Chapter 9

Marvik

B y the time we reach the edge of the Deep Wood, the sun has risen and I am exhausted. As captain of the Blue Guard, I was always at the king’s side. I am not in the habit anymore of doing long midnight marches like when I was merely an army footsoldier. And after idling so long in that damned cave, I am even more out of shape than I thought. But at least I kept moving the entire night, save when we stopped by the pond, and made it out by the deadline.

I stop as we exit the forest and stretch, feeling some sweat trickle down my spine. My tunic is still wet from washing it, probably in no small thanks to my perspiration. I must look terrible, even after my bath last night. That bath . A calculated move on my part. I want to keep her guessing, while subtly making her think she is getting what she wants, so that she doesn’t see my next move coming. I’m not sure that I entirely succeeded and might have made things more complicated in the bargain.

Enticed , she said. Enticed , like her saying the word hadn’t sent a bolt of lust straight to my cock. And the way she stared . . . it would be lying to say that I had not felt desire. When she was so close, her firm but tender touch moving my head while she shaved me . . . I had hardened slightly in my trousers. I had been glad the orcress hadn’t looked down and seen the evidence of my arousal.

Could I truly betray her? When we get to town, could I turn her over to orcs to be humiliated and banished, all so that I could escape? I have to, don’t I? She will start killing innocents if I don’t. Betrayal is not in my nature; I have always done my duty and my loyalty is second to none, and I owe the orcress a life debt. True, she was also the reason I was dying in the first place, but she gave up her position and turned her back on her country to save me. Still, Adalind’s death is an injustice that has to be addressed. I could not save her from Yorian, but I can get revenge against Rognar. No matter how long it takes or who I have to betray.

The orcress comes up to me and says, “You did well. I wasn’t sure that you would be able to get us out in time.”

Her words sting my pride a little and distract me from my inner turmoil. Still, I do not think she meant them unkindly, just as a blunt observation. “My thanks . . . I think.”

She just stretches as well and doesn’t respond. I am momentarily distracted by the graceful way her muscles move and the way her small, pert breasts push into the air. The orcress almost catches me staring when she looks at me and says, “We should keep moving. I want to get to shelter and — .”

Her words are interrupted by a growl, a flash of fur streaking in my peripheral vision. Instinctually, I tackle the orcress, throwing us both to the ground as a huge wolf sails over us, jaws snapping where my head used to be. I roll up to a crouched, ready position and whirl on our attacker.

It is the huge gray wolf from earlier, the one that argued with Cronin about letting us go. Apparently, he has decided to try to kill us, even though we made our deadline. He seems to be on his own, but I don’t dare look away from him to the Deep Wood to check.

None of that matters now, though. The gray wolf stalks toward us, his posture menacing. His yellow eyes flash, murder in their hungry gaze. The wolf circles me and the orcress, walking just out of easy reach of any attacks. He is clever, assessing where to strike. Fighting a wolf with just my bare hands would be bad enough, but a werewolf? They have double the strength of a normal wolf with the intelligence and craftiness of a sentient creature. A dangerous opponent indeed. I reach down and grab a handful of dirt, ready to throw in his face if he lunges forward.

Dura finds her feet again beside me, posture tense. Her blades flick out of their sheaths in her hands. She looks ready for violence. Not giving the wolf any more time to decide when to attack, she darts forward. She dodges the wolf’s huge maw and thrusts with one of her daggers toward his jugular, the quickest death she can give him, but he twists and dodges. A paw the size of my head bats toward her, claws extended, but I loose my handful of dirt into his wolfish face over Dura’s shoulder and the paw goes wide. Dura flips backward out of reach of the wolf’s attacks, landing next to me. I duck down to grab another handful of dirt, my only weapon at the moment.

“Fall back!” She orders me. “You are vulnerable.”

“I will not leave you,” I return grimly. “Give me one of your blades!”

She doesn’t respond to me, but it is clear she will not arm me again. She doesn’t trust me. Finding her feet again, Dura sprints back into the fray, not giving the wolf time to respond, leaving me behind her. She swipes with her right blade, stabbing with the left, making the gray wolf choose what to dodge. The wolf rears backward, escaping her stab, but her swipe finds purchase, cutting across his exposed belly, though it is a shallow cut.

