Page 18 of The War God's Woman

Kratun glances at me with glazed eyes, confusion and a tinge of hostility flickering across his features. “Human,” he rasps. “W-what?—?”

“She’s here to help,” Ragzuk says firmly, cutting off the orc’s protest. “Trust me, you’ll want any relief you can get.”

I kneel by the cot, heart pounding at the sight of the bandage stained with yellowish seepage. The stench of infection makes my stomach turn, but I force myself to remain calm. Carefully, Ragzuk and I unwind the bandage, exposing angry red flesh around a swollen cut.

Kratun hisses, jaw clenching. My mind races with the steps we’d take in my village: cleaning the wound, applying the poultice, changing dressings regularly. “We’ll need clean water,” I say, turning to see Ghorzag in the doorway. The fact that he’s followed us in gives me a strange sense of reassurance.

He nods, stepping out to fetch water from a barrel in the main room. Ragzuk hands me a small rag while I gently dab at the edges of the wound, trying not to cause more pain than necessary. Kratun watches me warily, but he doesn’t protest—perhaps he’s too exhausted to object.

When Ghorzag returns with a bucket of water, I rinse away the worst of the pus. Then, using a wooden spatula, I spread the herbal paste across the wound. Kratun lets out a guttural groan, fists gripping the cot’s edges. I murmur apologies, applying just enough pressure to ensure the mixture adheres.

Ragzuk hands me fresh strips of cloth, which I use to wrap the leg snugly. My hands shake slightly, a swirl of adrenaline and empathy churning in my gut. In my village, I did small treatments—splinters, minor cuts—but never something this dire. Still, I have to try.

After we finish, Ragzuk places a palm on Kratun’s forehead, murmuring a low incantation in Orcish. The rhythmic chant rises and falls like a drumbeat, infusing the cramped chamber with a sense of solemnity. Even Ghorzag inclines his head, as if acknowledging the spiritual effort. Though I don’t fullyunderstand the language, I recognize a plea for healing, for the War God’s oversight in the warrior’s recovery.

The chant ends, and Ragzuk exhales slowly. “Rest,” he tells Kratun, who drifts to a half-conscious state, sweat beading on his brow. “We’ll reapply the poultice in a few hours if needed.”

I rise, wiping my hands on a clean rag. My knees feel shaky from crouching, and my heart hammers with relief tangled with lingering uncertainty.Have I done enough?

Ghorzag’s gaze finds mine, unreadable in the dim. “Impressive,” he says quietly. “I’ve seen orc healers flinch at a wound that foul.”

Something in my chest flutters, a spark of pride. I press a hand to my own chest, steadying my breath. “I only hope it works.”

Ragzuk gestures for us to leave the chamber, letting Kratun rest. We step back into the main workspace, the aroma of drying herbs replacing the stench of infection. Ghorzag’s presence looms at my side, an unspoken tension passing between us. Outside, the day is well underway—the fortress buzzing with the clamor of orc life.

Ragzuk clears his throat. “I’ll keep watch on Kratun’s condition. With any luck, we’ll see improvement by nightfall.” He turns to me, a hint of genuine respect in his eyes. “That knowledge of herbs… you may have saved him from losing that leg.”

I swallow, touched by the wave of gratitude. “I’m glad I could help.”

The older orc nods, expression thoughtful. “It’s easy to see why Ghorzag offered you protection. You might prove more valuable than most here realize.” Then, after a pause, he adds in a lower voice, “And not all is as it seems with the War God’s displeasure. Keep that in mind, Lirienne. Fear is often twisted by those who benefit from it.”

My pulse ticks faster. “You suspect sabotage too, don’t you?”

He shrugs noncommittally, but his gaze flicks to Ghorzag. “One can interpret ill omens many ways. Sometimes, if we look deeper, we find mortal hands behind the disasters. Our clan’s future hinges on discovering the truth.”

I absorb his words, remembering Ghorzag’s suspicions from the previous night. Ragzuk’s tone suggests a caution: that the War God’s name could be invoked to mask manipulations from within. The thought makes me uneasy and oddly determined. I refuse to let fear or superstition tear down whatever fragile hope for peace I’ve come here to forge.

Footsteps sound behind us. Another orc arrives, peering around the doorframe, likely a messenger. Ragzuk excuses himself, nodding curtly to Ghorzag before leaving to handle clan matters. That leaves me alone with the chieftain in the shadowy workspace, the heady fragrance of herbs enveloping us.

For a moment, neither of us speaks. I fidget with a stray leaf from my pouch, memories of Ghorzag’s strong hand on my arm replaying in my mind. The silence feels charged, as though something simmers beneath the surface—an unspoken curiosity neither of us quite knows how to address.

He breaks the quiet. “You did well,” he says again, quieter than before. “Kratun owes you thanks, though he may not admit it until he’s in less pain.”

I manage a small laugh. “I’m just glad I wasn’t useless.”

He studies me, brow creasing slightly. “You think I consider you useless?”

I shake my head, heat creeping over my cheeks. “I—I’m not sure what you consider me,” I admit honestly. “Our arrangement isn’t exactly built on normal circumstances.”

His mouth presses into a line. “No. It isn’t.” A pause. “But I won’t deny that your knowledge surprised me. And perhaps theclan needs that. We’ve grown too reliant on old rituals. If fresh ideas can help save lives, so be it.”

My heart thumps a little faster at the hint of acknowledgment in his tone. “Thank you,” I murmur, not quite meeting his eyes.

He shifts his stance. The distance between us feels both vast and infinitesimal. “If this proves effective, some orcs might start seeing you in a different light. They might realize you’re not the cursed bringer of doom.”

I bite my lip. “I suppose that’s progress. But what about the sabotage? Until that’s exposed, I’ll always be suspect.”

He lets out a low growl, frustration evident. “Yes. That’s why I’m determined to find whoever is fueling these false omens. The War God’s name is too convenient a disguise.”

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