Chapter 2 #2
“We will definitely attend. Let’s go.” Nargol slapped Makhel on the shoulder and stalked out of the room. She chuckled at the curse that followed behind her.
A tournament?
Yes, that was the best way to get to know the villagers.
The fair sprawled across the central square of Soza.
Nargol navigated her way through the throng of bodies that packed the area.
It looked like the event had brought everyone out.
She remained relaxed and offered a few smiles.
A little orc child ran behind a female orc, who she assumed was his mother, shouting at her.
“Please, banhas! I’ll do my chores without asking!” he pleaded.
“Ri.” No. The female stopped suddenly.
The kid ran right into the back of her legs.
She turned to him and shook her head. “You have had too many treats already. Let’s go find your ranhos. I’m sure he’s signed up for the archery contest.” She snatched him by his arm and practically dragged him away.
Nargol chuckled at the look of defeat on the poor kid’s face. The two disappeared into the crowd.
Nargol casually glanced around as she went with the flow of the people.
Banners with the Ogola colors fluttered from wooden poles.
The market was in full swing with vendors shouting about their sales, trying to get potential buyers to their tables.
The scent of food was thick in the air. Nargol’s stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten in a while.
But that feeling was forgotten the moment her gaze landed on the competition rings.
She smirked.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed a good ol’-fashioned village fair and market. Even though she had recently participated in the trials alongside her sister, this was different. There weren’t high stakes riding on the success or failure of a Cydassi sister.
Here, one could just be a regular orc, out to try to win a competition for pure boasting and ego-stroking.
And maybe a little coin.
Laughter and shouts rang out as spectators gathered around the small crude rings.
The energy of excitement hummed. She moved easily through the crowd and kept a hand on her bow that rested on her shoulder.
Her quiver on her back was filled with arrows.
She never left home without it. No one paid her any mind having it.
A bow and arrow were common for hunting in the wild.
Her knives—those she kept hidden on her. They would definitely draw attention.
Even though she projected the air of a curious newcomer, she kept her senses sharp. She smiled and nodded, but she cataloged every face and conversation around her.
“You’re smiling.” Makhel arrived at her side. She took a large bite out of a piece of smoked meat on a bone. Juices ran down her face, bringing a smile to her lips. She chuckled at Nargol’s expression and shrugged. “I couldn’t resist the temptation. You want one? They are over there.”
“I’ll get one soon.” Nargol shook her head. Of course, Makhel’s attention would be on food first. Smoked kudu was common at such fairs. The legs were a great size and easy to carry around while consuming. “I’m smiling because…look.”
She pointed over to the archery range. Targets had been set up at increasing distances.
They were packed tightly with straw and painted with concentric rings.
A line of competitors waited patiently with their bows slung over their shoulders.
Most of them were orcs, but a few smaller figures stood among them.
Soza was like Udenia when it came to a mixture of species.
Not only were there orcs, but there were witches, shifters, fae, and other more discreet beings passing through village.
She took in the taller, thin male with the pointy ears.
An elf. He would definitely give Nargol a run for her money in the competition.
But she was a master archer.
She’d honed her skills since she was able to walk. Her mother had put a bow in her hand before she’d even turned five solars.
“You shouldn’t,” Makhel groaned. She scurried to keep with up with Nargol as she headed toward the line.
“Why not? What’s a little fun?” Nargol shrugged.
“You are to blend in. Not stand out.” Makhel finished the last few bites of meat, tossing the bone over her shoulder. She wiped her hands on her pants and snagged Nargol’s wrist. She stepped forward and lowered her voice. “We are in Soza. Someone may recognize you.”
“I’ll miss on purpose if I must. Let me have my fun.” Nargol snatched her arm from Makhel. She offered a sly grin and spun on her heels. She was entering this damn contest. She didn’t care what Makhel said. She’d blend in with folks. She’d use it as a way to start up conversation.
“You don’t know how to miss.” Makhel released a loud laugh.
“I’ll learn today.” Nargol jogged across the street and signed up for the contest.