The wolf howls, then leaps forward, great jaws open for the kill, claws extended. Dura barely has enough time to duck so that he sails over her. Time seems to slow for a moment as he flies over the orcress. His belly is exposed to her once more, and she thrusts upward with both her knives as he jumps over her, her sharp orc-make knives digging deep into the soft flesh, before she yanks them out, blood pouring from the wounds. The wolf lands heavily with a whine and he skitters backward. The wounds the orcress has given him are death blows if he doesn’t get to a healer soon. There’s no way that she didn’t pierce some of his organs. I expect him to turn and run, but he surprises me with a growl as he poises to fight again. He would fight until his death?

The orcress changes her stance, getting ready for him to dart forward or pounce, when he does the unexpected once again. He strikes the ground, flinging dirt up into the orcress’ face, like I did to him earlier. He catches the orcress by surprise and she doesn't react quickly enough to dodge the debris. She flings herself backward, blinking rapidly to clear the painful dust from her vision, but it is too late. The huge wolf throws himself at her, causing her to fall backward, landing heavily on her spine. Like lightning, his teeth go for the orcress’ head and she is forced to drop her knives to grab his jaws to pry them apart so her head is not crushed.

They grapple for a moment, him trying to free his jaws and her trying to keep hold of his slippery teeth, holding them open with all her strength. His forepaws are holding the orcress’ shoulders down, and she is pinned under his great bulk. She struggles to keep her grip and I know that in a matter of seconds he will be free and crushing down on her head. His belly is freely bleeding on the orcress and I think for a moment that they will die, here, together.

I consider letting this happen, but my honor won’t allow it. The orcress saved my life, not only at Fort Attis, but just now when she pulled the focus of the wolf’s attacks onto herself. I look around deliberately, until I spy a huge rock, about the size of the rock in the cave. Small enough that I can lift it, but heavy enough to be a weapon. I pick it up, hefting it in my hands. Then I turn back to the grappling pair. I take a deep breath and launch myself onto the werewolf’s back.

Once I have straddled the gray wolf, I move forward and bring the boulder down on his skull with all my strength. There’s a crunching sound and the wolf howls again, bucking backwards to get me off his back. But I have broken wild mounts before and his flailing isn’t violent enough to dislodge me. I bring down the stone on the wolf’s head again and again. My hands ache from the blows, but I keep bashing it against his skull. On my last blow, there’s another terrible, wet, crunching sound and the bone of his skull gives way, caving in. Whining weakly, the wolf falls to his side and I barely jump off in time to avoid being crushed by his giant frame.

The gray wolf breathes shallowly, painfully. The light is slowly going out of his eyes. The orcress grabs her knives from the ground and walks up to our fallen foe. She stabs her knife into his throat and pulls across his jugular, his blood spraying on the ground, giving him a quick, clean death. Mercy for the enemy.

“Are you alright?” I ask, coming up behind her.

The orcress stands wearily, turning to look at me. Her hands are red, stained with blood, but she looks whole and unblemished, for the most part. I must look much the same, my own hands covered in the wolf’s blood, still holding the stone I used to attack him. I let the thing tumble from my fingers.

“I’m fine,” she replies gruffly. “But we should get moving. We don’t know if this wolf was watching us alone or if others followed him and his howls may have alerted his comrades, even if they weren’t. More wolves could be on their way here.”

I nod. “Then let’s be off . . .” I hesitate for a moment, before grudgingly saying, “. . . and I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” she queries. “Saving me?”

“No,” I shake his head. “Only an honorless coward wouldn’t have helped you. I’m sorry for stopping at the pond, for bathing in the first place. He probably wouldn't have caught us if we had kept moving all night.” I feel guilty that my ploy last night may have brought the orcress into danger. That was not my intention.

The orcress shrugs, brushing off my apology. “Perhaps. Or he was just waiting for us to exit the Deep Wood. He seemed determined to kill us. I think he would have attacked us anyway. I do not blame you.”

“That’s generous of you.”

She waves off my words. “Let’s get moving. I don’t want to be here when his pack shows up looking for him.”

