Chapter 14
Before sunrise, the inn was wrapped in a hush. Nargol moved through the dim corridor like a shadow, her boots silent on the worn wooden floor. A single lantern flickered at the far end of the hall, casting long wavering shapes on the walls.
Orlena’s face filled her thoughts. The way her eyes had softened in the candlelight of her home, the warmth of her body against Nargol’s.
The memory tightened something deep inside her.
Five days without her had been agony. Leaving her again, even for a single morning, scraped raw against the mating bond that hummed in her blood.
She reached the door and tapped on it softly, then opened it. The door opened immediately. Makhel stood fully dressed, her weapons strapped on her figure, her expression grim.
“You’re on time,” Makhel murmured.
“You didn’t think I would be?” Nargol arched an eyebrow at her.
The orc had the nerve to snort, stepping aside to let her in.
Their gear was laid out with meticulous precision.
Blades were sharp, bows strung, and their packs were secured.
The air felt heavy with unspoken dread. Nargol grabbed her belongings.
Her weapons were a part of her. Walking around without them had her feeling exposed.
Now, hiding blades on her body made her feel complete. She adjusted the strap of her bow on her chest.
“I don’t know about you, but something feels off about this meeting,” Makhel said.
“I feel it, too, but we have to go. If we don’t show, then our cover will certainly be blown,” Nargol said softly. “I do feel that we are close to getting what we came for.”
Silence stretched for a moment, tension high. This meeting could make or break their mission. Hagu and Grat may not be who she was looking for, but she was sure they would lead her to the culprit who’d dared to plan a revolt against her family.
“We should send word to Udenia. Request backup. If this is bigger than we thought—”
“Once the meeting is over, send it. It’s too late right now, but if things go poorly, my sister will come.” Nargol thought of Magoza. The future chiefess of Aghon would rain down fire to protect their legacy and come for her if need be.
Makhel clasped her forearm.
“Ticantus namaci,” Mahkel murmured.
Nargol tightened her grip on her friend’s arm.
“Ticantus namaci,” she repeated the old battle cry of warriors.
We fight as one.
They left their room and descended to the stables where their shukans waited.
Nargol stroked Torch’s thick burnt-orange fur, drawing strength from the familiar warmth of her beast. He released a low growl.
Her shukan could sense the difference in her.
He always knew when they were going into a dangerous situation.
This was not a casual ride through the village.
They were potentially going into a battle.
It wouldn’t surprise her at all.
With a swift motion, she swung up into the saddle. She took the reins in her hand and nudged him with her heels.
They rode hard. The land blurred past in streaks of gray and silver as dawn bled slowly into the sky. Mist clung to the low hills of the land. It swirled around twisted trees and jagged rocks. The forest ahead loomed dark and ancient, its canopy swallowing the growing light of the twin suns.
Nargol’s instincts screamed a warning.
Every rustle of leaves, every distant cry of a bird sent her nerves on edge. She assessed the scenery and drew in a sharp breath. She was a warrior, trained since she was a young orc. Immediately, a calmness came over her. This was not her first mission, but this one had a little more at stake.
Her mate.
Orlena’s face surfaced again. The memory of her trust was what fueled her on.
Do you trust me? she’d asked her mate.
Yes.
She would not fail her. She would be free to live and go wherever her heart desired. Nargol would ensure that she would have everything she’d ever wanted. Protection. Love. Dreams.
They reached the clearing just as the suns crested the horizon. Orcs lingered at its edge, all of them armed and watchful. Hagu stood near the center besides Grat, both orcs wearing smug expressions.
Nargol figured they would think that their small show of strength was meant to intimidate her and Makhel.
These orcs had certainly underestimated them.
Nargol kept her gaze straight, but she sensed her friend riding next to her.
As much as she wanted to wipe those expressions from their faces, she had to resist. She was here to play a part and learn the information she’d been sent to find.
They arrived at the party and halted their shukans a short distance away. Nargol slid from Torch and approached the males with Makhel at her side.
“You returned much faster than I expected,” Hagu said. His gaze flicked from her to Makhel before returning to her.
“I was determined to succeed,” Nargol said cooly.
“So I take it you are not coming empty-handed?” He folded his arms.
