Page 120 of The Widow and the Orcs

Whenher ankle — caught.Jolted.Yanked.Anddragged her back and downwards, face-first onto the rocky earth, as sharp, blinding pain flashed through her torso, her arms, her knees, her ankle.Whatthe fuck, what the hell, what why how no noNO—

Rikard’slaugh was loud, lurid, blistering inLouisa’sringing ears.Andthen — she crumpled, cried out — something slammed into her side, something hard and powerful and shockingly painful.Andwhen her frantic, fluttering eyes finally found the cause of it, it was…Rikard’sboot.Rikardhad fuckingkickedher.

“Nowthat’s better, isn’t it,Louisa?”Rikard’sgrating voice asked, between heavy breaths. “That’sjust where you belong, you vicious murderoushag.Onthe ground, caught in my trap, kneeling at myfeet.”

Caughtin his trap.Oh, godscrushthis vile little cockroach, of course it was one of his damned traps.Thisbastard had cornered her into one, pushed her straight into it.AndcurseLouisa, why hadn’t she evenconsideredthat, she needed to get up, call for help, run —

Shescrabbled to shove herself up, to lunge for freedom, or even for her knife — but more pain crashed against her side, and wrenched sharp around her ankle.Whileanother loud laugh clanged through her ears, cold and mocking and triumphant.

“Don’teven bother,Louisa,”Rikardhissed, and when she struggled to look up again, he was crouching before her, and dangling her knife, herknife— in front of her face. “Can’tyou see how the gods are on my side in this?I’vebeen lining this border with fresh traps for weeks, and at this point, anyone would have sufficed — but nowI’vecaptured the greatest prize of all.ThepreyI’vebeen hunting all this time.You.”

No, no, this wasn’t happening, no — butRikardcoldly smiled at her, and even nicked her knife-point painfully at her hot cheek. “Andyou could have so easily avoided this,Louisa,” he continued. “Igave you multiple chances to remove the orcs from my rightful property.Ieven offered you my hand inmarriage.Butyou refused, so nowI’mremovingyoufrom my property instead!”

Hewas removing — her.Fuckthis bastard swine, he’d set her up, and now he was going to murder her.Andhe’d known the truth aboutScall, all this time, and he’d still offered tomarryher…

Butit didn’t make sense, none of it made sense, the panic screeching throughLouisa’sskull, rattling her leg against the pain clamping it tight.Againstwhere it felt cold now, numb, sticky, just like her arms and her hands and her torso, and her twitchy glance downwards found her lovelySkaidress ripped and torn, exposing multiple deep, bloody gashes cut into her skin beneath.

Ohgods, what was she supposed to do, there was no way to face this or fix this or even fucking move.Rikardwas going to destroy her and he was going to take everything, the camp, her land, her house, her sisters, the children, no, no, no…

“No,” she gasped, with a foolish,foolishswipe for her knife in his hand. “No.”

ButRikardonly laughed again, yanking the knife away, screeching more panic throughLouisa’strembling, bleeding body.Becausehe was — he was enjoying this, the utter bastard.Hewanted to drag it out, and watch her bleed, and make her suffer.Hehated her that much, maybe even more than he hated the orcs, and…

Wait.Theorcs.Theorcs.Andmost of allKillik.Killik, holdingLouisa’seyes, speaking with such fierce truth in his voice.Weare guarding you.Imust keep you safe.Thisfool bleating man shall never harm you.LordScallis dead…

Killikhad sworn to guard her.Tohelp her.Andeven now, even after everythingKillikhad said and done,Louisastill… believed him.Shedid.

Andsomehow, somehow, she found her breath again.Drewit up from the solid earth beneath her, sank it into the pain, into the blood and the cold and the fear.

LordScallwas dead.Butshe wasn’t dead, not yet.Shecould still try.Shecould face this.Shecould faceRikard, find a way to delay him, to distract him, to keep him from — she startled, dropped her eyes — from noticing that faint rustle in the trees above…

“But— how, then?”Louisaasked, not fighting the weakness in her voice now, the bitter twist on her mouth. “Howdid you knowIkilledLordScall?”

Rikardlaughed again, but a little lighter this time, or even gleeful.Becauseyes, yes, he’d wanted her to ask.Hewanted to lord his superiority over her.Hewas too confident in his power, his invulnerability, just likeLordScallhad been…

“I’lladmit it was cleverly done, on your part,”Rikardreplied, with a too-casual shrug. “Weall knewScallliked his late-night rides around his land, even when he’d had too much to drink.ButIstill knew my uncle,Louisa, and” —Rikard’schest puffed out — “he still knew his own land.Hewouldneverhave ridden his horse this way, let alone fallen off and split his head open.Unlesssomeone else did it.Unlessyoudid it!”

Rikardjabbed his thick finger toward the place whereScallhad died, now perhaps only a dozen paces away.Flaringthe memory of it sharp and vivid behindLouisa’seyes, just as clear as if it had been yesterday.

She’darranged for a rich meal.She’dpurchased multiple bottles ofScall’sfavourite vintage, and kept his glass full.Andonce he’d been staggering drunk, she’d slipped in a few capfuls of pure distilled spirits, too, and lightly suggested he take his usual evening ride out on his lands.Andthen she’d gone to bed, and crept out the window, and met him just there, on the path.Andit had been so, so easy to call out to him, to draw him off his horse, to bring him confused and raging toward her…

Andthen to smash the huge, sharpened rock onto his head.Tohear his shocked, affronted screech — but then she’d knocked him down, and swung the rock again, and again.Aimingfor the same place, deepening that gaping wound, untilScall’sscreams had faded into rattling gasps, his blood bubbling warm into the earth.

Andthen, finally, silence.

Ithad never been somethingLouisahad imagined herself doing, something she’d ever thought herself capable of.Butshe’d been so helpless, so desperate, so lost, and by then it had been the only choice.Theonly option left.

Becausenot only hadScallriskedLouisa’sown life with that infection, and killed all her children — but he’d blithely kept on doing it to other women, too.Tohis mistresses.Tothe women who worked in the establishments he frequented.Andjust the week prior,Louisahad not only heard about one ofScall’smistresses’ deaths — but she’d also foundJoanweeping in a corner of the stable, withScall’sfamiliar handprints still marked into her wrists.

Butno one else had noticed.Noone else had cared.Andfinally, death had become the only answer.Theonly path forward.Theonly way a cruel, all-powerful lord likeScallwould ever face justice.

Luckily, there had been no inquiry aroundScall’sdeath — his head wounds had been consistent with a bad fall, and his predilection for drunken late-night rides had been broadly known.Buteven so,Louisahad nearly had a nervous collapse at the funeral, and afterwards she’d had nightmares for weeks, echoing again and again with the sounds ofScall’sscreams, the scent of his blood.

Andever since, the guilt and fear had been a quiet, constant weight, haunting her, dragging her into darkness.Enoughthat she’d never again spoken of her griefs, her losses, and most of all, her inability to have children.Becauseit all gave her a very clear motive, an excellent reason to have killed her philandering, disease-spreading lord husband.Andshe couldn’t risk it, couldn’t face it, she’d just wanted to run, to forget it, to escape it, forever…

Atleast, untilKillik.UntilUlfarr.Untiltheir kindness, and their generosity, and their amends.Theirredemption.Theirpeace.Ifear you not.

Andnow — even now, lying here broken and helpless in this cursed trap,Louisafinally didn’t regret what she’d done.Shedidn’t fear it.BykillingLordScall, she’d savedJoan, and gods knew how many other women, too.She’dfaced it, and fixed it, and helped the people who’d needed her most.

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