I nod, agreeing with her and wipe my bloody hands on my cloak. We should get the move on. Kingsbury isn’t far. Safety waits for us behind the town gates. Also, I need rest, after the night’s march and the morning’s battle. Once we sell her earrings and I alert the orcs to her presence, I’ll gladly find an inn to sleep in. The thought stings my conscience a bit. Thinking of turning her in, after we fought side by side, is distasteful, but I must . Adalind’s blood demands it.

We travel down the road in silence, me leading the way. The road is dangerous, as that’s where bandits roam, and if more werewolves follow us they could find us easily, but after hours in the forest on hard terrain, I'm not sure that I can do another march if the path isn’t easy. Luckily, we go without further incident. We pass a mile marker for Kingsbury and I thank the gods that we are almost there.

The town is barely in sight when the orcress suddenly stops. I turn to see what is the matter when she suddenly disappears. What in the Nether?

“I’m still here,” comes her disembodied voice. I feel a touch to my side and reflexively turn, but she still is invisible.

“How did you do that?”

“I have an invisibility charm that hides me from sight and disguises my scent. I’ll use it to walk through town. I’ll be right behind you the whole way, though, so don’t get any ideas just because you can’t see me.”

Fuck. I can’t turn her into the guards if she’s invisible. I’ll look like a madman gesturing at thin air and she’ll know what my game is and find some way to punish me, I’m sure.

I feel instant relief when she says, “But the effects don’t last forever, so let’s get moving.”

A temporary effect I can deal with. When she’s seeable again, that’s when I’ll fetch the other orcs. Something touches my hand, lifting it up so that my palm is level, then something drops in it. After a second, gold hoops become visible. The orcress’ earrings.

“Get a good price for them,” she orders. “They . . . they were my mother’s.”

Guilt flashes through me at the vulnerable confession. I was so careless when I suggested selling her earrings, the only thing of value either of us had. Save, perhaps, her finely made knives. But those are useful and it would be suspicious to suggest selling them. To think that she agreed to sell something of sentimental value, all while I was planning to sell her out . . . well, my integrity doesn’t like that very much.

She’s holding you hostage , I remind myself. There is no other way .

Aloud, I say, “I will do my utmost to get the best price for them.”

With that, we walk into town. We pass both a human town guard and an orc sentinel as we go through the gate. The sight is strange. Humans working with orcs, after being conquered? I would have thought that the orcs would have disarmed the Adrikians first thing, not allow them to stay in positions of authority. But what do I know? Perhaps the guard is a traitor to his people, working with the conquerors. These things happen, people looking out for themselves and not caring about any sort of loyalty.

No matter. First to sell the earrings. I have been to Kingsbury before, though not often enough that I’ll be recognized, and I know where the merchant’s quarter is. I make my way there, occasionally feeling the brush of someone behind me I cannot see, when the crush of pedestrians becomes thick. It is like being haunted by my very own ghost.

Entering the merchant’s quarter, I immediately spy the fine goods merchant’s shop. Looking down, I can’t help but think that my bedraggled appearance will be an impediment to entering such an establishment, but it is the only place I can think of that would have the coin to buy such expensive jewelry. Taking a deep breath, I push forward, entering the shop, accompanied by the tinkle of a bell.

The shopkeeper looks up, all smiles, until he gets a good look at me. Instantly, he frowns, and with a snide voice says, “The mercantile is three doors down.”

“I am here to do business with you, good sir,” I return, undaunted by his condescending manner. I served King Yorian; I have been talked down to before.

At the aristocratic accent of my words, the shopkeeper’s brows raise, though he still looks wary. “And what business could you have with me?”

I walk to the counter where he is standing and hold out the earrings. Thinking fast, I say, “My wife and I were on our way to Grimblton when we were set upon by thieves. We got away with our lives, thank the gods, but all our goods, including our outer clothing, were stolen. Only these earrings were spared, as they were sewn into the lining of my wife’s shift and weren’t discovered by the brigands.”

There. My father would be proud of the lie I am telling. Deception is not my strong suit, but he taught me how to when I was growing up. Preparation for when I took his place on the Council someday.

“Gods! Brigands are back on the roads, even now that the orcs have taken over?”

