If you told me two weeks ago I’d be kidnapped, sold at auction, and dragged to the orc territory deep in the forests of Bellhaven, I’d call you crazy and distance myself posthaste.
But here I am. Trapped in a wagon, trussed up while two massive orc guards sit on either side of me, their faces grim. I’m probably well on my way to becoming a sex slave, and I need to find a way out of here. Now.
“I promise I won’t try to run again,” I plead, doing my best impression of a meek damsel in distress. “Or stab you.”
The older of the two guards, the one with a deeply scarred face called Ozork, scowls at me. “That’s what you said the last time.”
“And the time before that,” adds the younger orc, Neekar, grinning as if receiving a stab wound in the thigh is something to be proud of.
They’ve been remarkably calm about my escape attempts. Ever since they purchased me like a cow at the market in Ultrup, they’ve treated me kindly—even though their idea of kindness was giving me an additional blanket to wrap myself against the night cold as they forced me to sleep on the ground by the campfire.
They’d ordered me to bathe in the first stream we’d come across after leaving town, probably because I smelled horrendously bad after spending a week in the slave barracks in Ultrup. But they hadn’t given me any privacy, and I couldn’t wash properly in the freezing river swollen from the melting snow. So now I’m dirty, still dressed in the simple wool gown I was wearing when the band of slavers kidnapped me. I can’t even smell myself anymore, so I think my odor must be terrible.
That hasn’t prevented the orcs in this party from sniffing me. Every warrior has come close to me at some point and taken a deep whiff of my hair, the skin on my wrists, my neck. I’d endured it all, petrified. I’d thought they were smelling me to determine if I was tasty or something even more nefarious, but all they’d done was grunt and move off again.
There’s no telling what these creatures have planned for me. I’ve heard all the horrific tales about orcs and their lairs deep in the mountains. But I won’t stop trying to escape. I’ll keep attempting different tactics until something sticks.
“How long before we get there?” I ask instead of protesting again. I make my voice whiny and trembling. If they think I’m weak, they might let their guard down and allow me to escape.
“Not long,” is the curt reply I get.
I sit straighter. Up until this moment, every reply had been, “Stop talking,” or “You’ll know when we get there.”
So we’re nearing our destination.
We passed through an orc village several miles ago, and one of the cloth-covered wagons in our convoy stopped there—along with at least two of the human passengers who had been bought at auction with me. There were four of us—an elderly woman with silver hair, a middle-aged man, and a boy perhaps twelve years old.
“What happened to the child?” I ask my guards.
I haven’t dared ask before, because the answer might be too horrifying to bear, but I owe my fellow captives that small mercy. To learn of their fate and maybe send word to their families if I can manage to sneak away. I would have hoped that the others would do the same for me, only I have no one to notify. The people who might come searching for me would definitely not have my best interests at heart.
“Why do you want to know?” asks the older orc, glowering fiercely.
I grind my teeth, then force myself to reply in a calm voice. “Because he’s young. He was so scared. Why did you even buy him?”
The two orcs exchange a long look. Then the younger one shrugs as if to say, Might as well tell her.
“He is being returned to his village,” the older orc says. “Two of our best warriors are escorting him home.”
Oh.
I blink, surprised at the answer. I’d been picturing child slave labor and other horrible things, but if what they’re saying is true, the boy was likely saved by them.
“Will you let me go and escort me back h—to my village?”
I almost choke on that word. Home. I haven’t known a true home in years, and I don’t know what I’d find if these orcs ever did return me to our small settlement.
A grueling job, debt, and a man all too willing to forgive it…with the right incentive.
I shudder at the thought and focus instead on glaring at the orcs.
“No,” says Ozork. “You’re staying with us.”
“But why?” Even to my own ears my voice sounds whiny, yet I can’t help myself.
Neekar opens his mouth as if to say something, but his companion kicks his shin to shut him up. They glare at each other for a moment, then stare out the back of the wagon.
All right, so there’s definitely a purpose to my being dragged through these forests and hills. Whatever fate awaits me there, I’m sure it’s not good.
I squeeze my knees together, a sense of foreboding washing over me. There isn’t much use a twenty-six-year-old human could be to an orc except for…
Except for sex.
My chin wobbles at the terrifying thought. I’m to be a sex slave to some brutish orc, and judging by the size of these guys, it won’t be a pleasant experience.
At least I’m not a virgin.
I push away the stray thought, trying to think of a way to escape. If I could just get away from them for a minute… But they’d even posted a full guard when I’d begged to attend to my bodily needs, like I was some sort of precious cargo.
And maybe I am. I narrow my eyes at the orc sitting beside me. If I’m valuable, maybe that’s my bargaining chip.
Before I can go down that line of thought, the wagon slows, and noise erupts around us, many voices clamoring all at once. The horses whinny, and for a moment, fear shoots through me. If we’re being attacked by bandits, I’ll lose what little protection I have in my current situation.
It’s sobering to realize that I now prefer the company of these two orcs and their band of soldiers to other kinds of orcs. At least my current captors—owners—haven’t sought to harm me.
Then the tone of the calls registers. They’re happy greetings, even though the voices are gruff and deep.
More orcs, then.
Neekar brandishes a large hunting knife, and I cringe away from him, yelping in fear. But he rolls his eyes, grabs my tied wrists, and slashes the rope tying me. I struggle out of my restraints and rub my wrists, though in truth, the knots weren’t tight enough to chafe my skin.
Then I lean forward and peer out the back of the covered wagon. I can’t see much apart from the forest, but the crowd of orcs gathered to receive us is a glaring clue.
We have arrived.
