[Queen of Orcs 01] - King's Property

by Morgan Howell

  “Hurry up,” Kol said. “Thunder won’t graze in the dark.”

  Dar touched the hilt of the dagger that hung from a cord about her waist. She was unconscious of the gesture until she noticed Kol watching her hand. “Don’t be nervous,” he said.

  Dar resolved to prove she was not. She hopped onto a box and raised her shift so she could throw a leg over Thunder’s back and sit behind Murdant Kol. The saddle was too small for two, so her seat was precarious. Dar gripped the horse’s flanks with her bare legs and feet and wrapped her arms around Kol’s waist. Thunder’s coarse coat felt rough against her skin and Kol’s leather armor, sewn with metal plates, felt no better. Dar hoped it would be a short ride.

  They rode out of camp at a pace that forced Dar to grip Kol tightly to keep from falling. The bouncing ride was uncomfortable, but it was also thrilling. Dar felt the horse’s power and relished her connection to it. Yet she didn’t let the experience distract her. Dar was careful to keep her bearings as they rode through the countryside. Thus, when they halted before an isolated cottage, she realized Kol had taken a roundabout route.

  “Get off,” said Kol. “Remove Thunder’s bridle and let him graze. You can groom him when we get back to camp. I’m going to light a fire.” Dar slid off the horse, then Kol dismounted and entered the small, thatchroofed cottage.

  While Dar unbridled Thunder, her mind raced. She suspected the moment she had long dreaded was at hand. He calls me his woman. Tonight, he’ll claim me. The prospect roused a mixture of apprehension and anger. Yet Dar wasn’t completely without hope. Perhaps he’s been truthful and only wants to protect me. The notion ran counter to Dar’s instincts, but it made entering the cottage seem less like capitulation. The only other option was fleeing. Dar touched the brand on her forehead. Its raised scar felt very prominent. There’s no refuge.

  Soon, Thunder grazed contentedly as the setting sun made the grass glow green-gold. Smoke drifted from the cottage chimney. The countryside—in contrast to Dar’s inner turmoil—was calm and peaceful. Dar sighed, then steeled herself to face Murdant Kol.

  The cottage smelled of herbs when Dar entered it. Some light came from an unglazed window, but the single room was mainly lit by a fireplace, where splintered furniture burned. Bundles of herbs hung from the roof beams and pegs that lined the walls. The only furnishings that remained were a straw mattress on the floor and a plank—probably from a tabletop—that was set before it. Murdant Kol sat on the mattress. Upon the plank were several hunks of cheese, a loaf of bread, sausages, dried fruit, and a dark green bottle. To Dar, it seemed a banquet.

  Murdant Kol had removed his leather armor. It was the first time Dar had seen him without it. He looked less threatening in a cloth shirt. He smiled. “Why should Thunder feast while we get porridge?”

  Dar’s mouth watered at the sight of the food, but she remained put. Kol shook his head. “You look nervous.”

  “I’m not nervous,” said Dar. “Just surprised. Why all this food?”

  “Don’t you think you deserve it? Come enjoy yourself. We’ll have to return to camp soon.”

  Dar relaxed slightly when Kol spoke of returning to camp. She walked over to the mattress and sat down, trying to keep her distance from the murdant without being obvious. Kol handed her the bottle. “I fear I have no goblets.”

  “I’m not used to goblets,” said Dar, lifting the bottle for a sip. The liquid tasted of honey and warmed her throat and empty stomach. “What’s this?”

  “A treat,” said Kol, “maybe the last for a long while. We’ll be at the base camp soon. Thousands of orcs, men, and horses.”

  “Thousands?”

  “Yes, it’ll be chaos and short rations until the war begins.”

  “When will that be?”

  “I’m not privy to the king’s plans. Soon enough, I suppose. But not before you’re sick of base camp.”

  Dar took another swallow from the bottle. “What’s war like?”

  “It’s flesh meeting metal—a hard game. A man’s game.”

  “An orc’s, too?”

  “Piss eyes spill blood better than most, but a game requires strategy, and they lack it. It’s men that win wars.”

  “And the women?” said Dar. “What about them?”

  “The smart ones get by. Some handsomely.”

  “War must be more than a game.”

  “All life’s a game, and winning and losing are what matters.” Kol gave Dar a meaningful look. “That, and whose side you’re on.”

