Page 77 of Faeling
Fulk’s lips thinned. The threat was foreseeable, yet the other Stone-Skins gasped in horror. Several cried out for mercy.
“You fucking bastard,” Kaldar sneered, only to have his face thrust into the dirt.
Gods, the boy had more bulk than brains.
It wasn’t hard to see that Fulk thought something similar as he glanced at his nephew, dejected. There was no way out for this sad little clan. If Fulk wanted all of his tribe to see morning, he’d kneel.
Only a few more moments passed before the older orc sighed again and creakily got on his knees.
“No!” Vehement, muffled denial echoed from the ground, where Kaldar wriggled against the berserkers with their knees in his back.
“I defer to you, Vallek Far-Sight,” said Fulk. “The Stone-Skins pledge fealty to Balmirra.”
“Wise.”
Although he didn’t rise, Fulk’s gaze lifted to pin Vallek with a grave look. “The Stone-Skins have known many cruel leaders. Don’t be the next.”
Lowering Hormhím, Vallek nodded solemnly. A reluctant respect for this limping, aged chieftain took hold in his chest. Fulk would bend but not break.
Vallek saw such defiance and strength in Ravenna, too. And he loved her for it.
“You have my word.” Reaching down, he offered Fulk his hand. The older orc took it, regaining his feet. And with a wave from Vallek, the berserkers released Kaldar to scramble to his feet. “Teach that one some manners, though.”
Fulk snorted. “There’s no use.” Peering up at Vallek with a shrewd look, he said, “As king, you’ll want something we found.”
Intrigued, Vallek watched on as Fulk called for another of his hunters to fetchthose irons.
“Found them on some Pyrrossi soldiers last winter,” saidFulk. “Didn’t know what to do with them.”
The Stone-Skin hunter returned bearing two sets of manacles. He dropped them at Vallek’s feet and quickly backed away.
The firelight caught in the dull metal, and at first glance, there didn’t seem to be anything remarkable about the irons. Yet, the longer he looked, a sense of foreboding churned up his guts.
“There’s something wrong with them,” Fulk spat, echoing Vallek’s own thought.
He didn’t need to touch them to feel the wrongness emanating from them. Something was indeed wrong with the metal. Magic radiated from them, but not in a way he’d ever felt before. It seemed almost…greedy. As though it whispered and longed to be clapped onto wrists.
Pyrrossi soldiers with enchanted manacles.
Vallek exchanged looks with Ulrich.Gods, what now?
Later that night, so late it was practically tomorrow, Vallek sat with Ulrich in one of the larger Stone-Skin tents. What pertinent bits hadn’t been sorted out yet could be done in the morning, when nerves and tempers were a little less frayed. Fulk hadn’t seemed enthusiastic about offering up one of his own tents for them, but he did it all the same.
The strange manacles sat in a sack nearby, and it was a relief to have them out of sight. Fulk told them what little he knew, just that Pyrrossi soldiers had been caught with them and he believed there were more out there. It was something to investigate, and Vallek would take them to Ravenna for her opinion on what kind of magic they were spelled with and whatthis could mean.
For now, though, with berserkers posted as guards outside the tent flaps, Vallek and Ulrich were confident enough to share a celebratory flask of mead to revel in their victory.
Raising it to Ulrich and then to his lips, Vallek said, “To a plan come to fruition.”
When he passed the flask back to Ulrich, his second took a long, hearty swing. “To the unification!” he said a little too loudly. Ulrich never could hold his spirits.
Chuckling, Vallek rested his wrist on his bent knee, trying to get as comfortable as possible reclined in a strange tent. While this victory was something to savor, he couldn’t help wishing he was back in his own tent, with his mate for company instead. This triumph would be all the sweeter with her in his arms, pretending to be unimpressed, as he stole kisses.
Gods, he was getting to be a soppy bastard.
His beast merely sighed like a forlorn puppy, wondering why they really needed to stay here rather than reunite with Ravenna.
Telling himself to enjoy it, he took in the laughing Ulrich, candescent with their victory. His second’s obvious good mood lifted Vallek’s. Perhaps it was just the surrealism of so many years and plans finally reaching fulfillment that made him feel apart from the new reality.
