Page 54 of Orc's Claim
“That I heard a female yelling for help. That I found you stuck, your ankle lodged between rocks by the river.”
It’s a good cover story. I bend down, grab some dirt, and spread it over my ankle, socks, and boots. “Owen might be a lazy ass, but he has an eye for details. He won't ignore the chance to check my ankle and catch me in a lie.”
“You think like a warrior,” Ryko says with a nod of approval.
“When is your next supply run?” I hope I can get on the schedule to come to the market that day.
“I won’t know until Sojek returns from talking to the moxxels. He’s dropping off a shipment of knives.”
“Knives?” The orcs fashion their own knives and swords, but they only sell large game that they capture or kill. All five species have goods or services the others want. It’s what maintains the peace in Pen’Kesh.
“Shears, actually. They need them for the tumek they herd.”
Tumek are more compact than sheep and have a long thin tail to whip predators. Their fur has an underhair similar to wool, which becomes too long and interferes with their sight and ability to move, making the older ones easier to trap.
“I had tumek meat once. It reminded me of hamburger back home, but it’s so expensive.”
“Then you would enjoy living with my people. We hunt tumek along with other game in the mountains beyond moxxel territory.”
I’d enjoy living anywhere with him.
The hum of people talking in the market reaches us, and we both halt. We’re only a few hundred feet from Pen’Kesh. We have to stagger our entrance into the market.
When I push up on my toes and brush my lips against his, hegrips me by my waist and pulls me in close. I see the resolve in his eyes. My orc—my mate—will find a way for us to be together.
“You were right. The orc was hiding a human whore,” a male says behind us.
Ryko simultaneously pushes me behind him and draws his sword as six vints emerge from behind trees and bushes. Their skin shifts from brown-gray to blue. No wonder we didn’t see them. Natural camouflage!
Spiked tails swish from side to side as the vints spread out and surround us. Ryko’s a massive male, a top warrior among the orcs, but he’s grossly outnumbered.
“Stay behind me,” he orders.
I mirror his every move, but it’s not easy. Ryko’s every step, every tilt of a hand or arm, is done with great stealth and purpose. I suddenly have two left feet, stumbling all over the place as I struggle to stay behind him,awayfrom the arc of his sword should he swing it back to strike.
Ryko throws a knife at the vint circling to get to me. The blade lodges in the male’s throat, and the vint makes a deadly mistake pulling it out. Dark blue blood spurts in all directions. He tries to staunch the flow. In seconds, he drops to the ground, dead.
The area explodes in a whirl of weapons, limbs, and war cries.
A vint throws three knives in succession at Ryko, who deflects each with his sword. The clink of each strike sends fear through me.
Stay behind him. Stay behind him.
The words become my mantra.
It’s horrifying and fascinating watching Ryko fight. There’s an elegance to how he moves, swinging his sword as if it’s an extension of him.
With one swing, he beheads a charging vent.
A high-pitched squeal reverberates through the trees. I turn tomy left and see a vint charging at me, his barbed tail flailing at everything in his path.
I freeze up, unable to move.
Ryko tosses me over his left shoulder as he swings at the vint with the broadsword in his right hand. A moment later, I’m dumped on the ground and Ryko’s standing over me, swinging so hard the whoosh of the blade slices through all other noise.
“Watch out!” I yell as a vint leaps at him from behind.
When he draws the vint away from me, I spring to my feet. I have to do something!
