Chapter 15
Eli
Of course, I’d poled downriver on a skiff plenty of times before. But it was nothing like this.
The surface of the ice was slippery and my boots none too sure.
I squatted down to lower my center of balance.
If we hit any rapids, however shallow, we’d end up in the drink.
And I couldn’t speak for orcs, but any human who hit that water in weather like this would go numb from the shock and get sucked right under.
I spotted an overhanging tree coming up that would let us haul ourselves out of the river. “Kof—grab that!”
The orc was surely fast enough to do it, and strong enough for his attempt to change our course. But he crouched under the branches and let the chance slip away. I knew orcs weren’t all that bright, but you’d think they’d at least have some sense of self-preservation. “Why would you—?”
“It’s not our territory. The Two Swords clan would capture us. Or worse.”
I stood corrected.
We approached a split in the river where an island rose in the center.
It wasn’t much, just a knot of trees and a jut of rock.
Kof shoved with his spear to try to guide us toward the Red Hand branch, but the floating ice around us only splashed away, while our raft continued on its course, undeterred.
I had nothing to help, not so much as a twig, and could only watch as he frantically attempted to steer us—to no avail.
Until his spear tip finally caught on something in the water, and our floe bucked to one side. It nearly thew the orc off his feet. His free arm windmilled as he tried to regain his footing.
Now was my chance, I realized. One small shove was all it would take. I could grab the spear, too. And then I’d be cruising down the river. Provisioned. Armed.
And free.
Easy enough…except I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Even an orc wouldn’t survive a dip in that freezing river. Shame burned my cheeks—whether from my inability to carry through with the plan, or the fact that I’d had the notion at all, I didn’t know.
Then Kof gained his balance and the moment was gone.
He thrust his spear in the water and shoved again, and this time he hit a chunk of ice even bigger than the one we rode on.
Our skiff changed course, banking hard toward the island.
The river bottom was close enough to pole here, and with a few powerful shoves, he ran us aground just as a crack zigzagged across our ice floe, and the current took a good half of it away.
Wisely, we both hopped ashore.
The island, maybe the size of a large galleon, was thick with undergrowth beneath its trees.
The snow had formed strange drifts against them that were bare to the ground in some spots, and taller than me in others.
It was as though we’d stumbled across the mysterious remains of a city whose people were long gone. And the only souls there were us.
“I’ve got to get back to the shaman,” Kof said.
The wind, already high, sent a bone-chilling gust that cut straight through my furs.
It howled like a banshee that was just robbed of its prey, and the ice on the river creaked like a straining mast. “But I do him no good if I drown in the river. For now, we need to take shelter.”
We headed into the trees. Kof went before me, breaking through the snow crust, and I walked in his footsteps.
I followed him into a small hollow between the trunks, the wind suddenly muted as we stepped into a natural cave, not of rock, but of drifted snow.
Fallen branches and pine needles cushioned the ground beneath our feet.
The snowdrifts were translucent in their thinnest spots, letting in some light, but nowhere near as blinding as the whiteout conditions outside.
Kof turned to face me, his brow furrowed. “Your lips are blue.”
I blinked, caught off guard by his observation. My boots were sodden from the icy waters of the river, I realized, and so were my breeches. I started shivering—violently. And I wondered what had possessed him to notice the color of my lips.
Kof untied the fur cloak from around his shoulders and draped it over me.
Blessed warmth quickly enveloped me, quieting my convulsive shakes.
“You’re no use to me dead,” Kof rumbled, retaking his spear.
He used the butt to clear away some of the twigs and pine needles, creating a bare patch of earth. “Do you know how to build a fire?”
Normally, I’d balk at the question—I was a grown man, of course I did—but I only managed a nod, grateful for the simplicity of the task to focus on.
As Kof cleared more space, I set about gathering the driest tinder I could find beneath the brush.
Building from the smallest kindling at the base to larger sticks, I arranged everything in a pyramid for good airflow.
The largest logs were positioned at the top, ready to catch when the flame grew strong.
My numb fingers were clumsy, but I persisted until I had the fire meticulously structured.
As I straightened, Kof tossed me a flint. I fumbled, but managed to catch it. I hadn’t realized he’d been watching me. And I didn’t know what to make of that, either. “Won’t the fire smoke us out?” I asked.
