by Trevor Zex
Her parents had brought her carved animals from other lands. Waiting for the next one, marking her calendar, had been a ritual of her early years. She felt eager and greedy.
“I will show you tomorrow.” He ruffled her hair. “You must be patient. You will be pleased.”
It struck her to ask for her peoples’ freedom, but sensed it was too soon. He seemed to have forgiven her for betraying him, but pushing him now could damage his warmth toward her. She needed his good graces. As she lay sated in his arms, she was grateful he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
By the standards of her home, she was ruined. She brushed back her hair.
Gark sneezed and wound her hair out of his face, tender with his touch.
What was the surprise gift?
She fought her eagerness and mastered the urge to press him. As her sore bottom told her, she would do well to behave. She wriggled on him. She could hardly wait.
His words turned into meaning. Bride gift.
The soft edges of sleep brought a sharp-faced woman staring at her from the shadows with eyes dark and driven as those of the orc attackers. The woman was more than a woman. Her ruby robes were clasped by a wide bind worked with gold and gems that rose between her breasts in a point, with a matching point aiming between her legs. Her black hair blew across her tight lips and full breasts, and her be-ringed fingers smoothed the fine gown over her lush hips. Her lips shaped a word over and over. Teza strained to understand. She watched her lips the way she used to watch her nurse and mother to discover what they said.
‘Teza. Teza. Teza.’
In a jolt bright as the lightning from Gark’s staff, she knew she saw the sorceress, and the sorceress sought her.
A chill took her and shook her worse than the icy winds in the forest.
Her heart knew if the Sorceress killed her, Gark’s prophesy would not come to pass.
The dark wings would spread over the realms. Ripped of will, all peoples would serve the sorceress.
As though aware of her from deep in his sleep, Gark’s arms tightened around her.
This wasn’t the future, nor the bridegroom Teza crossed the high pass to meet, but she sensed with a dire knowing that they were hers. If there was any hope at defeating the sorceress, Teza must live.
A sound of huge wings and the wind of them passed over the house.
The knowing voice that she no longer welcomed warned her that staying alive wouldn’t be easy. She missed her sword with an ache deep in her body.
Gift of the Orc
Warrior Princess 3
by Trevor Zex
GARK’S SURPRISE
TEZA TOSSED IN THE orc’s bed next to the huge, snoring orc. Sleep slipped from her over and over. What was the gift? If she accepted it, did that mean she’d be his woman forever? What was she to him, anyway? Chattel, a concubine? Did orcs marry? His lineage was part human, but that would make no difference to her parents if she chose him over Prince Harsah.
Dawn broke, sending pale sun rays onto Gark’s wall of armor and weapons. They were well-crafted. Like much of life in this city, they didn’t fit the tales.
Teza tugged at the big orc’s arm. As he stretched next to her in his bed, it struck her she no longer feared him. His cheeks were the soft green of new moss on the river bank.
“What, what is it?” He half-rose beside her, clearly prepared to fight.
“Forgive me, there’s no danger. I’m sorry. I’m excited. You said—.” She blushed, feeling small. “A gift.” Her voice trailed off and she hid in her hair.
A broad smile transformed Gark’s face in the pale morning light. “Don’t feel bad. This is a good time to go.”
“Go? We’re going somewhere? A journey?” Her heart sank. The freezing trip across the high pass where Gark took her captive was enough travel to last her a long time.
“Not far, beautiful one. A walk that won’t take so long as to strain your patience too much.”
“You’ve found me out. My patience is in short supply.”
“I noticed by how you awakened me from a sound slumber to claim your gift.”
Teza blushed hotter. “Forgive me.”
“You are forgiven.” His voice sounded gentle.
“Thank you.”
He pulled the cover down slowly, eyes glowing as though unwrapping a gift of his own. He made much of sighing.
“I suppose I mustn’t keep you waiting for your surprise. I’ll ravage you later.”
Teza glanced at him from the side of her eye, not sure if he was joking.
