DESPITE MY FAINTING SPELL EARLIER, there is no time for breaks as we travel one more day on wolf-back to Black Claw Village.
The journey was uncomfortably quiet. I had regained consciousness just as Bazur had wordlessly pulled me from the snow mound and dragged me onto the back of his icewolf. In a trance-like state, I leaned back against his chest and stared out at the terrain in front of us. Each forceful step the wolf took shook me but I barely registered it.
The adrenaline I felt when we first arrived at Dread’s Keep has left me and now I am exhausted. The days of traveling are catching up with me. At least tonight I can find lodging somewhere and sleep on a warm, dry bed.
We will be a day’s ride from Dread’s Keep and despite my initial hesitations about being so far away from where I believe the best chance at locating my brother is, I can’t help but welcome the distance. I won’t have to stay there alone. I am grateful to Bazur for volunteering to take me but I know I have to remain on my guard.
Vorgak’s warning still rings in my ears. If it were discovered what my true purpose for coming here was, Bazur would have no choice but to do as instructed. I won’t risk that. Being on this mountain has brought me closer to finding my brother than I have ever been. Wherever Bazur’s village is, Vorgak said there are humans. Perhaps one of them has heard of my brother or knows someone that was captured twenty years ago and what may have happened to them.
That golden thread of hope glows in my chest once more as the icewolves carry us forward.
We haven’t stopped once to rest. The urgency I felt from Bazur as we left the throne room continued as we made our way up the mountain. It was as though Vorgak was on our heels and it was only a matter of time before he caught up with us.
I’m still deep in thought when Bazur lets out a yell.
A great groaning sound is heard and my eyes focus on what’s in front of us. When we left the Keep, I expected us to go deeper into the mountain, perhaps through one of the great tunnels we passed. Instead, we rode further around to the other side of the mountain. Traveling over a few hills and valleys to where we are now.
It’s mostly flat here. Rows of evergreen trees make a path in the snow that leads us toward two great wooden doors carved with the symbol of a wolf’s paw. There are two orcs manning the door, but unlike the ones at the Keep, their attire matches the orcs in my company.
The stiff snow crunches beneath the icewolves’ massive paws, and the guards call out to Bazur in orcish before bowing their heads in respect. As soon as we push through the doors, there is a flurry of excitement. Bazur’s name is shouted from every corner of the village, and shock renders me even more speechless. Humans and orcs alike are congregated together to welcome Bazur and his company. Old and young, male and female. Some are dressed like the soldiers with me, while others are more plainly clothed. One woman, around my age with dark hair, cradles a baby with pale green skin close to her chest, while an orc male rests a hand on her shoulder. My mind spins, questioning what I am seeing in front of me.
Bazur nods at a few of them, his stoney expression still in place. Black Claw Village is quaint and much larger than the one I grew up in. Rows of wooden homes and shops line the snowy street. There’s a baker, an orc male wearing an apron covered in flour , taking fresh loaves out of a hot oven. The smell of baked bread makes my stomach growl. An older human woman with tan skin and tightly curled brown ringlets drapes muted color fabric in her window. She nods as we pass.
Bazur receives many looks of respect but I catch a few of curiosity and a handful of disdain from a few of the younger human and orc females alike. Being their leader, I would assume Bazur is quite a catch to any female in the village. For all I know he may even have a mate, though he is not as vocal about it like Zarod.
Not that there is any relationship between me or Bazur; he is my warden. I’m hoping there’s an inn that I can stay at. I need some time alone to get my thoughts together and devise my next plan. But mostly, I am desperate for a warm bath.
Maybe I can convince Bazur to let me stay with a human family, one I can pepper with questions that hopefully won’t arouse any suspicion.
Most of all I am desperate for a warm bath.
We continue down the main street, as the sun begins to set. One by one the soldiers peel off, heading toward their own homes. The buildings become less dense indicating we’ve left the heart of the town.
We pass a wooden row house that is painted the most beautiful shade of blue. The glow from a fire inside warms me even at this distance. I lean my head back to watch the thick smoke from the chimney curl into the darkening sky. The front door swings open and emerges an orc female. She is breathtakingly beautiful. Sharp features, thick black hair that flows in a soft wave down her back. Her frame is willowy, all long limbs and sleek muscles barely hidden beneath her wool dress. Her ears are slightly more pointed than the orcs’ that I’ve seen, and her eyes glow a familiar red.
