The Orc King Ch 05

This chapter has no sex- please start from chapter one for all the hot and heavy stuff up until now.

~Hi my loves! This chapter contains depictions of (nonsexual) violence, so please read with care. Thank you so much for coming along on this journey with me and waiting so patiently for this chapter. I promise the next one will be out very soon.~

Chapter Five

Astera ran her thumb along the edge of the serrated blade. It was cool to the touch. The small knife was easy to wield.

It's barely more than a gods-damned bread knife though.

She had requested a dagger, but the shop keep in Thelfare must have thought this would be more useful.

At least it was

a

blade.

She had only really practiced self defense with a sword, and it had been a brief training. Battle strategies, maps, her father's reports all raced through her mind. They were useless out here. She flipped the knife in her hand, the handle slippery with her sweat. Staring into the darkness her stomach knotted uneasily. She hated being surrounded by the dark.

Clouds hung low in the sky above. Without any moonlight the forest seemed... strange. The air had taken on the stagnant, stifling feeling she recognised from the swamp.

She thought of the blackened jagged teeth in the maw of the felshi and shuddered. It was hard to believe that was only remnants of the Demon Horde's magic. The further they traveled into the cursed, unnatural parts of the forest the worse her thoughts had turned.

Chasing after the hunters all this way seemed ridiculous. She gritted her teeth. It was just the unnerving silence that was making her uneasy. There were no birds chirping or small animals running through the underbrush. Her eyes darted between the trees, searching for something,

anything

in the darkness.

She could only make out the shadowy trees around her. Soarruk's warhorse was resting beside her. On the other side of the horses the orcs were gathered.

Cyran had one of the maps out again. They were all huddled around it, save Soarruk. They had put their leather armour back on for this leg of the journey. Blades were strapped to their waists. Jorn even had a dagger in hand.

They were excited, talking in hushed tones. The tension between them was thick with anticipation. They were getting close to the hunters now; their camp was somewhere up ahead. And the orcs seemed ready for violence.

If only I had their night vision

. She squinted, staring nervously at a dark spot ahead until the blotchy shape began to look less like a pair of eyes and more like a leaf again. She was so exhausted she almost felt delirious. She crouched on the ground, squeezing her eyes closed a moment to try and focus her thoughts.

Beneath her fingertips the ground was cold. The heavy fog had let up a few hours ago, leaving a blanket of cool dew over everything. They had been riding for two days straight. All day and night. She straightened, rolling her stiff shoulders. Her muscles were beginning to ache, knots forming from sleeping awkwardly against Soarruk on-and-off throughout the night.

None of the orcs had stopped to rest. They had barely seemed affected by the lack of sleep. How far were they from the stronghold now? A day or two? Her mind went foggy when she tried to remember what Soarruk had told her last.

Exhaustion had settled into the marrow of her bones, weighing down her limbs so it was a struggle to keep her head up. Sleeping on the ground had never seemed so inviting before.

Anything would be better than that damn saddle

. She shook her head, trying to keep alert.

She sheathed her knife and hid it within her pack. Crouching, she began to move through the darkness, wincing every time a twig snapped under her boots. Even without being able to see clearly, she knew instinctively Soarruk was not far away.

He was easy to find. Even in the dark, even in the silence she gravitated towards him. She'd become his shadow. It took an effort to ignore the thrill that thought sent down her spine. She wasn't entirely sure if it was in fear or excitement.

She had become accustomed to the feeling of his hands on her, of his scent surrounding her. When they finally reached the stronghold, she would have to put distance between them. For now, though Soarruk was the only one she trusted.

Sort of

.

Her footsteps faltered when he came into view. He was crouched on the ground, staring ahead. His battle axe was strung across his back today. The black blade nearly blended into the darkness.

The blade he's used against both demons and humans

, she reminded herself.

Over the past few weeks, it felt like they had built a fragile understanding between them. At least she could be confident he wasn't interested in killing her, not yet. Upholding the treaty was their common ground. Something they both agreed on.

Finding her own place among the rest of their group had felt like a much more futile endeavour. They were soldiers, first and foremost. The best of Cyran's Fist. They worked quickly and carefully without any complaint, and she felt like a hindrance to them.

