Page 90 of Bound to the Orc Warrior

We say goodbye to Tumbletoad and step through the door to Alarria. A dizzy drop of my tummy, like the first dip on a rollercoaster, and we’re there.

Just in time.

Aldronn holds up the purple timer crystal Lukendrevener gave us. It’s flickering.

Anxiety shoots through me. “How long has it been doing that?”

“A couple of minutes.”

Shit. We’re out of time.

I’m more tired than ever, but I hide it as I grip my crystal and trot over to the teleportation stone. At least I’m only teleporting myself on this trip, and no matter how much Wranth worries, there won’t be any dangers in Ferndale Falls.

Even though I opened it once, the door feels like a mountain, huge and immovable.

I try to ignore the seconds ticking away, close my eyes, and remember my beloved small town.

The smell of paper that fills the bookstore in the morning when I open for the day.

Home.

Hannah’s laugh as we chatter over coffee.

Home.

My mother and father sandwiching me between them in one of their combined hugs.

HOME!

A titan bangs a gong as large as a moon, the sound shaking through all of creation and juddering through my body in a percussive wave that makes my bones ache. My heart halts in shock for several seconds, only to start up again, beating double time.

I fly weightless through a void, lacking sight, sound, and touch.

The world rushes back to me in a blare of noise and brightness as I fall forward onto gritty pavement bleached pale gray by age. I blink a few times, and the old familiar pothole swims into view, pulling a rusty chuckle from my parched throat. Hannah hates that pothole, but it means I did it. I’m home. I’m in Ferndale Falls.

A whisper of wind as Wranth flies out of the air over my head. He lands on the ground and spins around.

“I did—” I start to say.

But he’s not looking at me. He stands, sword bared in front of the shimmering door that hangs in the air over me.

Aldronn comes flying out of the door. He hits and rolls up to his feet. “Brokk and Garint?”

Wranth shakes his head. “Zephyr and Shadow?”

“They went through right before me,” Aldronn says.

“What is it?” I try to stand, but my knees feel like jelly. We need to put the crystal somewhere better so the door isn’t right here.

As if to prove my point, people begin to emerge from a few of the still-open shops that line the street.

Before either of the orcs can answer me, a shape darts out of the door from Alarria, a small bird, black tipped in blood red.

The rest of the sluagh flock follows, filling the air with piercing cries.

“Oh, fuck.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

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