Page 3 of Orc's Desire

“Yes,” the Al’fa says, then looks at me. “Come.”

He sweeps out of the meeting room. Visidion and I follow in his wake. He leads the way to the balcony that oversees the arena. It gives a full view of the heart of the Zmaj underground compound. Visidion only sets me onto the ground when we step onto the balcony. I should mind, but I can’t bring myself to. I appreciate his protectiveness and this is part of how he shows he cares.

On my own feet at last I walk over to stand next to the Al’fa and survey the damage. My stomach drops. There is a wide crack running through the middle of the arena.

“By Tajss,” the Al’fa whispers.

The arena is the core of the underground Zmaj life. The damage renders it unusable. I can only imagine the blow that will represent to this society. So much of their culture and structure revolves around the arena. It’s also clear by the Al’fa’s reaction that he’s stunned too.

Giving him time to come to terms with what’s happened I look over the area. People rush around shouting and looking out for one another. The Zmaj are already organizing and getting help to those who need it, which is good, but the damage is heart wrenching.

The top two tiers of the ramp on my left that leads its way around the arena have collapsed leaving a large gap with people trapped on opposite sides of it. Thankfully we haven’t moved many people into the higher level rooms.

“What caused this?” I ask.

“I do not know,” the Al’fa says, all of our disagreements forgotten.

“I have a suspicion,” Zat’an says.

“And that is?” I ask, looking over at him in surprise. I hadn’t realized he’d followed us out here.

“If the paluga is real…” he trails off not needing to finish the thought.

Then this is the first sign of it waking up.

“Impossible,” the Al’fa says.

“I do not think that word means what you think it means,” I say, humorlessly. My mind is racing. There is now even more to do but if this is a sign that the mythical paluga is not only real, but close to awakening, and that it will cause this much damage when it does… “We’re running out of time. Faster than I thought.”

“I told you we must destroy them,” the Al’fa says, ending with a growl and slamming his clenched fist on the stone wall of the balcony.

“No,” I say sharply. “We must reinforce their resistance, form a plan, and stop the Shaman. Faster. If we don’t, if they awaken a monster, you think this will be all the damage?”

The Al’fa turns to face me with a dark, menacing look on his face.

“You have a plan?” he asks.

“No,” I shake my head. “Not yet. You ready to help figure one out?”

He silently gazes across all the damage that has been done. A low growl, his tail thumping the ground, then he nods.

“I will follow your lead,” he says. “For now.”

For now. It’s all I can ask. If he tried to attack I’d be consigning the girls I sent into the Urr’ki city to their doom. At least I’ve bought them time. But this quake makes it more than clear that time is a luxury we do not have.

1

GWENETH

Icarefully set the utensils on the table, making sure each is aligned perfectly with the one next to it and is the exact same distance from the edge of the table. When I finish, I eye each piece to make sure it is perfect before stepping back and taking in the whole.

Khiara puts a bowl down at my place on the table. As he does the bowl brushes the utensil and knocks it askew. He turns back to the counter without even a second glance. I grit my teeth while giving his back a dirty look.

Dilacs leans against the counter watching. He grunts when he sees it happen and walks over to fix the offending utensil. He gives me a quick smile that makes butterflies dance in my stomach then he returns to his place on the opposite side of the kitchen.

Khiara continues with the serving of dinner, oblivious to the exchange happening behind his back. He turns with the next bowl and all but tosses it down at the seat set for his brother. Some of the stew slops over the side and drips onto the table. Khiara is already back at the stove scooping up the next bowl.

My eye twitches. He is so… messy. It’s constant, little things, that literally drive me nuts. I cannot stand it, but what choice do I have? I look over at Dilacs who shrugs and gives a subtle shake of his head.

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