Page 4 of Agor the Merciless
“Barrett Classic Motors.”
“This is Zoe Cross, about the ‘67 Mustang I rebuilt. You made an offer last year. Still interested?”
A pause. “The burgundy fastback? Hell yes. Beautiful machine.”
“I’m selling it. Cash only, by Friday.”
They haggled. She held firm. He agreed.
She ended the call and immediately dialed again.
A female voice on the other end:
“Grand Lake Orc Tribute Institute. How may I help you?”
***
The taxi smelled of artificial pine and stale cigarettes. Zoe leaned against the cracked vinyl seat. Her worn duffel bag held everything worth keeping: clothes, a small toolkit, and a dog-eared manual for a ‘67 Mustang. Outside, the town slid past. Cross & Sons Auto appeared at the corner, its faded sign creaking. Her father’s truck sat in the lot, Rick’s motorcycle beside it. Life there continued without her. The garage shrank in the distance and disappeared.
The Mustang money was secure in her account – forty-five thousand dollars, an escape hatch if orcs proved no different from the humans who’d discarded her. She’d loved that car, had fixed it with her own two hands, a passion project she’d never thought she would sell, not even when people were genuinely interested and willing to pay a good sum.
The taxi accelerated onto the highway, leaving the town behind. The driver never asked why a young woman was headingto the Grand Lake Orc Tribute Institute with a single bag. Maybe he’d driven this route before. Maybe it wasn’t that big a deal.
Through the window, the landmarks of her life dwindled. The water tower, the mall, the ridge of hills that had marked her boundaries for twenty-six years. She didn’t look back. The rearview mirror showed only what she left behind. Ahead lay danger, perhaps, but also a chance.
Chapter Three
Zoe hadn’t expected things to happen so fast. She’d been at the institute for orc tributes for only two weeks, and then an orc captain came, pointed at her, and said he wanted her. But that wasn’t what worried Zoe, no. It wasn’t what made her shake like a leaf as she followed the green-skinned beast and left her entire world behind. What scared her was that the orc captain had brought back another tribute, and then claimed her.
Once a human tribute was chosen by an orc to become his bride, that was it. There was no escape, no turning back. Orcs were proud, and they rarely let their women go. Only in special and very specific circumstances, Zoe believed. So, what could’ve determined this orc captain to return his former bride? Was he going to return her, too? The young woman didn’t seem to be hurt, only a bit sad. Still, it was hard for Zoe to stop herself from coming up with all kinds of terrible scenarios in her head.
What had she gotten herself into?
She didn’t even know his name. And he didn’t know hers, because he hadn’t asked. He was quiet and morose, and she didn’t dare utter a word as they traveled to where his horde lived, deep in the mountains. She rode on the back of his krag, a mighty creature that was almost as big as an elephant.
When they got there, Zoe saw the orcs lived in caves. He placed his big, rough hand on the small of her back and pushed her inside, down long, dark tunnels, until they reached a wide gallery with a tall ceiling. It was illuminated by torches and candles scattered on the ground. Against a wall, there was a makeshift bed – a mere pile of pelts and furs on the stone floor.
“This is where you’ll sleep,” he said to her, and her heart beat faster at the sound of his deep, low voice. “This is where you’ll give yourself to me.”
She turned to him, fearful and vulnerable, and looked up into his eyes. She was so small compared to him that her head barely reached his chest. She had to crane her neck, and when he returned her gaze, she had to stop herself from flinching.
“Why did you choose me?” her voice was barely a whisper.
He reached out and touched her hair. He wrapped a long, brown lock around his thick finger, and his mouth curved into the ghost of a smile. Zoe noticed one of his sharp tusks was broken. A scar ran across his crooked nose. His black hair was longer than hers, and he wore it in a braid.
“You look like someone who won’t break.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She did, in fact, break recently, and now this mountain of an orc was going to test her again?
After a moment, he continued, “My name is Agor the Merciless. Do you know why they call me that?”
When an orc was born, he was given only one name at birth. The second one, he earned in battle. This Zoe had learned at the institute.
“I can guess...” Zoe swallowed heavily. “Because you show no mercy to your enemies.”
“I show no mercy in bed, either.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She closed it and gulped once more.
