Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Vrogul
As much as I would have liked to throw the hellcat spitting wildfire over my shoulder, I had responsibilities as the chief. Also, the hole in my fooking shoulder would have made such a thing difficult.
Thanks to her.
So why wasn’t I angrier? Why wasn’t I anticipating her punishment, especially when I saw the way her false bravado masked her fear?
Why was my Kteer humming in satisfaction at the way she molded against my side?
“Maardok?”
When my brother stepped up—causing more than a few of the villagers to gasp and shrink back further, either in response to his size or his scar—I forced myself to loosen my hold on the human.
“Take her to the birlinn,” I commanded, thrusting her toward him.
My brother’s brow twitched as if he wanted to ask if I was certain, but he reached for her arm.
To my surprise, she hissed, “Nay!”
She stepped away from him…toward me. I told myself she was just trying to escape Maardok’s hold, not that she was running to me…but that didn’t stop my Kteer from preening at the thought.
My brother merely growled at the evasion, ducked his shoulder, and hoisted her over it. The wildcat immediately began to kick and scream, punching at his kidneys with her fists, and I felt my grin growing.
“Ye’re certain ye want this one?” my brother rumbled, and I knew ‘twas mostly for show.
I, too, made a point of scanning the gathered humans, as if I was reconsidering my choice. Every female, and most of the men, hunched away from my gaze, their own eyes locked on the ground ahead of them.
Weaklings.
I’d found the prize of the village.
Or mayhap she’d found me.
I jerked my head, telling my brother without words to prepare the birlinn. As he stomped away with the screeching wildcat, I forced my attention back to the village and the work which needed to be done.
As the afternoon dragged on, my shoulder ached more and more.
I pressed my elbow against my side to keep my arm immobile and wondered if my new prisoner was as uncomfortable under Maardok’s stern gaze as I was now.
I trusted my brother to inventory and stow our spoils, carefully balancing the ore and barrels within the boat.
I did not trust him to see to our enemy’s comfort.
My warriors took what we so desperately needed, and a few extras beside.
There was a loom Auld Ebben would find intriguing—I had her son take it apart so it would stow more easily while the human owner stood stoically by.
Ballik found the village’s store of grains and seeds, so we took a handful of each to supplement my clan’s vegetable gardens next year.
And of course, we helped ourselves to Issa’s favorite cheeses, taking two logs of each type.
As I herded the last of my men out of the village, I saw the humans glancing at each other with shadowed hope. I doubted they knew how keen an orcs’ senses were—otherwise they wouldn’t have dared voice their whispers.
“Is that all they’re taking?”
“We won’t be left to starve?”
“Thank God, thank God.”
I found myself scowling. They should be thanking me for pitying them.
The late summer sun was low over the water when I pulled myself aboard the birlinn with a final grunt. My brother was there to haul me upright then hand me a hunk of bread and a cup of cold water. Gods below, I wanted ale and meat—as did we all, for certes—but we had no time.
“Everything is stowed?”
“Aye, D’malk,” Maardok intoned as he led me to a bench back near Auld Garran. He only called me chief when we were raiding, and everyone knew the best raiding was done under a late summer’s full moon.
“Let me see yer wound.”
“How many other wounded?” I hid my wince as he peeled away the blood-soaked bandage.
“Fennin took a cudgel to the hip, and some terrified virgin kicked Trevik in the bollocks.” My brother was intent on cleaning my wound with saltwater. “Ye were the worst of it, oh mighty Stormseeker.”
I scowled at his mocking.
“And how many humans?”
Maardok didn’t answer for a moment. I glanced sideways, to see him dabbing intently at the raw slash of flesh. Too intently.
“How many humans dead?” I prompted.
He did not look at me, mayhap knowing I didn’t want to hear his answer.
“Six.”
Fook.
I settled back on the bench, watching my warrior’s strong backs as they pulled at the oars, drawing us farther out to sea, farther from human retaliation. Closer to the stones which would take us home.
There was comfort there, and I trusted Auld Garran—who’d been doing these calculations since before I was born—to put us in the right place at the right time.
Six humans dead, because we needed this ore. Because we had to have it, and they had to defend it. Mayhap we should have attacked at night, when they’d be sleeping, as my brother had suggested.
I felt Maardok grunt softly as he tied off another bandage.
“We took what we needed, D’malk. Callor will be satisfied.”
He was trying to make me feel better.
“Aye, I ken it.”