She had caught the other orc's eyes on her more than once, watching her movements, shuffling quickly out of the way whenever she got too close. Even after Cyran had properly introduced her to the group they seemed almost afraid of her. She snorted at the thought.

Orcs, afraid of me?

Maybe the exhaustion really

was

getting to her.

Soarruk was staring through the darkness when she approached him. She stopped beside him and reached up uncertainly to touch his arm. His eyes slid to her, his cloak parting so both his right-side arms could wrap around her and pull her close to his side. His body emanated warmth. It was hard not to melt into his touch; to enjoy the way it chased away the biting cold.

Soarruk's voice was a quiet murmur, "Their camp is just ahead. We will be traveling home soon." His hand reached up, distracting her for a moment as he tucked a curl behind her ear. She shivered.

Home soon.

The words were supposed to bring her a measure of peace, but it only made her stomach churn.

I have no home, not anymore.

She licked her chapped lips, turning to stare at him., "And what exactly is your plan, when you find the hunters?"

Soarruk stared at her for a moment, silence hanging between them.

It took an effort to meet his gaze. Her voice wobbled slightly when she added, "I have read my fathers reports. I know what your soldiers do when they catch humans on your lands."

She had to force the words out, "You will kill them, won't you?"

Soarruk's eyes hardened. His voice was quiet, "They are in violation of the treaty. Your emperor agreed no human would trespass on our lands."

Her lip trembled as she stared up at him. No one questioned the treaty. No one questioned the orc king's decisions. But he had chosen her, and she wouldn't sit back idly while he slaughtered the humans traveling through his lands. "Before, you said our people are no longer enemies. Mine are starving. They wouldn't wander out here unless they were desperate!"

"Hunters do not

wander

. They are tracking something," Soarruk said. "We must discover what."

"What could they possibly be tracking? I haven't seen a single bird in hours, let alone anything worth hunting." She looked around the darkness uneasily.

The air was heavy around them, stagnant and damp. It felt like it might swallow her whole if they didn't leave soon.

"This whole place seems cursed... They must be lost."

Soarruk turned back to stare at the trees. She chewed on her lip nervously watching him. He held no sympathy for her kind. Despite choosing her, despite signing the treaty and agreeing to help stop the demon king Rhyomen. She reached up to cup his jaw, so he was forced to meet her eye.

His stubble was thick under her fingers, his hot breath mingling in the air in front of hers. He was so overwhelming up close. She licked her lips, and his dark eyes traced the movement.

Up close, some of the exhaustion was visible in his features. There were shadows forming under his eyes. His shoulders sagged slightly as his eyes flickered over her.

Days now without sleep

. She had no idea orcs were even capable of such a thing.

The muscles in his jaw jumped under her fingers as he spoke, "Ack, they are not lost. If that were so, they would have begun traveling north again by now. But they continue to head south."

"You won't know the truth unless you give them a chance to explain."

There was a low whistle in the distance. Soarruk tensed beside her, letting out a curse. "Cyran's signal. The hunters are leaving."

"Please Soarruk, listen to me!"

"I have listened to more than enough of your objections, princess. I should leave you here while I deal with this myself."

When she tried to protest, he continued, "But you ought to see how your king decides his judgment. I can give trespassers the opportunity to live, but it does not matter. These...

confrontations

will always end the same. When humans and orcs meet our instinct is violence."

He gritted his teeth, forcing out the rest of his words, "I hoped, in aligning with your emperor, that this

violence

might cease. But it is only possible when the borders between our kind are respected."

When she shook her head, he added, "Come, you will see for yourself." He stood, grabbing her arm and bringing her up with him. He pulled her back towards the horses.

He called out orders to the rest of their party. Nazarov and Rouke took off on their horses, while Jorn and Cyran went on foot. She watched them leave as Soarruk helped her into the saddle. He didn't swing up behind her though. Instead, he handed her the reins.

He gave her orders in the same tone as the rest of them, "You will ride ten paces behind me. Never closer. We are stronger and faster, so as long as you do not interfere this will be over swiftly."

