Chapter 18 Calypso
Chapter eighteen
Calypso
Calypso was beginning to question whether the orc clan truly existed as they made their way along the barren crags. The last living things they’d seen for hours had tried to kill them. And those demon hounds barely classified as alive.
She was reaching the end of her patience when he directed the horse into the shadows of the mountainside. Hidden in the darkness was an entrance that was completely unnoticeable unless right next to it.
“We are here.” He got off the horse and helped her down, his large hands wrapping around her waist.
“What about the horse?”
“I will send someone to tend to him.” His faced her, expression serious. “Remember, you cannot use your magic once inside. If it is discovered you are a witch, there will be repercussions.”
She nodded, knowing they needed to maintain the ruse.
Before being swallowed into the mountain, she turned toward her little undead friend on her shoulder. The crow had followed them, unable to act outside of her command.
“This is where our journey ends.” She brushed a finger over its inky black head, petting it. “You have served me well. For that, I release you.”
For a second, she thought the crow would refuse to leave, but then the prick of its claws disappeared, and the crow flew away with no further response.
She peeled her eyes away, refusing to let them water. Undead creatures rarely lasted so long, and she had grown attached.
At the end of the small cavern was a metal door that Vidorak unlocked before leading her into a stony tunnel.
“Are you sure we won’t run into anyone?”
“Everyone should be gathered in the dining hall for the evening meal,” he explained as they moved along.
It was dark here with torches lit sporadically. They walked downward on uneven steps, descending deeper into the core of the mountain.
There was a long stretch without torchlight, which Vidorak traversed easily with his Orcish eyesight. Despite holding his hand, Calypso kept bumping into the tunnel sides, as if the space was shrinking around her.
They were completely cut off from the outside light, and even Vidorak’s bulky form was lost in the darkness. Her throat started to itch as the sensation of drowning in the darkness overcame her.
Her mind was harshly pulled back to the Sanograd dungeon from years past.
She tugged her hand away. “What is that noise?”
There was a rapid beating that radiated throughout the tunnel. She put her hand to her chest and realized it was her heart.
Everything felt light and disorienting when suddenly large hands enveloped her body.
“Sit down.” His voice was soft but commanding, and his steady frame helped her onto the cool stone steps. In a grounding rhythm, his hands petted her shoulders and arms. “Just breathe.”
He dared to order her again.
Irritation was a comfortable feeling, and it gave her the strength to take a breath. Then another. Her mind floated back and cleared. She wasn’t in the dungeons. She had survived them and would survive this.
“This is your fault,” she stated when she finally managed to speak calmly.
He kept gently petting her, waiting for her to continue.
“You bring up things that should stay buried.” The small amount she had shared about her mother triggered memories she had suppressed. “If you keep doing this, you will need to accept the consequences.”
While she may be losing her mind, it was the kind way he handled her that cut her deeply. She could not afford the changes he was bringing forth, and her words were meant as a threat.
He stroked her hair and tugged on one curl before muttering, “I can manage.”
They stood back up, and the orc reached to grab an unlit torch handle. He tilted it toward her, and she lit it with a quick swipe of her hand.
He held the torch with one hand and her with the other. They continued down the stone passage, turning every so often. Calypso could not keep track of the maze-like tunnels and just trusted him to guide her.
They veered off the roughly built stairs onto a flat path that no longer descended.
The area was constructed out of the same cold gray stone and reminded her of the corridors of a castle.
There were metal torches attached along the wall, illuminating the area, so Vidorak no longer needed to hold theirs.
Narrow paths branched off the main corridor, and she saw the outlines of doors along the smaller passages. This was clearly where the orcs resided. She had assumed their clan lived on the surface of the mountain, and never imagined such an extensive underground system.
It wasn’t long before they stopped at a wooden double door.
“These are my family’s quarters. Only my mother and I live here.” He unlocked the doors and moved aside to allow her to enter. “You’ll be safe here.”
She stepped into an antechamber and noted two further doors toward the back.
A tapestry hung on the far wall, decorated with Orcish writing and motifs.
The furniture was sparse—consisting of a table, several stools, and a large chest—but looked sturdy in its build.