I nod grimly, even though I have no idea if I’m lying or not. “It would appear so.”

“So, you need to sell the earrings to get the money to keep traveling, is that it?”

“Just so,” I reply.

The shopkeeper looks greedily at the hoops in my hands. Even I can tell that they are finely wrought, with a delicate filigree etched into the metal. When he looks up at me, however, he has an air of calculated disinterest.

“Alright, give them here, and I will look at them.”

I hand them over and he takes out a jeweler’s eyepiece. After a moment, he asks, “And how much do you pay for them?”

I have no idea. “More than I care to remember.”

The shopkeeper sighs. “Well, then, my friend, you were robbed twice. These are forgeries of a design by an elvish maker named Airdan Sardithas. While pretty, they are barely worth the gold they are made with. I will give you two gold pieces for them, and you’ll thank me for it.”

I would be willing to bet that the orcress’ earrings are originals and the shopkeeper takes me for a fool. I am about to argue with him when I notice behind the counter a key floating in the air, making its way toward the lockbox behind the shopkeeper. I barely keep myself from gaping. What is the orcress doing? The shopkeeper gives a questioning look and starts to turn to see what I am looking at.

Panicking, I declare, in my most haughty tone, “It is you who is trying to rob me! How dare you say that I would buy my wife forgeries.”

The shopkeeper stops turning and looks back at me, all false sympathy. “I can only tell you what I see. You are welcome to find another appraisal, though you won’t find another in Kingsbury.”

Ah, so that’s his game. From my story, he thinks I am desperate and have to take even his hideously low offer. It’s good business, even if it is rotten. Behind him, the lockbox opens slowly, as if the orcress is taking care not to make any noise. Inside, coins wink in pretty, neat stacks. A stack of copper coins lifts into the air and disappears.

Still holding the shopkeeper’s attention, I say, “Can’t you look again? The artisan’s maker’s mark should be stamped on there.” I know this because, though I am no merchant, I have bought expensive jewelry for lovers before. But I’m also sure that he has already seen the maker’s mark and is lying to me.

Sighing like he is doing me a huge favor, he picks up his eyepiece again and lifts the earrings, twisting them this way and that. While he makes his show of looking, the orcress takes a stack of silver coins, then gold, before closing the lockbox and surreptitiously putting the key back on the counter where she found it.

Finally, the shopkeeper says, “No, I don’t see it. Sorry. I can still get you those two gold pieces, though.”

And see the inside of the lock box where he is missing multiple stacks of coins? I don’t think so. I hold out my hand severely and say, “I would throw them in the gutter before I sold them to you, sir. You are a cheat.”

If my words offend the shopkeeper, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he just hands back the earrings and says, “Well, I’ll be here when you change your mind.”

He’s sure that I’ll return because of my dire straits, but more the fool him, because I am now flush with coins. Without another word, I stalk out the door, feeling the brush of the orcress as she exits with me.

Once outside, I walk a ways away, not wanting to be close when the shopkeeper discovers he’s been robbed. When I’m out of the quarter, I veer into an empty alley and stop.

“Alright,” I say, “What was that?”

“That was me getting what the earrings were worth,” comes the orcress’ voice, closer than I expected. “It’s not my fault you took the earrings with you when you left the shop. That man was a scoundrel. My uncle is Airdan Sardithas, and he made the earrings especially for my mother when she was young. They are certainly not forgeries.”

“I assumed as much. But when he looks in the lockbox . . .”

“He will not be able to find us. And how would he prove it was you, anyway? I’m holding the money and I’m invisible.”

“Not forever,” I point out.

“No, not forever,” she agrees, “but if we are in an inn soon enough, then I can lay my amulet out in the moonlight tonight to recharge it and be hidden again tomorrow when we shop for supplies.”

So she thinks. She doesn’t know that I am going to betray her the moment she can be seen. I’ll have to get the money off of her, somehow, before then. I feel a little push on my back, pushing me out of the alley.

“Now go on and find an inn for us to stay in. My charm will only last maybe another thirty minutes. ”

Good to know . I consider dragging my feet, but then she might suspect something and go hide before I can spring my plan. So I obediently make my way to the hospitality quarter and go into the first inn I find.