Makhel moved to stand with the spectators.
Nargol nodded to a few of the other archers.
She casually sized them all up. Some of the orcs looked as if they were proficient with a bow, but her attention went to the elf.
They were known to be great archers in battle.
He would probably give her a little stiff competition, but Nargol wasn’t worried.
The first round passed quickly. Cheers filled the air as arrows either missed the target altogether or landed in one of the areas. Nargol always kept hers close in range of the bullseye but never hitting it exactly. She did what she had to do to keep herself in the game.
It was truly hard to miss the fecking target.
She advanced easily, but she had to push down the temptation of hitting the center of the red area. Nargol felt eyes on her more than once, but she ignored them. She laughed and joked with a few of the other archers.
Some asked where she hailed from.
“Everywhere but nowhere,” was her common answer.
By the time the final round approached, the crowd had thickened. Only two competitors remained. She had been shocked that the elf wasn’t as good as she’d assumed. He had been decent but no warrior.
Nargol stepped into position and froze.
Across from her stood a smaller figure, cloaked in rough brown fabric. A hood obscured their face, but the way they held their bow was confident, yet in an intimate way. Nargol recognized the hold of an experienced archer.
Who was this person?
A ripple of awareness surged through Nargol’s chest. She blinked and shook her head. She glanced over at Makhel who angled her head in a silent question. Makhel didn’t miss anything. She’d noticed the change in Nargol.
Nargol gave her a slight nod. She was good. She just didn’t know what it was about the cloaked figure that piqued her curiosity.
“Archers!” the official’s deep voice rang out.
He was an elder orc who had boasted about being the official of this archery contest for the last twenty solars.
He’d won the crowd over and had engaged them perfectly.
They had rooted for their favorites, and when that person had been knocked out of the contest, they’d moved on to a new favorite.
Nargol was focused as she notched her arrow and drew back. She paused.
So did the small figure.
Nargol released, and her arrow struck just shy of the center. She nodded, satisfied with her shot landing just where she wanted it to. It wasn’t dead center but should win her the competition.
A heartbeat later, the other arrow split the bullseye.
The crowd erupted.
Nargol’s mouth dropped open.
“Well, feck,” she muttered. She turned and took in the hooded figure who lowered their bow.
Murmurs rippled through the audience. Then, as if sensing the attention on them, they turned and the hood slipped back.
Nargol’s breath caught.
She was a human. Petite but strong. Her skin was a warm brown, her features sharp and expressive.
A smile tugged at her plump lips as she glanced around.
Her long, thick hair had been pulled back into a practical plait with a few strands escaping to frame her face.
Her dark-eyed gaze flicked nervously over the crowd.
She was absolutely breathtakingly beautiful.
Something deep and unexpected shifted inside Nargol.
Before anyone could truly react, the woman bolted. She disappeared into the crowd with startling speed. Nargol blinked, and there was no sign of her.
“The…ah…the winner is…well…” The official sputtered and looked around, clearly flabbergasted. His amber eyes were wide and filled with confusion.
Nargol glanced back at the target and took in the perfectly shot arrow that had landed dead center to beat her. She couldn’t remember a time where she’d ever lost an archery contest.
Boos rose, followed by shouts of protest.
“She shouldn’t have entered!”
“That’s cheating!”
“How is it cheating?” Nargol asked. She placed her bow back in its sheath on her shoulder. The woman’s arrow had landed true. As far as Nargol could tell, she’d won fair.
“She’s the bowyer’s apprentice!” a wide male org growled. He folded his massive arms.
“Bowyer’s apprentice?” Nargol repeated. She turned slowly and scanned the faces nearby.
Some of the spectators moved along to other contests, and others headed toward the market. There was still no sign of the human.
“Kraz,” he spat. He scowled and shook his head. “Of course she would win. It’s an unfair advantage. She shouldn’t have entered.”
Nargol’s pulse raced. She glanced back in the direction the woman had vanished.
She had to find her.
She didn’t know why, but she had to.
No matter what.