Page 21 of The Orc's Wife

The orc was pleading now, which orcs never did. Urgan grinned wider. Let the traitor drown in his terror. The traitor who allowed Una’s attacker to die before Urgan could deal with him. The traitor who had taken his revenge away from him.

Urgan would avenge Una now.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

Gahn’s mouth fell open, the unflinching command in Urgan’s voice enough to override his will. Urgan caught both his jaws in his hands, heedless of the fangs piercing his skin, and he kept pushing Gahn’s mouth open, wider and wider.

Guttural sounds of agony were coming from Gahn’s throat, and Urgan took pleasure in the traitor’s pain. He kept pushing until Gahn’s jaw broke with a wet crack. He threw the now whimpering orc on the ground and drove him through with his sword, three precise strokes through the gaps between his ribs.

Gahn lied dead at his feet.

And twenty paces away, Durug’s squad stood, silent and hesitant. They were afraid of him.

But it wasn’t the fear of authority, of a powerful orc who commanded them. It was the fear of madness.

Understanding flickered in Urgan’s mind. He straightened, struggling to keep calm in the aftermath of the most instinctual kill he had made in years.

“This warrior was a traitor,” he said, noting with relief how collected his voice sounded. “Those who attack their officers, who betray the army that feeds and provides for them, deserve a gruesome death. This is the old way, the way of our ancestors.”

Durug gave a fierce shout of agreement. His face was distorted in a violent grimace. In him, at least, Urgan had a stalwart follower.

The others gave answering shouts, some less eager than others, but the situation had been more or less salvaged. Even so, Urgan knew there would be gossip. The old ways, which Urgan staunchly followed, were being steadily pushed out by the court. One more reason for the Imperator to get rid of Urgan.

What he had just done might prove a fatal mistake, he thought grimly as Durug made a fast work of removing the body. The disfigured head would be cut off and put on a stake as a reminder of what happened to traitors. This was another of the old ways.

But fewer and fewer orcs approved of them. If Urgan wanted the full support of the army, and not just the men who had fought under his command for the last few years, he had to be careful now.

No more outbursts. No more letting his protective instincts overcome his reason. No more letting his care for Una dictate how he behaved.

“We need to talk,” he said to Durug. “And eat.”

Durug led him to his private quarters in the barracks, sending a recruit to order their food in the kitchens. Soon, they were seated in his room, a bare but spacious chamber with a table and a bed.

Durug lived in the city with his mate, but sometimes he needed to spend a night in the barracks. He was responsible for the recruits and their training and oversaw the army in Urgan’s absence. That was a difficult job – growing harder and harder as the Imperator implemented new changes, as Urgan was now learning.

“He’s making the orc males weak,” Durug said through clenched teeth, pouring mead into clay mugs. “It started with the court, but it’s spreading. Like a disease. He’s making them cut their claws, blunt their teeth, lose their strength. He openly favors the weakest, the most ridiculous ones. The rest follow suit.”

Urgan nodded thoughtfully.

“He’s trying to eliminate all competition,” he guessed. “If most males are weak… no one can fight him. What is he doing to control the army?”

Durug drank deeply from his cup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked grim.

“Nothing yet. I was attacked two weeks ago, though. Four orcs without tribal markings, very skilled in battle. I had Brakhan with me. This is why I’m still alive. We never found out who they were or what they wanted.”

“Assassins?”

Durug nodded. A loud knock on the door announced the arrival of their food. As soon as platters heaped high with steaming meat and dark bread were on the table, both orcs stopped speaking and devoured their food.

When Urgan was done, he pushed the plate away and drank his mead.

“I was attacked by ragghits when I was returning from war with Tokoma. Three separate attacks. They were targeting my smell. Grikh found out they came from the imperial menagerie.”

Durug raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t look surprised.

“I am so glad you’re back. As soon as your army returns…”

Urgan nodded savagely.

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