Chapter 6
Chapter Six
“Why do you have to be so heavy?” I pant, dragging Uram along the forest floor.
I’ve fashioned a litter from two thin saplings I cut down with Uram’s ax and my old blanket.
It took me a good long while to drag his unresponsive body onto the litter after I tied a long strip of cloth torn off my skirt around his wounded thigh.
I tucked my cloak over him to keep him warm, left all our luggage where it lay scattered in the forest, then took on the arduous task of lugging him to his home.
Which is…somewhere in this forest.
My throat closes with panic, but I stamp down the rising emotion and keep my gaze forward, determined to save him or die trying. All the time we walked, he kept us on a northward path, so if I keep going that way, I’ll eventually bump into the orc settlement.
Or I’ll miss it by miles and get hopelessly lost in the great forest of Bellhaven.
I stumble on a hidden tree stump and curse, then correct my course so Uram’s head doesn’t collide with the hard wood.
I lean down and tuck a corner of my cloak back into place, then brush my hand over Uram’s brow.
He’s definitely not cold—in fact, he might be burning up, and that worries me even more.
I have no idea how fast orcs heal or get an infection, but I need to get him to a healer as soon as possible.
“Hold on,” I whisper, my voice tight. “For me, all right? You promised me things, and I intend to hold you to that.”
Then I take up the litter again, even though my palms are scraped raw from the jagged bark, and take another step north. And another. It’s slow going, and I have no idea how far I have left to go, but I won’t stop until I find him help.
It’s not a sound that has my hackles rising, but the absence of it. I don’t notice the complete silence at first, but birds stop squawking, and I feel a presence behind me, as if someone is watching me.
I stop and gently lay the heavy litter handles on the ground, my shoulders screaming in protest. Then I reach for Uram’s hunting knife, slipping it out of its sheath.
“Who’s there?” I call.
I don’t try to hide our position—whoever or whatever is following us already knows where we are. If it’s a hungry beast hoping for an easy meal, I’ll try to scare it away by screaming. If it’s a human, though, I’ll fight them until my last breath. I’m not leaving Uram again.
A figure melts from the deepening shadows, a tall, cloaked person with quiet steps. The crunch of frozen leaves behind me has me spinning around—another stalker has shown himself, prowling closer to us.
“Go away,” I yelp, holding up my knife. “I’m warning you.”
My hand shakes, but I grip the handle firmly, prepared to stick it in someone’s ribs if they advance any more.
Then another person steps from the shadows, his hood thrown back. He’s taller than me by a head at least, and his skin is a rich green, so like Uram’s.
“Is that Uram?” he demands.
I lower the knife slightly. “Y-you know him?”
The newcomer lifts his arms to show he’s unarmed. “I’m Arlon of Bellhaven Clan. These are Ozork and Korr, and we are Uram’s friends. What happened?”
His expression is so earnest, so worried, I somehow know he’s telling the truth. On a sob, I drop the knife and fall to my knees beside Uram. I throw back the cloak and show them his wounds.
“We were attacked by some men from my village,” I manage to choke out. “He was stabbed and shot with arrows. I didn’t know what else to do, so I tried to get him to his home, but he’s—he’s heavy, and I just—”
My voice breaks. I hide my face in my stinging hands and cry, relief clashing with worry and fear. Uram still hasn’t woken up, but at least I’m not alone anymore.
“You did good, Uram’s mate,” one of the others says. “We found the site of your fight on our patrol and followed you here. Uram fought well. He killed four men. But you dragged him for more than a mile. You are a strong woman.”
That’s when I notice he’s carrying Uram’s ax, and the one called Arlon has Uram’s pack on his shoulders.
“We left the humans’ bodies for the scavengers,” the third warrior says, his expression grim. “They entered our territory without permission, and they paid the price.”
“How far are we from the Hill?” I ask.
Arlon grimaces. “You wouldn’t have been able to make the journey on your own. But it is a good thing we found you.”
I watch, stunned, as Ozork and Korr tuck my cloak around Uram, take both sides of the litter, and lift it, their muscles straining. Arlon helps me to my feet, and when he sees how badly I’m shaking, he picks me up and carries me, running easily beside his friends.
It still takes us most of the night to reach the Hill.
I ache all over, exhaustion making it hard to stay awake.
We enter the underground palace through a wide oakwood door guarded by scowling guards, and a small crowd surrounds us, voices crying out in worry and outrage.
Uram is taken straight to the healer, and I struggle in Arlon’s arms, trying to follow.
“Hey, now,” Arlon says as I accidentally elbow him in the chest. “We will take good care of your mate. You need to rest so you can be there when he wakes up.”
He hands me over to the care of a beautiful orc woman who introduces herself to me as Mara, and she takes me deeper into the underground corridors of the Hill.
I’m too tired to do anything but follow.
She brings me to a neat bedroom with no windows, sits me on the bed, and cleans my hands with warm water, then smears an herbal salve over them.
She helps me undress and detangles my hair with slow strokes of a wooden comb, clucking softly when I start to cry again.
Then she helps me lie down, and I sink into a deep sleep before I can even ask about Uram’s health. The last thing I remember is Mara’s hand brushing back my hair and her voice promising me I am safe.