by Trevor Zex
Captive of the Orc King
Abducted Warrior Princess 1-3
By Trevor Zex
Copyright
Do not post any of our stories on any site.
Copyright ©2018 Trevor Zex. All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be copied, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express written permission of the author except for brief excerpts in a review. Cover photo ©Deposit Photos and the photographer, all rights reserved. The use of this photo doesn’t suggest endorsement by the photographer nor the model, nor does it imply anything about the model.
First electronic book publication: November 2018
Please note: Captive of the Orc, Attack of the Orcs, and Gift of the Orcs first appeared as singles.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual businesses, entities, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All people and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. This book is for readers 18+.
Table of Contents
Disclaimer
Captive of the Orc | Abducted Warrior Princess 1 | by Trevor Zex
Attack of the Orcs | Warrior Princess 2 | by Trevor Zex
Gift of the Orc | Warrior Princess 3 | by Trevor Zex
About the Author
Captive of the Orc
Abducted Warrior Princess 1
by Trevor Zex
TEZA JOURNEYS TO HER Bridegroom
PRINCESS TEZA LEANED back in her litter. The bearers kept a steady pace, and her guard sang lusty songs. She peeked through the shaking curtains at their gleaming muscles. The stone slabs that made up the flanks of the Aerwon mountains gave the view a forbidding aspect.
Her cushioned royal litter rocked as the bearers climbed the steep trail. The young warrior princess gripped the rails. The strange, cold air caught in her throat. She sucked in more of it, unsatisfied.
She was farther from home than she’d ever been. They were heading into the treacherous high pass. Her finest warriors accompanied her. The men and women in molded leather armor marched ahead and behind her litter. Her large traveling party increased security and showed honor to her bridegroom.
Two large carriages drawn by fine horses rode between her litter and the rear guard. The carriages allowed everyone on foot to have breaks to get warm. A cold wind blew over the snow, and she shut the curtains. The guards trained for months to make this journey. Her parents promised her to crown prince Harsah before she was born. Now that she was of age, she must fulfill the promise.
The litter bearers began a new tune. Their song echoed through the narrow pass. She shut her eyes. A stab of dread went through her. The bards at the palace sang of many who died in this pass. In secret, she rued the tradition that her wedding take place before the winter feast. The journey would be easier without the snow, and she was in no hurry to meet the man who must be her husband.
She huddled in her plush blankets, longing for her own bed in the palace. She missed her home with a pang that cut through her. The even pace of her bearers and the lilt of their song comforted her. Despite the cheering voices, she could not relieve the dread that weighed on her heart.
Low, guttural cries carried across shouts of her warriors in front. The roars grew closer. They sounded bestial. Their roars reminded her of her nurse’s stories of ogres who snatched bad girls. She gulped and mouthed a guilty prayer to the goddess of love for dreading her duty-marriage.
The litter lurched. She grabbed the rails. Her warriors let out an ululating cry. Blows, flesh-rending, inhuman roars and screams filled the pass. She grabbed the shoulder of the nearest bearer. “What is it?”
“Orcs, your highness, they’re attacking.”
“Put the litter down, and we’ll help the guards.”
“Yes, your highness. Down,” he called to the others.
With praiseworthy calm, they lowered her litter.
Her heart racing, she grabbed her sword. Her wet palm slipped on the grip. The litter jolted and settled on the snow. Her sword skidded out of the litter, slid over the snow, and dropped down the cliff. The clang went on for several beats and died. Her heart dropped. She wiped her hands on her wide-skirted travel tunic.
Bar, the lead bearer, gave her a sympathetic look. “Don’t worry, Princess. We’ll protect you with our lives.”
She nodded to him and rose from the litter. He was earnest and meant so well, she didn’t tell him she’d rather have a sword.
The bearers surrounded her, backs to her. They drew their swords against the impending threat.
“No,” she cried. “Go and help the guards.”
“But you, your highness—.”
“We must make it through this pass. Help the guard. Unless we overcome the orcs we will fail. We must not fail.”
“Yes, your highness.” Bar led the others toward the clang of weapons and the sickening noises of heavy clubs hitting flesh.
Shaking, she made her way to the first carriage. Teza felt naked without her sword. She turned and watched her brave bearers joining the guards.
Jarred to her core, she stopped and stared as she caught sight of the enemy. The bestial green-skinned creatures grunted as they raised heavy clubs. More of them swung maces and double-headed axes against her guards.
The hulking things moved like gladiators, all muscle, taller than her tallest warriors. Their bulk appeared impossible. She expected their steps to make the earth quake and send an avalanche down on them. Their ivory teeth were as her nurse described: horrible boar tusks.
Their yells, groans, and battle cries chilled her. She heard of the things they did to women, and of women unable to walk afterward. If they survived violation by several of the brutal creatures.
Teza ducked behind the carriage to stay out of sight. If they killed her or took her maidenhead, the journey would be a waste. Her destruction would ruin her parents’ alliance with the rival neighbor to the north.
