Chapter 10 #2
“What does it say?” Makhel asked after Nargol remained silent. She leaned over Nargol’s shoulder to look at the ancient scroll.
Nargol had almost forgotten Makhel was standing beside her.
“And then the strangers came. They came not from the mountains nor the deep forests, but from beyond the reach of imagination. They were small of frame and brief of solars. Their bodies soft where ours were forged hard, but their spirits burned bright, untested and unclaimed.” Nargol paused and glanced over at Makhel whose eyes had grown round.
The room was silent except for the sounds of their deep breaths.
“Holy feck,” Makhel breathed. She motioned to the scroll. “What else does it say?”
Nargol read again, her heart slamming against her chest. This had not been taught to her during her schooling. Had her teachers even known of this part of the document? She swallowed hard and continued.
“We decree this: Let the humans be welcomed upon the soil of Aghon. Let them drink from our rivers and shelter beneath our skies. Those who would bind the humans, starve them, or deny them choice stand in defiance of Nogora’s sacrifice.
For she gave her heart so that all life might endure—not so that one people may rise upon the backs of another.
” Nargol sniffed and continued skimming the parchment.
Another passage caught her eye.
Hruunak ven, nigh makh tor’ven. Ul’ka zhurak nogh. Na’keth ul ash ragu de ul obo.
Humans and orc will live side by side, not as master and chattel. Neighbors beneath the same sky.
This was not vague. It was not symbolic, but a direct command. Someone had taken the words meant to guide their people and twisted them. The ancestors had foreseen this. They were warning against it.
And now Hagu and Grat would try to erase the proof of the ancestors’ commands that humans be accepted as equals. She thought of Orlena’s contract, and a blind fury settled in her chest. She would help free her mate.
“This should have taken us days to find,” Makhel whispered, breaking through Nargol’s thoughts.
“Or longer,” Nargol said softly.
Again, Makhel was right. The ruins were no small structure. With only the two of them, it would have taken them weeks, if not months to find it. Instead, she’d found it almost immediately. How had she known where to find it?
Nogora.
The goddess had led her to find what they needed. That was the only explanation she would accept.
“We can’t give this to them,” Makhel said.
“No, we can’t, but we also can’t refuse.” Nargol glanced over at Makhel, an idea forming.
“What are you thinking? I can see it in your eyes.” Makhel folded her arms.
Nargol smiled. “What if we didn’t give them this one, but somehow another one?”
“A fake?”
“Kraz,” Nargol whispered. But how the feck would they be able to get a duplicate that looked exactly like this one? This was too important. Her father would need to know about this.
“It could work,” Makhel said. “I might know someone, but we would have to hurry. A witch who lives north of here. She harnesses strong magic something like I’ve never seen. It will be dangerous, but she will remain discreet.”
“Then that’s where we go.” Nargol wasn’t going to question her friend. She was sure they would need to pay the witch well. There was one thing she’d learned a long time ago—never trust a witch. “We have to get this to my father.”
“That I agree. Let’s make sure the witch can do what we need. Otherwise, we will need a backup plan,” Makhel murmured.
Nargol gently lifted the old parchment from its stone holding.
Her hands trembled at the feeling of the thick paper.
Makhel removed her satchel from her back and opened it.
They gently secured it then closed the bag.
They quickly retreated back the way they’d come.
As much as Nargol wanted to explore this place, they did not have time.
If they were going to make a side trip before returning to Soza, they needed to leave immediately.
Nargol paused outside the temple and glanced back. That same calming feeling remained inside her.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
A gentle breeze blew and caressed her skin. She closed her eyes briefly. She nodded, spun on her heel, and followed Makhel over to where their shukans grazed.
It was only once they had mounted their shukans and rode deep into the forest, away from the ruins, that Nargol felt it.
Eyes were on them again, and this time, it was not the spirits.
“We are being followed.” Makhel’s jaw tightened.
“Let him think we have not noticed him,” Nargol said calmly.
They rode on and adjusted their pace while their senses were sharp. From what she could tell, it was only a single orc. They continued to act as if they didn’t know they were being pursued.
This orc had certainly made a mistake. He was unaware that he tailed two of the most experienced warriors who fought for the chieftain.
