Chapter 34 Vidorak
Chapter thirty-four
Vidorak
Thus far only one stabbing had occurred, and it had been by one of his warriors with a carrot in the kitchen. Otherwise, the first few days between the horde and the coven had been a relative success.
“What are the current numbers?” Vidorak asked Nyx, who was presently organizing a set of maps upon the long dining table. They were making do with what they had, so the dining hall was turned into a makeshift war council area.
“Let’s see.” Nyx flipped through one of her parchments before answering. “We are up to thirty-one witches and sixty-eight orc warriors. Two of yours are in the infirmary after getting in a drunken fight.”
Vidorak grunted, “If they can stand, they can fight.”
Sentiment among his warriors was mixed. A lot of changes had happened in a short amount of time, and not everyone was taking to it well. Thankfully, his uncle’s strongest supporters had either defected or were remaining silent.
The biggest grumblings were about his choice to aid the witches against the Crown and about letting the orcesses return to the horde.
Vidorak knew not everyone would support this decision, but he was the one in charge now.
The clan would be run how he saw fit, but it wouldn’t be in the tyrannical way of his uncle.
Those opposed could make their voices heard without severe punishment, but only when it was appropriate.
“Any updates, Grushag?”
“No,” the raspy-voiced orc replied.
Grushag was leaning against the wall in the corner, always on the outskirts of the group even when he was forced to be present.
Vidorak worried about him, and that’s why he had chosen him to be in charge of the lateral flank of the horde rather than the charismatic Nazghor. Grushag needed to decide whether he was going to be part of the clan or not. Living it the shadows was no way to live.
Too soon it became evening, and the smell of food permeated the air.
An elderly woman named Paola ran the kitchens, and she wasn’t shy about directing whoever came into her eyesight.
She was currently ordering one of his orc warriors to place a large pot of stew on the table.
Given the space, meals were eaten in whatever room was available.
“She said to move it inward or it will spill.” One of the orcesses, Nakia, translated for his warrior.
About half the clan didn’t speak the common tongue, which resulted in occasional difficulties.
Nakia, having been the guard for the human women at the mountain, was one of the more advanced speakers.
Satisfied that the warrior was following her direction, Nakia continued marching toward them. “Jarl Grushag, I finished scouting the woods and found an area with good coverage.”
The eagerness of the orcesses to fight for the clan reaffirmed to Vidorak that this was the right decision, no matter what some of the dissenting male orcs thought.
“I’m not a jarl,” Grushag growled before storming off with her. “Let’s go.”
Vidorak was discussing things with his warriors, making sure the channels of communication were clear when he felt Calypso nearby.
Even without seeing her, his body was attuned to hers on an invisible level. He felt her when she was close and ached for her when she was absent.
After he finished speaking, she walked up to him and handed him a bowl of food. “You haven’t eaten all day.”
“Have you?” he asked, waiting to eat until she nodded.
She had little appetite since the lake a few days back. While she hadn’t cried again, there was a sullen, quiet air around her. It was as if all her energy had been released at once, and she was empty for a moment.
“I finished the resurrections. Forty in total.”
He hadn’t been thrilled with her suggestion to resurrect a small army of birds, but she had been adamant in doing so given the royal archers that were arriving with the army.
The bandage around her forearm, where she’d cut herself to perform her black magic, was coming undone, and he put his bowl aside to help re-wrap it. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” Her answer was unsurprising to him.
Before they could speak further, booming laughter grabbed their attention. Nazghor entered with a wide grin as Astra came in red-faced but smiling.
“I take things went well?” Vidorak asked.
“It went great!” Nazghor responded, just as Astra said, “They stabbed him with a pitchfork.”
Vidorak had sent both of them to discuss things with the local human militia. Their forces were negligible, but it was their town that was about to be occupied, and they deserved a seat at the table.
Nazghor shrugged. “They ultimately agreed, didn’t they? Their leader, Angus, will be by shortly.”
That was good because Vidorak didn’t just plan to win; he planned to keep the town for the long haul. He’d meant what he’d said to Calypso—there would be no peace with the Crown while witches faced persecution.
