Page 20 of The Orc's Wife

When they passed the canteen smelling of roasted meat, Urgan’s stomach growled. He would have to eat at some point, or he’d lose his strength. He would join the soldiers for dinner, he decided with a new wave of anger.

He had been looking forward to sharing a meal with Una.

“Fall back,” Durug said to his squad.

He led Urgan to the smallest building – the temporary prison for soldiers who had to be confined while waiting to be tried for their infractions. It had almost never been needed since Urgan became the general.

His warriors were loyal to him.

Two guards were standing outside, and they both saluted Urgan with an almost embarrassing eagerness. One was young, and he had had his front fangs filed down in the newest palace fashion. The other was older and had a grizzled look about him. He was missing a fang and his ear looked to have been torn off. Urgan didn’t know him, though. Probably a new recruit.

“Birkar, Gahn, step aside,” Durug ordered. They opened the door and Urgan stepped into the small corridor leading to the cells. The heavy wooden door of the first cell was open, the torchlight from the corridor falling inside.

The human male who had attacked Una and whom Urgan took captive was lying on the floor in a pool of congealed blood. One look was enough to see what had happened.

Someone had slit his throat.

Urgan had been almost certain the attack on Una had been just a spur-of-the-moment idea of some resentful male slaves, but now he was sure it had not been that.

Someone had taken pains to murder the man before Urgan had a chance to question him. Someone, he should add, with access to the barracks. Possibly a warrior living here.

He looked at Durug and nodded.

“We didn’t move him so you could see how we found him,” Durug said, the lines in his face seeming deeper in the faint light.

“Bring me a torch,” Urgan said.

It was a slim chance, but the killer might have left something by the body. He looked at the cell, bringing the torch close to the ground so he could look into every corner. He checked the corridor outside and came back to assess the body, finally turning it to look underneath.

But there was nothing.

Urgan straightened. He was still the general, if only in name. These were his barracks and his orcs to command. And among them was a traitor.

“I want the two guards standing watch outside the prison locked up. Have your most trusted orcs guard them,” he told Durug. “And then you’ll eat with me. Somewhere private.”

He would question those orcs himself, he decided. He knew he should do it at once, but he was frustrated, hungry, and tired. At this rate, he would kill them before he got anything useful out of his interrogation.

Urgan went out of the cell first, crossing the corridor in a few steps. He was about to step over the threshold, but hesitated and turned back, wanting to ask Durug a question.

That moment of hesitation saved him.

An axe whizzed past his head. Urgan whipped back to the door, jumping out of the doorway to have a clear fighting field. He drew his curved sword.

The two guards, Birkar and Gahn, were holding weapons aimed at him. Urgan snarled, standing wide, keeping his sword ready. Birkar, the younger one with filed down fangs, took a step back, clearly afraid. Gahn stood his ground, watchful eyes tracking Urgan’s every movement.

He was a seasoned fighter, and the one Urgan would have the most trouble with. But the youth needed to be eliminated, too. Sometimes, the most dangerous attack could come from the least expected source. Urgan drew his axe and feigned a throw at Gahn, who ducked instantly. Urgan threw at Birkar, and the axe buried itself at the junction between his neck and shoulder. That was a kill.

Gahn straightened with a growl and drew a circle with his sword, warming up his wrist. Durug stepped out of the prison. A split second later, he was unsheathing his sword and turning on Gahn, whose eyes flashed in uncertainty now. He was alone and facing the two strongest orcs in the army. He threw his sword at Urgan, trying to distract him, and turned to run.

“Traitor! Get him!” Durug shouted to his squad waiting nearby, but Urgan was already running.

He had been attacked in his own barracks, by men that ultimately answered to him. This was the last straw, and he was past reason now. He ran fast, fury adding him speed. He barely registered the soldiers following Gahn in his wake.

He grinned, vicious pleasure coiling in his guts. He would get the traitor first.

Gahn made the mistake of turning back, and what he saw in Urgan’s face must have frightened him so much that he stumbled.

Urgan was on him, catching the sword belt going fancily across his back. He pushed Gahn to his knees, and even though the grizzled warrior struggled, Urgan was stronger in his fury. He overpowered him easily.

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