Then it’s the humans who are unprepared. Orcs march on human cities with fury that makes the streets run with blood. To my surprise, orcs don’t murder the women and children. They load them on caravans and send them to other settlements, showing a lot more mercy than the humans ever showed them.
The battles continue. Human cities fall. Settlements get razed. The human soldiers who throw down their weapons are executed for their cowardice, with King Lix’tuk personally overseeing them. Many are whipped before they’re beheaded, with the orcs calling it vengeance for what happened in Uzrirgard.
“We were not always so kind,” King Lix’tuk rumbles. “The story is meant to favor the orcs. Propaganda, like I said.”
More battles are waged. King Lix’tuk, or at least the younger version of him on the screen, is a warrior who is unmatched on the battlefield. Propaganda, perhaps? He cleaves through legions of humans, their weapons completely ineffective. Glancing at the scarred king beside me, I can tell it’s embellished. But considering some of the books I’ve read, it’s not far from the truth.
As the war continues, orcs conquer more land. They take some prisoners. They continue extracting their vengeance, even when they’re not on the battlefield.
But humans aren’t ready to admit defeat. The movie shows humans poisoning the water supplies in Uzrirgard, releasing a virus that makes orc women infertile. There’s anguish. Despair. Orcs coming to terms with the fact there may never be another generation.
“That almost broke us,” King Lix’tuk murmurs. “It certainly broke me.”
King Lix’tuk is shown rushing home, because his wife has been affected by the virus. It doesn’t explain why until she sits up in bed, obviously with child. Then the baby is delivered, and it’s stillborn. King Lix’tuk grieves on the screen. Beside me, the real one’s fingers tighten around the neck of his bottle until I wonder if the glass will shatter.
When I glance over at him, a single tear is rolling down his cheek. I didn’t even realize orcs could cry. The sight makes something ache in my chest.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, not sure what else to say. I feel tears dampening my lashes as well.
“It was a long time ago,” he growls, downing the last of his grog and opening another bottle.
Zrogmul is shown, except in the movie, it’s a mighty fortress. No damaged stone. No broken or rusted metal. All the orc standards outside look to have been recently constructed. Inside, King Lix’tuk commands his armies, no longer joining the fight personally. The actor looks to have aged ten years, but only a few months have passed.
“You still had a war to fight, even when you were mourning your child,” I say, my brows pinching with anguish.
“Wasn’t just my child I was grieving,” he says. “I know you can’t understand orcish, but I’d just lost my wife, too.”
“Was it the virus?” I ask quietly. I’ve never heard of the virus killing anyone, but I only heard one side of the story.
“Not directly,” he replies. “But it might as well have been.”
He doesn’t elaborate, so I don’t pry. I turn my attention back to the screen, watching as the virus sweeps across Uzrirgard, crosses the border, and begins infecting the wolf shifters. The movie doesn’t focus on them much, but it shows them joining the war, fighting alongside the orcs.
“We called for their surrender, once we had allies, because there was no way they would ever defeat us both,” King Lix’tuk explains. “But the humans had another trick up their sleeve. More death to unleash on the world.”
The movie shows humans developing bombs. Weapons of mass destruction that I’ve read about. Several land in Uzrirgard, but the biggest blast is on the other side of their border. A mushroom cloud fills the entire screen, and when it finally dissipates, the sky is ripped open, horrifying creatures pouring out of the rift.
“Demons,” I say, my eyes widening.
“Straight from the damn underworld,” King Lix’tuk growls.
The focus of the war changes. The orcs and wolves are no longer fighting humans. Now they’re fighting demons. Thousands of orcs and wolves die on the battlefields before they finally get close enough to close the rift. The demons that remain seem tolose their will to fight once they no longer have access to the underworld. They settle in camps that become towns that don’t look much different from Troona.
Humans take advantage of the distraction, launching more attacks, dropping more bombs. They’re losing, but the only ones who surrender are the ones on their knees, begging for mercy before they’re whipped and beheaded. As human atrocities rise, fewer prisoners are taken. The whippings become brutal, the beheadings televised and celebrated.
“We realized they were too cowardly to surrender. So cowardly they began sending children into battle,” King Lix’tuk growls.
More battles are shown. I see boys that don’t look much older than Abigail being used as human shields. The men hide behind them, firing their weapons, bombing battlefields with no concern for the casualties, regardless of which side they’re on. Then women are dressed up in military uniforms and marched off to war, most dying horrible deaths.
“That could have been me,” I mutter, sipping more of my drink, the alcohol not giving me a pleasant buzz like before. I’m sure the movie has something to do with it.
As The Great War continues, King Lix’tuk is shown making a speech to his people. I can’t understand what he’s saying, but it seems to be about The Salting. That’s confirmed when the next scene shows the orcs and wolf shifters loading planes with salt. The aircraft looks mostly human, but it’s clear the orcs are catching up with the technology being used against them.
“Salt from the Valley of the Dead,” King Lix’tuk rumbles, taking another drink of grog. “It roots in the soil and spreads like a plague.”
I’ve never heard any details about how The Salting occurred. I always wondered. I get to see it firsthand on the screen as the country I used to call home withers before my eyes. The green fields turn brown. The forests decay and collapse. The transformation continues until the only thing for miles are smoldering cities, bones of towns, and sand. Sand as far as the eye can see.
Humans are shown starving. Revolting against the government. Demanding an end to the war. A war most of them seem to have never wanted in the first place. A ceasefire comes first. Then a treaty. The scene that unfolds is one I’ve seen in old books. King Lix’tuk shaking hands with our president, a scowl on the orc brute’s face.
