Page 82 of Bound to the Orc Renegade

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Krivoth

I’ve never tried to find my village from this direction, never needed to. Since we came from one of the blank regions of the map, we’ve been traveling without landmarks for some time. Our location is approximate at best, and that inaccuracy has never mattered more.

We cross a creek, Storm’s hooves splashing in the bright, fast water. Do I know this creek? It looks like a hundred others, only a few feet wide, burbling happily as it rushes around moss-capped rocks worn round and smooth.

I have a good internal compass—early orientation training proved as much—but any such skill atrophied years ago when my father insisted I focus on warrior training and nothing else.By the goddess, how I regret that now! We could pass Moon Blade Village by a matter of miles and not know it.

Right as I’m ready to call a halt so I can scale a tree to try to get the lay of the land, a voice calls out, “Krivoth!”

Mist appears as Storm slows to a trot. “Who’s that?”

“Krivoth!” The voice comes again, louder.

“Branikk!” I yell. “Branikk, is that you?”

Then my best friend in the entire world runs out of the trees, his huge hunting bow bouncing on his back.

He’s seven-feet tall like most orcs, but his build’s a little leaner than mine since his life as a hunter focuses on the strength of endurance instead of the explosive strength of battle. Instead of a warrior’s braid, his long hair flows free, with only the front part tied up out of his way. My friend can fight—most orcs can—but the thrill of the hunt calls to him more than the thrill of battle, and unlike me, his family’s happy to have him follow his passion.

“By the goddess, Krivoth! You’ve got a unicorn mount! And is that a human?” As he runs up to me, his face splits into one of his easy grins, all tusks and happiness.

“Yes, the goddess blessed me with a moon bound bride,” I say as quickly as possible. “But she’s hurt, and I need to get her to Gerna as soon as possible. Which way to the village? And how far are we?”

“You’re a couple of hours away.”

Relief rushes through me. When I saw him separated from his unicorn in order to hunt, I worried he was on one of his long hunts, far from the village. But his words indicate we’re close.

Concern creases his features as he turns and points in a direction a few degrees to the side of the one we’d been traveling. We might indeed have missed the village without his help.

“Thank you! We must hurry, but thank you!” I dig my knees into Storm’s side, and he leaps forward.

“Of course!” Branikk yells as we race away. “I’ll follow as fast as I can to help!”

His words warm my heart. Never has anyone had a truer friend. He’s the only person besides my sister I ever told any of the truth of my family to. Ever since Mother died, he made sure to have me over to his family’s house at least once a week for dinner full of cheer and love.

I hadn’t quite let myself feel how much I missed Branikk, the good of his friendship buried under the burden of my father’s expectations.

As if our confirmed direction has given him new purpose—or perhaps it’s the knowledge that we’re finally close—Storm runs faster than ever.

I hold Taylor to me with one arm and lean forward. Gripping his mane, I let my ass rise from the saddle, to make things easier on all of us. “Don’t hurt yourself,” I call out. “She wouldn’t want that.”

“I know my limits, orc,” Storm says, as grumpy as ever. Yet here he is, running himself into the ground for Taylor. For me and everything she means to me.

“You’re a true friend.”

He snorts but doesn’t disagree, which might as well be unicorn for “yes.”

A ragged breath of relief huffs from me when the pines finally give way to the wide heart trees of Moon Blade Village. Branches emerge about twenty-feet high on each tree, spreading wide and covered with plate-size waxy heart-shaped leaves. The bottom of each massive truck shows windows and doors, hinting at the cottages within. The village woodworkers sculpt them fromthe living wood without harming the trees, using magic to do amazing things, the most amazing of which is that each cottage is bigger on the inside than the outside of its tree.

I use my knees to guide Storm as we weave around the wide curving trunks, only stopping when we get to Dravarr’s cottage.

Mist appears while I’m still dismounting and thumps her paw on the door.

When I shoot her a questioning glance, she gives me one of her wide smiles. “It was obvious, orc. You’re no puzzle.” Then her eyes go to Taylor, still in my arms, and all of her feline amusement falls away, leaving only concern.

Dravarr swings open the door, his stern expression unchanging as he takes all of us in. Being calm under pressure is one of the things that makes him a better warlord than I ever could have been. It’s freeing to admit that.

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