  Dar did not like where the conversation was headed. “Murdant Teeg said you knew the reason for this war, the one he called long-winded.”

  Kol smiled, but Dar couldn’t tell if it was because of Teeg’s remark or the transparency of her change of subject. “The tale’s not too long,” he said. “Old King Kregant loved peace overmuch, so when his wife’s father died, he made no claim on the estate. Instead, he let the lands pass to King Feistav, who had no more right to them than he. Things changed when our present king took the throne. He renewed the claim.”

  “And started a war?”

  “Strong men take strong measures.”

  That remark was on Dar’s mind as she glanced about the herb-filled cottage. “This was a Wise Woman’s home. Few would harm a healer. I’m surprised she fled.”

  Kol shrugged. “Her ill fortune isn’t ours. You hungry?”

  Dar grinned, already feeling the effects of Kol’s brandy. “That’s a silly question.”

  “Then it’s silly not to eat. Dig in. You’re not sitting at the Queen’s Man’s table. I’m only a lowly murdant.”

  “A lowly high murdant,” said Dar. “They say even Tolum Karg’s scared of you.”

  Murdant Kol looked pleased. “And why would he be afraid of me?”

  “I don’t know,” said Dar. “They just say he is.”

  Kol reached out and stroked Dar’s arm. “I hope you’re not afraid of me.”

  Dar felt her hair rise. “No,” she mumbled.

  Kol broke off a chunk of cheese and handed it to Dar. She bit into it, savoring its flavor. The last time she had tasted cheese was at a cousin’s wedding. The sausages, and even the bread, were novelties. Dar’s hunger shifted her thoughts to the food, while the honeyed liquor relaxed her. As her belly filled and her head grew lighter, Dar eased her guard. She flopped back onto the cloth-covered straw. She was lying still, feeling pleasantly satiated, when Kol began touching one of her feet. She giggled. “What are you doing?”

  “Seeing what size boots I should get you.”

  “Boots?”

  “You highland girls are tough, but I doubt you walk barefoot in the snow.”

  Dar sat up. “I had boots at home. Shoes, too.”

  Kol pulled a garment from a bag and held it up. “Did you own a dress as fine as this?”

  Dar gazed with wonder at the elegant blue-gray dress. She wiped her hand on her tattered shift before fingering its fabric. It was soft and finely woven. “I’ve had only homespun.”

  “It’s yours.”

  Dar regarded Murdant Kol. The drink had loosened his self-control and his eyes betrayed a mixture of lust and triumph. “Try it on,” he said.

  A note of command in Kol’s voice brought back Dar’s apprehension. “I’d have to undress.”

  “So? I’ve seen women’s bodies.”

  “You haven’t seen mine.”

  “It’s time I did.”

  Kol’s smug tone rekindled Dar’s resentment. She rose slowly, attempting to appear calm. “I don’t want your dress.”

  Kol rose also. “Suit yourself. It won’t change anything. You’re still mine.” His hand shot out and grabbed the neck of Dar’s shift. With one downward pull, he tore apart its stitches and ripped it further. For an instant, Dar teetered between terror and rage. Then rage won.

  Instead of covering her breasts, Dar reached for her dagger. Kol had apparently anticipated the move, for he seized her wrist as the weapon cleared its sheath. After a
brief struggle, he twisted the dagger from Dar’s hand and threw it into the fire. He still gripped Dar’s wrist, and the two glared at each other. Kol answered Dar’s fury with cool menace. “You’ll regret that,” he said.

  The murdant grabbed the torn edges of Dar’s shift to finish ripping it off. As he tugged at the fabric, she swung a knee into his groin. Kol gasped and let go. He stood still momentarily, and Dar landed a second and more forceful blow in the same place. This time, the murdant doubled over, and Dar dashed into the evening. She grabbed Thunder’s bridle and tossed it onto the cottage’s roof. Then she found a stone and threw it hard against Thunder’s hindquarters. The horse reared up and galloped off. Dar sprinted in the other direction, stopping only when she reached the cover of a line of trees.

  Twenty

  Dar hid in the undergrowth and watched the cottage. As her fury abated, she considered her next move. Her reaction to Kol’s assault had been instinctive, but she knew only calculated actions would get her through the night. At the moment, she needed to size up her adversary.