I raised my voice. “Our warriors did well. If Trevik couldnae control his female, he deserved to have sore bollocks.”
From the chuckles and the way the youngest member of our raiding party glared at me over his oar, I knew I’d broken their tension.
“She had the wrong idea, Stormseeker,” the lad called out indignantly. “I wanted her apron for my mother!”
“So ye tried to take it off her?” Auld Garran chortled. “Nae wonder she defended herself.”
“‘Twas beautifully embroidered,” Trevik shot back.
The male at his side chided, “Ye should try wooing her next time—once yer pimples clear up!”
The party laughed heartily at that, and I felt tension drain from my shoulders. Aye, my friends were alive, we had enough to satisfy Callor for another season, and we were going home.
I couldn’t feel guilty over the fate of the humans. Not when my own clan’s fate was so tenuous.
With a soft grunt, I stood then rolled my neck. Aye, the pain was still there, but I would survive until Matthias could treat me. While the Battleborn raiders threw jibes back and forth, I nodded to my brother.
“I’m ready.”
“For yer prisoner?”
“Well, we’ve teased puir Trevik, ye’ve poked my wound, we’re on the right course for the stones, the humans are far behind—och, are ye waiting to give me a report on the number of cheeses we stole?”
Maardok grinned. “For the arse-pain, we should have taken more.”
My brow twitched.
“Arse-pain?” I repeated.
“Aye, this raid was a pain in the arse.”
With a firm nod, my brother bent sideways, reached behind Auld Garran, and hauled out the female, who had been huddled behind the helmsman.
My second brow joined my first. “Is all that…necessary?”
The wee warrior was trussed up like…well, like a wildcat.
Heavy rope bound not just her ankles, but her knees and her wrists, and wrapped around her middle several times, trapping her elbows—and her wet braid—at her side.
Her blue eyes spit fire above a thick gag and she began to thrash in Maardok’s hold, the noises coming from behind the gag telling me that she was cursing us all.
“Aye,” my brother said blandly as he thrust her at me. “She tried to escape no fewer than four times, and when we tied her up, she tried to chew her way through the rudder ties.”
I stood there, my booted feet planted wide for balance, and held the wee wildcat at arm’s length. She was soaked, which told me she’d made it overboard during at least one escape attempt, but the rage in her expression told me she was far from defeated.
And mayhap ‘twas the worry from the day, or the relief that ‘twas over…but I smiled. Gods below, I liked this little human. Were I in her situation, I would have fought as well, and glared at my captors if they tied me like this.
Aye, I liked her.
And I was keeping her.
That knowledge, and the knowledge that my clan would survive, had me throwing back my head and laughing as the sun finished sinking and the full moon rose.
Rowena
I almost pissed myself.
He was laughing?
Here I was, terrified, and he was laughing?
When the huge one had all but thrown me up on the deck of their longboat, I thought I was going to be raped and killed right away. Imagine my surprise when he merely tied my hands and gave me a wink, pushing me down on one of the benches.
I’d watched his men loading the village’s wealth, watched him giving directions, and waited for my chance to escape. When it came, I took it. And I took the next one too, palming a blade that time. The giant merely laughed as he took it from me and tied me tighter.
These beasts thought my attempts amusing?
I squirmed against the Stormseeker’s grip, glaring up at him, praying I wasn’t drooling around the gag. If I was going to die today, I hoped ‘twasn’t going to be covered in drool.
The farther we got from land, the more afraid I became. I told myself I wasn’t afraid of dying…but dying poorly? Dying beneath a beast like this one, as he plowed into me? God, if his cock was as big as the rest of him, it alone could kill me. Thank God he wasn’t as big as his brother.
Still, the thought of being raped to death had me squeezing my thighs together, had my heart double-timing, had tears gathering in the corners of my eyes.
And mayhap the beast noticed, because abruptly the laughter stopped.
His lips still curved up on one side, but the Stormseeker shook his head, threw his left arm around me, and pushed me down to the bench where he’d been sitting.
As his giant lieutenant moved off to speak with the helmsman, my captor pulled my knife from his boot.
When he drew it toward my face, I couldn’t swallow my whimper of fear.
He hesitated, something flashing in those black eyes so close to mine…
then he finished the movement. The blade slid between the gag and my skin, and before I could shiver, he’d sliced the thick material, allowing me to spit it out and take my first deep breath in ages.
‘Twas full of the scent of orc.
The scent of him.