[Queen of Orcs 02] - Clan Daughter

by Morgan Howell

  Clan Daughter

  Morgan Howell

  * * *

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Map

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Glossary of Orcish Terms

  Excerpt from Royal Destiny

  Praise for King’s Property Book 1 of the Queen of the Orcs

  Other Books by Morgan Howell

  Copyright

  This book is dedicated to

  Mary Jemison, Tenar,

  and Carol Hubbell

  Your scent lingers,

  And we think of you,

  Though you have wandered

  From sight and touch.

  —Urkzimmuthi Lament

  One

  Three nights of hard travel had cooled Dar’s rage. Considered dispassionately, her prospects looked grim. One woman and five orcs, she thought, deep in enemy territory. I promised to get them home, and I don’t know the way. Nevertheless, Dar didn’t regret convincing the orcs to desert. The human king had betrayed them all. The orc regiments had been slaughtered, and the women who served them had perished also. Not even Twea had been spared. Whenever Dar recalled the look on the slain girl’s face, her grief returned.

  It was late afternoon and Dar was awake, though the orcs still dozed. Sitting upright within a small circle, they resembled idols and seemed as placid. Dar envied the ease with which they slept, while she—despite her exhaustion—napped only fitfully. Dar studied their faces, which no longer seemed bestial or alien. Kovok-mah had saved her life and sheltered her when she was an outcast. Duth-tok, Lama-tok, and Varz-hak were virtual strangers. Kovok-mah’s cousin, Zna-yat, had tried to kill her twice.

  Gazing at the massive orcs, Dar was still amazed that she was their leader. Yet she had chosen the escape route. It had been her decision to travel at night, “when washavokis cannot see.” Female orcs, who were always called “mother,” had authority among the urkzimmuthi. As long as Dar’s companions regarded her as a mother, she possessed authority also. That was why she led, even if she stumbled in the dark.

  Dar and the orcs were still in the hills, though far from the site of the ambush and battle. The steep, wooded slopes made walking difficult, but the rugged terrain provided safety. So far they had encountered no one, for the hills were barren except for tangled trees whose low branches hindered every step. The journey had already taken a toll on Dar. Her legs, arms, and face were crisscrossed with scratches, her bare feet were sore, and her empty belly ached. Her fatigue made the journey seem more daunting, especially considering how ill prepared she was. Their destination, the Urkheit Mountains, lay to the north, but that was all she knew. The orcs were just as ignorant of the way.

  Dar’s sole consolation was that her branded forehead brought no bounty in King Feistav’s realm. That won’t help me if I’m caught with orcs. Avoiding capture would be difficult. They were surrounded by enemies, so their hope lay in stealth; yet orcs had no aptitude for subterfuge. They were perplexed even by simple stratagems, and Dar had difficulty persuading them to avoid the roadway. If Kovok-mah hadn’t followed her, the others might never have. Yet while Kovok-mah supported her decisions, Dar doubted he truly understood them.

  Unable to sleep, Dar decided to scout the route ahead. She ascended the slope until she emerged from the trees to stand on a cliff at the hill’s summit. The hilltop proved to be the last high ground, giving Dar an unobstructed view of the rolling plain ahead. Haze obscured the more distant features, and Dar saw no trace of the Urkheit Mountains.

  The land appeared well populated—a quilt of fields, orchards, and wood lots, all demarcated by dark green hedgerows. A nearby rise was crowned by a low wall that encircled a small village. Dar spotted other dwellings scattered among the fields and orchards and grew apprehensive as she imagined all the hostile eyes the countryside contained. She was trying to plot a safe route through it when Kovok-mah emerged from the trees. “Why did you leave?” he asked in Orcish.

  “To study way,” replied Dar in the same tongue. Speaking it had become second nature. She gazed at Kovok-mah and read his expression. “Hai, there’ll be many washavokis.”

  “Then there’ll be much fighting.”

  “Thwa,” said Dar. “There are too many to fight. We must pass unnoticed.”

  “So we travel by night?”

  “More than that,” said Dar. “You must not look like urkzimmuthi.”

  Kovok-mah curled his lips into a grin. “Have you magic? How will you change us?”

  “You’ll change yourselves,” said Dar. “Leave your iron clothes behind and speak softly or not at all. I’ve brought cloaks I took from dead washavoki soldiers. From now on, you must wear them.”

  Kovok-mah looked puzzled. “We’ll still be urkzimmuthi.”

  “In darkness, washavokis may not think so,” said Dar. She could tell Kovok-mah was struggling to grasp her idea. “Washavokis don’t expect to find urkzimmuthi in their land. They may not understand what they see.”

  Kovok-mah pondered Dar’s words a while before he spoke. “After battle, I said I’d heed your wisdom. I haven’t changed my mind.”

  “Will others heed it also?”

  “They’ll follow my example.”

  “Cloaks smell of washavokis,” said Dar. “I fear Zna-yat will object.”

  “Hai, I think he will.”

  “Still, he must wear one.”

  “He swore to follow me, so I can make him do it if that’s your desire.”

