Chapter 2

KNOT

I putdown my tattered copy of The First Orc’s Adventures and stared at the flame flickering in the lantern beside my bed.

Emalise had been afraid of the dark, and she’d insisted I keep a lantern burning all night. Each evening, after making sure the lantern had enough oil, I would draw her body close to mine and fall asleep with the female I loved folded in my arms.

My throat burned and I swallowed hard.

Emalise.

She was gone. So was our son.

Why?

I ground my teeth together until my jaw ached. I’d asked myself this question—why?—thousands of times, and I’d yet to come up with a good answer.

Why did Emalise and our son have to die in childbirth?

Had I done something to cause her death? Considering she’d died during childbirth, there were days when it was difficult not to blame myself. Though it was generally considered safe for human females to birth part-orc and part-fae babes, perhaps it was my size and the passing on of my traits to our offspring that had caused the tragedy. I sighed and stared at the night sky, hoping my late wife was safe in the starfields.

I looked at the smooth wooden beams of the high ceiling. My whole body tensed and rage pumped through my veins, as if I were about to go to battle. Most orcs were warriors or mercenaries. Though I’d never considered myself to be like most orcs, I sometimes thought I needed to experience a good battle, that only through the spilling of blood would I assuage the grief-fueled fury that often threatened to consume me.

Gods. I needed to find a way to overcome my anger. My heart felt like it was poisoned. It scared me, this continued rage I felt toward the gods. It had been two years since Emalise’s passing. She would be saddened by what had become of me. That thought caused my spirits to sink further.

I’d left my hometown and temple in Lannus, leaving my flock scrambling to replace me without much notice. Shame filled me at the memory of what I’d done. I’d abandoned people I cared about. People who cared about me.

The Saturday mornings I’d awoken eager to attend to my flock were over. The days of visiting the sick and helping those in need of spiritual counsel were over. How could I help anyone when I couldn’t seem to help myself? A male so angry with the gods had no business leading a flock of gods-blessed souls.

Try as I might, I couldn’t shake the dark cloud that hovered over me. Perhaps it was time for another trip to town. Despite my need for solitude and my annoyance that Mayor Compton always approached and asked me to take my place as the priest of Faircross, I supposed a trip to town might help dull my loneliness, anger, and guilt—if only for one day.

Much as I wanted to stay in my cabin high in the mountains of Black Dragon Island and never leave, I knew it wasn’t healthy to hide out here for such long periods of time.

Tomorrow at first light, I decided. Tomorrow at first light I would saddle Telrud and ride into town. I extinguished the flame and closed my eyes, letting sleep claim me.

The next morning as the sun filtered through the trees, I rode Telrud away from my prosperous claim, but stopped at the next claim over on my way down the mountain. It was there that I found Dalton Hornsgrind, a half-minotaur male, sitting in front of a fire, cooking what had once been some kind of forest creature. Behind Dalton, the beginnings of a mud cottage stood, and to the right of him rested the tent he currently called home.

Guilt stabbed me. I’d been lucky to strike it rich only days after reaching my claim. Most of the other miners, like Dalton, were not as lucky.

“Priest Thazurok! Good morning, sir. Would you like some breakfast?”

I cringed at the honorific of my former calling. When I arrived on Black Dragon Island, I’d intended to keep the fact that I’d been a priest for ten years a secret. But I’d made the mistake of getting drunk at The Sweet Siren Tavern one night—my first drink since I’d been a curious lad and tried a swig from my father’s bottle.

In the tavern, one whiskey too many had left me spilling my secrets to the fae miner seated next to me at the bar. I’d told the stranger all about my temple in Lannus, and about my wife and child, and the gods only knew what else. The memories from that night were a blur.

I’d passed out at the bar and awoken in the early morning to Madame Sage insisting I drink a glass of water and then be on my way, lest she charge me rent for taking up a good seat. By the time I made another trip to town, everyone knew I was a former priest, and the pressure for me to move into the rectory and start holding Saturday services in the temple began.

I dismounted Telrud and approached Dalton as the rising sun gleamed on his massive horns. I removed my hat as I joined him near the cooking fire. “Call me Knot. I haven’t stared down a flock in two years now.”

