Page 49 of The Orc's Princess Bride
“Lasseran used the poisoned blade on him,” he said, and she whirled towards him
“You know about that? Can you help him?”
Khorrek hesitated, clearly torn between years of conditioning and the debt he now owed. Finally, he reached into his armor and pulled out a small vial filled with pale blue liquid.
“I took this after seeing him use the blade before,” he said, holding it out to her. “I didn’t trust that he wouldn’t use it on me someday.”
She snatched the vial. “How do we use it?”
“Remove the blade, then half on the wound, half down his throat,” Khorrek instructed. “It won’t heal him completely, but it will buy time.”
Wulf yanked the poisoned blade from Ulric’s chest with a swift, brutal motion, and she poured half the precious antidote directly onto the wound watching in horror as the liquid fizzed and bubbled against his corrupted flesh.
“Now drink,” she commanded, pressing the vial to his lips, and praying with all her heart that it worked.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Ulric floated in a sea of pain, his consciousness ebbing and flowing like a tide. The world around him blurred into a haze of indistinct shapes and muffled sounds. Only one thing remained clear—Jessamin’s hands on his skin, her voice calling his name with increasing desperation.
“Ulric! Stay with me!” Her fingers pressed against his face, cool against his burning skin.
He tried to focus on her, but the poison worked its way through his veins like liquid fire. His enhanced senses, usually a blessing, now amplified every agonizing pulse. The poison was designed specifically for his kind—a cruel, calculated weapon meant to bring down even the strongest orc.
Through the fog, he heard her voice again, ordering him to drink.
He swallowed obediently, the bitter liquid burning down his throat. Then the antidote collided with the poison in his system.
His back arched, a silent scream locked in his throat as the two substances warred inside him. The blackened veins around hiswound began to recede, the unnatural color fading. The raging fire in his blood cooled to a smoldering ache. His vision cleared enough to focus on Jessamin’s face, frantic with fear and hope.
“Jessamin,” he rasped, his hand finding hers.
The relief in her eyes was a balm to his soul. “I’m here,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to his. “I’m right here.”
She turned to Khorrek. “Come with us. You saved his life. Lasseran would kill you for that alone if he knew.”
Khorrek’s face hardened. “He is still my king.”
“He is a monster. You know this. You’ve seen it with your own eyes.”
“It’s not that simple,” Khorrek said, his voice low. “There are others?—”
“They would be welcome in Norhaven,” he managed, his voice weak but firm. “All of them.”
“No, they wouldn’t be. What he’s done to some of them…”
“Isn’t that even more reason to come with us?” she asked.
“He had to do it,” Khorrek insisted. “He is going to bring peace to the Five Kingdoms by bringing them together as one united kingdom.”
“Through fear and brutality? That isn’t peace, it’s enslavement.”
Khorrek shook his head, avoiding her gaze. “It will be better. I have to believe…” He climbed slowly to his feet. “You saved my life and I saved his. We are even. Do not expect mercy if we meet again.”
Despite the harshness of his words, he looked at Jessamin for a long moment, then bowed his head. “Goodbye, Queen Jessamin.”
“Goodbye, Khorrek.”
He vanished back through the tunnel as Wulf scowled after him. “How do we know he isn’t going to run right back to Lasseran and tell him where we are?”