She held herself, using the carriage as a wind break. Teeth chattering, she examined her surroundings for any possible weapon. She feared for all their lives.
The rocks were too big for throwing, and there were no sticks, nothing to use as a spear. Her servants peeked from the carriages. She waved them back, telling them with her face to stay inside. They were as unarmed as she.
“I can throw rocks,” Daston, the stable hand, leaned from the nearest carriage window. “I’ll search between here and the battle, and carry them in my shirt.”
She waved him on, understanding that he felt the need. His father and mother were in front. She would do the same for her parents. Praying for his safety, she spied on his progress from her position behind the front carriage’s rear.
He crouched low, digging for stones in the snow. He lobbed one against an orc. The creature took no notice of the small missile bouncing off his arm.
An orc club felled Daston with a blow to the shoulder.
Teza’s heart hurt at the sight of the young groom sprawled on the snow. It took all her will to keep from running to him. She couldn’t help him. She forced herself to duck back out of sight. Her duty held her in place. Risking herself could doom them all.
Soon, nothing but labored breathing and a few grunts came from up ahead. She crept forward for a closer look. To her great relief, the battle scene was not bloody.
The rear guards surged forward. Waving her to stay back, those that had been behind her litter moved in silence across the snow.
The din of blows began again.
She chanted to the gods under her breath, praying for their safety and praying to defeat the enemy. Although she didn’t look forward to meeting her bridegroom, she accepted her duty. Now that these orcs snatched
her it from her, she wanted to fight to stop them from taking her fate.
She peered around the carriage. The orcs fought with the same ferocity as before. Staring, she shook her head. The monsters wielded only clubs. They no longer swung axes, maces and broad swords that inflicted gory wounds. At the palace, colorful scrolls detailed split skulls, hacked limbs, and spilled entrails.
The orcs appeared intent on disarming her guard, not killing them. Teza breathed better once she saw Daston with his parents. Orcs shackled their ankles and their hands behind their backs. In her fascination, she leaned too far from the carriage’s shelter. She shuddered and pulled herself back.
With the front carriage shielding her from the enemies’ sight, she crept rearward. She signed to her servants to stay put, and checked each carriage for a weapon, anything she could take to hand. There was nothing. On numb feet, she returned to her watching place.
Her fist to her mouth, she spied at the battle scene.
The orcs worked with great efficiency and cooperation. They assisted her people as well as their own, bandaging wounds. They raised her people to their feet and shackled each one.
Her caravan, including her finest guards, was overcome by a few orcs. The orcs were as enormous, skilled, and terrifying as tales told. She shivered, and her teeth chattered despite the pressure of her hand. She clamped them together, her belly roiling.
A crunching sound approached, accompanied by a low moan.
Teza hissed in her breath and flattened herself against the carriage out of sight.
The earth shook. The moaning breath stirred the hair on her forehead.
The largest orc of all towered over her, lust blatant on his face.
“No, no, please.” Her voice broke, and she hated the sign of weakness.
Teza had imagined leading her warriors in battle as warrior queens before her did. She never imagined begging for her life.
“Don’t be afraid, Princess. I’m not as bad as I look.” The monstrous orc grinned, his eyes gleaming.
Teza cringed as close to the carriage as she could get, willing him to be gone, for this to be a nightmare. She swallowed, confused as he remained looming over her without making a move.
He smelled good, like wood moss and the fresh sweat of her weapons master. His arm muscles were as large as Yolo’s powerful thighs.
She blinked. She tried to stop staring but didn’t succeed.
He knew who she was. She wore a simple tunic for the journey. Her royal finery remained packed with her wedding gown. Princess garb would wait for when she could bathe—after she arrived at the foreign palace, her new home. She wore no crown, no jewelry. No one had called her princess where this orc could have overheard.
Now, she was afraid.
The huge orc stepped so close, his hand brushed hers. A shock went through her. Craning her neck, she gave him her fiercest glare. He stood so tall, all she could see was his broad chest and the underside of his chin.
He gripped her arm.
She pushed against his chest, but it was like trying to budge a boulder. She contorted and bit his hand.
He took a step back and stared at her. His huge, too-warm hands remained on her. His eyes widened.
Stars in his narrow pupils. Teza blinked, not believing it. He wasn’t hurting her, but trying to get away would hurt. She felt certain of that. Already other orcs edged near her, staring in a lecherous way that made her legs squeeze together.
The one holding her grinned, enhancing his tusks.
Her insides wobbled. Within a few breaths, her life had changed.
Her servants were helpless, her guards captured. She herself was now a captive of the orcs. All the fearsome things she’d heard about the dread creatures rushed through her.
Her flicked his gaze over mouth and her body, ravishing her with his eyes.
She shivered, her plight clear as his hand slid down her arm to clasp her hand. She was at this creature’s mercy. The paralysis that gripped her released, and she craned her neck to see the battle area..
Orcs led her servants in a shackled line to join the guards.
Relief surged through her, and she gave thanks. The orcs hadn’t killed any of her people. They served and guarded her, they were her responsibility. Her heart would be sick if any of them lost their lives.
