Page 127 of Halfling
The path led them across a wide stone bridge with three arches disappearing into a slow-running river below. Dundúran met them on the other side, the first houses and buildings at the water’s edge and fenced in cattails. The path turned into a paved road, sloping gently upward. The metal shoes of their horses clopped along the stones, loud in Orek’s ears, even with the din of dozens, if not hundreds of humans.
So many humans.
Of all that he’d seen so far, the sheer number of them was what had his mind eddying. And from how Sorcha spoke, Dundúran wasn’t the largest human settlement in Eirea by far. Many other demesne and the Eirean capital itself were all multiple times the size.
It was why an uneasy truce had finally formed between orcs and humans—despite their superior size and strength, orcs were far fewer and only tended to congregate in smaller clans. They were more likely to attack each other than humans, vying for precious resources up in the mountains. An orc force could be conquered if outnumbered.
From the sagas, he knew the humans had made that sacrifice in the beginning, throwing thousands of lives to beat back the first clans and push them into the mountains.
But all of that seemed far from the minds of the villagers, who walked through their town carrying baskets, leading livestock, or with children in tow. People swept their front stoops, tended their small gardens, and beat the dust from their rugs. Their party fell in line with others headed deeper into Dundúran, large wagons with beer casks and smaller donkey-drawn carts.
The streets were festooned with triangular flags and garlands, the dried flowers adding color to the wattle and daub houses. Between buildings down side streets, Orek spied small squares with communal fountains, water dribbling from spigots into buckets and kettles. A myriad of scents teased his nose, yeasty bread and beer, the musk of livestock and manure, the tang of metal and forges, andhuman.
Orek kept his back straight and his gaze forward as more humans took notice of their party. Of him. Children stopped to stare, and more than one man called out to Ciaran to ask what he was doing with an orc.
As they waited for the wagon in front of them to turn onto another street, Sorcha dismounted to walk with him. Smiling up at him, she placed her hand in his and led Fiora with the other. It only garneredmore stares and questions, but he was glad to have his mate besidehim.
The main road led them to the curtain wall, a smooth, sloping cliff face guarded by armed knights. An iron gate was drawn up over the entrance, like fangs waiting to descend on helpless prey. The knights nodded at Ciaran, allowing their party through, though Orek felt their assessing gazes on his back.
Inside, a sprawling cobblestone courtyard was ringed in poplar trees shading flowerbeds and marble statues. A three-tiered fountain stood in the center, droplets falling in a sweet harmony. It was quieter inside the castle walls, with fewer humans walking about, and Orek took relief in less sounds and smells.
A handful of young men rushed forward to take the horses, greeting Ciaran with bows and awe. Sorcha’s father hurried their group across the courtyard, not giving the grooms time to gawk too long over Orek.
The six of them—Ciaran, his seneschal, Sorcha, her brothers, and Orek—climbed a shallow set of steps up to a pair of gleaming wood doors covered in scrolling wrought iron. Connor and Niall pushed either door aside, allowing them entry.
The air inside the castle was markedly cooler, and they passed through a short, dim corridor before arriving in a great hall. Orek couldn’t help looking up, astonished at the size. Smooth stone floors made patterns across the expansive room, almost gleaming in the soft light from mounted lanterns and morning light streaming in through high steepled windows. Great arches of wood lined the roof like ribs, banners of every color hanging from the rafters. At the center, a brass chandelier loomed above them, candles burning merrily over stalactites of wax.
“Sorcha Brádaigh, that better be you!”
Orek stopped alongside Sorcha, watching as a young woman came hurrying from the other side of the hall. She was tall for a human woman, though still not as tall as his mate, and limned in gold. Her hair hung in a heavy curtain of golden waves, and her skin glowed with warm color from the sun. A smattering of freckles decorated her cheeks as they creased in a wide smile, and leonine eyes glittered as she ran for Sorcha, light blue skirts swishing around her long legs.
Sorcha stepped forward to meet her, arms thrown wide. “Aislinn!”
The women wrapped each other in their arms, rocking back and forth and giggling like younglings. They laughed and chattered, parting only to hold each other’s faces and lob questions at the other with teary eyes.
Orek stood on, realizing this was Aislinn Darrow, daughter and eldest child of Lord Darrow. He wasn’t quite sure what a human lady and noble should look like, but Aislinn looked no grander than Sorcha and the Brádaigh women. Her hair was clean and shining but unadorned, her dress plain—he thought he even saw a streak of dirt on her flank.
He didn’t know why, but he liked Aislinn immediately.
For her part, when she was finally done exclaiming over Sorcha, Aislinn swept her gaze over Orek, brows arched in a way he was learning was exclusive to human females. A smug sort of smile curled her lips, and she stepped from Sorcha’s side to hold her hand out for Orek.
“Your father’s note didn’t say much, but…” She smiled wider when Orek took her hand and gently held it. “I take it this is your handsome rescuer?”
“Yes. This is Orek of the Stone-Skin clan.”
“It is good to meet friends of Sorcha,” he greeted her.
Aislinn’s gaze cut to Sorcha, and his mate blushed. “I don’t know, Sorcha, this being taken and then rescued by a handsome man isn’t sounding so bad.”
Sorcha let out a horrified laugh before clapping a hand over her mouth.
Aislinn patted his hand, her smile open and warm when she said, “Thank you for saving my friend. She is far too dear to all of us to be taken away.”
“It will always be my honor.”
The statement seemed to please Aislinn, who smiled even wider and turned to link her arm through Sorcha’s. “Good job,” she whispered, earning her a playful smack on the arm.
Aislinn patted Sorcha’s arm in return as she led them at a meandering pace further into the hall.