The Fox and Thorn is a bright, cheerful establishment. There are many people eating at the tavern downstairs when I enter. A ruddy man I assume to be the proprietor steps up to me and says, “Welcome! What can I help you with, stranger?”

“I am in want of a room,” I tell him. Then I smell the delicious aromas wafting through the air and add, “And a meal.”

The man chuckles, “Then you are in the right place! Our miniature meat pies are famous throughout the kingdom and we just had a room open up. It’ll be a silver for the room and a copper for the pie.”

I feel a few coins get passed surreptitiously into my hand and I make a show of reaching into the pockets of my trousers, as if to retrieve them. When I pull out my hand, there is a silver, and also several coppers.

“I’ll have four pies,” I say, guessing that the orcress is hungry too, and that’s why she gave me so many. “And a tankard of mead.”

“Right away, sir,” the innkeeper says amiably. “Just find a table and sit down. I’ll be right back. The room will be ready for you soon.” Then he walks away toward the kitchen.

Winding my way through tables and chairs, I find a back table empty and sit in it. As I do, I hear a hissing in my ear.

“What are you doing? We need to get out of sight.”

I whisper under my breath, to avoid looking like I am talking to no one, “The room isn’t ready yet. You’ll just have to hide if the charm is going to end.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” she answers, quiet yet vehement .

“Then I guess you have a choice to make.”

I can feel her standing behind my chair, hesitating, when the innkeeper is suddenly back, placing the pies and tankard on the table in front of me. Then, unwelcomely, he sits down across the table. He has a friendly, curious expression on his face.

“Where do you hail from, friend?”

“Across the sea,” I lie, taking a long pull of mead from my tankard, giving me time to gather my thoughts. This is the second time I’ve lied today, but I cannot use the same story again. Not after I had ill-gotten coin to pay with. “From Terria. I took a ship that docked in Berkbur Piers.”

“Goodness! From so far away. What brings you to Adrik?”

“I have family in Grimblton. My sister has passed . . . I am going to pay my respects.” There. Lies tied up in truths. It is how my father always said to lie. It makes the story more believable. The orcress merely stands behind me, her front touching my back, letting me know she is still here, still listening.

The innkeeper gives a compassionate look. “My sympathies. Was she killed in the fires?”

That brings me up short. “The fires?”

He looks at me incredulously. “You must be very recently in Adrik if you have not heard of our troubles in the south. The regents themselves had to address the problem and ferret out the perpetrators.”

Once again, it is like the other man is speaking another language. “The regents?”

Now the man laughs. “Really, you should have done more research before coming here. Do you not at least listen to gossip? Good Queen Adalind and her orc husband set two regents to rule Adrik while they are away in Orik. Though gossip says they are coming back to Adrik for the trials.”

Everything goes still. I think even my heart stops beating. Blood rushes to my ears and for a moment I feel faint. Good Queen Adalind ? I barely even hear the rest of the sentence .

I hurry to ask, “The queen? She is married to an orc?”

“Not just any orc,” the innkeeper scoffs. “She married their king.”

He leans forward, like he is about to share a juicy story. “They say that after King Yorian, a pox upon him, was killed at Fort Attis, the Horde rode toward High Citadel, ready to end the war through bloody means. But the queen rode out to meet them, only accompanied by one guard to stare down the entire Horde. She talked them down and offered herself up to the king, and ended the war without further bloodshed. She’s fairy-blessed with beauty, you know.”

I do know. But what I don’t know is what to do with the information the oblivious man has just given me. Adalind is alive? She ended the war herself? It sounds a little far-fetched that she would have gone with only one guard. I know her Gold Guard’s captain, Dame Zera, would probably have had a heart attack if Adalind had attempted such a thing. More likely it is exaggeration, like is common with such stories. The rest of it sounds true, however.

He continues, “Now we are a protectorate of Orik and the orcs are helping guard the country, while us common folk don’t even have to pay more taxes. The surviving army is all home to recover and peace reigns. The queen truly saved us all.”

A thought strikes me. Did Adalind sacrifice herself, going from one abusive marriage to the next, just to save the kingdom? I ask, “The queen? Is she said to be happy with her new husband?”