  Dar thought Murdant Kol would burst from the cottage enraged and shouting curses. Instead, he took his time coming out. When he did, he was silent, and Dar found that more chilling than shouting. Kol had donned his armor, and he carried a burning brand as a torch. Kol was too distant for Dar to see his expression, but he appeared to have mastered his emotions. He lit the thatch to set the roof ablaze, then methodically examined the ground by the fire’s light. He cursed softly when he saw the bridle was gone. He gazed in the direction that Thunder had galloped, called his horse’s name, and listened. After a spell of silence, he turned toward the trees.

  “Dar!” he shouted. “Can you hear me?”

  Dar didn’t answer.

  “Come out, and I’ll forgive you. I like a spirited woman, but not a stubborn one.” He waited before he spoke again. “There’s no use fleeing. Peasants will kill you for the bounty.” He paused. “They’ll do it with stones and hoes.” He paused again and waited for a reply. He received none. “This is your last chance. Think hard. How will you fare without my protection? The men haven’t changed. They’ll be worse for the waiting.”

  Recalling how a soldier had nearly cut off her nose, Dar was momentarily tempted to emerge from hiding. Isn’t the demon I know better than the one I don’t? She answered her question with another. After Kol tups me, will he still protect me? She realized that Kol had been playing with her and this evening marked the game’s conclusion. He abandoned Loral. Why would I fare better? Dar surmised that any surrender would be the first in a chain of surrenders—a chain that only death would break. She decided to stay put.

  Murdant Kol stood still awhile, illuminated by the burning cottage. Finally, he walked in the direction that Thunder had galloped. Dar was safe, but only briefly.

  Dar moved among the trees, which marked the boundary between two fields with a line that snaked toward camp. Dar used their cover until she could see the farmstead in the distance. The officers and soldiers had taken over the buildings, but the women slept in their tent. The orcs’ shelters stood a little way apart.

  Dar scanned the open ground. There was no sign of Murdant Kol. With luck, he’s still looking for Thunder. I can go to the women’s tent and change into my spare shift. Yet Dar was paralyzed by a single question—then what? It had nagged her throughout her flight. She imagined various fearful scenarios. Murdant Kol could flog her for drawing a dagger. He might simply rape her. He could loose the men upon her. Only one outcome seemed impossible—that he would forgive her and let her be. Dar knew that whatever peace she had enjoyed was due to Murdant Kol. He had played the part of a powerful friend. Now he’s a powerful enemy.

  Every time Dar considered her quandary, it boiled down to facing Murdant Kol. She realized that he had many advantages—authority, strength, skill in arms, and men to do his bidding. All she had were her wits. Dar was certain that she would need more than wits to overcome Kol. As she pondered this, her gaze fixed on the orcs’ encampment and a thought came to her. To oppose a powerful enemy, you need a powerful friend. There was no question that Kovok-mah was powerful. But could he ever be my friend? It seemed unlikely. Dar considered further and became convinced it was her only hope, however slim. Dar scanned the landscape one more time, then sprinted toward the orc encampment.

  The ache in Kol’s groin made it painful to walk, but he kept his gait natural through force of will. He thought Dar might be watching him, so it was important to betray no weakness. As he walked, he called out Thunder’s name, keeping any urgency from his voice. Upon hearing a faint whinny from a dark hillside, he moved in its direction.

  As the murdant searched for his horse, he pondered how he might turn the situation to his advantage. Kol knew Dar was daring, and he assumed she was too smart to run away. That meant she would probably return to camp. If he was right, she must be silenced, but in a way that gave no impression that she had thwarted him. Slowly, he pieced together a scheme. He would return to camp acting sated. Then, as an act of largesse, he would “share” Dar with the men. He could easily delay tomorrow’s march to ensure that every man would have his turn. Dar’s resistance would only enhance his reputation. Once the soldiers were finished, he would kill her. His men would have some fun, and they would never learn the true story. Kol smiled, despite his pain. By late tomorrow morning, his problem would be solved.

  The orcs’ sentry bounded over and seized Dar as soon as she entered the circle of sticks. He pressed her against his chest with one arm as he raised his sword toward her throat. Dar was squeezed so tightly she barely had the breath to shout, “Gat!” Stop!

