Chapter 19 #2
“I am Nargol Cydassi, daughter of Tulak and Dura Cydassi. You do not command me,” she snarled. She stood to her full height.
The second guard paused.
Nargol took a threatening step forward. “If you bar my path, you will stand as enemies of Aghon. My father marches even now on his way here. Do not choose the wrong side.”
The men exchanged uneasy glances. Something was even off about these guards.
Highly trained warriors and guards would have never allowed her to get off her beast if they didn’t truly know who she was, and they certainly wouldn’t show doubt, nor would a seasoned warrior show fear.
The Ogola clan was a proud clan and had many seasoned warriors. Where were they?
They stepped aside.
Nargol took Orlena’s hand and assisted her down from Torch. They crossed the courtyard. Nargol tightened her grip on Orlena’s hand.
“Stay close,” she murmured.
“Don’t worry. I will.” Orlena’s voice shook.
They arrived at double doors that led inside. They walked along the main hall where the air smelled stale. The Ogola banners on the walls were torn to shreds.
This was not how Cardu would have kept his hall.
No one was there to greet them. The halls should be bustling with orcs who served Cardu. Where were they?
The hairs on the back of Nargol’s neck stood to attention. She reached down and gripped her dagger’s hilt. Maybe she should have hidden Orlena somewhere and come alone. The air grew thick as they continued venturing down the hall.
At the end stood two great doors that led to the receiving chambers. One of them stood ajar. Nargol paused and slid her dagger from its sheath. Orlena’s eyes widened, and she took in the large weapon.
“Quiet, and stay behind me,” Nargol whispered.
Orlena jerked her head in a nod. Nargol pushed open the door and took a step inside.
Cardu sat upon his throne.
At first he appeared to be sleeping, but Nargol knew better. The room was empty. She walked forward, holding on to Orlena’s hand. Her mate had a death grip on her. Nargol immediately assessed the clan leader, and it was then she saw the dark stain on his chest.
A blade had been driven cleanly into his heart. His eyes stared down at the floor—lifeless. His silver-and-black hair hung around his face. He had been one of the eldest clan leaders and was always the most vocal one against her father.
Orlena moved to her side, stared at the dead orc, and gasped. Her hand came to her mouth.
Nargol knew who was responsible for this.
“Grat,” she snarled.
A slow clap echoed from a side of the chamber. Grat emerged from a doorway, smiling faintly.
“Well deduced, Nargol Cydassi.”
Nargol’s grip on her dagger tightened. Grat’s smile widened; he caught sight of the weapon in her hand.
“Ah, careful there,” he said.
Guards flooded the chamber. Nargol growled. Warriors poured into the room. There had to be at least twenty strong orcs in full battle gear surrounding her and her mate. She whipped her gaze around, taking in each of them and categorizing them from weakest to strongest.
Their weapons were drawn, steel flashing.
Nargol froze at the sight of one weapon. A bow. Drawn and aimed directly at Orlena’s chest. She froze.
“Lower your weapon,” Grat said.
“So you went ahead and killed Cardu,” Nargol snapped.
“I told you he was just a puppet, and believe me when I say he got what had been coming for him.” Grat snickered.
“You will pay for taking the life of a clan leader,” Nargol said.
“And who will charge me? Certainly not you,” he replied.
Nargol’s pulse thundered her in ears. She was furious that not only had he been a step ahead of her, now here she was, surrounded by these orcs with her mate.
“Oh, you will pay, Grat. Mark my words,” she promised.
“There is nothing you can do, princess. I have sent word to Rujin. He will be welcomed here as an ally,” he boasted. He stood tall and proud of himself.
Nargol shook her head. He was a fool.
“You would invite trolls into Aghon? You think he will be an ally? He will kill you just as he will any of the orcs who will stand against him,” Nargol spat.
“He offered a compromise,” he said.
“Rujin will do nothing but deceive. I hope you didn’t believe any of the promises he’s made you.” She raised her dagger and pointed it at Grat. She released Orlena’s hand and reached for her other knife.