She met her captor’s intense gaze. She swallowed and raised herself as tall as she could.
“What are you doing with us?” She demanded.
“Taking you captive.”
She forced herself to look away from his tusks and his full upper lip.
“I have to get to Lord Harsah. He’s my bridegroom.”
“I know.”
Speech failed her. She took in his elaborate ax, his thick belt, the well-molded armor that fit to his husky physique. She knew little of orcs aside from Nurse’s tales to make her mind. Orcs were a mystery. She compared the one close to her with the others. The details of his belt and his weapons, and his posture of command, told her he was the leader.
A smaller, though still immense orc, approached and reached for her breasts. Her captor knocked his hand away. He roared at the intruder. The smaller one bared his teeth. With one swipe of an enormous hand, her captor knocked the lower-status male across the road. The hand still holding her shook her with the motion.
Thanks to years of sparring, she remained balanced.
This largest orc was mammoth in size even by the standards of his kind. She forced herself to slow her breaths and concentrate on the most vulnerable areas of his body.
She might succeed at a jab to his eyes or throat. If she leaped high, she might surprise him with a kick to the kidneys or the balls. She was not above stomping his foot or biting him again.
Her heart and blood surged. She had no weapon. There were too many orcs too close. No matter what she did, either soon or later, one of them or more would claim her.
Would an individual take and kill her? Or would they force her to a mismatched, brutal gang mating? She’d fight, and she doubted she’d survive it.
She must find a way to get her hands on a weapon. She might be dead, no matter matter what she did. She could at least take some of them with her. From behind a mass of orcs, one of the servant girls whimpered. What could she do for them?
“Please do not harm my people.” She made herself smile at the orc leader.
He returned her smile.
There might be something she could do for her people, even without a weapon. The thought chilled her. If she could gain the good will of their leader, they was a chance they’d get out of this alive.
“What are you going to do with us?” She willed herself to touch him, to flirt, but could not force herself to move.
“Sell you. You are small things, but healthy. Your warriors, women and men alike, are brave. We value that. The ones I find most appealing will become gladiators. They’ll compete in the arena—and service the desires of our most powerful families.” He stroked her arm.
“And the rest?”
“The strongest less-appealing captives who will work our mines. The average ones will fetch a fair price as servants. Attractive captives who don’t suit as gladiators go to auction. We sell them to private owners and whore masters.”
She clenched her hands at her sides. Her small hope that she could help her servants and guards shriveled.
Orcs led her rear guards past her. The heavy chains at their ankles dragged, clanking. They shuffled by with their hands behind their backs, lashed one to another so that none could escape.
“Where are they taking them?”
“They’ll join the front line. We are all going through the pass. Your strong guards have the best chance of withstanding anything that attacks. We orcs aren’t the only ones who set ambushes. We now have a rich—prize.” He grinned at her. His long, pointed tongue slid over his full lower lip. “A prize others may desire. You.”
His mouth reminded her of her handmaiden Zenar’s, if Zenar were male and a
monster. She shook her head and spit out tangled strands of hair. Goosebumps walked up her arms.
“Please, don’t harm them. They’re good, loyal people. We have done nothing against you.”
He raised thick brows. “I don’t have time to tell you all the ways you’re wrong. You saw we killed no one. Be at peace, and obey me. Making any trouble or attempting to escape could cost the lives of your people as well as mine.”
She nodded and bit her lip, disturbed that he’d addressed her hope of escape.
“Night comes fast in the high reaches, and there are greater dangers here than my kind. Believe me, Princess, you are far safer traveling with us than without us.”
She bowed her head. He spoke well. She’d gain nothing by arguing. He could be right. If they didn’t make it though the pass before full dark, they might not make it at all.
“I thank you for sparing our lives,” she murmured with careful formality. In her imaginings, she saw herself winning battles, not losing. She had no practice for negotiating with an enemy for the safety of her people. Her jaw tightened against the helplessness sending ripples through her insides.
“Don’t fear me, Teza,” he said under the wind.
He gripped her hand and led her to an enormous animal.
His warm, calloused touch surprised her. She didn’t pull away. The footing was icy, and her boots lacked the tread of the orc boots. His hand steadied her.
She lowered her eyes to watch for slick ice and rocks. Raising her gaze, she stopped.
For the first time, Teza dropped her warrior stance and cringed. It was a massive, shaggy, four-legged beast of burden with a lashing tail, a long neck, and a mouth full of sharp teeth.
Ivory gums matched the finger-length spiked teeth ringing its mouth. The creature stared right at her.
The orc tugged her forward. “Don’t be afraid of Shellaq. She’s a good mount.”
Contrary to Teza’s concerns, the animal stood still and refrained from taking a bite out of her face.
Before she could object, the orc gripped her waist and swung her high onto the saddle. The animal smelled like a cross between wet dog and the stables. It resembled a tall, bulky, long-haired goat, but with an alarming mouth like an eel’s.
