Page 19 of Orn and the Real Girl
Even so, every moment he was gone was torture, my mind conjuring horror after horror, growing more certain with every minute that passed that something had gone wrong, that Ornwas in trouble, that he needed me. I was torn between staying at our snug camp in case hedidreturn safe and sound, and sneaking out to do some scouting of my own. My instinct was to get close to that encampment so that if he needed me, I was already there.
I’d bitten my lips raw in my agitation, standing and striding to the edge of the skirt of boughs hiding our camp, hand already raised to brush the snow-laden branches aside, only to turn around and return to my rolled-up bedroll to resume my wait.
For all my careful listening, I never detected any sounds to warn me of Orn’s return. When he parted the thick branches and ducked inside I squeaked and fell backwards onto the thick bed of dried pine needles.I suppose that was why he was so confident he’d be able to sneak in and out easily,I thought as I righted myself. It was criminal, that someone so large would be able to move so godsdamnedquietly.
“Sweet Delenaa, Orn,” I muttered as he helped me up. “You’ll have to teach me how to move like that.”
He shrugged, his cheeks coloring beyond the blushing from the cold. “It’s all the blood song,” he told me, taking my hand and pulling me down with him so that I was seated in his lap. “Normally I’m a bumbling fool.” He curled himself around me, holding me tight and burying his face in my hair, breathing deep. He was quiet for long moments, and while I enjoyed a good cuddle, this one in particular felt…odd.
I squirmed until my arms were free, covering Orn’s big hands with my own. “What happened, honey?”
He made a strange noise, low in his throat and somewhere between a growl and a whine. “Nothing, really. They’re careless, barely keeping a watch and too busy getting drunk and celebrating to pay any attention to their surroundings.”
Chill acid settled in my stomach. “Could…could you tell what they were celebrating?”
He stiffened, then pulled me in tighter and pressed a kiss to my temple. “I think your people are still alive, and from things I overheard, are unharmed. But…” he sighed. “But tomorrow night they’re doing a ritual, and I think that that’s when…when it’ll be too late.”
“Salerah’s fires, that soon?”
I felt him nod. “But itdoesseem like it will be done during full night, and that they all sleep during the day. So I can have a nap and sharpen my axe—“
“You’re not going in alone,” I snapped, trying to twist to glare at him. “This ismycoven, Orn. It’s my fight far more than it is yours. And just because I’m a woman—“
He swore in his mother tongue, swatting at my thigh. “That has nothing to do with it, little witch. If you were a man I’d be just as nervous. It’s not your ability that’s in question, it’s mine.” He paused, puling in a shuddering breath. “What if I can’t keep you safe? What if I let you down and something happens to your coven, and you hate me forever?” I managed to loosen his grip enough to turn and meet his gaze. “Now that I’ve found you…I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it if I lost you.”
His over-protectiveness still chafed, but it was hard to stay mad with a great big orc saying such sweet things and looking like the saddest puppy to ever walk Cillure.
“I understand, honey,” I told him softly, cupping his broad face in my hands. “But can you set that aside and let me handle myself?”
He looked ready to argue for a moment, nostrils flaring with an agitated huff of breath, but after a moment he sighed and nodded sadly.
“Aye. But if the worst happens and I have to turn to necromancy you have no one but yourself to blame, little witch.”
I laughed, kissing him hard. “Deal.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SARA
I WASmore than ready to put an end to the group who’d stolen my coven. They all made my skin crawl, something slimy and cold and made of pure dark slithering through the back of my mind every second I spent in the horrid cave they’d made their home. It felt like frostbite, like an infection, and even if I didn’t knowexactlywhat to do to stop it, I knew that when you had a wound going south, you removed all the rot and scrubbed it clean.
The temple they’d erected in the back of the cavern reeked of copper and sulfur, and I was filled with a sharp kind of gratitude that Orn was with me, a blazing-hot and solid presence as my side.
Well, figuratively speaking. In the literal sense, he was actually ahead of me, his battle axe bared, its razor-sharp edge catching the dim light in silver flashes as he swung it and added arcs of crimson to the metallic glints off of his weapon. He was howling something in his native language, his words loud and clear despite the heavy workout he was giving himself. I smiled, thinking fondly about what a sexy little murder machine my man was.
I lowered my gaze to the rough compass I’d created outside the cavern’s entrance, following the pine needle as it spun in the herb-infused water to the goal I’d directed it to: my coven. Thefact that it was pointing so steadily gave me hope. If they’d all been dead, it would have spun aimlessly. So at least one other person besides me was still alive.
I traveled deeper and deeper into the rank cave, the sound of violence drifting over to me from distant twisting corridors bored into the stone walls. I’d lost track of Orn, and his rampage had moved elsewhere in that time. I entered a particularly large cavern and came across an altar, its energy so foul that I was overwhelmed. I bent in half, barely managing to avoid getting sick all over myself. Once my stomach was empty I stood back up straight, spitting and wiping at my mouth with a wince. I swished water around my mouth and then spit that out, too.
The altar was on the smaller side, shrouded in darkness, but it felt like it pulsed and loomed, pressing beyond the physical bounds of the thing to take up the whole room. Whatever darkness this was an altar to, it was deeply wrong, a level of unnatural I would never have guessed was possible before standing in this room. I noticed that the stone platform it rested on was stained liberally with old bloodstains, the rock so saturated it felt like it should still be weeping crimson. I shuddered, pointedly averting my gaze before I got too good of a look at what the wet-looking lumps scattered in offering were.
The compass needle swayed gently off to my left, to the side of the altar, and I edged closer, searching the rock wall for a door, or a cutout—something that would lead me to where my coven was being held. But it was solid, rough-hewn blankness refusing to give way to answers no matter how closely I looked. I followed the needle to the exact point it was oriented towards, putting my hand on the stone, and was surprised to find that the seemingly solid wall fizzed under my palm. I grinned.
I set the compass on the ground a little distance away, kneeling and slipping my pack off my back to rifle through it and assemble the reagents I’d need. Herbs and tincturesthat opened the eyes (including the invisible third eye), that removed shadows, that illuminated what was dark. I ground everything into a powder with my small mortal and pestle, the sharp astringent scent a welcome reprieve from the other smells assaulting me. I then murmured words of power, the keys that would let the door I’d made work. It was difficult without Lena close by to lend me her strength, but I managed it without too much trouble.
As the last word tore free from my numb lips I took a handful of the powder and blew it out into the air, watching it scatter and trickle over the rock wall. The powder ghosted over the rough stone, sparking and popping along all that it touched. The wall began to look less solid, rock melting away like mist under the sun, revealing a lattice of branches and saplings lashed together into a grid spanning the entirety of the revealed opening. And beyond, barely visible beneath the weak, fitful spitting of a mostly-dead torch, eleven lumps huddled together among the filthy straw and human waste.
My knees went weak, a sob ripping from my tight throat. Every one of the lumps turned up to look at me at the sound, some eyes hollow and dark-ringed, some of the skin waxen and too pale, but all alive.