The bowstring creaked tighter.
Her hand paused.
“If you do not comply and drop your weapons, your little human will wear an arrow through her small, pathetic heart,” Grat said softly.
Nargol’s world narrowed to Orlena’s face. She stood very still, but her eyes—
Held no fear.
Only trust in Nargol.
Slowly, she lowered her dagger to the floor.
“I will comply. Release her,” Nargol said.
“Oh, no. You are mistaken.” Grat laughed.
The guards surged forward and kicked her blade away.
“You will serve as examples. We will let the village see what becomes of traitors.”
Hands seized Orlena.
“Nargol!” she cried, dragged away.
Something inside Nargol fractured. She lunged toward Orlena and the orcs who dare lay their hands on her mate.
“Release her. I will cut your fecking hands off for touching my mate!” Nargol roared.
Warriors accosted her. They tried to restrain her, but she fought them off. She threw two aside, then a third slammed a fist into her ribs. A fourth locked iron bands around her wrists, and multiple orcs wrestled her down to the floor.
Nargol glanced up and was able to see a glimpse of Orlena through the feet surrounding her.
They tightened the shackles, and she ignored the pain that lanced her wrist. They stripped her of all of her weapons.
A knee pressed into the center of her back, hands sliding over her legs in a final pat down.
“Take them to the dungeons,” Grat ordered coolly. “Tomorrow, they will hang. A proper welcome for Rujin.”
They were hauled in opposite directions, and Orlena screamed.
“Nargol!”
Her name tore through Nargol like a blade.
The pain of failing her mate again was something she would not get used to.
She fought the orcs’ hold, but they lifted her from the floor.
She kicked one’s knee, and he screamed, buckling to the floor.
She spun and head butted another one. She continued to fight to try to get free. They couldn’t take Orlena from her.
Not again.
Blood slicked her wrists as she struggled against the shackles.
None of it mattered.
Hard hands gripped her and forced her toward a dark staircase that led below the stronghold. The orcs taking her had one hell of time getting her down the stairs. She was not going to make their job easy.
The dungeons were older than the structure above. They had been carved directly beneath the underbelly of Soza with stone hollowed out and shaped into corridors. The air was thick, stagnant with mildew and a sour residue of despair.
Torches burned low on the walls. Their flames cast shadows that highlighted the darkness. Water dripped somewhere in the gloom, each ping loud through the narrow passageways.
Nargol memorized every sound.
Every turn in the corridor.
She was marched down the final set of stone steps and shoved forward. Chains clinked at her wrists where the warriors had bound her hands tightly behind her back. The iron bit into her skin, but she barely felt it.
Her attention was on Orlena who was being escorted ahead of Nargol.
They tossed Orlena into a cell first. She stumbled and caught herself on the damp floor, turning immediately.
Her gaze frantically searched and landed on her.
She flew to the door just as the guards slammed them shut.
The sound reverberated through the corridor. Rage detonated inside Nargol’s chest.
“Nargol!” Orlena cried out.
It took all four of the warriors to force her into the neighboring cell.
She fought them hard, even with her hands bound behind her back.
She drove her shoulder into one guard hard enough to send him crashing into the opposite wall.
Another dove a fist into her ribs. She growled and tried to twist away.
“Enough,” one snarled.
They pushed her into the cell and closed the bars in front of her. A heavy lock snapped into place. She lunged at the bars and smacked her body into them. She bared her tusks at the warriors.
“You’re not getting out of here,” the largest one vowed. He had the nerve to smirk at her.
She memorized his face. The moment she was free, that smirk would be permanently erased.
“Take these shackles off of me and say that to my face in here,” Nargol spat out. She had fought orcs much larger than him. They may have removed her weapons from her, but she wouldn’t need them. She could take him down without them.
“It’s not me you should be worried about, bitch. It will be that noose that will be tight around your neck come morning.”