“Oh, they say it is a love match, that they never are parted. He’s supposedly very protective of her, as well. Apparently, Duke Grimble tried to strike the queen after the treaty was made and the orc king killed him, just for the attempt.”

That pulls me up short again. My father, dead? “Duke Grimble was executed? When? ”

“Almost two months ago, when the treaty was first made. The orcs are serious about protecting women. Beating a woman is cause for death. Apparently, the king walked in on Duke Grimble about to strike the queen, and instantly killed him. Of course, that drove Duchess Grimble mad, and she tried to kill the queen as well. She’s still alive though, but her trial is going to be soon.”

My heart goes cold. My father tried to hit Adalind and my mother tried to kill her? My parents were always awful to my sister, but I never thought they would go that far. Perhaps unsurprisingly, considering my strained relationship with my parents, I feel little about their deaths or impending deaths. All I feel is a deep, abiding shame for being related to them.

The innkeeper shakes his head, as if he can hear my thoughts. “Such a shame,” he says. “The queen was raised by the Grimbles. She was a commoner like us, but was placed in noble fosterage when her blessing was discovered. You’d think that, after practically raising her, they would have been kind or seen her as a daughter. Their actions paint a different picture, however. The poor queen’s childhood must have been a nightmare. If they couldn’t even treat an orphaned child with kindness, then the world is better off without them. Their only son and heir was killed in the war, so they are a dead house now. Good riddance to House Grimble. Hopefully, whoever takes over their lands and holdings will be better than they were.”

My head is reeling and I hardly know how to react. In the space of a few minutes, I have discovered that Adalind is alive and my parents are dead, or as good as dead. That they tried abusing and killing her. I knew my parents were bad, bitter, power-hungry people, but did I know they could be that evil? It doesn’t surprise me, but it feeds into my feelings of shame. They are my roots and my roots are rotten.

The innkeeper keeps talking. He’s apparently the chatty sort. “All that to say, the word around the kingdom is that the queen is happy in a protected marriage now. Her orc is absolutely besotted with her. So she’s got a happy ending, thank the gods. Of course, they also say that orcs have a dark magic that tricks people into mating with them. I don’t believe that, though. Like I said, we were having fires in the south that were set by people trying to destabilize the country, and the orcs saved Kingsbury from burning down a few weeks back. I’ll hear nothing bad about them.”

The innkeeper looks at me, an expectant expression on his face, waiting for my reaction to his information. But I am numb, bowled over by what he is saying. My parents, traitorous and dead. Adalind, alive, protected, happy. In a love match? With an orc? It sounds impossible, but I’ve heard it with my own ears. The other man frowns slightly, confused by my lack of reaction, but I have none to give. After a moment, a young girl, maybe fourteen, comes up to the table, smiling.

“The room is ready, Father.”

The innkeeper smiles back at his daughter. “Ah, petal, thank you. You do such good work.” He turns to me, still smiling, but looking at me with more than a little curiosity. “Well, as you heard, your room is ready if you want to retire to it. It’s the room at the end of the hall. Excuse me.”

He stands and walks away, mingling with his customers once more. I feel the orcress move from my back, but I am still sitting in shock, my thoughts racing. If Adalind is safe, what will I do? If she doesn’t need avenging or rescuing . . . I am directionless. My plans are for naught. My every thought since I woke has been for Adalind, but now . . . I don’t know. I could still go find her, make sure the innkeeper’s story is true, that she is happy, but something about his words makes it hard to doubt them. Besides, would she even want to see me after what my parents tried to do? I might be a reminder of things that she would like to forget. And to think, in just a few more moments, I was going to betray the orcress, send her to a terrible fate, for a misunderstanding .

After a while, I finally feel like I can move again and I stand, scooping up the now-tepid meat pies in my hands and make my way to the stairs that lead to the rooms. Upstairs is fairly straightforward, a hallway filled with doors and I follow the innkeeper’s instruction, heading to the closed room at the end of the hall.

When I open the door, I see the orcress standing in the middle of the room, fiddling with the chain around her neck. She glances up as I enter and close the door behind me, looking as wary and lost as I feel. And as I stare back at her, the silence between us growing uncomfortable, I only have one thought.

What do I do with her now?