Chapter 52 The Insurrection Of White People Music
“You have not slept once the last few days—”
“Your worry for me is cute but—”
“You look ghastly and your opinions are being clouded by your staying awake,”
Maeve turned there— and for the first time in a long while, Adrian was right. Her eyes were sunken, her face slightly swollen and her entire aura off by a long mile. And looked like she was on a third lap of life and was currently losing the strength to keep going.
Her irritation, however, was as sharp as always, “Why? The moment I don’t look prim and proper to you, I’m a waste of space?”
Adrian was not aware that women tended to hear the opposite of what was said when they were sleep deprived and hungry so he continued unaware of the danger he was putting himself in, “Look around you. What exactly do you think this is?”
Maeve could not look around clearly even if she wanted to. They were outside— under the snow and open sky. The cold was chilling, making her feel even worse than she already did and every breath she took seemed to cling tight around her lungs and squeeze so hard she nearly blacked out.
SHE DID NOT CARE THOUGH! “No one hates the snow more than I do, I can assure you, but look at them. It’s… what? Minus twenty degrees— shirtless! It’s a fascinating thing and makes me angry that I’m weak,”
“Ah, so it is your anger that made you strange this…” His eyes sauntered back to the madness in front of them as he said softly, “Stupid decision,”
A few feet away from them were a group of orcs that had found them earlier in the cabin they had been alloted. They were men who had taken some of the food she prepared home and returned to ask for more food to help their ailing wives.
Ailing. Maeve didn’t know that part.
Apparently, for a while now, the orc women had been falling sicker by the day with their shaman unable to pinpoint the root of the problem. The men were well, and did not fully understand what was happening. In a sense, they believed the curse was affecting their women somehow here in the mountains— but after they had eaten, their bodies improved.
Maeve had told them if they wanted more food, they had to join her ‘choir’ and only after the competition would they get what they sought after.
She knew Kazh had held a meeting warning them not to help her. He had said something about her being a colonizer and a culture thief— words that hit Maeve straight in the heart as she was… pale skinned, but it didn’t matter in the long run.
Because she had no plans on taking anyone’s culture.
Instead, she wished only to make it better.
“It is all… noise,” Adrian stated, his eyes going to the madness in front of him.
Maeve stared as well, her eyes falling on the group of men who had come to seek her help playing loudly on the instruments she had made them create.
A xylophone she was going to call the Gravebone, made from granite slab and bones to serve as the percussion instrument. A 4-foot long mountain goat horn with four holes burned into it to create a drone like distorted bass note she was calling the Screamhollow to serve as the wind instrument. And a string instrument made from a dried animal gut called the Gutthrasher to serve as a guitar substitute.
The Orcs in question were hitting it very loudly, making a lot of noise that was currently being swallowed by the north wind— which wasn’t exactly a problem but she could still hear the madness.
They were tone deaf. Each and every one of them.
Perfect.
“Have you been able to send the rest of the food with how to preserve it to the Orc women?” She asked, turning to look at him.
“Your pet transported it. All I did was write the guidelines,”
“He has a name, you know,”
“Perhaps when he decides to prove himself and be of some adequate use, I shall use it,” Adrian faced her. “Are you certain you can help them? You said you could not help the elves,”
“Well, the elves have it different,” She shrugged. “There’s a curse ravaging them. The curse isn’t here— as I’ve come to realize. The cold is… severe enough to keep it at the border. It’s like… a mana dead zone. Like trying to spread oil on freezing water. It’s probably why Thomas keeps sleeping. There’s little mana here to keep him at full power so he has to rest his body till he needs to full use it,”
“And the women being ill but not the men?”
“I’ve had to look at things the way Amir would, relate it to me somehow. Like how you’re okay with the cold and how I hate it. Since the curse isn’t here, we have to think logically,” She said, turning her attention back to the men. “To live in such a cold place, the orcs must have had to… evolve biologically, but it is possible that ms. have a simpler, robust, muscle-based metabolism focused on pure calorie burning. Women's reproductive biology makes their system more complex and finely tuned to environmental inputs,”
Maeve turned to look at him. “In other words, women have a slightly different metabolic relationship with the cold. If we assume that all orcs had some level of… mana in them, and this is a mana dead zone—”
“Their metabolic rates are higher than the males,” Adrian completed. He couldn’t help it. It was surprisingly… a simple hypothesis. He watched as a smile came to her face, and for a moment, he worried that he was becoming her but managed to ignore the thought. “So the men could be sick right now?”
“Yes, but they weren’t going to find out anytime soon,” Then she nudged her head towards him. “Are you good?”
He wondered what she would do if he said no. What her reaction would be. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out at the same time. “Yes.”
“Yeah. You probably think that. It’s one of the reasons I try to wrap this up faster. I don’t think I would be able to concentrate on anything else if you fall ill,”
Adrian felt something in his chest pull— a string of his heart probably. He was still reeling himself back from the sensation before she looked down to her side, her hand reaching out to brush the Irae as she said softly, “Hi, lovely. Found the place?”
Thomas rubbed at her hand. His head was cold to touch, but still soft so she didn’t mind it as he turned around and began to walk away. Getting her answer, she turned to the other orcs and yelled, “Hey! Follow me and take the instruments along!”
Maeve didn’t wait to get her response and began following him. As usual, the orcs followed, from a safe distance of course, not wanting to upset the man who stood directly behind her.
They walked around for a while before Thomas stopped at a cave. Maeve entered, her eyes instantly scanning the place. Stalactite hung from the roof, glistening across the walls, and there was a feel to the place that made her feel warmer.
She cleared her throat. “Everyone. Close your ears,”
Then without waiting for anyone’s response, she screamed. Very loudly.
It slammed into the cave walls, caught, multiplied, folded over itself. The stalactites vibrated in response, a low hum rippling through the stone as the sound bounced back, amplified, distorted—alive.
She stopped as abruptly as she started, clearing her throat as she said gruffly, “Yeah. This will do it,” Then turned around to face the orcs who were now cowering in fear from this mad woman in front of them and said with a wide grin, “Any of you here familiar with the genre, death metal?”