Chapter 13
Dawn was arriving in Soza. The sky was streaked pale gray and gold as Orlena walked along the narrow streets toward the shop.
The air was cool and damp from last night’s lingering mist. Her breath fogged faintly in front of her. She clutched her satchel close to her chest. She glanced over her shoulder for the tenth time, expecting to see shadows emerge from the alleyways.
But there was no one there.
Still, her pulse refused to settle down.
She reached the shop and unlocked the door with jittery fingers.
She hoped and prayed this wasn’t the one day when Yambul would arrive before her.
The familiar scent of wood shavings and oil greeted her, and she stepped inside.
Normally, the aroma soothed her. Today, it did little to quiet down the storm raging inside her chest.
She shut the door quickly and slid the bolt in place. One look around, and she knew she was alone. The shop was dim, lit only by the morning light filtering through the windows. For a moment, she stood listening.
Just in case.
Nothing but silence.
She took a few steps forward and glanced behind the counter where her workshop and Yambul’s office were located. The contract felt heavy in her bag as if it weighed a full stone. She swallowed hard and forced her feet to move. A knot formed in her stomach.
Put it back exactly where you found it.
Bula’s voice echoed in her mind. Orlena slipped into the office. The small space smelled faintly of stale smoke and ink. His desk loomed in front of her, cluttered with ledgers and scattered papers.
Her hands shook as she pulled the parchment from her bag. For one reckless heartbeat, she considered keeping it. This was proof of her freedom. But Bula had been clear that they needed time.
Orlena carefully slipped open the drawer and tucked the document beneath a stack of papers where she’d found it. She adjusted the edges until everything looked untouched. She stepped back, her lungs burning. She scurried from the office and closed the door.
It was done.
She went into her workshop and set her bag down on the table. A strange feeling came over her. Technically, she was a free woman. The knowledge shimmered inside her like a secret flame. She pressed a hand to her chest, a smile tugging at her lips.
She was a free woman.
Those words just seemed unreal.
Soon, she and Bula would leave Soza. They would travel beyond the village walls, across the breathtaking lands of Aghon. She pictured bustling cities carved into cliffs, markets filled with bright fabrics and foreign spices, and roads that stretched endlessly toward the horizon.
For the first time in her life, her dream felt within reach.
A giggle escaped her at the thought of leaving. She glanced around her station and decided she’d better get to work. There was no sense in standing here grinning to herself and daydreaming. Yambul would yell and scream at her for wasting precious time.
The rhythm of carving steadied her nerves.
Wood curled beneath her blade in thin ribbons, falling softly to the floor.
She focused on her long list of tasks that she needed to accomplish.
She hummed while she worked. Time flew by, and before she knew it, the sun was blaring through the windows.
She glanced at the front door and frowned.
Yambul had not arrived at his usual time.
He was rarely late. When he was, it was never more than a few minutes.
Unease filled her. She wasn’t sure why, but a queasy sensation settled deep inside her.
Get a grip. Maybe he had business to attend to before coming to the shop.
Not that he would tell her any of that.
By the time the shop was due to open, he still hadn’t showed up. She went ahead and unbolted the door and opened up. The morning passed slowly. A few customers wandered in. She greeted them, answered questions, and sold some items.
Each time the door opened, her heart leaped into her throat.
But no Yambul.
She expected to see his broad frame blocking the entrance. Each time relief filled her that it was not him.
Near midday, a customer entered, a middle-aged human with kind eyes. He went over to the bow section and had plenty of questions for her. He finally selected a bow, and they went over to the counter. Orlena wrapped it carefully and was grateful for his casual conversation.
“You, my dear, have a talent,” he said warmly.
“Thank you. I’ve been doing this for a long time,” she replied. A genuine smile appeared on her lips.
“Well, I can sure tell. A friend of mine recommended me to purchase a bow. We are going on a hunting trip soon, and I figured now would be a better time to get me a new bow.” He went into details of his trip and his group of friends who were going.
She was envious of what sounded like a memorable time with friends. She couldn’t wait to start making memories with Bula when they traveled.
“That sounds like you’re going to have a lot of fun.” She took his payment and completed his transaction.
“I will. Thank you so much.” He picked up his bag and walked toward the door.
She turned away to grab the items that needed to be put back on the shelves. She made her way down one of the isles to find where the first item belonged. The bell above the door chimed.
Heavy footsteps thundered inside.
Orlena looked up just as Yambul pushed past the customer and stormed in. The warmth drained from her body. Yambul’s face was twisted with rage, his tusks bared in a snarl.
The door slammed shut, leaving Orlena alone with her employer.
Fear coiled in her gut.
Yambul’s gaze locked on to her. He advanced slowly on her.
“Who is your friend?” he demanded.
