Chapter 16
The mountains rose like serrated teeth against the night sky. Orlena barely remembered the journey there.
The world had blurred into jolting movements, rough hands, and the relentless rhythm of hooves on stone, gravel, and now earth. Her wrists burned from the rope binding them. Every time Yambul shifted her, the coarse fibers scraped her skin raw.
By the time they reached the mountain pass, darkness had overtaken the sky.
Soon they were traveling by foot. She stumbled as they forced her onward.
Her feet slipped on loose gravel, the terrain growing steeper.
The path narrowed into something barely wide enough for two bodies.
Overgrown brush and trees clung to the slopes of the hills, their dark silhouettes swaying in the wind.
Yambul pulled on the end of the rope. She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out loud. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was causing her pain. Every once in a while he glanced over his shoulder. Not to look at her, but to eye the orcs who traveled with them.
They arrived at a landing. Orlena was grateful that it would appear they were not going much higher.
She glanced around and took in all of the orcs who were in the area.
She counted ten. The orcs named Hagu and Grat were there, along with others she knew from the village.
She recognized Hagu and Grat as customers who had come into the shop and spoken with Yambul.
He’d even invited them back to his office and shut the door.
Now she knew why.
They were in cahoots to take over Aghon.
Her gaze landed on those who looked like her.
Other women.
Humans.
She saw them when the torches flared brighter against the rock face of the shallow cave carved into the mountainside. Seven of them were shoved into the small area.
“Get over here, sukga,” Yambul growled. He tugged on the ropes.
She tripped over a stone in the ground and almost fell. She righted herself and scurried behind him. He dragged her over to the area where the women were. Some of them she knew.
A seamstress who lived two streets over from her.
A young woman who worked in the bakery near her shop.
Another she’d seen laughing outside a shop down the street just days ago.
Now they were all pale and trembling.
The cave smelled of damp stone and fear. Orlena was forced to sit against the rough wall near the entrance. The rock was cold on her back. The chill seeped through her thin clothing. Her wrists were tied so tight, her fingers tingled.
Yambul grumbled and turned, heading back over to where the other orcs were setting up a campground. Obviously this was where they would remain tonight. They built a fire. The flames licked upward, illuminating their faces.
The orcs ignored the humans as they spoke in low, heated tones. Orlena strained to hear what they said so passionately.
“…Rujin…”
“…soon…”
“…we will be rewarded…”
Her heart pounded. Who was Rujin? She didn’t not know, but the way they said his name twisted her stomach up in fear.
As if sensing her gaze, Yambul looked her way. She tore her eyes away from them and stared at the ground. Footsteps approached, sending her heart rate skyrocketing. Yambul crouched just outside the cave, his silhouette blocking the flicker of firelight.
She darted her gaze toward him and immediately regretted it. The smile that greeted her was devilish and turned her stomach sour.
“Your warrior won’t come for you,” he said. His voice carried just enough for her to hear him. “Did you see how she just left you?”
Orlena’s breath hitched. She didn’t want to goad him on by responding, so instead, she remained silent.
“She lied to you.” He tilted his head. “She was not who you thought she was, was she? You thought you’d find your knight in shining armor to save you, didn’t you. Dumb sukga. She used you. She was sent here to unravel everything we had worked for. You were just a piece of ass for her.”
Orlena’s throat tightened painfully.
“She used you,” he whispered. He laughed. “When the trolls take over Aghon, your precious warrior will die.” He rose suddenly and returned to the fire with the other orcs.
She stared off after him, her chest aching.
Used.
Spy.
Just a piece of ass.
The memory of Bula’s—Nargol’s—eyes locking with hers. She had mouthed something to Orlena.
I will come for you.
Orlena clung to that moment, that memory before she had been dragged away. She had to. She had to believe that everything Yambul had said was a lie.
A delicious aroma filled the air and floated to where she and the women sat. The orcs had begun smoking meat torn from bones. Grease glistened in the firelight. The scent churned her stomach.
Beside her, someone sobbed quietly.
Orlena turned her head. The seamstress was shaking violently with tears running down her face.
