Page 44 of The Orc's Princess Bride
“There’s a passage from the gladiator quarters to his underground fight pit,” Egon said slowly. “It’s guarded, but not heavily. Once we’re inside, I can create a diversion while the two of you find her.”
“I don’t think we should split up,” Wulf said immediately, putting his hand on his brother’s arm. “It’s too risky.”
“It’s our best chance for success and you know it. Don’t worry,” he added, a surprisingly sweet smile crossing his battle-scarred face. “I promised Lyric I’d make it home to her and I won’t break my promise.”
“Lyric, eh?” Tolbrayth grinned at Egon. “‘Bout damn time. If you can make it inside the Keep, there’s a network of servant’stunnels. Lasseran doesn’t want to sully himself by having any contact with servants.” The old man spat. “I’ll draw you a map.”
A short time later they were on their way. Each of them had a copy of Tolbrayth’s map in their pocket. He’d even marked his best guess as to the location Lasseran would use for the ritual.
“Inner chamber. No one is allowed to go there and it’s supposed to be a big secret.” The old man spat again. “Only makes it more obvious.”
They reached the Obsidian Keep just as dusk fell. It loomed against the darkening sky, a monument to Lasseran’s power and ego, and its black walls seemed to absorb the last light of day, as if even the sun feared to touch it.
They found shelter in an abandoned storehouse with a view of the keep’s main gates. Guards in black armor patrolled the walls, their movements precise, mechanical. The entrance was a killing ground—open, exposed, with no cover. Tolbrayth has been right about a frontal assault not working.
“I can feel her,” he said suddenly. Something inside him responded to her presence, a pull he couldn’t explain. “She’s in there. Alive.”
Relief and rage warred within him. She lived, but she was in Lasseran’s hands. His Beast howled for blood.
“It’s the mate bond,” Wulf said calmly. “The one you said didn’t exist.”
He ignored the provocative remark. If that pull helped him find her, he could only be grateful. “The sooner we get in there, the better.”
“We wait for the guard shift at midnight, then make our move,” Egon said, his eyes glittering. He looked at Wulf, then him. “Get some rest while you can. This is going to be a long night.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The ceremonial chamber that Khorrek led Jessamin to was a cathedral of darkness so complete that it was difficult to tell its actual size. Black silk banners hung from the vaulted ceiling, whispering against each other in an unseen draft. The only light came from the massive iron braziers that lined the walls, their flames casting long, distorted shadows across the polished obsidian floor.
In the center stood a raised dais with an altar of black marble, its surface etched with symbols that seemed to writhe and twist if she looked at them too long. The air smelled of incense and something else—something metallic and wrong.
Lasseran waited beside the altar, resplendent in ceremonial robes of midnight blue embroidered with silver. His pale hair gleamed in the firelight, and his smile held the slick coldness of a predator.
“My dear niece,” he said, his voice like silk over steel. “How good of you to join our little family reunion.”
Khorrek’s face was an impassive mask as he led her towards the altar, but his eyes—his eyes told a different story. There was conflict there, doubt.
“This is not honor,” she whispered to him as they walked, her voice low enough that only he could hear. “This is depravity. Is this the future you want for your people?”
His hand faltered on her arm for a split second, his grip loosening just enough for her to notice.
Lasseran gestured impatiently. “Bring her to the altar. The alignment will not wait.”
As they approached the dais, she saw the implements laid out with meticulous precision—silver knives, crystal vials, a copper bowl filled with a dark liquid that caught the firelight with an oily sheen. This was no symbolic ceremony. This was blood magic in its most literal form.
“The preliminary preparations are complete,” he said with a satisfied purr as he gestured to one of his guards. “Remove the body.”
Her breath caught in her throat as the black-clad guard carried a body from behind the altar and she recognized Elspeth. The woman had accompanied them on the frantic trip south but she’d stayed as far away from Jessamin as possible.
“But… she helped you,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Indeed,” Lasseran agreed. “But her assistance was… less than satisfactory. Her blood was of more use.”
Khorrek didn’t move, but she saw his mouth tighten.
A rustle of movement from the shadows drew her attention. A figure stepped forward, their dark robe pooling around their feet, their face hidden in the shadow of their robe.
“This is not wise, Lasseran.” The priest’s voice was deep and resonant but she couldn’t tell if they were male or female. “The Veil is not a thing to be toyed with. There is a reason why the Old Magic was sealed away.”