It wasn’t just about his feelings toward Calypso, though they did often overtake all his reason, but it was simply self-serving practicality. The nobility’s dislike of all magical races meant that one day they would be next as well.
Nazghor’s optimism proved correct when, an hour later, a burly man arrived at the estate. Vidorak had to give the man credit for joining, as most wouldn’t enter an estate overflowing with orcs.
In addition to the militia leader, his elite warriors, several powerful witches, and the witch who would tend to the injured were present.
Having everyone’s attention, Vidorak addressed the room.
“On recent accounts, the king regent is less than a day’s travel away, accompanied by an army of almost five hundred—a mix of soldiers and archers.
He will probably seek to come straight to the estate, where the witches will remain.
The horde will be stationed in the woods as three separate units, each with its own leader.
There is one magical ward around the town, which will notify us when Davinger arrives, and a second, stronger ward around the manor, which will block airborne attacks.
With the coven at the estate and my units attacking from the sides, the aim is to box in Davinger and overwhelm him despite his numbers. ”
“As for the coven,” Astra began, briefly looking at each of the witch leaders.
“Nyx will accompany the witches whose strength lies in archery and wind on the balcony. I will join the earthen and fire witches on the grounds. Those whose powers are not yet developed will help Marianna at the infirmary.”
“Calypso?” He looked over at his mate.
“I will be where Davinger is, ideally slicing his throat,” she commented, previously tired eyes now brimming with golden anger. “Until then, I will be on the balcony with Nyx to lead the birds.”
Laid out like that, the plan sounded easy and straightforward, but Vidorak had seen enough war to know nothing ever went according to plan.
“Gemma wants to be stationed in the woods and cast a spell to shroud any sight of the horde,” Nyx spoke up, but Vidorak could tell the silver-eyed woman wasn’t happy about this.
“I will assign her a guard,” he reassured her before turning toward the human militia leader. “Now we must discuss how to protect your people.”
“Surely the king regent wouldn’t attack the townspeople?” Angus asked, surprise coloring his features.
“It doesn’t matter. An army of that size will be destructive, even if they aren’t here for you.”
That statement sat like that for a beat. The unspoken part being that this was only happening because the coven was there.
“Davinger is capable of anything, even razing the town if it serves him,” answered Calypso. “Everyone should evacuate their families to the outskirts of town.”
Angus relented in understanding. “We will get everyone out and barricade the businesses in town.”
Talk persisted for several more hours after that as they discussed different strategies, trying to anticipate any possibility that Davinger might attempt.
“Okay, now let's run the scenario again if the forces come from the west.” Astra concentrated on her maps.
As much as Vidorak wanted to remain and talk through things, Calypso’s stifled yawn made him take action.
“You need rest.” Vidorak tugged her up gently and knew how correct he was when she didn’t resist.
Nyx stood as well. “I am going to bed to look through my spellbook.” At Astra’s look of betrayal, she added, “We won’t stand a chance if we all pass out from exhaustion.”
The blonde witch opened her mouth to argue, but Nazghor spoke first.
“Let the others go. I will stay and talk through your scenarios.” Nazghor waved them away, looking more than content to stay with Astra.
They walked up the stairs in silence, thoughts heavy with what was to come.
“There is one thing we didn’t discuss at the meeting.” Vidorak watched her closely, eyeing the ruby amulet she continued to wear. It remained an unspoken barrier between them, each of them insistent on their perspective of the situation.
“Vidorak.” She paused, as if deciding what to say next. “I will try not to use it. I don’t want to use it. But things look dire . . .”
He knew that was the best he was going to get, and he hated that. “I see.”
For the first time in days, her lips twitched. “You are thinking of ways to drag me back to the mountain, aren’t you?”
He chose not to answer and just opened the door to let them in. They had barely entered the bedchamber when she threw herself at him. Her mouth on his, hands in his hair, tugging him closer. His hold tightened at her waist, and he tried resisting the urge to rub her against his erection.
Regrettably, he pulled back. “You need rest.”
She leaned back and bit his lip before running her tongue over it. “I need you inside me.”
Lust and yearning warred within him. He gripped her hair and brought her mouth back to his. The fear that he had almost lost her, that he might lose her still, was too raw.