[Queen of Orcs 01] - King's Property (17 page)

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.

“Vata,” Dar said, hoping Kovok-mah understood the finality of her good-bye.

Clutching her torn shift to cover herself, Dar hurried to the women’s tent. She hoped to change into her other shift and, perhaps, find a weapon before the men came. Taren sat up when she entered. “So, you’re back,” she said. She eyed Dar’s torn garment. “Was it bad?”

“Worse than you can imagine,” said Dar as she rapidly changed. “Where are the knives?”

“Why do you want a knife?”

“I just need one.”

“They’re on the wagon,” said Taren.

Teeg’s wagon
, thought Dar. Her heart sank further.
I’ll only have a stick of firewood or a ladle to defend myself.
Dar left the tent to avoid further questions. The kettle of cold porridge sat near the ashes of last night’s fire. The serving ladle hung from its edge. Dar hefted it. The utensil felt light in her hand, but all the firewood had been burned.
I guess this is my weapon.
She dipped it in the cold mush to take her last meal.

Dar was still eating when Taren emerged from the tent. “Dar, what happened last night?”

Dar swallowed. “Murdant Kol finally made his move. He…” The sight of men leaving the barn made her stop. Usually, the soldiers straggled in to eat, bleary and grumpy. This morning, they swaggered from their sleeping quarters as a small mob and moved as purposefully. Dar noted none carried a wooden bowl. As she watched them advance, the urge to run became nearly irresistible. Dar stayed put only by summoning all her courage.

The soldiers halted a few steps from the kettle. By the time they did, Kari and Neena were also watching them, aware that something was about to happen. The men eyed Dar as a pack, united by belligerence and lust. Yet, as individuals, they hesitated to step forward. Dar could only guess what Murdant Kol had told them, but the result of his words was evident—she was for the taking. It was only a question of who would be the first.

After a tense moment, Muut decided it would be him. He advanced, grinning. “I’ve wanted a taste of this for a while,” he said. He lunged at Dar and she swung the ladle, hitting his jaw. Dar heard a soldier laugh. Then Muut punched her in the chest. Dar’s breath whooshed, and she was unable to take another. She doubled over, dropping the ladle.

Muut grabbed her arm and jerked. “To the barn, bitch.”

Dar was able to gasp a bit of air as Muut began to drag her away. The other soldiers followed. Now that the first move had been made, each was eager for his turn.

Dar was halfway to the barn when Muut suddenly released her. Confused, Dar glanced about and saw that Kovok-mah stood where Muut had been. He was fully armed, and he held Muut by the neck, dangling him above the ground at arm’s length. The orc ignored the man kicking and thrashing within his grasp and slowly regarded the other soldiers. “This is my woe man!” he bellowed.

Kovok-mah tightened his fingers around Muut’s neck. There was a crunch of gristle. Then he casually tossed the man aside. The soldiers drew back, silent and cowed. The only sound came from Muut, who gurgled and gasped as if drowning. As everyone watched, his face turned bluish gray.

“Touch my woe man, and I kill you,” said Kovok-mah. Then he turned and strode away.

The soldiers remained still, but Neena shrieked and ran toward Muut. She knelt beside him, caressed his face, and began to sob. Her actions broke the mob’s inertia, and the soldiers gathered around their fallen comrade. By then, Muut lay still. A soldier examined him. “He’s dead,” he said, regarding Dar with revulsion. “Yer lover killed him.”

“My
lover
?” said Dar.