“It’s going to be okay,” Orlena whispered, even though her own voice trembled.
Would it? She wasn’t sure. She leaned toward another woman who she recognized from working at a shop near hers.
“Are you injured?” Orlena whispered.
The woman’s arms were wrapped around herself as she rocked back and forth. “I’m-I’m not injured.” She shook her head.
“I’m sorry. I believe we’ve met. I can’t remember your name,” Orlena breathed.
“Phoebe. You’re the one who makes the bows,” Phoebe whispered.
Orlena nodded faintly.
“They are talking about trolls. Do you know what that means?” Orlena asked.
“I’ve heard whispers.” Phoebe swallowed hard. She pushed her dark hair from her face. “It’s been said that orcs have been meeting with the trolls. Negotiating.”
“Why would they do that?” Orlena asked. Everything she knew of the trolls wasn’t good. She’d learned when she was a child that they had gone to war with the orcs. Why would orcs now want to negotiate with someone who they considered the enemy?
“They want power that they feel the trolls will give them.”
“But the clan leader—”
“He’s in on it, too.” Phoebe’s voice broke. She sniffed. “He was the main one inviting the trolls in.”
Something in Orlena splintered. If the clan leader was in on it, too, then how would anyone in Soza be safe? He was to protect the villagers, not turn them over to the enemy. Was this why Bula—Nargol—was truly here? To help save everyone? To put a stop to the rebellious orc’s plans?
“You don’t know what trolls do to humans, do you?” Phoebe leaned closer.
Orlena’s pulse stuttered. Did she want to know? She swallowed hard. “What?”
“We aren’t seen as people. They will try to break us. They will sell us as slaves. Use us. They have tried breeding humans.”
Another woman covered her mouth to stifle a sob. Orlena’s stomach twisted violently at visions of what Phoebe said. She refused to allow things like that to happen to her. She’d rather die than be utilized in any way by trolls.
Orlena pressed her forehead to her knees. A few others sobbed, creating a noise disturbance.
Outside, one of the orcs barked sharply: “Shut them up!”
The cave immediately fell into a strained silence. Minutes dragged like hours. Orlena didn’t know how much time had passed. The sky had grown darker, and the moon was high.
An orc rose from the fire pit, grumbling something crude about ale and needing to relieve himself. He wandered off into the darkness between the trees. He disappeared beyond the reach of the flames.
The other orcs resumed their conversations. A few chuckles and laughs rang out. Orlena tried to steady her breathing.
Bula.
No—Nargol. Who was she? Was she truly a spy?
Was she truly the princess of the orc chieftain?
She tried to remember everything she knew about the chieftain and his family and she did recall that he had two daughters.
One, who was mating with the half-breed.
The other daughter, she hadn’t known much about.
But was Nargol a liar? Had she meant to keep the truth from Orlena?
Her chest tightened painfully.
Had Nargol meant any of the sweet words she had said to Orlena? Had anything between them been real? The touches? The promises? The kisses? The way she’d held Orlena? The way her voice had softened when they were alone?
Or had that all been strategy?
Orlena thought back to the times where Nargol had come to the shop. Had she truly been there for her, or had she been trying to get information on Yambul?
Orlena’s throat burned. Her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them back and grew angry at herself when one fell and burned a warm trail down her cheek. She thought of the last time she and Nargol had been together.
Her heart ached.
She had fallen in love.
The realization came like a wave crashing over her. It was sudden, undeniable, and suffocating all at the same time.
She loved Bula—Nargol.
But who was she in love with? The woman who had kissed her gently in quiet moments alone? Or the warrior with secrets layered beyond anything Orlena could see?
Her heart was splitting in two.
Hagu laughed loudly, shattering the fragile quiet that had fallen over the camp.
“How long does it take to have a piss?” he called out.
Others joined him laughing. Apparently, the orc who had left to go relieve himself had not returned.
Once the other orcs ceased laughing, Hagu called out, “Urlgag!”
No response came from the trees.
The fire popped loudly. The orcs sitting around it stilled. Grat stood from where he was sitting and motioned to one of the orcs.