Orlena’s soft cry bit through the air at his words. Nargol watched the orcs stalk away. She let loose a roar that came from the depths of her soul. Anger. Despair. Desperation. She pulled and tugged on the shackles to try to break free of them.
“Nargol.” Orlena’s soft voice broke through the rage that had consumed her.
She turned and found Orlena with her tear-streaked face leaning on the bars. Nargol walked over to her slowly and tried to rein in her anger.
“I’m sorry,” Nargol whispered. She didn’t know what else she could say. She couldn’t care less that she was in the dungeon. The sight of her mate in another cell almost brought her to her knees. She should have hidden her away somewhere she could have been safe.
Instead of facing being hung by a lunatic orc.
Orlena closed her eyes. Her body trembled as she leaned into the bars. Nargol stepped closer and felt the most helpless she’d ever been in her life. Never would she have thought she’d be in a position such as this.
“Look at me,” Nargol said.
Orlena lifted her gaze. It was filled with fear. A lone tear slid down her brown cheek. The breath was ripped from Nargol’s chest. She wanted to break something. Kill something or someone. Preferably an orc named Grat.
“I am here.”
“They are going to…” Orlena’s voice fractured. “Tomorrow—”
“They will not.”
“How?” Her voice cracked; panic was setting in. “There are guards. Warriors. He said that—”
Orlena’s words dissolved into sobs. Nargol closed the last inch of distance she could manage and reposed her forehead on the iron.
The metal was cold, but she ignored it just so that some part of her could touch Orlena.
She angled her head carefully until she could lean it sideways against Orlena’s through the narrow gap where the bars aligned.
“They think iron holds me.” Nargol’s voice was low.
“Your wrists are shackled. You can’t get out of them.” Orlena sobbed even harder. She shook her head and wiped her face, but the tears continued. She gripped the bars and stared up at Nargol. “I don’t want to die.”
The confession weakened Nargol’s knees. Nargol’s chest felt as if it were being crushed from the inside.
“You will not,” she said.
“But how?” Orlena pressed. “How will you get us out and save us?”
Nargol didn’t have an answer at the moment. She turned and took in the small cell. The bars were thick and made of iron. Even if her hands were free, she wouldn’t be able to bend them to her will. She faced Orlena again and found her eyes searching, her mate waiting for an answer.
“I will tear this place stone from stone if I must. I will break my own bones before I let them harm you.”
“I don’t need you to break,” Orlena whispered. She swiped at another tear that trailed down her face. She pressed her forehead to the bars between them. “I need you alive.”
Nargol checked the corridor again. Guards would be rotating their watch. She paid close attention to the dripping water sound that was nearby—perhaps it was a drainage channel. Old mortar between the stones.
She catalogued everything.
She would find a weakness.
She always did.
Nargol turned back to Orlena and rested her forehead to hers as best she could.
“I trust you.” Orlena sighed.
“Do you?” Nargol asked softly. It was not that she didn’t believe her. She did. But it did something to her to hear Orlena speak it aloud. Orlena blinked and steadied her breath.
“Yes.”
There was no hesitation in her answer. Now she knew she could not fail. Not with the trust that was put in her hands even though her wrists were bound.
Footsteps echoed faintly from down the hall. It must be the guards who would watch them. Voices reverberated. They were speaking of the preparations for tomorrow.
Nargol bit back a growl. Tomorrow would not come as they would expect.
“Rest now,” Nargol said.
“How can I sleep?” Orlena turned and took in her small cell. There was a tiny stone landing that jutted from the wall. A hole in the floor in the corner where one could answer nature’s call. No comforts of home. Just a cold, hard dungeon.
“Trust me when I say you will need your rest,” Nargol murmured.
Orlena arched an eyebrow at her. She pressed close to bars again and tilted her head back. “I love you.”
Those soft words were all that Nargol needed to gain strength. She could fight and defeat a hundred orc warriors at the moment. She closed her eyes briefly and absorbed the warmth from those three little words.
“I love you,” Nargol answered.
She wasn’t sure how, but she was going to keep her promise.
Even if it killed her.