Chapter 5

Marvik

A week passes. Each day is the same. I wake and the orcress feeds me and sends more healing magic into my body. I know her name, but refuse to say it, even to myself. It humanizes her too much, and I need to remember that she is my enemy. A harder task than it should be, as she cares for me gently and most diligently, never being harsh or impatient. She helps me sit up and we work my unused muscles so that they don’t atrophy, or takes me outside when I need to relieve myself. We do much of this in silence, only perfunctory remarks made or commands on her end are given. My last question from our previous conversation seems to have taken a lot of goodwill out of our relationship and she no longer offers information when we speak. I cannot fault myself too much, though; I needed to know how far her delusion that we are mates would take her.

At night I lay on my bedroll and plan. I am grateful to the orcress for her efforts, but I have no intention of staying in the woods and playing “soulmates” with her. No, one thought consumes my mind and one thought only: avenging Adalind.

My poor, poor sister. She suffered under the reign of Yorian, that blackguard. He forced a veil over her face, made her into a shadow he could puppet at will. And, though I could not prove it, I suspected he might be beating her behind closed doors. I saw no wounds or bruises on her, but that didn’t matter. It was in her body’s carriage around him when he was in the room, the careful, almost brittle, way she talked about him, her flinches at sudden movements that she thought I didn’t notice. I saw the signs and wanted to kill him for it, but I was prevented from doing so by the magical oaths of the Blue Guard. But no such oaths protect the orc king. The thought that he blamed Adalind for Yorian’s actions and executed her fills me with a well of rage, dark and murderous. I need to heal and then make my way to civilization, find out where the orc monarch is staying, and then thrust my sword through his black heart.

So, I drink all the broth that is given to me without complaint and submit to the orcress’ ministrations, all the while my mind is working. Toward the end of the week I can sit up without help and there is no longer a burning pain in my lung whenever I draw breath. When the orcress is sleeping, I quietly get up and walk around the cave, practicing my movement. Before my injury, I would have been able to run a mile in heavy armor while barely raising my heart rate, but now everything is different. Still, I will not wait long to leave; I have whiled away enough time in bed already.

When night comes, the moon is naught but a thin crescent, I decide it is time. The fire dies, leaving the cave cold and dark. The orcress is sleeping, sitting up against one wall of the cave, both her long knives clenched in her hands. She snores lightly and I know that this is my chance. I slowly untangle myself from the scant bedding of the bedroll, pull my ruined tunic over my head and make my way as silently as I can to the mouth of the cave.

Stepping into the night air, I feel a sense of relief . . . mixed with guilt. The orcress sacrificed everything in her life to save mine. My honor bids me to repay that debt and stay and see how I can help her now that she’s left her people. However, my duty as a brother outweighs any life-debt I may feel. Until I avenge my sister, neither of us can be at peace.

Slipping into the wood, I try to stay as quiet as possible, knowing that an orc’s hearing is likely more acute than my own. When I am a ways away from the cave, I look up and find the Easterly Star and get my bearings. I have no clue how far we are from Fort Attis or what direction the orcress went when she left the battle, but if I assume we are close to the fort and that she could not have gone far carrying a wounded man, with my inner compass set, I think I should be able to get to Kingsbury within a day or so.

I begin a light jog, wanting to put as much distance between me and the cave as I can. It is difficult. The ground beneath my feet is gnarled with the roots of ancient trees, the uneven terrain making each step a chore. It is taking me twice as long as it would if I was in an open field and my lungs and muscles are already burning from the exertion. I have been running for about an hour, when I finally notice something odd: there are no other sounds of life in the forest. No hooting of owls, no rustling bushes. That means either the woodland creatures fear me or . . . a predator is close. A panther or a werewolf or . . . an orc.

Paranoia grips my heart and I push myself to run faster, even as my body protests. Is it my imagination or did I hear a twig snap behind me? A crackle of broken leaves? I do not turn to check, not wanting to waste any movement. In front of me, I see a clearing and dash toward it. I am almost across when I hear a voice.

“Leaving so soon?”

I whirl around and see the orcress lounging against a tree. She is flipping one of her knives in her hand, the picture of blasé carelessness. But somehow I know she is angry. Maybe even a little disappointed? I can’t be sure, but I know, somehow, that she has no intention of letting me leave.