“Zarful. Go fetch him. Make sure he didn’t stumble down the fecking slope,” Grat said.
A few nervous chuckles rippled through the group. Orlena picked up on the uneasiness going through them.
Zarful stood and disappeared into the darkness. The forest swallowed him whole. Time stretched, and before long, neither of the orcs returned. The laughter around the fire died as they became unsettled in their seats.
“Something’s wrong.” Grat’s jaw tightened. He folded his arms.
Yambul’s gaze drifted to the cave and landed on her.
A growl rumbled in his chest. He rose and stalked toward her.
She scrambled backward instinctively, but the ropes surrounding her wrist prevented her from going far.
He seized her by the arm and yanked her upright.
Pain shot through her shoulder, and a cry spilled from her lips.
“If that Cydassi bitch thinks she can scare us,” Yambul snarled to the others. He dragged Orlena over to the firelight. “She will learn differently tonight.”
“The female cannot take us all on,” Hagu scoffed.
“She is only one warrior,” Grat agreed.
Yambul’s grip tightened painfully on Orlena’s arm. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. The agony from her wrists was shooting up her arms. Tears blurred her vision, and she tried to concentrate on not passing out from the pain.
“Then where are Zarful and Urlgag?” Yambul demanded.
No one answered.
The air shifted.
One of the orcs reached for his weapon and then—
A gasp.
Orlena turned just in time to see it. An arrow protruded from the orc’s chest.
Straight through the heart.
His eyes widened in disbelief, and he collapsed backward into the dirt. Growls filled the air, and the orcs scrambled for their weapons. The fire cracked loudly, the wood burning.
“Show yourself!” Grat roared. He held a wickedly large knife.
Another arrow whistled through the air. It struck a second orc in the throat.
His hand immediately went to his neck. Blood poured out around the arrow.
His hands were covered in blood. A gurgling sound erupted from his lips, and he fell to his knees.
He gasped again, trying to gain air but soon fell over into the dirt.
Orlena’s eyes widened at the sight of another lifeless orc.
She whipped her head around, trying to see where the arrows were coming from.
The pain in her arms and wrists was soon forgotten.
The women in the cave screamed at the exploding chaos.
The remaining orcs spun around in frantic circles, searching the tree line.
Yambul yanked Orlena in front of him, using her as a shield.
She struggled to get away, but his arm was like a steel beam, strapped in front of her to keep her close to him.
“Let me go,” she cried out.
“Not a fecking chance,” he snapped.
Another arrow whistled through. This one buried deep into an eye socket of one of the orcs. He fell to the ground instantly. The shooting of the arrows was precise, merciless and deadly. Orlena’s heart slammed against her chest.
Hope flared so bright inside her, it almost hurt.
Nargol.
Her orc.
Had she come to save her? Or was she here to complete her mission she’d been sent to accomplish?
“She’s not getting you,” Yambul snarled.
A wide grin spread across her face because she knew the truth. She felt it deep in her bones.
Nargol had come for her.
“Face us like a true warrior!” Hagu shouted into the trees.
The remaining orcs spun around, looking for the shooter.
But the darkness did not answer. Only the whisper of the wind greeted them.
Yambul cursed viciously and dragged Orlena backward.
“No!” she screamed.
He clamped his massive hand over her mouth, cutting her off. He hauled her toward the narrow path, climbing higher into the mountains, away from the caves.
She kicked, screamed, struggled, and fought with all of her might, but the orc was too strong for her. The light from the fire grew dim. He forced her upward onto the rocky incline. The screams of the camp faded off into the distance.
Her heart thumped wildly. She could not see Nargol, but she felt her.
Felt the promise in the way each of the arrows had struck their targets.
I will come for you.
Tears streamed down her face. Yambul manhandled her farther into the darkness. She didn’t know what was going to happen next.
She did not know how this would end.
Could she forgive the lies? One truth burned brighter than anything else. Nargol had not abandoned her. She had come for her, just as she had promised.
And Orlena knew that her orc would not stop, nor give up.
Not until she had Orlena back.