Dalton flipped the meat from his pan onto a dirty tin plate, then blew on the… rabbit? before taking a hearty bite. “Right,” he said between mouthfuls. “I heard you’ve been officiating weddings though.”

I stiffened. “Only five weddings. Didn’t plan on it either. Each time, the couples caught me when I happened to be ordering supplies in the mercantile. I couldn’t very well say no and force them to wait weeks for the traveling judge to pass through.”

Dalton finished off the rest of his rabbit-like breakfast. “I found this in one of my traps this morning. Much tastier than parritch.” He licked his fingers and set the plate aside, then rose up on his hooves and scratched his stomach. “So what do I owe the pleasure of this visit for, Knot? You need help carrying another twenty pounder down the mountain?”

“I haven’t found more than a few specks of gold in the river or in the caves lately. I got lucky during my first few weeks here, is all. You’ll get lucky one day too. You have a fine claim here, Dalton, I can feel it.”

“Well, I sure hope you’re right, because I plan on putting an ad in for one of those mail order brides from the Northern Isles by this time next year.” He waggled his eyebrows. “It’s all part of my plan to strike it rich and start a family out here.” Dalton’s gaze turned distant for a moment. Sad, too. The male had to be fiercely lonesome sleeping by himself in that little tent night after night.

I could more than sympathize. I gulped hard. My desire to reach town soon and be among the living for the first time in weeks suddenly became stronger. Maybe I would stay at The Bluebird Inn for a few days, take my time ordering supplies, and visit The Sweet Siren in the evenings. Except this time, I would order wine.

The prospect of seeing the dancing girls, the beautiful so-called sirens, up on stage lightened my mood. I wouldn’t go so far as to spend an evening with one of the sirens, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy the scenery.

I was shocked the first time I saw the girls dancing provocatively, but after visiting Faircross a few times, it seemed as natural a sight as the sun rising over the mountains. Though my former flock in Lannus would be scandalized if they knew I’d visited an establishment such as The Sweet Siren, I didn’t believe those who worked in the tavern were any more of a sinner than I was.

“I’m headed into town, Dalton. Might stay for a few days, actually. Could you keep an eye on my claim?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Thank you.” I fixed my hat back in place. “Can I pick anything up for you at the mercantile?”

“No, but if you visit the tavern, give Floura my best.” He smiled, revealing crooked yellow teeth.

“Which one is Floura?”

He sighed and looked to the sky. “She has dark eyes and golden hair, but you’ll know her by her personality. Talk to her for a minute and you’ll feel as if the sun is rising.” He sighed again.

“I’ll see what I can do.” I swung up on my horse. “Good day to you, Dalton.”

“Good day, priest.”

I bit my tongue and rode away from my neighbor’s claim.

A few of the paths in the foothills were nearly washed out, and I had to take care in guiding Telrud around the dangerous patches of mud and rock. The trip that normally took four hours took six, and it was late afternoon by the time I reached town.

After I crossed the bridge over Winding Dragon River and reached Faircross, I left my horse at the stables, trusting Telrud would be well taken care of. Next, I stalked down the street to the mercantile. I ordered cornmeal, salt beef, rice, dried fruit, flour, coffee, tea, spices, and other essential items, as well as some mining tools that would take weeks, if not months, to arrive in Faircross.

Though I had more money than I knew what to do with, I saw no reason to sit idle in my cabin. As long as my claim yielded even the smallest flake of gold, I would keep at it, panning in the nearby creek and hardrock mining in the caves too.

Once I completed my transaction and arranged to pick up the in-stock items in two or three days, I found myself unsure of how to spend the next few hours. Directly across from the mercantile stood The Sweet Siren. I glanced out the front window. The tavern beckoned me.

During my first visit to the establishment, I’d wondered if I had completely lost my senses, but I’d told myself I’d simply gone inside because it was the only place one could get a good meal in Faircross, aside from The Bluebird Inn of course. After a few drinks though, I’d found myself staring at the females, at the beautiful sirens, as I imagined taking one upstairs. I’d passed out drunk before reaching a decision.