She wanted to protest, wanted to demand she ride beside him, but something in his expression caught the words in her throat. This was the only opportunity she would have to see how the orcs handled their own laws before they reached the stronghold. Her stomach churned thinking of the stories she had heard. If Soarruk left her behind now she wouldn't be able to help the hunters at all.

Soarruk was still staring at her, waiting for her response.

"I understand," she said finally.

He ran a finger over her cheek. His words were dangerously quiet, "Good. If you attempt to run, I will catch you. Keep your hood up and do not speak. I wish for you to see the truth. If you attempt to disobey me in this, I will forget our agreement. I will not write a single letter to your emperor, and the people in Thelfare will continue to suffer."

The threat hung between them. Astera's eyes widened slightly, and then hardened into a glare. "Fine."

He pulled away from her, anger tight with every movement. He climbed onto Cyran's horse and took off. Her heart began to hammer in her chest. She watched his horse disappear into the dark forest. An inconvenience, that's all she was to him.

The reins were thicker than she was used to, the leather material biting into her palm. She tightened her hands into fists. Once Soarruk was almost completely out of sight she urged the warhorse to follow him. It had no trouble weaving through the underbrush at a canter.

The tree branches slapped against her skin as she raced through the thick wood. The uneasy feeling twisted in her gut. The roaring wind made it hard to think. Tears stung in her eyes; the icy breeze sharp against her skin.

Surprised screams echoed through the trees. As she pulled the horse to a slower trot it almost sounded like the forest was alive, whispering and hissing as she neared the clearing.

The woods grew thick, the path narrowing downwards to the mouth of a small valley. It was barely larger than a mossy clearing, just big enough for the hunters to camp over night.

Hidden in the tree cover she could see most of the campsite. Rouke and Nazarov were the first of their group she spotted, positioned on either side of the clearing. The firelight danced off the blackened tips of their arrows, their massive bows drawn taunt and trailing on the group of hunters. The men were grouped together between their camps smoldering fire and Soarruk.

The Orc King wielded his battle axe in one hand, holding it out from his side so the flat edge of the blade was eye level with the hunters.

An icy breeze brushed over her skin, raising the hairs on her arms. Even facing Soarruk's back she could feel the power emanating from him. Did the hunters realize who had captured them?

Soarruk's voice carried through the clearing, echoing through the trees, "Lower your weapons!"

It was a moment before one of the hunters responded. He held his sword up, but the blade was shaking. "No! There are ten of us you bastard!"

"If humans cross our borders you must promise to come unarmed," Soarruk growled. "Drop them."

"Why? So you can kill us faster? Ha!" The hunter had a wide, wild-eyed expression as he stared at the Orc King. They were all wearing scraps of armour. One of them only had half his chain mail vest on.

The man jabbed his sword forward. He'd meant to make Soarruk flinch, but the orc stared at him evenly. Rouke let an arrow loose, the twang of his bow the only warning before the pointed arrowhead lodged itself in the ground beside the hunter. They all froze.

Astera chewed on her lip, staring between the two groups, trying to think of a way to calm the rising tension. Every time one of the orcs moved, the hunters all flinched, their swords trembling in their hands.

Behind the fire pit there was a large ox-drawn wagon. The animals were already collared and strapped into the wagon. A large white cloth was drawn over the top of the wagon and secured at the base with rope.

The cloth had been damaged, four vertical slashes running through the side of the cover. The breeze picked up. The torn fabric rustled in the wind, exposing the claw marks gouged in the wood underneath. Someone had tried to paint over it with a strange symbol.

Cyran was standing beside the wagon. He inspected the back for a moment, and then with one powerful thrust of his sword the lock snapped in two. The back of the wagon tumbled open. Thick blackish blood that had been pooling in the wagon bed splattered onto the ground below.

Astera's stomach churned. It looked unnatural, like dark sludge. Cyran called something out, and Soarruk's axe twitched.

"You've felled four cursed beasts," Soarruk said. She could hear the hint of disgust in his tone.

"The bounty is ours!" One of the men dared. He shrank back as Soarruk turned to glare at him.

The wind picked up again, its howl so loud in her ears it drowned out Soarruk's response. The warhorse stamped its foot, backing away a fraction. Astera frowned, leaning down to pat its side. The horse's ears flickered.

