Page 126 of Halfling
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Orek took deep, steady gulps of morning air to quiet his churning stomach. The first leg of the journey to Dundúran he’d spent bouncing in the cart beside Niall, feeling like his bones were jostling loose. They’d taken it along after Sorcha’s mother decided they may as well get a few things she needed in town, so Niall and Connor had hitched it to a big horse Sorcha called a dray and told Orek to climb up.
Noticing his misery, Sorcha had asked to stop outside Granach on the pretense of adjusting her stirrup and giving him time to jump down. Now, he walked alongside her and her mount, glad to stretch his legs. He kept pace with the mounted party easily, quieting the grumbling that had come from Ciaran and his seneschal, a scowling man named Diarmuid.
It was about fifty minutes’ walk to the capital of the Darrowlands, though after only twenty they came to the village of Granach. Neat cottages with thatched roofs lined several streets. Animal pens and fenced gardens accompanied each house, and chimneys puffed with smoke to keep the morning chill out.
People had called out happily to see their party. It was obvious that Ciaran was popular, villagers hurrying to shake his hand or speak with him as they rode through town. And more than a few people rushed up to take Sorcha’s hand and exclaim their relief in seeing her safely returned.
It didn’t take long for what seemed like the whole village to come watch their party pass by—a handful of human knights, Sorcha, and a halfling. Orek garnered stares and faces gone slack in surprise. He’d kept his hood down, denying Ciaran and Diarmiud’s suggestions that he hide his face until they reached Dundúran.
Sorcha had smiled at him in encouragement, and Orek bore the curiosity of Granach. Soon enough they were out of town again, and Orek breathed a little easier. He’d have to get used to all the stares, but they would have to get used to him, too.
The land outside Granach was all verdant rolling hills, topped with swaying grasses. Groves of redwood trees lined the little valleys between them, roots running to the streams that crisscrossed the landscape. Autumn wildflowers painted the hills a vibrant swathe of colors; sunshine yellow goldenrod swayed in the slight breeze, and mats of gentian and aster bloomed bluer than the sky above.
A neat path over two carts wide wended through the hills, making the journey easy. Much easier than the narrow deer paths or undisturbed forest Orek was used to. Something about being out in the open made his instinct flare; he didn’t like the exposure.
The party didn’t seem to feel any such anxiety, at least not until the path rounded a tall outcropping dripping with condensate. What was once a hill had been sheared in half by the elements, exposing the rocky heart.
Just a glimpse and Orek immediately knew what he looked at.
He stopped beside Sorcha and covered her hands, clenched around the reins in her lap. Her face had gone pale as she looked upon the place she’d been attacked.
“One of them was on the rock wall,” she said to no one in particular. “Caught me from above.”
Her father and brothers grumbled unhappily, muttering about what kind of slavers would think to do that.
The place sent a shiver of fury down Orek’s spine, and he gently patted the thick neck of Sorcha’s horse, Fiora. The white mare snuffled at his hand before easing back into walking alongside him. They left that dark place behind, but Orek kept near Sorcha.
The next mile was walked in silence, giving her time with her thoughts.
Eventually, she swept her hand over his hair and leaned down to kiss his head. “Shall I show you just how fast we can go?”
“Do you intend to race the wind?”
Eyes sparkling, Sorcha whooped and tapped her heels on Fiora’s flanks. The mare leapt forward, white mane fluttering like a banner, and horse and rider raced down the path.
For the rest of the journey, Sorcha showed off for him, leadingFiora through a little dance and bow. She eventually goaded Connor into racing her, and the two mock-battled in the fields lining the path, barreling towards one another only to cry off at the last moment.
She sat so easily in the saddle, and it warmed Orek’s heart to see the smile spread across her face. Curls flying in the wind, she was a goddess come to life, at one with the beast galloping beneath her.
When they neared the capital, Ciaran let out a sharp whistle, ending Sorcha and Connor’s fun. Connor quickly fell into line with the other knights while Sorcha found Orek again, grinning sheepishly.
“You’ll be able to see it in a moment,” she told him, pointing at the bend in the path.
Indeed, around the next hillock, a valley opened up between three shallow knolls. Sprawled across the tops was the largest town Orek had ever seen. More buildings than he could count were packed tightly together, their blue-tiled roofs at a steep slant. Above them all, on the middlemost hill, stood a stone beast the likes of which Orek had never seen.
A human castle.
A wall of light gray granite blocks, stacked so tightly they needed little mortar, connected a dozen rounded turrets and towers crowned in battlements and a narrow parapet. An inner keep stood taller than the rest, a dome flanked by four towers, each capped in a cone of blue with golden banners snapping against the sky.
It was like a mountain. A manmade mountain.
His instinct kicked against his ribs, not wanting to enter such a place. Orcs weren’t meant for castles.
Orek pushed it down.I go where she goes.
He was careful to keep the turmoil from his face, knowing Sorcha’s gaze strayed to him, to see what he thought of all the new sights.
