Page 6 of Promised To the Orc
They are shirtless, with their bulging arms crossed. They each wear leather pants with fur cuffs, heavy boots, metal armbands, and silver collars around their thick necks that mark them as servants of the king. Their weapons are clearly displayed just as mine are as a deterrent against violence. Where do they think I learned it from?
Jeluca is sending two orc warriors from Ritka to accompany the escort and the four orcs stare off until the tension is palpable in the air.
“Let’s go,” I finally say and walk away. Leaving the heat of my forge makes my insides clench with anxiety.
The sound of heavy bodies striding on long legs behind me strikes me with fear. Jeluca’s warriors are here to protect me, but the king’s orcs make me nervous. What if they fight and the king’s men win? What will happen to me?
“This is the swordsmith? A humanfemale?”
“I am the swordsmith, though I make more than just swords. Make any false moves and I’ll be happy to show you.”
Reaching the edge of the village, I stop and the muscles in my legs grow tight as if they refuse to take me any farther. Eyeing the trees in the distance, I pull air in my lungs and tell myself it will be alright. But I don’t believe it.
“Do the king’s orcs still place bets on hunting humans?”
Staring straight ahead, I don’t turn to look at the men, but I feel them behind me and the prickly sensation of awareness running down my spine feels disgusting.
“The decree states—”
“Curse the decree,” I spit harshly. “It didn’t stop private bets from being made in the dark, did it? I want to know if someone is going to try to kill me for a private bounty the minute I set foot over this line.”
My fear is getting the better of me. Living a more comfortable life caused me to lose some of my self-preservation instincts that I had in the ice caves. Self-preservation differs from being vigilant. While I am good at looking after myself and spotting potential dangers, I no longer possess the knee-jerk ability to take action to prevent harm. I’m much more comfortable voicing my opinion and disagreeing with someone when I know they are wrong. I also don’t need to mask my emotions. They always come out clearly in my voice.
In my old life, speaking to the orcs in such a tone would have immediately gotten me killed.
One of Jeluca’s men steps beside me, his body close and protective. “I am here to protect you, Alta. I do so with a grateful heart.”
The second of Jeluca’s warriors steps to my other side. “Not every orc trades human lives for money.”
I look between them and my shoulders sag as some of the weight leaves me. These men can certainly protect me, and I know their weapons are true. I made them myself. Rolling my head and shoulders to release more tension, I clear my throat and walk out of the village. One step. Two. Three. My orc bodyguards sandwich me between them with each step, their body heat and strength bolstering my own.
It’s nearly a day’s walk to the palace and I’m curious to see the terrain as we go. Will we go past the caves that were once my prison? And what about the palace? Tor used to describe it to me — thick cushions for his sleeping mats to golden-papered walls, and glittering light fixtures that turn on with the push of a button. He described how water flowed from a spigot in the wall for bathing, turned on and off with the flip of a switch, and an entire room that held all the food he could ever want.
I can’t deny a flicker of excitement at finding if his descriptions were true.
A deep huffing sound comes from the trees. The guards don’t flinch, so I follow their lead and find two Tik-Tik beasts tied to trees. It’s a happy find because it means I won’t have to walk the entire way to the palace. They rub their trunks against the trees, which they could easily lift from the roots if they weren’t so docile.
The Tik-Tik was one of the first animals I encountered after arriving in Ritka. At first blush, the animals are intimidating with their massive gray bodies, large, blanket-like ears, horns and midnight manes and tails. Their stunted trunks hide a long muzzle filled with razor-like teeth. Despite their appearance, the Tik-Tik are placid and docile, only eat vegetation, and never use their teeth for anything more aggressive than gnawing at the tough bark of the kupt trees for the vines that grow inside.
The orcs decide the riding situation and I end up sandwiched between my guards again. It’s awkward and uncomfortable with so much weaponry smashed against my body. I’m forced to hold on to the orc in front of me to keep my balance. As we ride deep into the forest, I’m thankful for the protection of their massive bodies. The Tik-Tik’s rocking lope could easily put me to sleep if I wasn’t primed with adrenaline to expect danger at every turn. After some time, I’m able to relax a little more and allow my curiosity about my surroundings to grow.
The forest is thick and lush and more vibrant than anything I’ve ever seen. The village is rich with greenery and beautiful trees, but the path we’re on takes us through untouched wilderness alive with flowers and plants. I could have never imagined such a place when I was younger. When my father spoke about trees and plants and rocks and the sky, my mind scrambled to create a visualization, but I had nothing to relate such things too. The pictures my imagination created were nothing like the real thing.
Even after so many years free of the ice caves, I’m still amazed by this new world around me.
The sun moves in the sky as we travel, stopping only once to eat and water the beasts. I’m glad to have my cape to put on as the air grows chilly and adjust it beneath my weapons so my knife is always with in reach.
Soon, the light fades, and the path leaves the forest behind. Before us, rolling, grassy hills undulate toward a tall, shimmering building perched on the near horizon. The palace!
A rush of memories come all at once—Tor gripping my hands through my bars as I pressed against them, seeking his body heat while he told me about life at the palace. His stories always gave me a sense of peace and belonging, as if I was a part of it somehow. He made me believe there was magic in this place, but now that I’m here, I worry there’s something darker at work.
All the tension returns, cramping my body and heightening my senses. Nerves pinch my insides and I’m suddenly filled with fear. A village spreads out before us as we descend the first hill. Torches line the streets, flames wavering in fractured gold against the growing darkness, and I’m reminded of my forge. Deep longing squeezes my heart. I don’t want to be here. I pull my hood over my head and bring the sides around my face.
I want to go home. This is a mistake. Shivering, I swallow a ball of rising panic and clench my fingers into fists. The feeling that I shouldn’t have come grows until it nearly strangles me. I’m not sure what I’m afraid of more—the king, or finding out that, after all these years, Tor is dead.
Commotion in the village pulls me from my despair. Orc males approach our Tik-Tiks with torches held high, spitting harsh words about a human staining their village. Even with my face covered, they know I’m not an orc. All four guards draw their weapons, and we pass through with a trail of angry orcs behind us as if they’re pushing us out.
The palace gates open; my anxiety heightens as we ride through, and they creak heavily to a close behind us. The courtyard is well lit though the sky is now completely black. There is no moon tonight which could be useful if I need to escape and stay hidden. The Tik-Tik lowers onto its knees, and I slide off. My legs ache from the long ride so I press my hands to my thighs as if I can make them stop trembling.
