Chapter 22 #2
Granite grumbles, a golem version of a sigh, I would think. “I’m sorry about him.” the golem says to us. “He is the oldest of us all and remembers most what it was like to work for the humans. He is, perhaps, the angriest of us.”
“It’s all right,” I say. “He is feeling protective of his home from outsiders. That is a feeling anyone can understand.”
Granite regards me with an unreadable expression, then nods. “I’ll take you to my home while we wait for the scouts to return so that we can reunite you with your comrades. It’s probably best to keep you out of sight, since you make the others nervous.”
“If that’s what you think is best,” I reply diplomatically.
Granite nods again and turns to Basalt and Shale. “Go meet up with the scouts and find out where the two on the surface are, so we know which exit to take.”
The two other golems silently walk off, leaving us with Granite.
At that moment, my stomach growls loudly, to my embarrassment and distress.
I am out of trail rations. Most of the food was on Wodred’s warbeast, and I have finished what was in my belt pouch earlier in the tunnels.
I don’t know how I will eat to keep up my strength.
Wodred might still have some trail rations, but he needs those for himself.
Granite cocks his head at the sound of my belly. “I have not heard that sound in many years. You need fuel?”
“Yes,” I admit. “But I do not think you would have fuel for a creature like me.”
“That is where you are wrong,” the golem says, surprising me. “There are mushrooms that grow by the hot spring pools that are safe for flesh creatures to eat. Come to my home and I will take care of you.” He glances at Wodred, as if realizing he’s still here. “Both of you.”
???
WE ENTER A house at the far end of the cavern and enter through a flap of old, worn cloth over the doorframe.
I am hit by the heat when we enter and see that there is a small hot spring in the center of the room, an offshoot of the big pool outside.
It steams, but there are no bubbles or hissing, so I think it is not an unsafe temperature.
The interior walls are covered in star lichen, the glow lighting the cozy space.
It’s not comfortable in the normal sense.
There is no bed or resting place, just two chairs carved from stone and a table, along with the hot spring.
I suppose that is logical, as golems would not have any need for sleep.
Along the rim of the hot spring, I see the mushrooms that Granite spoke of, and my stomach rumbles again.
I have never seen mushrooms like this before, even with all my knowledge of growing things, but they look tempting to my hunger.
“You may make yourselves comfortable,” the golem says, gesturing to the two chairs. “Fuel. Rest. Bathe. The hot springs have healing properties for flesh creatures. But do not leave this dwelling. I must go keep my people calm. I will come back for you when we have the scouts’ reports.”
With that, the golem leaves the cottage, leaving Wodred and me alone. Without much preamble, I kneel down next to the hot spring and pick a mushroom. It is large, about the size of my palm, and I go to take a bite when Wodred is suddenly there next to me, his hand blocking me.
“Let me taste it first,” he says, his voice as stern as I have ever heard it.
“Granite said they are safe for us to eat,” I say, bemused at his reaction.
“Be that as it may,” he responds, “let me try it.”
“If they are poisonous, I don’t want you to eat them either,” I retort.
“I am your guard, Melelea,” Wodred says. “I would lay my life down for yours. Never doubt that.”
I will get nowhere arguing with him; that much is clear.
And I am certain that Granite would not have lied, so I just pass over the mushroom to the stubborn orc.
He takes it and sniffs it warily. Whatever he smells must not be concerning because he takes a small bite and then waits.
When he doesn’t immediately fall over dead, I smile. “See? Nothing to worry about.”
“We should wait for at least an hour,” he says, still serious. “Some poisons are more subtle and slow-acting.”
I sigh. “I cannot wait to eat for another hour, Wodred. It will be fine.”
The orc pulls a pouch from his belt and hands it to me. “You can finish my trail rations, and I will eat the mushrooms. If there is an ill effect, I will bear it alone.”
“Silly, stubborn male,” I grouse at him, but I take his pouch and pour a careful handful of the rations.
They are not appetizing, just dried meat with berries and fat, but they will assuage my hunger.
Wodred, apparently deciding that if he’s already ingested poison that there’s no use in going hungry, picks more of the large fungi and eats them.
We chew in silence, and I am unnerved by how quiet it is outside.
We are in a village, there should be noise and bustle, but instead, there is just the eerie sound of water dripping from stone.
“They are not happy we are here,” I remark, finishing the rations.
“No,” Wodred agrees. “They are not. But the three who brought us here appear to have some sort of authority. Their words carried weight, and the other golems listened to them.”
“We are lucky that they found us,” I say. “We would have never found that hidden passage on our own.”
“Your gift would have sniffed it out eventually,” Wodred replies, unconcerned, like his confidence in me cannot be shaken.
“But, yes, it was faster because we found them and because you talked with them. I would have destroyed them, thinking they were from Grazrath, and then there would have been dozens more waiting to take revenge in the dark. Your wisdom has steered us right yet again.”
“How do you do that?” I ask suddenly, unable to keep it to myself anymore.
“Do what?” the orc queries, obviously confused.
“See the good in me,” I say. “You never waver in your confidence in my abilities. You always have such faith in me.”
“I see the good in you because there is only good to see,” Wodred responds firmly.
My head dips a little, my eyes avoiding his. “That is not true. I have my weaknesses, as anyone does.”
“Weaknesses do not make you bad or unworthy of confidence,” the orc insists. “If I have faith in you, it is because you have proved yourself, again and again. I would be a fool to doubt you.”
“I worry that I cannot possibly live up to your high expectations,” I tell him. “No one can survive on a pedestal.”
Wodred frowns thoughtfully, tilting his head, “I do not think I have you on a pedestal, Melelea. I think I see you, all of you, perhaps more clearly than you see yourself. If you see your weaknesses and believe that you are not worthy of regard because of them, I can only tell you that you are wrong and that I wish that Guruk were alive again so that I could kill him this time.”
I blush at that, my feelings muddled. An orc declaring that he would kill your enemies is the highest compliment they can pay you in their culture.
But it is hard to believe what he is saying about me.
I have so many mistakes in my past, so many regrets.
But he knows about all of them and still sees me as worthy of regard. My belly flutters at the thought.
Impulsively, I lean forward to kiss him, to show my appreciation, but to my surprise, he pulls back. Hurt, I shrink back, confused, but his large hands come to my shoulders.
“Do not look like that, love,” he says, his tone deep and commanding. “It is not that I don’t want to kiss you. I’ll always want to kiss you. But I have just eaten those mushrooms, and we still don’t know that they are safe. I will not risk passing you the poison on my lips.”
Relief fills me at his words, even if I am also a little annoyed at them. “Granite said they are harmless,” I reiterate, but Wodred just shakes his head.
“I will not risk you,” he says. “Nothing is worth that.”
At least I know that he is not rejecting me, just being protective as always. Sighing, I turn my head and look at the hot spring in the center of the room. I think of that golem’s words, about the healing properties. It gives me an idea.
“Very well,” I tell him. “We will do things your way. No touching.”
Then I start undoing my cloak and my traveling gown, the bodice loosening as I undo the laces.
Wodred makes a loud intake of breath, his eyes going wide, and his body going almost unnaturally still.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice dark and hoarse.
“It may be a while until Granite returns with the scouts’ reports,” I say innocently. “I’m going to take a bath.”
Wodred’s thrum starts to spill over his lips, a sure sign of his arousal, his approval of my idea. It emboldens me, as does the low lighting. He will not be able to see all of my body’s imperfections so easily.
So I tug my dress over my head, as well as my underthings, and walk toward the spring. Then I turn over my shoulder with a sultry smile and cheekily say, “Want to watch?”