Page 12 of The Outcast Orc

Thanks to my futile attempt to stab him in the neck, if anyone was getting plowed in half tonight…it would be me. He wore utilitarian armor, metal plated leather, but where a human would have worn a tunic beneath to stop the straps from chafing, his own tough hide sufficed. Through the gaps in the armor, I could see his muscles flex, and I realized just how ridiculous our plan to overpower him actually was. Maybe if we were all strong fighters with armor and weapons. But weak as we were, we didn't stand a chance.

And now we would pay the price.

We stood in a small huddle beside the log—even brazen Archie was trembling now—and awaited our fate with dread. Marok straightened and dusted off his hands. He stared for a moment, then said, “Well, what are you waiting for? Sleep.”

Bess cleared her throat, then meekly said, “On the…bedrolls?”

“There’s only two,” Marok said brusquely. “We’d only set out to buy two humans. You’ll have to make do.”

It was awkward work with the three of us chained to the fallen tree, but we managed to shove the bedrolls together. Sleeping sideways, we’d certainly fit. But I wondered where the orcs would sleep. No doubt the others were just as confused. And with Marok crouching there within earshot just across the fire, we could hardly discuss the matter.

“Do we set watch?” Bess asked.

“You go right ahead,” Archie said. “This is the first time in weeks I’ve been able to stretch out. I’m going to sleep.”

“Get some rest,” I told her. While I, too, had spent the last several nights curled up on the floor of a cage, I’d best not get too comfortable. If the orcs decided to teach me a lesson, I fully intended to go down fighting.

7

MAROK

The humans were practically asleep before they hit the bedrolls. How they could sleep on those musty, straw-filled bags of dust was beyond me. No wonder they had no sense of smell if that’s how they insisted on spending their nights. I’d cleared spots for Borkul and me where I could keep watch on them. They might not be strong, but if the large one had aimed for my eye instead of my neck, things would’ve gone much worse.

And I doubted he’d make the same mistake twice.

The smart thing would be to sell him off at the bazaar before he caught me by surprise and drove a stick into my brain. I would have already sold him by now, if not for his expertise. Finding a horseman in the slave tents had been an incredible stroke of luck—but like every unexpected boon, it came with a price. Hopefully the cost of this one wouldn’t be my eye.

It wasn’t long before Borkul ambled back with a goblin under each arm—a male and a female. Goblins don’t fall prey to the maladies that plague the weaker races, so their scents were strong and clean, though I could’ve done without the sandflower essence they’d both liberally applied to their armpits and groins.

“Take your pick,” Borkul said—completely ignoring what I’d said about not wanting a goblin.

I had nothing against them—I just wasn’t in the mood. I waved him off. “Go have fun. I’ll keep watch.”

The female goblin batted her long lashes at me. “Come on, big boy, I just filed down my teeth this morning. Y’gonna let all that effort go to waste?”

I threw another log on the fire without reply, and settled in to watch it burn.

Goblins are predators, nearly as big as humans, and their teeth are notoriously brutal. Claws, too—though they say it doesn’t hurt nearly as much to blunt them as it does to dull their teeth. Among their own kind, they wouldn’t dream of closing their mouth around someone’s dick. Not unless they were proving a point on the genitals of a vanquished enemy. Just goes to show what sorts of concessions you have to make when you live in mixed company.

The male goblin was less interested in seduction, likely eager to get on with things so he could head back to the bazaar and turn another trick. His black hair was slicked back in an elaborate knot and multiple hoops glinted from his pointed ears. Probably brass, not gold. But even so, brass wasn’t free.

In daylight, the goblins’ skin would be the dun clay color of their native soil and not the handsome dappled green of an orc, though in the firelight, they looked more like us than the soft, pale humans did. They were sturdy and sinewy, with the broad foreheads, huge eyes, and pointed chins common to all their kind.

Borkul tried again to get me to join in, but I just shook my head and continued to feed the fire—and eventually he gave up and led the goblins off into the brush. Close enough for me to keep sentry…but far enough for me to ignore the specifics.

Even if we found a stream to bathe in, Borkul would still have sandflower clinging to him by the time he got home. But so long as it wasn’t the scent of another orc, his wife had no reason to be annoyed, presuming he brought her a gift that was equal to what he’d spent on the whores.

The goblins were very vocal in their admiration of Borkul’s scent, muscles, and cock. It was all an act, but their delivery was enthusiastic enough. And when things really heated up, they seemed to enjoy it. It was possible their eagerness was sincere. Maybe mating with random travelers was easier work than breaking rocks inside whatever mountain they’d come from, ceaselessly digging so their greedy chieftains could expand their clan’s territory.

When the transaction was done and the goblins were pulling up their breeches, I shifted my position to keep an eye on the wagon. They might have admired Borkul’s cock…but that didn’t mean they were above pilfering anything within reach. Goblins are notorious for snagging anything of value on the pointed hooks of their claws. Even clipped blunt, as these two kept theirs, their fingers would still be light.

The female finished dressing first, knotting the ties on her beaded shawl with a lazy nonchalance as she sauntered toward the fire, looking me over. “Well, Mr. Watchkeeper…now that you’ve had some time to think on it, have you changed your mind about that blowjob?” She was persistent, I’d give her that. And I liked the impish glint in her eye. “Or are you worried you’ll pick up the scent of your clanmate’s jizz from me, so your wife suspects you’re bonking each other?”

Akala…. Any interest that might have been stirring immediately drained away. The space was filled by a pang of loss—followed by the inevitable flood of guilt.

The goblin wench didn’t notice my expression. But it was dark. And they’re not nearly as cunning as they think they are.

The male came to join her, walking gingerly, and paused beside the fire to scrutinize our three exhausted humans. “How much for the female?”

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