She paused. The fire was growing larger. The wind was roaring around them now, drowning out the rest of the noises of the forest. Even the grass was blowing sideways in the breeze.

The men were shouting, but Astera couldn't make out their words. The icy breeze picked up her cloak, tugging on her hood. The horse stamped his feet beneath her. She gripped the reins awkwardly as she tried to fix her hood. The trees above groaned with the noise, tiny leaves raining down around them.

The men were brandishing their weapons, but Astera couldn't parse out their words over the roaring whirlwind. Her heartbeat picked up again, thundering within her chest.

The whispering in the breeze she heard earlier became clearer, the voices a high-pitched whine that blended into the wind. The hairs raised on her arms. They sounded desperate, repeating the same thing over and over and over again,

"meatmeatmeatmeatmeatmeat..."

They weren't alone in the forest.

"Soarruk!" Astera called. He didn't look back though, didn't react at all to her words.

Across the clearing there was a ripple in the darkness. The trees shuddered as something appeared in the dark. Astera's eyes widened. It had to be the size of a bear.

And she realized, horror clenching her gut, that it looked something like the felshi from the swamp. Instead of mud and bones, this creature had fur. It didn't seem like a whisper of leftover magic- it seemed

alive

. One of the monsters clawed hands came up, gripping the tree trunk in front of it, its fist nearly the size of the tree itself.

It had two horns protruding from its skull. They were misshapen and pointed sharp on the ends. It had no eyes. Shadows poured out from its empty sockets. The fur was falling off its snout, exposing the old yellowish bone underneath.

From across the clearing the monster's hatred was palpable. As it stepped forward its clawed legs became visible in the firelight. Exposed muscles quivered and reshaped as the felshi lowered itself. Its entire body tensed, as if preparing, waiting.

The twisted fae were here.

Before she could open her mouth to scream the felshi pushed off the tree and shot across the clearing as fast as an arrow. The ground vibrated with the force of it. When the monster collided with Soarruk she could feel the impact from where she was hidden.

There was a horrible, sickening crunch as the two went flying through the woods. The forest shuddered around them, trees in the distance wobbling and crashing to the ground as the monster took the Orc King half a league into the forest.

Heavy, acrid smoke filled the clearing. The demon left behind a trail of scorched earth and burning trees.

And there was blood. Astera screamed. The horse Soarruk had been riding collapsed to the ground. It looked as if the felshi had torn it in half trying to get to the Orc King.

An arrow whistled past her.

Soarruk is gone.

The humans were no longer grouped together. Through the smoky darkness she could just make out the scattered group of hunters. In the chaos three of them had turned to attack Nazarov, aiming to disarm him.

"Astera!" Cyran screamed.

Hearing her name drew her out of her shocked stupor. The older orc was bounding across the clearing towards her. She shrank backwards, fighting to pull the reins in the opposite direction, to force the warhorse away from the clearing. The smoke was making her head pound.

The knife in her pocket felt as useful as a twig.

Escape the fighting. You must find someplace safe to hide.

Or better yet, a path to the main road. She only knew some of the road symbols, but it might be enough to get her back to Thelfare. If only she could see through the smoke.

As she tried to turn the horse to leave, one of the hunters stepped into Cyran's path. There was no hesitation when Cyran brought up his half sword, raising it in a wide arc to slash through the hunters exposed side-

"No!"

She lurched forward as if she could stop it, as if the hunter could hear her warning in time. She flinched as Cyran's sword came down. The hunter crumbled under his blade, thrown to the ground with the force of the attack. Her scream was lost in the wind and smoke.

A loud scraping noise sounded above her. She looked up just in time to see something shoot forward. Blackened dripping claws reached for her. Her cry of surprise was cut short as she was wrenched off the warhorse and into the air.

Sharp claws were on her, biting through her cloak and into her flesh. Leafy foliage and branches slapped against her, disorienting as she tried to fight back. Away from the fire the darkness of the forest enveloped her. She began to kick on instinct, her hands trying to wrestle against the claws digging into her flesh. She let out an agonized scream.