A couple of plush blankets rested on top of the chest. Overall, the room was small but tidy.
She was about to comment on the area when a voice spoke behind them.
“You’re back already?”
They turned to see a muscular older orc walking past the open doors of the antechamber. He had a thick white beard styled into two braids and carried a hefty war hammer at his side.
“Jarl Bruk,” Vidorak greeted him. “Yes, I just returned.”
“Did Kinar go to meet with the chieftain?”
“Jarl Kinar and the rest are finishing the deal. I had to handle another task.” His face gave nothing away.
A friendly smile spread across Jarl Bruk’s face. “All the better. I was enjoying the peace without that sly bastard.”
“Have things been steady here?”
“As steady as always. I finished at the forge and came to escort Mor to the dining hall.”
“She is not here.”
“I must’ve just missed her.” Then he gestured toward the tunnels. “Come, you must be starving.”
When Vidorak stepped to the side, the older orc finally noticed her presence behind him.
His affable demeanor fell as he looked her over. “More business of Urim’s?”
Vidorak stiffened at the mention of his uncle. “Of sorts.”
A look passed between them that Calypso couldn’t understand, but felt there was no animosity. She sensed they were speaking in code, not quite wishing to be completely direct. Perhaps not all the orcs agreed with the capturing and enslaving of human women?
“Bring your human. She can sit with Mor.”
Vidorak looked back at her and gave her a slight reassuring smile.
As they walked through the tunnels, the sounds of chatter increased until they reached a great dining hall.
The area was an enormous dome with rocky stalactites hanging from the ceiling in quiet threat.
Fire ran through a deep indentation that spanned across the walls of the vast room, illuminating a warm glow.
A cold sweat broke out on Calypso’s back, and for a moment she considered this might have been a grave mistake.
There were more orcs in this hall than she thought possible.
Their physical presence radiated strength and power, most with weapons strapped to them.
Like Vidorak, the male orcs didn’t wear shirts, their chests bearing their battle scars.
There were also female orcs, but in smaller numbers.
They were taller than the average human female, and while slimmer than their male counterparts, their bodies were also covered with ropes of muscle.
It was hard not to pity the human men who had gone against these orcs during the years of the war. The orcs were boisterous, shouts radiating around the room. If this was them friendly, the sight of them in attack must be a chilling one.
“My nephew returns!” a booming voice rang through the hall, and most heads turned their way.
Out of instinct, light flames licked her palms, but she immediately extinguished them. Her body sensed the threat around her and was responding without her accord.
Vidorak’s knuckles subtly grazed hers. It was enough to calm her for the moment and refocus her attention.
They headed toward the head table, where the chieftain sat with his jarls.
She could see why this orc led the clan.
He commanded attention, from his aura to the way he towered over the others.
His body was huge and muscular; even his hands were so massive she was certain they could easily crush her skull.
Like other orcs, his hair was long, and his chest bore both the red markings of his Orcish lineage and the scars from the war.
“Uncle,” Vidorak stated, his body language completely changed from what she’d known of him thus far. He was not the most expressive, but now he was completely cold and withdrawn. If it weren’t for the slight touch he’d given her earlier, she would’ve thought him a different person.
“Always so formal,” the chieftain said easily, but Calypso noticed wariness in his eyes. “This is an unexpected return.”
“Unexpected things have occurred.”
“Does that woman have anything to do with that?” The chieftain’s gaze narrowed in on her, and Calypso had to actively refrain from summoning flames.
Vidorak tensed at her side. “She is of no concern.”
“Of course.” The chieftain gestured to a seat nearby. “Come sit. I want to hear what has happened.”
“I will join you in a moment.” Without waiting for a response, Vidorak led her away toward the back.
She followed stiffly to a table that was mostly occupied by female orcs and several orclings. He stopped next to an orcess who was sitting off to the side, not interacting much with the others.
“Mother,” Vidorak said, and the female glanced up, her face relaxed, leaving whatever worries she’d had behind.
“My son, you have returned.”
“I have.” His voice softened. “Handle this one while I speak with uncle.”