Perhaps tonight. Or even right now.

Did I dare?

What would my friends and family in Lannus think?

What would Emalise think?

It didn’t matter. I would never see any of them again.

I’d come to Faircross on a lark, not caring if I struck it rich or failed miserably at mining.

A new life. A life far from the pain and guilt from losing Emalise in childbirth. That was what I’d wanted.

The ghosts from my past had followed me, however, all the way to my homestead on the mountain.

Would the ghosts ever leave?

Would I ever find peace?

Still inside the mercantile, I moved down an aisle and idly gazed at a row of canned jams. Walking around the aisle, I came face-to-face with…

Blue eyes.

Wavy auburn-gold hair.

Full, sensuous lips.

My breath stopped short. Gods, have mercy. I took a step back and tipped my hat to the beautiful young human female. A pretty blush stained her cheeks as she stared up at me. Was she fully human? I wasn’t certain. Her delicate, almost ethereal features, suggested a fae ancestor or two.

“Apologies for almost knocking you over, Miss…”

“Missus,” said a severe looking elderly human woman who immediately joined us. “Mrs. Oakbees, though the poor thing was widowed several months ago. And I am Mrs. Angus Foxthorne. I must say, I don’t believe I’ve made your acquaintance yet, sir. You don’t look like the typical miner who travels through these parts.” She openly scrutinized my outfit, which consisted of dusty black trousers, fine leather boots, and a relatively clean white tunic.

“I’m Knot Thazurok, and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” I took turns shaking each woman’s hand, but firmed my grip when I shook Mrs. Oakbees’s hand and found it difficult to let go. As our eyes remained locked, an unmistakable spark of attraction ignited between us, a zing of pleasure that traveled up my inner thighs and caused my pants to become tight. When Mrs. Oakbee’s lips parted on a faint gasp and her pretty eyes widened, I knew she felt it too, and I couldn’t help but notice her nipples had grown taut within the confines of her bodice.

“Well, Mr. Thazurok, that explains why I’ve never met you before,” the elderly woman said with a judgmental sneer. “You’ve been too busy chasing your fortune in the mountains rather than tending to your gods-destined flock. Perhaps a certain establishment across the street wouldn’t have males pouring in and out at all hours of the day if proper temple services were held weekly and the townsfolk were reprimanded for their waywardness. Have you seen the temple the town built? What about the rectory? A right shame it stands empty.”

The old woman’s scolding made the tips of my pointed ears burn, and I reluctantly released Mrs. Oakbee’s hand. I had half a mind to tell Mrs. Foxthorne of my intention to visit The Sweet Siren Tavern later today. But a glance at the younger female caused me to swallow the retort that hovered on my lips. While I might have no qualms about scandalizing the older woman, I had no wish to make the auburn-haired female uncomfortable.

“Mrs. Foxthorne, it’s not very gods-blessed of you to judge this male, especially since you don’t know him.” The young female’s cheeks reddened as she spoke to her older companion. Clearly, Mrs. Oakbees was mortified by Mrs. Foxthorne’s little speech.

“Thank you for your kind words, Mrs. Oakbees.”

“Please, call me Natalee. I insist.”

Natalee. A lovely name for a lovely female. After a moment, I realized I was staring at her like a lovestruck fool. Was I drooling? Gods, I hoped not.

“Well then, Natalee, I insist you call me Knot,” I finally said.

She blushed again, more deeply this time. Then she glanced at the lower half of my face and a contemplative look came over her. Tusks, I realized. She was likely wondering why I didn’t possess tusks.

“I’m only half-orc. My father was a full-blooded orc, and my mother was half-fae, half-human. My brothers were born with tusks, but alas, I was not.” I placed a hand upon my heart and sighed in an overly dramatic fashion, as though I mourned the loss of something I’d never had. A second later, I displayed a lopsided grin.

Natalee’s eyes widened and she appeared embarrassed. She stammered for a moment, then said, “I-I didn’t mean to stare. Forgive me.”

I grinned, revealing my sharp fae-teeth. “You may stare at me all you like, Natalee.”

