Chapter 17 Vidorak #2
“You don’t say.”
“It’s become well-deserved now, unfortunately. During that time, things were different, and there was hope for building a relationship. But on a day when most of the clan had returned to the mountain to gather more stock, a violent riot occurred. It killed many at the settlement.”
He felt her fingers tap as she processed this. “How did a group of farmers kill off so many orcs? Even if the settlement didn’t consist of your top warriors, I know what these village militias look like. An orcling could take them on.”
An angry wound burned inside him as he told her of his past. “With the help of the northern guard. It was Johann Von Ahlen who killed my father.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft and genuine. “How old were you?”
“I was seven years old.” Old enough to have fleeting memories of him. Young enough that it still sometimes felt like a dream.
“I was sixteen.” She didn’t have to finish the sentence for him to know she was referring to how old she was when her mother was killed.
There was a moment of silence between them before he felt her stiffen behind him.
“What are you thinking?” he asked gruffly, hating the sudden distance after sharing the painful past.
Her voice was unusually cold when she asked, “Who is the chieftain now?”
“Urim Vakgarsson. My uncle.”
There was a beat of silence before she huffed, “I do not understand you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Not only did you destroy your part of the peace treaty, but now I’m learning it was a treaty your own uncle agreed to.”
The unfair—in his opinion—accusations from her sparked his own irritation. “You would prefer I had never released you?”
“Of course I’m not saying that!” Her voice became more animated as she spoke, and her body now sat rigid behind him.
“I just don’t understand why you would keep your people suffering?
Didn’t you just say getting out of Vestrahorn was something your father believed in?
It seems to me you had your chance, and now it’s shattered. ”
Her words dug at the anger that festered in him when it came to the clan. Anger that had built from years under his uncle's rule, anger that his efforts to overthrow him were taking so long, and the cold fear that if everything went wrong, it would be his allies’ lives at stake.
He pulled back firmly on the reins, stopping their travel. He got off the horse and walked a few steps away to calm his head before turning back. By this time, she had dismounted as well and was glaring back at him.
“Do not think that I don’t know what peace would mean to the clan. You do not know even a fraction of what our life has been like,” he countered.
“Then why?!” She put her hands out. “What is your motivation in all of this?”
This was a chance to reveal the truth and tell her she was his mate. However, he didn’t want to burden her with this knowledge. While she certainly had affected him from the beginning, she wasn’t the sole reason he had set her free.
“Because it would be for nothing. The peace treaty would never last.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“My uncle cannot be trusted. The Crown certainly cannot be trusted,” he said regretfully. “One would’ve betrayed the other soon enough, and the clan would be in a worse position.”
Vidorak desired peace, but, more importantly, he wanted it to be long-lasting.
A peace treaty is only effective if those who were a part of it continue to abide by it.
The benefit of peace would be fleeting, because Vidorak knew his uncle would see this as another sign that he was unstoppable.
Eventually, Urim would push the boundaries of the treaty.
“You don’t know that,” she disagreed, but the steam had left her argument.
“I have spent twenty years watching my uncle degrade all relations with the human towns. I am aware of what he is capable of. The clan is not thriving. A peace treaty based on a woman’s sacrifice wouldn’t lead to the betterment of the clan.”
Several emotions flashed across her face. She was an open book to the fullest extent of the meaning, and he saw the surprise, the disbelief, and finally, the vulnerability.
It lasted just a few silent seconds.
“I hope you are real.”
There was no chance of discerning the meaning of her words before she crashed into his chest, hands going to his head and tugging him down toward her lips.
He could not deny her, even if he wanted to. He was helpless to do anything besides embrace her back and be grateful for whatever motivated her to kiss him.
She sighed, body melting into his, and for a moment he believed her to be every bit as desperate as he was. He wanted to devour her, to imprint her scent on every part of him. If he couldn’t have forever, he would take this.
Even with his mate wrapped around him, his senses flooded with her, some primal instinct stayed alert. There was a blink of unease, one that even his mind didn’t register.
One second, he was embracing her, but the next he pulled her aside as his right arm seized his axe and swung in a wide arc.
The axe sliced through flesh, and a chilling snarl emanated from the shadowy creature that attacked them. The creature tumbled several feet away, then rose to its feet with ease. It resembled a wolf but with legs that were too long, a snout that was too wide, and glowing crimson eyes.
Vidorak pushed Calypso behind him and focused on the creature approaching them.
Despite the dark blood gushing from its wound, the creature moved as if unharmed.
It took two stalking steps forward before lunging at him.
Vidorak slashed quickly, slicing open the creature’s belly.
Once again, the creature tumbled, unhindered by its falling entrails.
“Stay guarded, it seems I’ll need to butcher it,” Vidorak called to Calypso as he gripped his axe, bracing for the next attack.
“Behind you!” Calypso yelled out, and a whip of fire struck past him.
He turned to see another of those creatures. Calypso’s fire was a flaming collar around its neck.
The first creature took this opportunity to lunge again, this time aiming for his witch.
Without hesitation, Vidorak hurled his axe, sending it flying straight into the creature's skull. Then he grabbed the second one and slammed it into the ground. Calypso’s flames kept it muzzled as he crushed its head with his fists.
His knuckles became coated in a thick black substance, but both creatures remained unmoving.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” he asked when she stepped forward to examine them.
She shook her head. “No. But I think I know what they are.”
“Enlighten me.” He removed his axe with a nauseous squelch from the decaying thing.
“Demon hounds. I’ve only ever seen them in drawings. They are creations of black magic. Very violent and completely subservient to their master’s orders.”
The hounds melted into a pool of black liquid, as if disintegrating after having failed their task.
“Last I checked, Captain Von Ahlen doesn’t do magic,” he said, cleaning off his axe before strapping it back on. “Any idea who sent them?”
“Unfortunately, I do,” she responded dryly but didn’t explain further. “Come on. This is all the more reason to hurry.”