  Hearing his language made the orc hesitate. Dar shouted, “Mer sav Kovok-mah!” I see Kovok-mah! It was the closest she could come to making a request in Orcish. The sentry answered, but she couldn’t understand him. Dar repeated, “Mer sav Kovok-mah.”

  The orc lowered his sword and gripped Dar’s arm. “Sutat,” he said.

  Dar understood that word. It meant “come.” The orc led her to one of the shelters and spoke to the orc inside. The reeds parted, and Dar saw a glint of green-gold in the dark interior. “Dargu? What are you doing here?”

  “I need to speak with you.”

  Kovok-mah said something to the sentry, who left. Then he pushed some items aside, clearing a small space before him. “Sit,” he said.

  Clutching her torn shift against her chest, Dar knelt in the space. “Shashav, Kovok-mah.” Thanks, Kovok-mah.

  “I smell fear.”

  “Hai. A man almost raped me.”

  “What means ‘raped’?” asked Kovok-mah.

  “When min and muth do what changes muth into muthuri. What is word?”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Min…muth…together,” said Dar, using her hands to mimic lovemaking. “Make baby. What is word?”

  “Thrim. We say ‘Min thrimak muth.’”

  “Washavoki tried to thrimak me against my will.”

  “Against your will? How is that possible?” asked Kovok-mah.

  “Men are strong,” said Dar. “They use force.”

  “But that would offend Muth la!”

  “Men don’t care about Muth la.”

  “Does this offend your Karm?”

  “Hai.”

  “Yet, washavokis do this thing?”

  “All the time,” said Dar. Even in the darkness, she could see Kovok-mah’s eyes had grown wide. It seemed bizarre that rape would shock him so.

  “This happened to you?”

  “Not tonight. I fought him. Now he is angry.”

  “Who is this washavoki?”

  “Murdant Kol,” said Dar. “He rides horse.”

  “Bah Simi?”

  Dar mentally translated. Eye Blue. “Hai, he’s the one.”

  “What will he do now?” asked Kovok-mah.

  “He may try again. He may have others do it. He may hurt or kill me. I don’t know.”

  “I have seen you
with Bah Simi many times. You did not seem afraid.”

  “He said I was his woman. He protected me from other men, but only because he wanted me for himself. Tonight he…” Dar stopped as she heard hoofbeats. She peered into the darkness and saw the shadowy form of Murdant Kol on Thunder. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she said, “He’s back.”

  Kovok-mah’s eyes easily penetrated the darkness. He watched the murdant dismount, walk over to the cloth hut where the woe mans slept, and peer inside before leading his horse into the barn. He noted that Kol walked as though injured. The orc had difficulty reading the washavoki’s expression, but his abrupt gestures betrayed anger. While Kovok-mah made the observations, Dar’s scent grew stronger as the sour smell of fear mingled with pungent anger. When Kol disappeared into the barn, she whispered, “Can I stay here tonight?”

  Kovok-mah was ambivalent. He didn’t relish the idea of a washavoki inside his shelter. Her odor would linger long after her departure. Moreover, washavokis were strange and cruel. Zna-yat is right, he told himself. I should avoid them. Yet, though Kovok-mah wished to believe that Dar’s fate wasn’t his concern, he was unsure Muth la would agree. If Muth la is honored when Dargu serves food, would Muth la be dishonored by Dargu’s rape? Kovok-mah regarded Dar as she silently waited for his answer. She seemed both fierce and afraid. I called her mother, he thought. Then he knew what his answer must be.

  Twenty-one

  At first, the touch was part of Dar’s nightmare. Then Dar woke and realized the hand on her shoulder wasn’t Kol’s. She lay curled on the floor of Kovok-mah’s shelter, so close to the sitting orc that his knees pressed against her back. Kovok-mah shook her harder. The nightmare faded, but not its sense of dread. “You must go,” he said.

  Dar peered outside and saw dawn was approaching. Her dread intensified. “Can’t I stay?”

  “Thwa. You leave now.”

  Dar wondered if Kovok-mah knew he was sealing her doom. He probably does, she thought. He just doesn’t care. Dar considered—then quickly dismissed—begging for his protection. I won’t debase myself. With that resolution, her last hope evaporated. She looked outside again. Everything was still.