  “It is,” said Dar, fearing that if her ploy failed and the orcs were attacked, they would sorely miss their armor. She slumped down on a rock, realizing her plan gambled with their lives.

  Kovok-mah sensed Dar’s turmoil and laid his hand on her shoulder, surprising her with the delicacy of his touch. “I’m pleased you guide us.”

  Dar sighed. “I’m not used to leading.”

  “It’s natural for mothers to guide sons.”

  Perhaps among orcs, thought Dar. “Still, it’s new to me. I worry about making mistakes.”

  “When you feel uncertain, remember Muth la guides you.”

  “Does she?” asked Dar. “I foresaw big battle and Little Bird’s death, but I couldn’t prevent either. What good are such visions?”

  �
��I’m not fit to answer.”

  “Muth la is new to me, but not to you,” said Dar. “What can you tell me of her ways?”

  “She may be preparing you.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know,” said Kovok-mah. “But I think you will when time comes.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “When I have doubts, I follow my chest,” said Kovok-mah. “That’s why I’ll wear washavoki cloak.”

  “Because of Muth la?”

  “Thwa. Because of you. I feel safe with you.”

  Dar stared up at Kovok-mah, who looked so formidable, and wondered at his words. Insincerity was alien to his thinking. As incredible as it sounded, he was speaking the truth: She made him feel secure. The idea that a woman could do that ran counter to everything Dar had ever been taught. It made her smile, partly because it was so ludicrous and partly because it was so pleasing.

  Two

  Kovok-mah entered the forest to forage for food while Dar remained to study the territory ahead. When the sun approached the horizon and long blue shadows crept across the land, Dar heard the soft sound of footsteps. The orcs emerged from the trees carrying mushrooms that looked tiny in their large hands. After placing the food before Dar, they marked off Muth la’s Embrace using twigs and small rocks. Meanwhile, Dar divided the mushrooms into six piles, then waited for the orcs to join her inside the sacred circle. Once they were all seated, she intoned in Orcish, “Food is Muth la’s gift.”

  “Shashav, Muth la,” replied the orcs in unison.

  Dar handed out the meager rations. Then she and the orcs ate in silence. Dar doubted the orcs were any more successful at enjoying their meal than she, for the mushrooms were woody and tasteless, intensifying rather than satisfying her hunger. Kovok-mah waited until everyone had finished eating before he spoke. “I’ve talked with Dargu about what lies ahead.”

  The other orcs followed his gaze to the darkening land. “Our kind once lived here,” said Lama-tok. “That’s urkzimmuthi stonework around washavoki houses.”

  Dar peered at the village on the hill. She had noted its circular wall earlier, but had paid little attention to it. After Lama-tok’s remark, she looked at the masonry more carefully, but it was only a gray shadow to her in the failing light.

  “There are few trees,” said Varz-hak.

  “Good,” said Zna-yat. “I’m tired of hiding.”

  “There’ll be too many washavokis to fight,” said Kovok-mah. “We must pass through this land unnoticed.”

  “How will that be possible?” asked Duth-tok. “Surely, some will see us.”

  “We’ll cause washavokis to see without understanding,” said Kovok-mah. “Instead of wearing death’s hard clothes, we’ll wrap ourselves in cloaks Dargu brought. We’ll travel by night, cover our weapons, and speak not as we walk.”

  Zna-yat regarded his cousin suspiciously. “You are speaking, yet I hear Dargu’s words.”

  “Hai, and you hear wisdom,” said Kovok-mah.

  “Wearing washavoki cloaks won’t change anything!” said Zna-yat. “If washavokis see us, we should close their eyes with swords.”

  “That won’t get us home,” said Dar.

  “It’s not your home,” said Zna-yat. “Why do you want to go there?”

  “It’s where Muth la sends me,” replied Dar.

  “I think your words are like those cloaks you wish us to wear,” said Zna-yat. “There’s something different beneath them.”

  The orcs had no word for “liar,” but Dar understood Zna-yat’s accusation. Apparently, Kovok-mah did also. He sprang to his feet. “Such talk shows lack of wisdom.”

  Dar nervously watched Zna-yat, fearing he would rise and challenge Kovok-mah. Instead, he surprised her by bending his neck in submission. “Then I must learn Dargu’s kind of wisdom.”

  Zna-yat’s ambiguous reply didn’t calm Dar’s apprehension, but it satisfied Kovok-mah. “Good,” he said. “Remove your hard clothes. I’ll get Dargu’s sack of cloaks.”

  While Kovok-mah went to fetch the cloaks, the orcs began to remove their armor. They wore short tunics beneath their shirts of iron plates, in addition to leggings not unlike those of human soldiers, and heavy sandals. Zna-yat, who was the first to cast his armor aside, walked over to Dar. “My mother’s brother’s son doesn’t understand your washavoki ways,” he said in a low voice, “but I do.” Then he grabbed Dar’s shoulders and pulled her toward him. Bending down, he sniffed her face. Zna-yat’s lips formed a partial smile as he released her. “My blood’s scent is gone.”

