Page 150 of The Orc's Captive Bride
“I am Rashad. Leader of the Windrunner tribe.” He inclined his head respectfully. “And we have been waiting for your arrival.”
“Waiting?” Lyric leaned forward in her saddle. “How did you know we were coming?”
“The same way you knew we meant no harm.” Rashad’s smile widened. “The Old Gods speak to those who listen.”
Thea and Lyric exchanged a glance and something passed between them. They believed him.
Khorrek didn’t like it. He didn’t like strangers approaching with useful knowledge and mysterious purposes. But Thea patted his arm reassuringly.
“It’s all right.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” Her grey eyes met his, calm and certain. “They’re here to help.”
“Why would they help us?”
“Because balance serves us all,” Rashad said. “Lasseran’s corruption poisons the land. Twists the magic. Drives the wild creatures mad.” His silver eyes were serious. “We have watched the Five Kingdoms tear themselves apart. Have seen the bloodshed. The suffering.”
“And you’ve done nothing to stop it,” Egon observed, his voice still hard.
“We are nomads. We do not interfere in the affairs of settled peoples.” Rashad’s expression didn’t change. “But this is different. This affects us all. The magic Lasseran wields threatens everything.”
“So you’ll help us reach the stone circle?”
“We will accompany you. Protect you. Ensure you arrive safely to perform your ritual.”
“And what do you want in return?” he asked suspiciously. Nothing was ever free.
“Balance. Harmony. The restoration of the natural order.” Rashad’s gaze was steady. “That is payment enough.”
Khorrek didn’t believe him. He didn’t trust this convenient assistance from strangers.
But Thea was nodding, and Lyric looked equally convinced.
The Old Gods. Always the Old Gods.
He shared a glance with Egon and saw his own doubts reflected back, but he also saw the resignation on the other orc’s face.
“Fine,” Khorrek said. “You can ride with us. But if you try anything?—”
“You’ll rip us apart with your bare hands. Yes, I understand.” Rashad’s smile was amused. “Your reputation precedes you, Khorrek of Kel’Vara.”
Khorrek tensed. “How do you know my name?”
“The winds carry many stories. And yours is particularly interesting.”
“I don’t?—”
“Peace.” Rashad raised a hand. “I mean no offense. Merely observation.” He turned to his riders. Called out something in a flowing, musical language.
They responded immediately. Falling into formation around Khorrek’s small group.
A protective escort. Or a prison.
He couldn’t shake the unease, couldn’t trust this sudden assistance, but Thea’s hand was still warm and steady on his arm.
“Thank you,” she said to Rashad. “Your help is appreciated.”