He chuckled. The brightening sunlight made his tusks glow.
She was getting used to them. They looked good on him. He looked—regal. She gave him a shy smile. Shifting on the bed, tenderness lanced her inside, making her feel his mighty thrusts again, all the way up to her navel.
“You brute. You’ve ruined me.”
“Ruined you?”
“No one else will ever satisfy me.” She plaited her hair, fingers clumsy at it.
“Good. I’m not sorry.” He petted her head. Smiling broadly, he tilted her chin up with his talons and kissed her. He nipped her lips. “You’re mine. No one else will ever get the chance to satisfy you.”
“Of course. I only meant—.” She bit her lip. “You are magnificent, Gark.” Her mind tilted. This was her life now.
Closing her eyes, she held still against the future that closed its giant green hand around her life. She would not meet her intended bridegroom. She’d have no cause to wear all the finery in her trunks—if she saw any of it again. Perhaps it wasn’t true that she no longer feared the huge orc. She still hesitated to ask to see the others.
“As are you.”
She ducked her head, blushing.
Her escape had been a near disaster, not only bringing her close to the land of the dead, but damaging Gark’s trust. She felt she hadn’t earned any favors. He was well-pleased with her now. She’d remain on her best behavior, and in a few days, when he was at his most relaxed, she’d ask to see Zenar. Maybe he’d even allow her to see all of her people, and keep her companion close. Within his fearsome body, he harbored a kind heart. For now, she didn’t like to admit even to herself how much she missed her own kind.
“I’m glad you think so.”
She scooted to the edge of the bed and swung her foot, eager to see his surprise. His lusty openness made a stark contrast to the more inhibited ways of her world. For her to even admit to pleasure showed how much he’d affected her. Despite tittering descriptions by Zenar, she hadn’t had much idea what to expect from—having a lover. Her purity had been essential, as the promised bride of Prince Harsah.
The rising sun enhanced Gark’s skin as he bathed. Until him, she’d never seen a man wash himself, never imagined such easy intimacy. In the half-light, his skin looked pale as the lightest jade. By moonlight, if not for his massive muscles and great height, he’d resemble one of the small people of less frightening fairy tales, ones where the green people were lucky, not horrifying.
She’d never asked him if it was true that ogres—orcs—ate humans. She didn’t dare.
As though he sensed her discomfort, he busied himself dressing in a warm tunic and breeches.
Once the stomping orc woman shut the door, she slipped out from under the covers into the slippers gift he’d given her as a welcome.
It had never been easy to continue thinking of herself as a prisoner. He took such good care of her. He’d dressed her, fed her, housed her in his own room. He was even considerate in the use of his huge instrument. He’d turned all her fears about being ravaged to death by orcs into fevered desires for him to take her again.
Teza took her turn with hot water brought by scowling Dernen.
She bit her lip and sponged the hot water and a surprisingly fragrant soap over her body. It reminded her of lilacs growing wild below the palace. A tear slipped out. She wiped it away before Gark could notice.
He whistled and pulled on his everyday boots, a soft pair fr
ee of the spikes he wore for patrol or into battle. He was both that softer self and that fearsome warrior who wielded fatal magic.
That power struck her as more terrifying than his ability to slay enemies with monstrous weapons she couldn’t swing.
She drew in her breath as the water ran over her breasts and down between her legs, leaving shivers along its trail. Speeding up, remembering that he was about to show her his surprise, she toweled off and slipped into her clothes. The orc tunic felt coarse on her skin, but she’d become used to it, just as she’d become used to the sight of Gark’s tusks and the lines that radiated around his eyes when he smiled.
He looked happy.
She pulled on her boots and tied off her braid. With a grin, she slid her hand into his. “I’m ready. Take me where you will.”
“With such inviting words, I am liable to take you in every way, and we will never leave this room.”
Her face flamed, “No. No, I meant, I’m ready for your surprise.”
He ran his hands up her waist to her breasts. “I have many surprises to give you.” He nuzzled her neck, slid his fingers down her back and squeezed her ass.
