Page 44 of Agor the Merciless
On their first night together after Zoe took the cure and returned to normal, Agor entered the cave long after she’d gone to bed. He carried a pile of furs in his arms, stopped at the far wall, opposite from where Zoe was sleeping, and spread the furs on the ground. He sat down and removed his boots and weapons while keeping his back to her the whole time.
Zoe watched him through half-closed eyes but said nothing. The space between them stretched wider than the cave itself.
When morning came, Agor woke up before Zoe. He left the cave and returned with a wooden tray of food – bread, dried meat, berries – and a bucket of fresh water. He placed both on the floor near her side of the cave, then turned and walked out without a word.
In the past, he would’ve fed her by hand. He would’ve bathed her body with wet cloths. Now he kept his distance, as if touching her might break something fragile between them.
By the second night, they had established their new pattern. Agor entered late, after she had settled in bed. He slept on his furs alone. He rose early and left food and water before she woke up. During the day, he stayed away, busy with his duties. Zoe worked in the garage from dawn until dusk, her hands steady again but her mind elsewhere.
The third day passed the same way. The cave that had once been warm and cozy, like a nest for the two of them, now felt cold no matter how many torches and candles burned. The walls that had echoed with their sounds of lovemaking now held only silence. No words passed between them, no touches connected them. They lived as strangers sharing the same space. Agorcarried his guilt like armor, and it kept him apart from her. Zoe wore her uncertainty like a shield, protecting her from decisions she wasn’t ready to make.
The rituals that had bound them were gone. Nothing had yet taken their place.
***
Zoe tossed on the bed, rolling from one side to the other. The furs tangled around her legs. She kicked them off, then pulled them back when the cold air prickled her skin. Four nights since the cure, and she still couldn’t sleep properly. The silence in the cave kept her awake, making every breath seem too loud. Which was stupid. The quiet should’ve helped her sleep, not keep her mind reeling in all possible directions. She rolled onto her back and blinked angrily. She knew all the cracks and imperfections in the stone ceiling from hours upon hours of studying it.
Across the cave, Agor sat on his pile of furs. He hadn’t gone to sleep yet. Three candles burned beside him, their small flames the brightest points in the room. His back was straight, but his head hung forward. He hadn’t moved in over an hour, and it drove Zoe crazy. It was like living with a shadow. A lurking shadow.
She turned her head to study him instead of the ceiling. His shoulders seemed narrower somehow, the muscles less defined. The past days had changed him. Dark circles underlined his eyes, new lines crossed his forehead and the corners of his mouth, and even his skin looked duller, the green less vibrant in the dim light. Zoe pushed herself up on her elbows. The night stretched ahead, another eight hours of pretending to sleep while listening to his breathing. Another morning of waking to find food and water waiting, but no Agor. Another day of working side by side with orcs who whispered when she passed.
She couldn’t take it anymore! She wouldn’t.
Her bare feet touched the stone floor as she stood up, and cold shot up through her soles, but she welcomed the sensation. It was better than numbness. Agor didn’t turn as she crossed the room, his eyes fixed on a candle flame. She could see wax dripping down the sides, forming small pools. She counted five empty cups near his knee, the remnants of a drink that smelled sharp and fermented. Zoe sighed and lowered herself next to him, keeping a hand’s width of space between them. Her hip ached from a long day bending into the bowels of an orc car, and she shifted to find a comfortable position. The movement brought her shoulder near his.
Still, they didn’t speak. The candles flickered when they breathed. One flame guttered low, almost dying before catching again. Water dripped somewhere in the back of the cave, each drop landing with a quiet plunk.
Zoe reached across the space between them, her fingers finding his hand where it rested on his knee. His skin was rough with hard calluses and old scars. Every inch of him told the story of battles and work. She traced a small circle on his palm with her thumb.
The captain’s breath caught in his throat. A small sound escaped him, half sigh and half growl. His fingers curled around hers, gripping too tight for a moment before relaxing. He turned his head toward her, his jaw working back and forth as if chewing on words he could neither swallow, nor spill out. The candles lit half his face, leaving the other in shadow.
“I never meant to harm you,” he said. “The ointment was not supposed to be poison.”
“I know.” Zoe kept her hand in his.
“There are things you should understand.” He looked down at their joined hands. “About me. About why I did what I did.” He took a breath so deep his whole chest expanded. The air whistled slightly as he released it. “When I was young, before my firstbattle, I fell from a cliff during a hunt.” His free hand moved to his thigh, fingers digging into the muscle. “We were chasing a mountain goat. The rocks were wet from rain. My foot slipped, and I fell.”
“How far did you fall?” she asked.
“Far enough. I landed on a ledge halfway down the mountain. Both my legs shattered, my bones pushed through skin. The other hunters climbed down to me. They tied me to a flat board and carried me back to camp. Every step they took sent knives through my body. The horde’s mage said he couldn’t help me. The breaks were too bad, and infection had already started. My father was the captain of the horde, and the mage lost his position that day, not before giving me two choices: die slowly or go to Urka the Bone-Mender.”
“Who was she?” Zoe asked.
“A mage, more of a shaman, really, who lived alone in the mountains. Old even then, older than any orc I had ever seen. They said her magic could heal anything, but her methods were...” He searched for the word. “Harsh.”
Agor let Zoe digest this information for a minute, then when she nodded, he continued.
“I was dying already, so I chose Urka. My father’s orcs carried me to her cave high in the mountains. The journey took a full day. By then, my legs had swollen to twice their size. Fever burned through me. I remember little of the trip. Urka’s cave smelled of herbs and blood, animal bones hung from the ceiling, and dried plants covered every surface. These details I do remember. I spent enough time in there for them to get burned into my brain.” Agor closed his eyes, as if seeing it all again. “Urka looked at me and said my spirit was already trying to flee my broken body. She could see it pulling away from me. The only way to save me was to anchor my spirit while she forced the bones back together.”
His breathing changed, growing shallow. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool air, and Zoe squeezed his hand gently.
“Her helpers stripped me and tied me to a stone slab. The ropes were tight enough to leave marks that lasted weeks. They had to be. The magic would make my body thrash and fight. Urka painted symbols on my chest and forehead with red paste that smelled like copper and rot. She lit black candles around me, in a circle. The pain started when she touched my legs. Her hands pushed into the broken flesh, finding each piece of bone and putting it back where it belonged. I screamed until my voice gave out. I begged her to let me die. She ignored me. To keep my mind from being destroyed by the pain, she gave me a different focus. Using a leather strap, she struck my chest and my stomach. Not randomly, but in a pattern. One-two-three. One-two-three.” His free hand tapped the rhythm on his knee. “The sharp sting became something to count, something to wait for. It pulled my attention from the deeper agony. At the same time, she spread ointments on my skin, strange mixtures that burned on contact but then… They sent waves of pleasure through me, like nothing I had experienced before. I was young, too, I hadn’t been with a female yet. The pain and pleasure mixed together until I couldn’t separate them.”
“Oh, Agor…”
“It went on for hours. Urka working on my bones, the strap on my skin, the ointments spreading fire and pleasure through me. She spoke the whole time, telling me to endure, that my only job was to prove my spirit was strong enough and that I didn’t want to die. She fed me bitter liquids when I grew weak, wiped the sweat from my body. She controlled everything – my pain, my pleasure, whether I lived or died.”
Agor released her hand suddenly and stood up. He paced three steps away, then turned back. The movement sentshadows dancing across the walls. He stood looking down at her, his hands opening and closing at his sides.
