Page 3 of Obeying the Orc
I putdown my tattered copy ofThe First Orc’s Adventuresand stared at the flame flickering in the lantern beside my bed.
Emalise had been afraid of the dark, and she’d insisted I keep a lantern burning all night. Each evening, after making sure the lantern had enough oil, I would draw her body close to mine and fall asleep with the female I loved folded in my arms.
My throat burned and I swallowed hard.
Emalise.
She was gone. So was our son.
Why?
I ground my teeth together until my jaw ached. I’d asked myself this question—why?—thousands of times, and I’d yet to come up with a good answer.
Why did Emalise and our son have to die in childbirth?
Had I done something to cause her death? Considering she’d died during childbirth, there were days when it was difficult not to blame myself. Though it was generally considered safe for human females to birth part-orc and part-fae babes, perhaps it was my size and the passing on of my traits to our offspring that had caused the tragedy. I sighed and stared at the night sky, hoping my late wife was safe in the starfields.
I looked at the smooth wooden beams of the high ceiling. My whole body tensed and rage pumped through my veins, as if I were about to go to battle. Most orcs were warriors or mercenaries. Though I’d never considered myself to be like most orcs, I sometimes thought I needed to experience a good battle, that only through the spilling of blood would I assuage the grief-fueled fury that often threatened to consume me.
Gods. I needed to find a way to overcome my anger. My heart felt like it was poisoned. It scared me, this continued rage I felt toward the gods. It had been two years since Emalise’s passing. She would be saddened by what had become of me. That thought caused my spirits to sink further.
I’d left my hometown and temple in Lannus, leaving my flock scrambling to replace me without much notice. Shame filled me at the memory of what I’d done. I’d abandoned people I cared about. People who cared about me.
The Saturday mornings I’d awoken eager to attend to my flock were over. The days of visiting the sick and helping those in need of spiritual counsel were over. How could I help anyone when I couldn’t seem to help myself? A male so angry with the gods had no business leading a flock of gods-blessed souls.
Try as I might, I couldn’t shake the dark cloud that hovered over me. Perhaps it was time for another trip to town. Despite my need for solitude and my annoyance that Mayor Compton always approached and asked me to take my place as the priest of Faircross, I supposed a trip to town might help dull my loneliness, anger, and guilt—if only for one day.
Much as I wanted to stay in my cabin high in the mountains of Black Dragon Island and never leave, I knew it wasn’t healthy to hide out here for such long periods of time.
Tomorrow at first light, I decided. Tomorrow at first light I would saddle Telrud and ride into town. I extinguished the flame and closed my eyes, letting sleep claim me.
The next morning as the sun filtered through the trees, I rode Telrud away from my prosperous claim, but stopped at the next claim over on my way down the mountain. It was there that I found Dalton Hornsgrind, a half-minotaur male, sitting in front of a fire, cooking what had once been some kind of forest creature. Behind Dalton, the beginnings of a mud cottage stood, and to the right of him rested the tent he currently called home.
Guilt stabbed me. I’d been lucky to strike it rich only days after reaching my claim. Most of the other miners, like Dalton, were not as lucky.
“Priest Thazurok! Good morning, sir. Would you like some breakfast?”
I cringed at the honorific of my former calling. When I arrived on Black Dragon Island, I’d intended to keep the fact that I’d been a priest for ten years a secret. But I’d made the mistake of getting drunk at The Sweet Siren Tavern one night—my first drink since I’d been a curious lad and tried a swig from my father’s bottle.
In the tavern, one whiskey too many had left me spilling my secrets to the fae miner seated next to me at the bar. I’d told the stranger all about my temple in Lannus, and about my wife and child, and the gods only knew what else. The memories from that night were a blur.
I’d passed out at the bar and awoken in the early morning to Madame Sage insisting I drink a glass of water and then be on my way, lest she charge me rent for taking up a good seat. By the time I made another trip to town, everyone knew I was a former priest, and the pressure for me to move into the rectory and start holding Saturday services in the temple began.
I dismounted Telrud and approached Dalton as the rising sun gleamed on his massive horns. I removed my hat as I joined him near the cooking fire. “Call me Knot. I haven’t stared down a flock in two years now.”
Dalton flipped the meat from his pan onto a dirty tin plate, then blew on the…rabbit?before taking a hearty bite. “Right,” he said between mouthfuls. “I heard you’ve been officiating weddings though.”
I stiffened. “Only five weddings. Didn’t plan on it either. Each time, the couples caught me when I happened to be ordering supplies in the mercantile. I couldn’t very well say no and force them to wait weeks for the traveling judge to pass through.”
Dalton finished off the rest of his rabbit-like breakfast. “I found this in one of my traps this morning. Much tastier than parritch.” He licked his fingers and set the plate aside, then rose up on his hooves and scratched his stomach. “So what do I owe the pleasure of this visit for, Knot? You need help carrying another twenty pounder down the mountain?”
“I haven’t found more than a few specks of gold in the river or in the caves lately. I got lucky during my first few weeks here, is all. You’ll get lucky one day too. You have a fine claim here, Dalton, I can feel it.”
“Well, I sure hope you’re right, because I plan on putting an ad in for one of those mail order brides from the Northern Isles by this time next year.” He waggled his eyebrows. “It’s all part of my plan to strike it rich and start a family out here.” Dalton’s gaze turned distant for a moment. Sad, too. The male had to be fiercely lonesome sleeping by himself in that little tent night after night.
I could more than sympathize. I gulped hard. My desire to reach town soon and be among the living for the first time in weeks suddenly became stronger. Maybe I would stay at The Bluebird Inn for a few days, take my time ordering supplies, and visit The Sweet Siren in the evenings. Except this time, I would order wine.
The prospect of seeing the dancing girls, the beautiful so-called sirens, up on stage lightened my mood. I wouldn’t go so far as to spend an evening with one of the sirens, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy the scenery.