She’s part dark elf, I think with a start.
The female orc narrows her eyes at me and Bazur for a moment, a questioning look lowering her brow. That is all forgotten when Zarod lets out a howl and charges toward the house.
“Kaethe it was wonderful to meet you, thanks again for saving me,” he calls over his shoulder. “Now both of you fuck off and don’t disturb me for at least a week. I’ll be busy.”
Zarod jumps down from his icewolf and marches up the front steps. No sooner is the female, who can only be the infamous Mornga, within arm’s reach, that he has her pressed against his chest. She laughs up at him before his mouth swoops down on hers. Her fingers move to his cloak untying the knot and letting it fall off his shoulders.
“My lovely Mornga, I’ve missed you.” Zarod’s voice carries on the wind.
“Lovely? I don’t think you’ve called me lovely before,” Mornga chuckles.
“A travesty.” Zarod kisses her once more. “Now let me get you naked so I can call your pussy that as well.”
Mornga hits his chest and then they push through the front door and into the warmth of the town house. We can hear their laughter all the way from the street.
My cheeks heat at such a display of affection. Bazur mutters under his breath as we push forward. For a moment I wonder what it would be like to have someone so obsessed with you like that. To be the reason they smiled and looked at you like you were the center of their entire universe?
I hope to find out one day, but it won’t be anytime soon. Not when I’m on a mission. Not when I’m going to be staying in this village.
We continue to the end of the road until we reach another house. It is a humble home, built into the base of an evergreen tree. The front steps lead to a porch with a desolate flower bed, and the upper levels of the home are tucked into the branches of the tree. I’ve never seen anything like it.
Our wolf stops in front of it and Bazur slides off. He looks up at me with his hands raised in silent permission. I nod once and he plucks me off the saddle and sets me on the ground. Off to the side is a training yard with wooden swords lining a simple wooden fence. Stone cairns in the snow designate fighting circles.
Bazur clears his throat and I look back at him. The journey has taken a toll on him as well. Snow clings to his dark hair and frost coats some of the light stubble on his face. My fingers itch to touch it and I don’t understand why.
“This is my home.” he gestures toward the tree house.
“It’s very nice,” I say, furrowing my brows. “Where will I be staying?”
He nods toward his house.
Oh, gods why didn’t I consider that? So much for alone time.
“Surely, it would make more sense for me to stay with one of the human families in town. If I am to teach them my skills—”
“You stay with me.” I fight the urge to stomp my foot. I was really looking forward to getting away from this orc and collecting my thoughts. I need to walk through all the variables of this situation and devise a plan. I can’t do that when he is so close.
He unsettles me.
“You interrupt me a lot,” I mutter. “Is that something all orcs do?”
“You say a lot of nonsense I don’t have time for.”
Bazur pinches the bridge of his nose. “Vorgak told me to watch you. So, I am going to watch you. I take this job very seriously.”
“Why?”
“Why?” he snaps. “Why would I not want to watch you closely? You have secrets, secrets make you dangerous.”
“Look at me,” I say, gesturing down my body. “I am no threat to you.”
“Maybe not physically, but you’re smart. That’s why I agreed to let you come here. Your knowledge will help my people.” He crosses his arms over his massive chest, the fabric at his arms bunching around his thick biceps. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a royal emissary?”
I sigh, pulling my cloak around myself. “Before I left, King Vorgak made it very clear that my safety on the mountain could not be guaranteed until I made it to Dread’s Keep. He informed my king that any orcs I came across may not take too kindly to a lone human woman.” I let the sentence hang there and Bazur nods, understanding what I’m not saying.
“It’s obvious to me now,” I continue, “that he never thought I would make the journey and that I would perish along the way.”
“Did your king force you to come here?” Bazur asks. I pinch my eyes shut. Remember the secret to a good lie. Stay as close to the truth as often as you can.
“No, I volunteered.”
Bazur shakes his head at me, disbelief coloring his golden eyes.
“That’s what I don’t understand. Why would you volunteer to come here with your obvious aversion to my kind?”
“I don’t have an aversion—”
“You don’t need to tell me another lie.”
“You don’t need to keep interrupting me!” His incessant staring and his constant interruptions are dueling for his worst trait.
He grumbles something under his breath, uttering that word he called me two nights ago after I saved Zarod. I bristle upon hearing it, knowing it can only mean annoying, or liar, or very-difficult-to-deal-with-I-should-just-eat-her. He motions for me to walk into the house, but I plant my feet in the snow.
