Page 17 of Orc's Pretend Mate

For a moment everything becomes like an etched relief. Alive, active, yet frozen in this singular moment of time. The hard, cold, dark eyes of one of the Maulavi sears into my brain. His skin is a pale green, much softer in shade then Vapas. His tusks are smaller too, almost scraggly in some indefinable way.

I blink and time rushes forward. The one staring taps his partner on the arm and then they are both looking at us. Before they can move forward, the merchant of the stall they just left emerges yowling.

I don’t know that I’ve ever heard anyone yowl in all my life but there is no other word that fits the sound this Urr’ki makes. He is waving his fists in the air and he is so loud that everyone within three city blocks must hear him.

The Maulavi turn to deal with him. Vapas’ grip on my arm is sudden, convulsive, and painfully tight. Before I can see what happens, he drags me down the street. We turn the first corner that we comes to and still he doesn’t stop.

“Grrr,” he growls.

It’s a low, soft rumbling that continues for half a block. He doesn’t even glance in my direction nor does he ease his grip on my arm. We make three more turns before he finally slows.

I’m out of breath and my legs are burning. I look around and actually see for the first time. We’re still in the market but the shops are now, or were, more permanent structures. Created with stone pavilions raised on pillars. Some of which are still standing but for most, all that remains are piles of rubble.

“Shit,” I mutter as I try to catch my breath.

I know I was being stupid. Regret is bitter on my tongue. Vapas turns me until I’m facing him. It’s hard to meet his eyes, but I screwed up and I know it. When I do raise my eyes to his I don’t see the expected anger. No, it’s something softer, and much different.

“Phoebe,” he says my name so softly that I barely hear it. He shakes his head and for the barest of instances his lips tremble. Something is happening with him. What, I have no idea but he’s going through something. “Do not.”

“I know,” I admit, it hurts to say it, almost physically, but I have to own my mistake. “I’m sorry.”

He frowns as he nods. The moment stretches for an instant longer and there is something… a pulling? An attraction? I can’t identify it. It happens, it’s there, but then it’s gone.

“Good,” he says and looks away ending the moment.

I hang onto it for a moment longer. Some part of me not wanting this to end even though I don’t know whatthisis. It feels, good?I don’t know. It’s too ephemeral to really put into words and it fades fast.

Setting it all aside, I turn my attention to where we are now. This part of the market is less crowded than where we were but people are still watching. Four children are playing on a pile of rubble that was once a merchant’s shop. They’re digging through the rocks and chattering away with each other.

The Urr’ki children are cute. Cuter than I would have ever expected. They’re not that different than human children. Bigger maybe, but I don’t know their ages. They’re green, of course, but they look like they’re playing with each other the same as any human child.

One of them stands up and shouts, holding something aloft. The other kids scramble towards him cheering in celebration. My stomach clenches and my heart aches. The child is holding up a filthy hunk of meat.

Seeing what the child is holding combines with the excitement of the other three and I see them with new eyes. They’re filthy, gaunt, and all of them have a haunted look to their eyes. They’re excited by the scavenged meat because it’s probably the first meal they’ve had in a while.

Involuntarily, I take a step forward, but Vapas’ hand on my arm stops me. An adult Urr’ki, this one overweight and hunched sees the children. He yells, raising a fist and shaking it at them. The kids shout and scramble behind the pile of rubble, disappearing from sight.

I can’t understand the words, but I don’t have to. Those poor kids only want to eat but the adult ran them off without any apparent care that they were starving. I look up at Vapas, but hisattention is elsewhere. I struggle to not cry at the plight of the children.

These are the wages of war. The Urr’ki and the Zmaj have been fighting since long before my people arrived. Even longer than since I was born. And the Urr’ki are losing the battle to the point that they’ve lost hope.

These are the enemy? These people are beaten. They’re only trying to survive, like anyone would. Those kids, who should not have a care in the world, instead are scavenging for scraps to stay alive.

I remember Rosalind’s briefing for those of us going on this mission. She wanted information. She wants a way to end the conflict between the Zmaj and the Urr’ki because, according to her, we can’t afford it. I didn’t understand all that she was trying to explain because I was terrible at science but it has something to do with genetics and variety. All I got out of it is that if too many of us or too many Zmaj die, that it would be the end of both our species on this planet.

“Come,” he mutters moving ahead again. “Keep your head down. They’re always watching.”

I nod though regret is a bitter taste on my tongue. These people need help, not hate. He quickly leads us through the streets, his head on a swivel as he navigates through pressing crowds, piled rubble, and broken portions of the road.

He keeps us along the edge of the street, close to the buildings that are still standing, coming out into the street only to get around an impassable pile of rubble. Crossing an intersection, I look to the right and my stomach drops.

There it is. The Shaman’s power emanates from that horrid thing.

The street I’m looking down is smokey. I don’t know if there is a fire in that direction or what the source of the smoke is but it very appropriately sets the scene. The length of the road, some blocks if measured the way it would have been on the ship, ends at the towering machine.

Even from this distance it dominates. A massive wheel looking thing with bits and parts serving who knows what purpose. The thing is dark. An evil aura emanates from it like the waves of an ocean. Seeing it sends cold rushes over my skin as the memory of screams echoes in my head.

I don’t realize that I’ve stopped. Frozen in place by the horror of what I’ve seen that machine do. The screams, so unnatural, nothing alive should even be able to make sounds like those strapped into the machine do. Bile rises in my throat.

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