Mrs. Foxthorne made a choking noise in her throat and tugged on Natalee’s arm. “We’d best leave the former priest to go about his business.”

After exchanging a quick goodbye, during which Mrs. Foxthorne shot me a scornful and suspicious look, I began to make my way out of the mercantile.

But my curiosity about the pretty female slowed my steps.

I turned and peered at her from over a rack of canned goods. Natalee stood alone, her elderly companion having wandered off. When she smiled warmly at me, my heart stuttered, and all the air left my chest.

What would it be like to hold her hand? To kiss her?

I found myself entertaining the sort of romantic thoughts I hadn’t experienced since I’d met Emalise all those years ago.

My feet carried me to the other side of the aisle. Natalee held my gaze with a sweet questioning look. My pulse quickened. Say something. My throat went dry, and I swallowed hard. A quick glance toward the counter showed Mrs. Foxthorne was speaking with the owner of the mercantile.

“Did you forget something, Knot?” Natalee asked, her voice soft and musical. Soothing. There was something about her that calmed my restless spirit.

Gods help me, she had the most beautiful soulful eyes. I couldn’t look away. I could hardly breathe. “Natalee,” I eventually said, “I was hoping you would do me the honor of joining me for a picnic lunch tomorrow.”

Her face lit up. “I would be delighted, Knot.”

“Wonderful. I’ll see you at noon, then? How about near the bridge, on the bank overlooking Winding Dragon River?”

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

We exchanged one last goodbye, then I finally walked outside, though my steps felt heavy, as if walking away from her pained me somehow. Once I was outside, the sun warmed my face as I strolled down the street. Excitement swirled within me, as well as confusion.

Had I really just asked a young female to spend time with me?

Well, I couldn’t help myself. Those eyes of hers… Gods above, I could have stood in the mercantile and stared at her all day and basked in her sweet presence.

I reminded myself that I wasn’t looking for a wife, and then I felt guilty for the false hope I might be bringing Natalee. What if the pretty female was searching for a husband? She was widowed and still quite young.

A growl rumbled from my throat. Of course she would be hoping to land a husband soon. Gods be damned.

What was I doing, then?

I glanced up and realized I’d walked all the way to the bridge. I stared at the sky and for the briefest instant, thought about praying for guidance. Dhomyss emerged from behind a cloud to soar toward the mountains I called home, the creature’s great wings beating in the air. After the island’s resident dragon disappeared over the horizon, I lowered my eyes to the dirt road, turned, and headed back into town.

I was just as lost to my old self as I’d been during the days immediately after Emalise’s death, wasn’t I? I hadn’t spoken to the gods then and I wasn’t about to start now. Even if I should perhaps thank the gods that the dragon who called this wild island home was an unusually peaceable one. As far as I knew, his body count was zero, though he occasionally snatched livestock from the fields. Surely that deserved a prayer or two of thanks.

The temple and rectory loomed to my right as I headed further into town. I gave both buildings a wide berth but couldn’t help glancing over as I passed by. Durable structures, both fabricated of white stone. Five immensely tall spires stretched to the sky from the temple, and from my previous trips to town, I remembered that sometimes the spires disappeared into the clouds. It was a feat of architecture, especially for a town as small and remote as Faircross. Still, I wanted nothing to do with it.

When would the townspeople and the mayor stop asking me to take up orating again? I wished I would wake up one day to find all my anger gone, to find my heart was no longer encased in stone. But it had been two years since Emalise and our son’s death. Two years and still I couldn’t move on.

Would I ever know the peacefulness of prayer again? What about the satisfaction of orating to an eager flock? Or the fulfillment of leading a blessing ceremony to mark the change of the seasons?

Would I continue to drift further from the male I once was?

Why in the gods had I made plans to meet with a female?

What had I been thinking?

Just as I wasn’t fit to orate in a temple, I wasn’t fit to embark on a relationship with a female. Perhaps I shouldn’t show up. Perhaps that would be kinder than giving Natalee false hope.

Shaking the dark thoughts away, I headed toward the piano music that had just started up. In my moment of confusion, I didn’t know where else to go.

I hoped The Sweet Siren had decent wine.