She gasped. “I know,” she whispered, wondering if Dernan eavesdropped.
“Don’t worry, her room is at the other side of the house, and she’s in the kitchen at the back in any case.”
She started. All the things about him that seemed foreign now felt familiar. Except for his ability to divine her thoughts. Compared to him, the court magicians seemed charlatans, less skilled than the jester.
“You are astounding.”
“In a good way, I hope.;” He smiled down at her, his lips curving in a sensual way that sent a bolt of heat between her legs.
“In the best way.”
“Good. Let’s go. This is a good time to go,” he urged. “Before I give in to the urge to ravage you until you’re babbling and turned to pudding.”
“You brute.”
“Your brute.”
“Yes, mine.” For the first time in a long time, she felt like a princess.
She took the arm of her handsome orc and they left his room. When the fresh air of the hall hit them, she realized how strongly the chamber smelled of sex.
She stretched her legs to keep pace with his long stride.
Whistling in pleasure, he led her along a path marked by tall boulders and broken trees. The smell of recent but dead fires reached her on the breeze. She wrapped her arms around herself, grateful for the rising sun.
The scent of burned wood and scorched earth grew stronger.
Gark slowed his steps and squeezed her arms. “We’ll go slow, and quietly now.” He held his finger to his lips and dropped his voice. Tall boulders obstructed her view of what lay ahead.
“Yes, Gark.” She nodded. It had become a habit, to agree immediately.
“We keep her here amid the rocks. It’s safe for her, and for us, so she doesn’t burn our home down.”
Teza smiled at the way he said ‘our home.’ “Her?”
He led her between two of the looming boulders into a blackened clearing.
Movement drew her eyes. A leathery golden wing stretched from the rock shadows into sunlight. Teza fell to her knees in wonder.
The baby dragon blinked and met her gaze with big green eyes. Eyes as green as Gark.
“You’re giving me a dragon,” she breathed.
“Well, there’s no giving of a dragon, but should she choose you, the two of you will be a team to inspire the bards. From the way she’s looking at you, I think this is going well.” He grinned.
“Oh, Gark. Where did you find her?”
His face tightened. “At the coast, under a grown dragon’s wing. Hunters from Akkak killed her mother. I’ve been feeding her and keeping her safe.”
The parallel was not lost on Teza. She cast a glance at him, barely able to take her eyes from the dragon’s glistening scales and big baby eyes.
“You are a good person, a good man, Gark.” She could not believe her wondrous good fortune. If he’d entered her dream to give her what her heart wanted most, he could not have moved her more.
She crooned to the dragon wordlessly. Faltering, she bit her lip.
Inspired, she sang the poem Gark recited to her when they first made love. She’d been practicing and practicing to get all the words right. From her heart, with her voice as steady as she could make it, she sang to the baby.
The dragon met her eyes and unfurled her wings. The baby took a wobbling step to her and rested her long head on Teza’s breast. A hot exhalation singed her tunic but Teza didn’t mind at all. With a slow hand, the way she befriended her horse as a foal, Teza stroked the dragon’s neck.
The dragon’s warm breath singed her again, and the baby emitted a sound much like a cat’s purr.
“That’s it, she has chosen you.” Gark’s voice radiated pride in her and tenderness.
He was a different person than the warrior on the battlefield, and she loved all of who he was. His praise entered the aching place she used to wish her father would fill. Her heart overflowed, and tears fell down her face.
The baby dragon licked them.
“Runeheld. I will call you Runeheld for the brave warrior queen who followed her desire and begat the line that led to the orc I love.”
Gark blinked and knelt beside her. “You sang the poem well. I am honored.” He cleared his throat.
Runeheld spread her wings. She sneezed. Sparks shot between them.
Their eyes met over the baby’s head, filled with mirth. They were about to get some wild practice with parenting.
“I love you, too. Thank you, thank you so much, Gark, you fill dreams I didn’t know I had.”