“What’s the problem now?” I can hear his teeth grinding together. Good.
“I’m waiting,” I say, lifting my chin.
“For?”
“An apology.”
“For what?” He raises his dark brows.
“A plethora of things—”
“Plethora?”
“But mostly for constantly interrupting me.” Bazur blinks. I hold his stare not moving a muscle. We lock eyes and I wait for the fear to creep in, to lessen my resolve and make me retreat into myself. It never does. For some reason I know I can hold my ground with Bazur and he will not harm me.
Not over this at least.
He exhales and rubs his forehead.
“I am sorry,” he growls so harshly that I barely make out the words.
“What are you sorry for?”
“Mother of the Mountain.” He rolls his eyes. “I am sorry for interrupting you.”
“And you won’t do it again?” A muscle in his cheek twitches but he nods.
“I won’t do it again.”
“See, was that really so hard?” I brush past him and up the front steps.
The house is dark but even without adequate light I can tell it doesn’t have much furniture. Bazur moves to the fireplace off to the side and quickly gets one going. He returns to light a few candles and I take everything in.
A simple kitchen with a metal oven and stove. An old kitchen table with two chairs, both carved with some ornate design. There are a few shelves littered with bags of flour and some other spices. Simple metal cutlery sits in a pile on the counter next to a couple of wooden bowls.
“Tomorrow, I will take you to see Lady Myren,” Bazur calls to me from the fireplace, holding his green palms over the roaring flames. I join him by the fire, the heat warming me enough that I can finally slip off my cloak. I let the flames warm me through the thin wool of my green dress.
Bazur is quiet and I turn to look at him only for him to shift his gaze away from me quickly. Strange orc.
“She will show you how to teach the other humans your healing gifts.”
“I’m an alchemist, technically, not a healer.”
“We have no need for gold here. More gold doesn’t keep the Frost Cough from coming every winter,” he replies, moving away from the fire.
“Frost Cough?”
“A sickness that comes after the first freeze. It infects the lungs and decimates our humans here, the old and the young especially.”
How can I argue with that? I nod my head and he grunts. His favorite reply. Sufficiently warm, I also take a step back from the fire and survey the room again. There are very few personal touches. The walls are made of simple cedar wood, decorated with a few massive frostelk heads. Their magnificent horns curl upward toward the wooden beams of the ceiling.
Noticing my stare, Bazur inclines his head.
“This is the kitchen,” he says motioning to where the stove is with the small table. “That takes you up to the bedroom.” I follow him toward the short wooden ladder that separates the two floors. The smooth wood is polished and cool to the touch as I grip the sides and climb up the rungs.
It leads to a landing with a small door at the back. The only things up here are a bedside table made from the same tan wood the rest of the furniture in the house is, and a massive bed covered in furs and thick wool sheets. An array of pillows decorates the headboard. The heat from the fire rises up here making it deliciously warm. A yawn sneaks up on me.
Oh, how I’d love to collapse in that thing.
“Back through there” —Bazur points to the small door— “is the washroom. This house is set up to catch melting snow. There are metal pipes that heat the water for the bathing pool.” He leads me to the washroom and the sight is magnificent. A large steel tub takes up the entire center of the room and is built directly into the wooden floor. It was obviously built with an orc in mind because it is easily six feet deep. There is a toilet and sink off to the side, as well.
Wordlessly he shows me how to turn the faucet and heat the water, and I say a silent prayer of thanks to the gods for not making me have to collect buckets of water in these icy conditions. There’s a small drain at the bottom of the pool which allows the dirty bath water to escape. The bathroom becomes steamy from the hot water, and I can’t wait to be out of these clothes and in the tub scrubbing the road from my skin. He shows me where he keeps his towels before we exit the washroom and are once again standing in front of the massive bed.
I look around with a raised brow. Above us is a glass roof that reveals some of the snow covered branches of the tree we are in as well as glimpse a few stars. During the day I’m sure it provides an ample amount of natural light. There’s a small landing along the steepled roof. It’s narrow but I’d be able to lie on it. Perhaps that is where I will set up my bedroll? The only problem is there is no ladder leading up to it.
My palms begin to sweat as uncertainty seeps in.
“So…where will I be sleeping?” When he raises a dark brow in confusion I suppress my groan, somehow already knowing what he’s about to say.
“There’s only one bed, akorzag.”