Grat snorted loudly.
“Do these females look as if they would have failed? You choose wisely, Hagu.” He slapped Hagu on the shoulder. His eyes gleamed bright as he watched them. He held his hand out. “The scroll.”
Makhel withdrew the duplicate scroll from her satchel and handed it over. Grat snatched it from her. His eyes narrowed on the parchment, and he unrolled it. A vicious grin spread across his face.
“With this,” Grat proclaimed, his voice booming across the clearing, “the reign of the Cydassis ends. No one will ever know the truth that once bound this land to their bloodline.”
A murmur of approval rippled through the gathered orcs.
Nargol forced her expression into one of agreement. She nodded and glanced over at Makhel. It would appear the witch’s copy had fooled them. The original was in a safe place at the moment.
“And when the chieftain falls, will it be Cardu who leads?” she asked.
Laughter erupted. She glanced around, not sure what was so funny about her question. She would assume all of this was for Cardu to take over. He had been very vocal about his displeasure with her father’s decisions on everything.
Especially her sister mating with a human.
“Cardu?” Hagu sneered. “He is just a puppet.”
Grat’s grin widened. He rolled the parchment and motioned to the males behind him.
“You think that sniveling piece of dung would be able to rule men like these or an entire nation? I think not, you foolish female.” Grat let out a booming laugh.
He folded his arms in front of his massive chest. “The true power comes from beyond our borders. Cardu has been nothing but a spy for the future leader of this land. Rujin will march soon. Aghon will be his.”
A chill rippled down Nargol’s spine. She slowly slid her hand to grip her dagger at her waist. This was not what she’d expected at all.
Rujin, the troll warlord, could not—would not—rule these lands.
Not while there was any breath left in any Cydassi’s body.
Had these orcs forgotten their history? Had they been so lost in their hatred for her family that they’d forgotten how Karrnoth Horde had come to try to enslave the orcs?
That it was because of the trolls that orcs had become nomads, had almost perished had it not been for the sacrifice Nogora had made for them?
“You would hand over our homeland to trolls?” she spat.
“It’s better to kneel willingly than be crushed. Plus, the promises he’s made to reward those who side with him were something none of us could refuse.” Grat’s smile disappeared. He took a step forward.
The males behind him slowly brandished their weapons. The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees.
“And you just know that Rujin will be honorable and come through with whatever he promised you?” Nargol couldn’t hold back the disdain she had for not only the troll warlord, but the orcs standing in front of her. Not only were they traitors to her father, but to their entire race.
A little over a century ago, a troll warlord known as Vargath, the Mountain-Breaker, believed that Aghon should never have belonged to the orcs.
He and the trolls believed that Nogora was an evil entity sent to destroy them by giving orcs a prosperous life.
It was he who had led attack after attack on the orcs, trying to drive them from their beautiful lands that had been blessed by Nogora herself.
Legend had it that one night, the trolls attempted to attack the Temple of Spirits, but her ancestors had defeated them.
How could these orcs think to turn Aghon over to the enemy?
“I was wondering how long you would keep up this charade.” Grat growled. His amber eyes narrowed on her.
Cold realization settled over Nargol. She didn’t say a word. She tightened her grip on the handle of her weapon. She didn’t need to look over at Makhel to know her friend was posed and ready for a battle.
“We know who you are,” Hagu snapped.
“The mighty Nargol Cydassi, daughter of Chieftain Tulak. A spy in our midst. Don’t think you’re getting this back.” Grat held up the scroll. He leveled his thunderous gaze at her then lifted a meaty hand and pointed at her and Makhel. “Kill them.”
Nargol drew her blade in a single fluid motion just as the first attacker launched himself at her.
Metal clashed hard as he swung his broad blade toward her.
She moved on instinct, every motion honed by solars of training.
Beside her, Makhel was a whirlwind of leather precision.
She dispatched the orc by sinking her blade directly into his throat.
She grinned, blood rushing out around her weapon and down onto her hand.
She pulled it back and pushed him down onto the ground.
He gripped his neck, struggling to breathe until his last breath was taken.
She spun around just in time; another large orc came at her.
She had trained her entire life for this.