“How did you find me?” I ask, slowly backing away. I need to find an opportunity to run again, hopefully while she is distracted..

“I’ve been following you since you left. After all the work I put into saving you, it would be a waste if you got yourself killed in the woods.”

Alright, so definitely angry. Despite her effort to sound unaffected, she speaks with clipped and curt words. And there is something off about her. Her eyes look darker than normal, but perhaps it is just the shadows of the night. I keep moving backward and find myself at the other end of the clearing.

“Why leave?” she asks. “Though you are feeling better, you are still healing. You will be back to full strength in just a few weeks if you would just continue to rest. Is it me? Do you not like my company?”

The words are sarcastic and biting, but there is a hint of insecurity in those words and something about that bothers me more than I care to admit.

“I have no quarrel with you!” I proclaim loudly from the other side of the clearing, eyeing the orcress warily. Realizing that increasing my volume in the Deep Wood is not wise, I modulate my voice. “I have no quarrel with you,” I repeat. “You saved my life. I owe you a debt.”

These words do not seem to mollify my pursuer. Her face hardens under the moonlight. “You have no quarrel with me . . . but you do with someone else, don’t you?”

Damn, she is perceptive. I grimace. My eyes dart back toward the trees, considering just running again, but weakened after my long injury like I am, I am sure that she will catch me quickly. I need her to stop chasing me. But if I admit why I snuck away, I am sure that she will never let me leave.

But she doesn’t wait for my reply. “Let me guess. You want revenge . . . not for your king. You don’t seem to care about him.”

I grimace again. She picked up on that? I always thought I was hard to read. I have been told so for my whole life. But this orcress is no ordinary observer.

She continues, “If not for your king, then . . . your sister. You want revenge for your Queen Adalind, and the only way to do that is to kill my king.” Her eyes narrow, the shadows on her face making the expression menacing. “I can’t let you do that.”

“You deserted!” I argue. “What happens to your king is no longer your concern!”

That is the wrong thing to say. The orcress suddenly sprints at me, bounding across the clearing and then pounces. I lunge to get out of the way, but I am no match for her speed. I find myself flat on my back, the air knocked out of me, with the orcress straddled on my waist, holding my arms down above my head. Her face is close to mine, close enough to kiss. Where did that thought come from? I wonder. The orcress is my enemy. I should hate her, I really should. Maybe I do. But I also can’t deny that her emerald eyes and high cheekbones mesmerize me, that her slightly plump lips call to my own.

The orcress stares back at me and I don’t know what she reads in my normally stoic face because she makes a noise. Something like a melodic purr, a sound that appears to be coming from deep in her chest. Unexpectedly, a bolt of lust shoots through me, startlingly strong. My manhood hardens and my breathing quickens. Then, as suddenly as the sound starts, she cuts it off with an angry growl. This close, I can see that her eyes have dilated and her breathing matches mine. She closes her eyes tight and shakes her head.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” she says, in a way that makes me unsure whether she is addressing me or merely talking to herself. “It is the chase . . . your scent . . .”

I am unsure what she is talking about, but I try to control my unruly cock. This is not the time and definitely not the partner to be having such thoughts with. Though she has saved my life, she also is standing in the way of my revenge and I can’t forgive her for that.

We stay for an awkward moment panting and staring at each other, her still straddled over my body, then she rears back and gracefully finds her feet.

“Get up,” she commands, her voice rough. She fiddles with something on her wrist. There’s not much else to do but obey her. I do it with difficulty, as I am still a little hard. When I am standing, the orcress seizes me, pushing me till my back is to her and shoves me up against a tree. Another bolt of lust shoots through me. What in the Nether? Have I gone mad?

I crane my head around and see that she is holding a length of braided leather cord, which she promptly starts using to bind my wrists together.

“What are you doing?” I ask sharply, though I already know.

“I’m giving you what you want, my Ash’ka, ” she replies, the last word dripping with sarcasm. “You wanted to treat me as your enemy and captor, so here we are.”

She knots the leather, tight enough that I can’t move my arms, but somehow not tight enough to dig into my skin.

“There you go,” she continues, “now you are my prisoner.” She leans forward so that her voice is in my ear. “And I will never let you go.”