It was no surprise to Nargol that Hagu would have them monitored. This entire mission was a test of their loyalty.
But Nargol was only loyal to one orc and clan.
“I want you to continue ahead,” Nargol said. The path they were on looked as if it narrowed up ahead as the trees grew thicker. She would intervene with their shadow, but she didn’t want Makhel to slow down. “I’ll catch up with you.”
Makhel slammed her fist over her heart and met Nargol’s eyes.
No words were needed. They couldn’t allow Hagu to find out that they had visited this witch.
She figured he would send spies. The orc had hidden himself well on the journey to the ruins.
His mistake was letting himself be noticed.
Hagu had just made a faux pas. He’d unknowingly sent this orc to die.
The minute the path narrowed, Nargol disappeared into the brush.
This lone rider had made a huge error, and he was going to pay dearly for it.
By the time Nargol had caught up with Makhel, the last traces of daylight had disappeared. They rode their shukans hard. Torch loved to run wild and free and lived for the days where she just let him race across the plains. Night pressed in, the promise of rain scented off in the distance.
Nargol’s mind refused to settle.
Their shadow had been swiftly dealt with. She had no regrets for how his time amongst them had come to an end.
She had slipped away from Makhel without a trace and had circled back to where it was she who followed the lone orc. The orc trailing them had been skilled until he’d allowed himself to be noticed.
Nargol had waited until he had dismounted to relieve himself near a stream. His guard had been lowered by fatigue or false confidence. She didn’t know, nor did she care. He’d noticed that Nargol had left, but he’d continued to follow Makhel.
Her attack had been swift.
Their fight had been brief but vicious. The orc had fought hard, but Nargol was the better warrior. He had been no match for her. He’d only managed to slit her shoulder with his dagger. She’d disarmed him moments later.
She’d pinned him to the ground with her knee to his chest and her dagger at his throat.
“Who sent you?” she demanded through clenched teeth.
“Hagu. He wanted you followed. To ensure you completed the task.” He gasped. “He doesn’t trust anyone. Ever.”
“What other orders did he give you?” Nargol said.
Hagu wasn’t the only one who wasn’t trusting in this situation. Had he given other order to attack her and Makhel? Steal the document then leave them for dead?
“No! Only to follow and report back to him,” he breathed.
Nargol narrowed her eyes on him. He must have seen the glint in them. There was no way she could allow this orc to return to Hagu and notify him that they weren’t coming straight back to Soza.
“Please! Don’t kill me. Whatever you want, it’s yours—”
A single strike to the neck with her blade cut him deep. His words ended in gurgles, and he reached for his neck. Nargol stood to her full height and watched him until the light faded from his eyes and his body became still and silent.
War was upon them, and this was not the time for mercy.
Now, riding beside Makhel once more, she pushed the memory aside. There would be time later for her to assess the situation and consider how anything could have been handled differently.
But for now, they rode to the witch’s home.
“If we push hard, we should be there within a few hours,” Makhel shouted.
“Good,” Nargol responded.
They continued to ride until their beasts became exhausted. The trees of the forest grew twisted and sparse. Their bark blackened as though scorched long ago. Moss glowed faintly underfoot. They slowed their animals down to a trot.
The air buzzed, not with insects but with something magical.
A ward.
They had passed through a protective spell. Nargol glanced around, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. Whoever had cast the spell was very strong indeed. Had they not been welcomed, they would not have been able to get past the ward.
“We are here,” Makhel announced. “Just up ahead.”
They crested a low hill, and the witch’s dwelling came into view.
It was not a hut or a normal home. It was a mound of earth and stone half buried into the hillside.
Thick roots coiled over the roof as if holding it in place.
The stone walls had strange symbols carved into them.
Smoke curled from a narrow vent, carrying the scent of herbs and something metallic.
The power she felt radiated from this structure.
Before they could dismount, a voice rasped from the shadows.
“You’ve ridden far for something you might not be able to afford.”
An old lady stepped into view from the side of the structure. She leaned heavily on a crooked staff as she walked forward. Her skin was wrinkled with age and wisdom. Her gray hair hung down in thick braids past her waist. Her eyes, however, were sharp and bright.
“Mother Sava.” Makhel inclined her head toward her.