Chapter 20 #2
Wodred absorbs my words solemnly, then finally nods. It must be a testament to his fatigue that he is not arguing further with me.
“What can I do to help?”
I warm at his offer. He is always so supportive and never questions my gifts or powers. I never realized what a blessing such support could be before I interacted with Wodred and got it without even asking for it.
“Just stand back,” I tell him. “This will take some concentration.”
Wodred does as I ask without hesitation, stepping backward so that I can work.
I reach into a pouch at my belt and pull out a piece of chalk and a long string that I always carry with me for spellwork.
The floor is mostly carved stone with some dirt, but I should be able to draw on it.
I get measuring with the string, drawing the circle, and placing the correct runes at the right points at the perimeter.
When I’m done, I breathe out a small incantation and the circle lights up with a dim glow before fading.
Though the light is gone, it is still active.
Not my strongest work, but it should hold.
Wodred has been watching me intently while I work, and as I finish, he says, “Let us test it.”
“All right,” I agree. “Try to enter the circle.”
The orc steps forward, but is blocked by my invisible shield.
He pushes against the barrier and is blocked as well.
Then he pulls his axe off his back. With a brutality that surprises me, he slams the butt of his ax against the barrier, only for it to bounce off.
This seems to satisfy him and he nods, putting his ax back on its harness.
“Your skills, as always, are impressive,” Wodred says solemnly. I know that he means it.
I feel shy at his praise, perhaps more shy than I would usually be. But only a few hours ago, I was in his arms, coming undone, and now I don’t really know how to act with him. Are we courting now? What are we?
“Thank you,” I respond, banishing my wayward thoughts. Now is not the time to worry about such things. “I also added noise dampening to the circle. Any louder noises will be hushed, so we don’t have to worry about making sounds in our sleep.”
“A good thought,” Wodred nods.
“You are invited to enter, now,” I tell him. “But be careful not to smudge my lines.”
The orc steps forward, this time crossing the threshold, but he steps gingerly, avoiding my chalk lines. He goes to lie down, taking off his ax and javelin quiver, laying them on the floor in easy reaching distance. Then he looks up, his face unreadable.
“We should stay close,” he says, pulling back his cloak in silent invitation. “To share warmth.”
My shyness increases, and I can feel myself blushing, but this is no time for maidenish behavior.
Though it is warmer the further we get into the tunnels, it is still quite cold, and we have only one heat charm.
There are practical matters to be considered.
I nod and climb down next to him, crawling under his cloak so that we are both lying on the ground, my back to his front.
Wodred surprises me by putting an arm around my middle and tugging me closer to him so that we are pressed together front to back.
“Is this acceptable?” he asks, his voice sounding hoarse.
“Yes,” I reply shyly. “More than acceptable.”
“Then we should douse the lumen crystal,” he says. “We are protected by your circle, but we still don’t want to announce our presence. If we douse the light, hopefully, if there’s anything else in these tunnels, it’ll just pass us by in the dark.”
I nod again and tap the crystal in my palm, and it goes instantly pitch black.
The dark is oppressive, the deepest darkness I have ever experienced.
It feels almost suffocating. If Wodred wasn’t right against my back, his touch comforting me, I would feel like I was in a prison.
But with his arm around my middle, his heartbeat at my back, and his breathing in my ear, I am reassured that I am not alone.
I should go to sleep. It is time to rest. But the incident at the chasm earlier has taught me that nothing is certain.
There is no guaranteed safe future where we can talk about the things on our minds.
One second we could be alive, and the next one or both of us could be dead.
If I have questions on my mind, I should ask them, because later it may be impossible.
“So . . .” I begin, “you love me.”
Wodred tenses at my back, his surprise at my words apparent. But then he relaxes and tightens his grip on my waist.
“Yes,” he rumbles out quietly. “I do.”
Butterflies erupt in my belly, a nervous but excited energy. It makes me feel young again, and that both thrills and terrifies me.
“Why haven’t you said anything sooner?” I ask. “Please, I’m not accusing. I just want to understand.”
