest of his belongings.  That sack was now tucked away in his secret resting place, where other orcs were unlikely to find and steal it.

                His greatest victory, however, was the knowledge he had gained since tricking Grang and causing his death.  Once, while crouched over a pool looking for fish, a pair of the caves’ guards stopped to urinate in the cold dark water.  They complained to each other about time they wasted searching for salamanders for their captain, who used their tails to create some foul drink.  If they could catch these creatures easier, they would have much more time to spend during their off-duty hours.

                Shakash seized that opportunity immediately.  He offered (meekly, of course) to catch the salamanders for them, in exchange for some basic instruction in methods of combat.  The next time he met that pair during their patrol a few days later, he handed them a full dozen of the tails.  Impressed by his catch, and not wanting to lose this potential source of free time, they began teaching Shakash how to wield their long, broad-bladed swords.  After his first lesson, Shakash gave the two some coppers so they could buy some whiskey from one of the merchants.  The whiskey, made from the distilled juice of a certain fungus-combined with less savory ingredients-was a popular beverage for those who could afford it.  It certainly was better than the sewage-laden water that was the normal option.  This furthered the guards’ perception of Shakash as a snaga they could use for their own gain, with the only cost to themselves being a few hours spent showing him how to swing a sword.

                As time went by, Shakash was able to meet the guards’ captain.  The leader was a brute of an orc, larger even than Grang had been, and was armored in a mixture of dented metal plates and soiled but sturdy chain mail.  During that brief meeting he offered to take over the tail-gathering duties of all the guards he supervised.  The captain, named Agosh, readily agreed, knowing that happy soldiers were soldiers that were much less eager to stick a dagger in his back.  Shakash asked only for training, provided by the captain’s best warriors, as payment.  The captain considered the offer, then said that each week Shakash provided twenty salamander tails he could take lessons from his troops.  If he could provide thirty, Agosh would teach him personally.

                After several weeks of working desperately to meet his quota, Shakash made a discovery that made his existence much less harsh.  One of the salamanders he caught had already lost its tail to some predator, making it useless to Shakash.  However, as he was about to toss the thing aside he noticed that the salamander was somehow growing a new tail.  With some observation and experimentation, Shakash discovered that the salamanders had the ability to replace their tails after they were cut from their bodies.   It took only two or three weeks for them to fully regenerate.

                Shakash promptly scrounged up scraps of wood and created a box that, when squeezed into the back of his niche, left him barely enough space to sleep.  Into this box he put every salamander he caught, minus their tails.  Soon, with dozens of the slimy creatures in captivity, he had a steady source of tails that came with little effort on his behalf.  Each day he would find a nest of spiders or other insects and drop it into the box for food. 

                Agosh, impressed with Shakash’s apparent hunting skill, upheld his side of the bargain and began teaching Shakash basic combat tactics and weapon skills.  Shakash’s scrawny frame began to gain strength from wielding heavy swords and other weapons, which complimented his increased bulk and constitution from his improved diet.  In return, Agosh was able to rely on Shakash’s consistent supply of salamander tails, which provided a key ingredient for the strange concoction Agosh preferred to drink.

                Emboldened by months of training, Shakash finally asked Agosh if he could join his troop of warriors.  Despite Shakash’s growing skill with various types of weaponry, Agosh seemed reluctant to allow him to join his small force.  However, after Shakash informed him that he could make arrangements to ensure that his supply of tails would remain undisturbed, Agosh was much more amenable to the concept. 

                The captain presented Shakash with a short, rusty sword and a small battered shield of tarnished metal.  At his first opportunity, Shakash took the sword to an armorer, where he traded in the sword and, with the help of one of his gold coins, purchased an axe forged of dark metal to replace it.  Shakash had found that even though his skill with the axe was not noticeably greater than with a sword, he simply enjoyed the destructive potential that the axe had.  In his opinion, swords were fine for cutting, slicing, and killing, but an axe simply destroyed and mutilated things, which would make killing far more enjoyable.

                After his purchase, Shakash wandered the tunnels until he found a miserable little orc pawing through a pile of garbage looking for food.  “Do you want to eat, snaga?” he asked, for the first time using the derisive term for the lower caste of orcs.

                The pathetic little creature looked up at him and nodded fearfully, afraid to speak to the axe-wielding warrior before it. 

                “Then follow me, and I’ll show you a trick that will keep your belly full.”  Shakash began walking away, toward his hidden alcove.  Behind him, the little orc followed from a distance, unsure of Shakash’s intent but hopeful of a meal.  The thought that only months before Shakash would have been the one cowering on the floor never entered his mind.

                Reaching his hidden cache of belongings, Shakash pulled out his sack and sorted through it, discarding items he would no longer need as a warrior.  The place itself would no longer be of use to him, since joining Agosh’s troop meant that he would bunk with the rest of the warriors.  Besides, in a short time he would be unable to force his growing body into the niche. 

                The snaga watched alertly from a few paces away, checking the shadows periodically trying to assure himself that it wasn’t some sort of trap.  Shakash motioned the little orc closer, and he slowly complied.  Shakash revealed the box of salamanders and carefully explained their purpose, then provided directions for their care.  Next, he informed the orc that in return for bringing the tails to Agosh, the captain would provide the snaga with meals consisting of leftovers from the food consumed by his troop.

                Leaving the little orc groveling on the ground and spitting out his thanks, Shakash picked up his sack and confidently walked to the barracks that would be his new home.