Orlena’s mouth went dry at the look in his eyes. She had seen him grumpy and upset, but never like this.
“I…I don’t know what you mean,” she stammered.
“Don’t lie to me, sukga!” he bellowed. “The female orc who’s been sniffing around you. Who is she?”
She held the items close to her chest. Her heart raced, and she took a step back.
“Her name is Bula. She’s a drifter who—”
Yambul roared and swung his meaty hand. She ducked on instinct, the items in her hand falling to the floor. She scrambled backward, fear consuming her.
“Do not lie to me!” he hollered again. He advanced on her. “What is her true name?”
Orlena’s vision blurred from unshed tears. She shook her head frantically.
“That’s her name! She introduced herself to me as Bula.
She’s a drifter. A nomad. She doesn’t have a home.
I swear!” Orlena cried out. She hit the wall and slid to the floor.
She was cornered with him looming over her.
His massive shadow swallowed up most of the light.
She curled in on herself, sobs tearing from her throat.
Something shifted in his expression. He studied her for a long, tense moment. Then his lips crept up into a thin, humorless smile.
“Is that what’s she been telling you? She has no home?” he murmured. A snort escaped him. “Then she lied to you.”
Orlena’s breath hitched. She had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming that Bula would never lie to her, but she didn’t want to feed the flames of his rage.
“Just as I’m sure she’s told you that you get to leave with her, didn’t she?”
The words struck too close to home. Panic surged. She bit down on her tongue to force herself to remain quiet.
“You don’t think I knew you took that fecking contract? What? So your lover can read it to you?”
“You lied to me!” she shouted.
She immediately regretted it, but all he did was throw his head back and belt out a sadistic laugh.
“And you think that piece of paper means anything? You think you get to leave me and be free? You will work for me until I tell you to leave,” he said.
“No! That’s not fair.” Her body vibrated with fear. There was no way that she would work for him forever. She would risk her life to run from him if she had to. He would have to keep her chained down to keep her from running.
“Don’t no one care about you, sukga.”
Even though she was a full-grown woman, he’d always called her sukga, girl, as if she didn’t have a name. It demeaned her. Made her less than what she was. It was because of her that his shop prospered. Her work, her craft, her skill. She swallowed hard and eyed him.
Could she run from him now?
Or would he grab her before she could make a run for it?
“You’re coming with me,” Yambul growled.
Before she could react, his hand shot out and seized her arm. Pain exploded, and he hauled her to her feet. She cried out, his grip iron tight.
He dragged her into the workshop. He grabbed rope and tied it around her wrists. The fibers scraped her skin raw as she struggled against them.
“Please. I didn’t do anything,” she begged. “Let me go!”
“Quiet,” he snapped.
He hoisted her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing. The world skewed violently. Her stomach lurched, and he carried her out into the street. The door slammed closed behind them.
No one intervened.
Her cries went ignored.
Faces blurred past as Yambul strode down the road. Some glanced at them then quickly turned away. Shame and fear burned inside her. Tears streamed down her face, and she fought uselessly.
He turned down a narrow alley on the outskirts of the village. She looked around to try to see where they were going. Soon, he exited the alley that led to an open area. It wasn’t guarded like the main entrance of the village. From this spot, one could leave and no one would see them.
Three massive orcs waited astride their shukans. Recognition filled her. They were the same figures she had seen lurking near the shop that night and following her halfway home.
Her blood ran cold.
Yambul dumped her onto a large beast. Rough hands secured her in place. She thrashed around, fighting for her freedom.
“Stop resisting,” Yambul snarled. “Or I will make sure your lover suffers for it.”
Her body went still.
“What have you done to Bula?” she demanded.
“Nothing yet,” he said calmly.
A shiver rippled down her spine at how level his voice became.
“But we are going to learn the truth about this…this Bula. You say she’s a drifter, I say it’s a lie.”
Orlena shook her head fiercely. He chuckled and leaned closer to her. His breath was hot and foul, and she grimaced.
“She, sukga, is a spy.”
The words echoed in Orlena’s mind. She didn’t want to believe it.
“No,” she whispered. “You’re lying.”
But doubt crept in. Bula leaving for days without a single word or reason where she’d gone. Her weapons. All of the secrets in her eyes.
No.
Orlena clung to her faith in Bula with desperate strength. Whatever truths lay hidden, she just could not believe that the orc who had held her so tenderly would deceive her.
Yambul hefted himself onto the animal behind her. He lifted the reins, and the creature surged forward.
The village blurred and grew smaller as they rode. Wind tore at Orlena’s hair, the beast racing faster. Her tears continued to slide down her face, and she held on to the fur beneath her.
She thought of Bula’s promise. I will free you.
Please, she whispered inside her mind. Her heartbeat grew quicker with every stride of the shukan.
Find me.