The orc sighs behind me. There’s a long pause, then he says, “My Mating Instinct woke for you the moment I saw you. You were in Guruk’s arms and obviously in love.
I could have Challenged him for you, of course, but you seemed so happy.
I could never have taken that from you. So I stayed away from court.
Away from you. I thought that I was doing what you would have wanted.
I didn’t know about . . . what Guruk did to you.
I would have killed him if I had. I wouldn’t have stayed away and left you in that position, whether you wanted me as well or not.
But by the time I knew, we were told that you were dead. ”
I’m finding it hard to breathe while he speaks.
The whole time I was with Guruk, Wodred loved me?
Wanted me? Would have fought for me? The whole time?
I think of those years of pain, and my heart squeezes, not only for me, but for Wodred.
He must have hurt for so long, pining with unrequited love. Then to hear that I was dead . . .
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “You must have been very hurt.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Wodred replies emphatically. “You are a warrior. A survivor. It is I who failed you.”
“You can’t possibly think that, Wodred,” I say. “I was not your responsibility.”
“You were always mine in my heart, Melelea,” the orc responds solemnly. “Mine to protect, mine to love. If I had been a little less jealous, a little less self-righteous, maybe . . .”
I turn in Wodred's arms so that my front is pressed up against his and reach up in the dark to hold his face, his beard tickling my palms.
“I release you from this guilt,” I tell him sternly.
“Guruk’s actions were Guruk’s alone. No one else is at fault for them.
He should have been a good husband to me, a good father to Rognar, and he wasn’t.
But you are no more at fault for what I went through than I am for choosing him in the first place. ”
“But I could have saved you,” Wodred says, sounding tortured, wracked with guilt.
“I saved myself,” I say, stroking his cheek. “It is enough for me to know that you would have wanted to.”
Wodred turns his face in my hand, his tusks brushing my fingers before kissing my palm.
The action is intimate, maybe even more intimate than when he had his fingers under my skirt earlier.
There’s something emotional and fragile about the gesture, especially in the light of Wodred’s revelations.
It feels too deep and heavy for me to address.
So I change the subject, “What happened? After you heard of my death?”
I can feel Wodred’s grimace with my fingers. “I sought revenge. I helped Rognar rise up and Challenge his father and, when he won, I personally executed the hunters that ran you down.”
A memory stirs, of Gunag speaking with Wodred, saying something about him killing his friend for me. Was that only two nights ago? It feels like a lifetime has passed since then.
“Wasn’t your friend Salthu the Chief Hunter?” I ask, tentatively.
“An orc that could hunt down and kill an innocent female was never my friend,” Wodred says, though there is pain in his voice. “I never really knew him if he was capable of that.”
“Do you blame me?” I ask, still hesitant. “Now that you know that I’m not actually dead?”
“No,” he replies, surety in his voice. “If you hadn’t evaded him, he would have killed you.
Or brought you back to Guruk, who would have killed you.
He was an orc without honor, and I do not regret putting him to my blade, and I certainly do not blame you for his actions.
He thought currying favor with an honorless tyrant was more important than standing up for the innocent. ”
I absorb everything that Wodred is telling me in silence. It feels like a great deal of information all at once. But I still have one question.
“Why, though,” I ask, “did you not confess your feelings after you found that I was alive? It has been months since Adrik and Orik combined. Since you saw me again at High Citadel.”
“It was not my place to intrude on your reunion with your son,” Wodred says carefully.
“After that, you seemed happy with the king and queen, becoming a grandmother. It seemed selfish to push my feelings on you. And then there was the fact that I had failed you so completely. I did not feel worthy to press my suit.”
“And now?’ I ask, wanting to know what changed.
“And now I have realized that I could die any minute. I do not want to be a ghost riddled with regrets in the Nether. You should know that you are adored, even if you never return my feelings. And if you do . . . we should not waste time.”
My feelings at that statement almost scare me. A mixture of happiness, hope, and yearning. He’s right; life is short, and we face unspeakable danger on this mountain. Now is not the time to be cautious. Regret is a luxury we do not have.
“Then let’s not waste time,” I say and pull his lips down to mine.