  Dar kept her expression neutral and said nothing. Instead, she prepared for the night’s journey. First, she removed all trace of Muth la’s Embrace from the ridge. Then she carefully hid the orcs’ discarded armor. Kovok-mah returned with the cloaks and Dar’s possessions. These consisted of a few items she had scavenged from the battlefield—a second dagger, a water skin, and the knapsack that had held the cloaks.

  When it grew dark, Dar and the orcs headed down the wooded slope. As Dar traveled in the gloom, she pondered what Zna-yat had said. It was clear that his self-imposed truce was over. But what does he intend to do? Dar glanced over her shoulder. Zna-yat was only a shadow moving among shadows. If he wished, he could easily kill her in the dark. What’s stopping him? Dar guessed the answer. Kovok-mah.

  Dar was certain that Zna-yat didn’t fear Kovok-mah. As far as she could tell, orcs were nearly fearless. It seemed more likely that Zna-yat was staying his hand out of consideration for his cousin. Does that mean I’m safe? Zna-yat’s remark about learning “Dargu’s kind of wisdom” provided an ominous hint. Dar reflected upon the nature of “her wisdom.” Only human words could describe it. Guile. Deception. Trickery. It seemed to Dar that Zna-yat had implied that he wouldn’t attack her openly, but would act like a washavoki instead. Yet, the idea that an orc would resort to treachery ran counter to Dar’s understanding of orcs. How well do I know them?

  Sevren and Valamar dismounted, and the two men waited in the dark for the camp to grow quiet. Valamar sneaked in first. When Sevren thought his friend was safe, he led Skymere to the field stables. As he had hoped, the remnant of King Kregant’s army was still in disarray. Only a handful of orcs had survived, and the king’s human troops were badly battered. When the sentries saw that Sevren was a royal guardsman, none questioned where he’d been.

  Sevren tethered his horse, rubbed him down, then watered and fed him before looking for a place to sleep. He was just drifting off when a boot nudged him through his cloak. He looked up and saw Murdant Cron standing above him. “I did na put you on patrol. Where’d you go?”

  Sevren said nothing.

  “I’ll have you flogged, countryman or nay, if you do na answer. Did you loot the slain?”

  “You know me,” replied Sevren, “so you know the answer.”

  “I want to hear it from your lips. From the looks of Skymere, you rode far. Did you visit the battlefield?”

  “Aye, I went there. But na to loot. I fulfilled an oath.”

  “What oath? To whom?”

  “I told Dar and Twea they would na be left behind.”

  “You mean the wee lass and the orc wench?”

  “Aye.”

  “What of your oath to our king? You’re his guardsman. He wants you close.”

  “I know the penalty for leaving camp. I’ll take my stripes.”

  “There’s na need for that,” said Murdant Cron. “I’ll keep this ’twixt you and me, if you tell me ’twas the last time.”

  Sevren sighed. “’Twas. She’s gone.”

  “I could’ve told you she was dead. There was na cause to risk your back.”

  “Only Twea’s dead. I found her where Dar placed her.”

  “You mean the orc wench lived?”

  “Aye. Lived and fled with orcs.”

  “Then she’s a fool. Her company will doom her.” Murdant Cron shook his head. “You’ve always fancied strange women, but she was the strangest y
et. That wench brought only trouble.”

  “Her troubles were na her doing.”

  “I’ve heard different tales, but that’s all by the way. Forget her, as I’ll forget tonight.”

  “I’ll na leave again,” said Sevren. “There’s na point.”

  “Good. I want you fit, not flogged. There’s like to be more fighting.”

  “Aye, knowing the king, I’m certain of it.”

  After a difficult walk down steep slopes, Dar and the orcs reached the edge of the woods. Before them lay a meadow illuminated by a full moon. Even Dar could see well. “Such light will aid our enemies,” she said. “Let me check your cloaks.”

  The orcs halted. Dar covered her brand with a fake bandage, then adjusted the orcs’ disguises. She pulled the hoods over their large heads to hide their faces and arranged the cloth to best cover their bulky forms. On men, the garments would have nearly touched the ground; upon the orcs, they ended at midcalf. Only in darkness would anyone be fooled into thinking those who wore them were human.

  “You must walk in shadows,” Dar said.

  “Show us our path,” said Kovok-mah, keeping his voice low.

  Dar gazed about, trying to get her bearings. The route she had plotted from the hilltop wasn’t discernible from her new perspective, and she wasn’t certain where she was. Nevertheless, Dar headed toward a hedgerow. “Follow me.”

  They reached the hedgerow, a boundary formed by tall, thickly tangled shrubs. A narrow footpath ran beside it. From the cliff top, Dar had noted that a network of pathways followed the hedgerows, and she intended to use the paths to avoid the roads. Dar followed the dirt trail until the hedgerow it paralleled intersected with another one. She glanced at the stars to determine where north lay, then chose the path that headed northeast.

  Dar’s zigzag route took them past meadows, orchards, and newly planted fields. She always walked on the shadowed side of the hedge, and if a path approached a dwelling, she backtracked and found a different one. Such caution made progress slow, but Dar picked up the pace as the night wore on and the entire world seemed asleep.