“No.” Kof aimed his spear at a thin spot in the upper arch of the snow drift and poked a hole above the kindling. “Fires need to breathe. That’s one thing you learn, living underground.”
Or a ship, for that matter. I glanced up at the circle of blinding whiteness overhead. “But is it wise to have a fire so close to your enemies?”
“They can’t see their hands in front of their faces in this snow. They won’t see the smoke. Now stop questioning me and light the fire before you freeze.”
I crouched and struck a few sparks from the flint, and the tinder caught. Soon, a small, neat fire was consuming the kindling. I fussed with the wood, positioning and repositioning branches. Eventually, I said, “Most orcs would beat a human for questioning them.”
Kof grunted. “Maybe. But that’s just how humans are. They mean no disrespect—they question everything.”
“You seem to know a lot about humans.”
“The Bearer of the Prophecy—Archie—took some getting used to. He’s very…different. But it’s plain that his perspective only makes Droko stronger. And then, there’s Quinn.”
Quinn? Who the hell was Quinn? I expected Kof to elaborate, but he fell silent.
Figured. I should’ve known Kof would already have his eye on a human. How gullible was I to think I might have even been able to seduce the great beast, had I been willing to attempt such a preposterous thing?
If I’d stewed in my jealousy for an unusually long time, Kof hadn’t noticed.
He’d been thinking. And finally, he said, “Quinn told us the deer were diseased. He insisted. And none of us listened. But now…with all that commotion back there, between the Lost Clan showing up and the ice breaking free…. The stag was shaking, it had a crust of foam at its mouth, but strangest of all, it just stood there and watched. Exactly like the one the chieftain felled in our fight with the hobs.”
I felt like an idiot for jumping to conclusions about this Quinn—and even dumber for feeling like I felt in the first place. It wasn’t like I could get attached to an orc.
And yet, hadn’t Kof just gotten himself stranded by trying to save me?
I huddled more firmly into the warmth of his cloak and reminded myself he’d done so on the orders of his shaman. The body heat that it carried was already gone. I edged as close to the fire as I dared without singeing myself.
“You warned us, too,” Kof said. “About the storm. How did you know it was coming?”
I glanced up through our makeshift chimney hole at the whiteout raging outside. “You learn to get a feel for different types of weather from the prow of a ship.”
“You’re a sailor? You’re awfully far from water.”
I sniffed a humorless laugh. “Don’t I know it.”
Kof approached the fire opposite me and crouched down in that peculiar way orcs do. Their powerful muscles can hold that stance for hours without cramping up. “What happened, then?” he asked. “You lost your taste for water?”
I blinked in surprise. “Once the sea is on your tongue, the taste never fades. I left because I had no choice.”
I cast my mind back to my last port of call—and the memory still stung. I’d actually been disappointed shore leave was so brief and was dragging my feet toward the gangplank. But when the bosun barred my way back onto the ship, telling me my pledge had been sold, it wasn’t just a slap in the face.
It was as if I’d been gutted.
I glimpsed the captain as I turned away from the ship. Of course I spotted him. I knew the set of his broad shoulders and the shape of his wind-ruffled cowlick.
I knew every inch of him.
As he did me.
“The captain of my ship sold my pledge,” I told Kof. “I’d become…inconvenient. He’d suffered a spoiled shipment, an ill wind, and an unexpected repair.”
“And he thought you were a witch.”
I laughed bitterly. “Not at all. He was in debt.” And the surest way out was to marry the daughter of a wealthy merchant.
I wouldn’t have given him any trouble about it—after all, it wasn’t as if she’d sail with us.
What did I care where he bedded down in port?
But he had it in his mind that I would blackmail him.
To threaten to tell the merchant about him and me, and ruin the whole deal.
“Bad enough he’d sold my pledge. But to make sure I couldn’t retaliate and damage his reputation in the ports, he sold it to a group of wanderers heading far inland.”
He hadn’t cared that they were orcs.
After some thought, Kof said, “I’ve never heard of this pledge of yours.”
“It’s a contract. A guarantee that I’ll stay with the ship long enough to be of actual use, and not just hop off at the next promising port.”
“So you’re not a slave. They just treat you as one.” Kof seemed disturbed. “Loyalty can’t be bought and sold with coin. Why did you honor it?”