The baby lowered its head and nuzzled her belly. The intricate pattern of head scales glowed with an iridescent sheen.
She stroked the baby gently between the eyes, following a curvy pattern up her fine skull and down her strong neck.
“In years ahead, my Teza, the bards will sing of you. They will tell of you and Runeheld flying above a battle that could split our world.” He gave her a measuring glance.
“What will happen?” She leaned toward him, breathless to learn the future.
“The outcome of the great battle, my love, will depend on you.”
She drew in her breath. The weight of her role in her world settling on her. Runeheld nuzzled her breast, bringing her back to the business of life.
“What does she eat?”
“She’s been tolerating griffin’s milk. Its cursed difficult to obtain.” His lips lifted at one corner.
Teza blinked. She wasn’t sure he was joking. “You’re a good provider.” Whatever he had done to obtain milk for a baby dragon deserved praise, whether a griffin was involved or not.
He reached under his armor and brought out a flask warm from his body. He removed the stopper and applied a soft reed for a nipple. Smiling, he handed the bottle to her.
She held it to Runeheld’s mouth, and he helped her tip it right for the milk flow. Together, they fed the baby dragon.
Teza blinked, her heart so full she ached. She had never been happier.
A shadow crossed the sun. The orb once thrown by a god had risen to its full glory and dazzled her eyes. She blinked and caught sight of the fierce black dragon flying low. Neesa’s familiar, looking for them.
Without words, keeping a calm grip on the flask, she met Gark’s eyes and signaled him with hers to look where the dragon flew past. It was distant, its sharp pointed tail lashing the clouds, it’s powerful wings making trees bow. It was not distant enough.
She petted Runeheld with a promise of protection.
Gark’s lips at her temple did the same to her.
Teza didn’t know when, but the fight against the sorceress become her fight. She must retrieve her sword, or get Gark to give her one. If Neesa or Fang came near Runeheld or Gark. She would kill. A flash of sight made her jerk the flask. She steadied herself and slid the reed
back into Runeheld’s hungry mouth. She saw it. She would raise her sword for blood.
Princess in Captivity
THE DAYS BLENDED INTO each other with warmth and peace. Away from the bone-chilling mountain pass, the crisp air refreshed Teza, and she savored the warm afternoons. She helped tend the kitchen garden, learning the names of the herbs.
By paying attention and making many gestures, she began to understand the guttural orcish language.
Mornings and evenings, she was alone in the house with only Dernen and the cook.
Loneliness went through her in deep pangs of longing for home. She leaned out the window, breathing in the scent of ripe fruit. The birds were bigger and louder than the ones back home. Orc children were much the same as children anywhere, although they struck her as maddeningly loud.
Gark came to her after leading a defense training session with the city’s mages. His broad shoulders bulged out of his most impressive ceremonial armor. He backhanded his face and pushed his hair out of his eye.
She knew him well enough to know he didn’t bring good news.
He didn’t meet her eyes. He gestured at his room where she sat making a clumsy attempt to mend her tunic by the window.
Dernen had smiled in a smug way when she borrowed the needle, as though knowing Teza never had to mend anything before. She pricked her finger and sucked it.
Gark’s eyes shifted to her lips. He looked past her out the window at the tumbling, shrieking orclings.
“Make yourself at home in my home. I must journey to the east. We need medicine for our young. Many sicken die. The plant that might save them grows only in the lands past the mountains.”
“Oh. Thank you. You have helped me feel at home. I’m sorry to hear about the sickness.” She fumbled for words, thanking him in orcish and striving to hide her disappointment. Surveying his commanding face for a clue to his feelings, she allowed her loose hair to shield her face. Shy at how much she wished he wouldn’t leave her, she averted her eyes and put down her mending.
Far from being the ravaging beast of nursery tales, he was a leader so concerned with the well being of the smallest, most helpless members of his tribe. He was going personally to collect medicine to save their lives. Nothing about him as an individual or the orcs as a group fit her expectations. Unless he was a skillful liar.
