She only distantly noticed the few small outbuildings scattered about, because her eyes were casting up, and up, and up. At the massive looming wall of rugged, jagged grey stone, towering over them like a brooding, vengeful, ravenous beast.
And at the base of it, directly here before them, there were — more orcs. Two more orcs, standing arm in arm, and clearly waiting. Waiting for them.
The nearest orc was big and bulky, with heavy, harsh, scarred features, and long hair that was pulled tightly back. And though he briefly nodded toward them, his eyes were already angling sideways, toward the orc beside him.
And this orc — Geva’s heart skipped, her throat swallowing — this orchadto be Kesst. Rathgarr’s long-lost brother.
And yes, yes, he had the same shade of grey skin, the same symmetrical, finely carved features. The expressive eyes, the straight nose, the full mouth. Even the same thick, shining black hair, hanging long and loose down his straight back.
But unlike Rathgarr, Kesst was slimmer. Leaner. Visibly younger. And along with tall black boots and a pair of tight leather trousers, he was also wearing a dangling, black-jewelled pendant, multiple earrings in both pointed ears, and a variety of glittering rings on his long fingers. Fingers that were all clutching tightly to the bigger orc beside him, his claws digging into skin. And the bigger orc didn’t seem even slightly bothered by this, but only drew Kesst closer, and fixed Rathgarr with a rather sharp, demanding glare.
And wait, that was because Rathgarr was just standing there beside Geva, and staring blankly at Kesst. While Kesst stared straight back, his chin lifting, his long-lashed eyes rapidly blinking. Looking suddenly, unmistakably uncertain, uncomfortable. Perhaps even vulnerable.
But Rathgarr still hadn’t moved, damn him, his big body frozen in place beside Geva, his empty eyes fixed to Kesst’s face. And as surreptitiously as she could, Geva slid her hand up to his back, and gently shoved him forward.
He went, thank the gods, though his feet briefly stumbled, his usually graceful big body seeming suddenly too large and cumbersome. But he’d closed the space between himself and Kesst, at least — and with another jerky, jolting movement, he reached out, and yanked Kesst into his arms.
Kesst clearly hadn’t expected it, his eyes gone wide, his body very stiff against Rathgarr’s much larger form. A silent signal that Rathgarr obviously hadn’t missed, and he hurriedly drew back again, giving a surreptitious, shaky wipe at his eyes with his arm. Almost as if he was… weeping.
“Ach, little brother,” he croaked. “Look how handsome you are. How tall you have grown.”
Kesst visibly blanched, his throat bobbing, his claws again digging into the arm of the orc beside him. But then he smiled, a careful, practiced smile that didn’t at all reach his empty eyes.
“Yes, well, ithasbeen sixteen years, hasn’t it, bigbrother?” he said, in a smooth, pleasing voice, lacking even a trace of Rathgarr’s accent. “Howdelightfulto discover you’re actually not dead, after all this time.”
Rathgarr must have heard the sarcasm in Kesst’s voice, but he only gave a jerky nod, and then a wavering smile. “Ach,” he said, hoarse. “I have missed you greatly, little brother.”
Kesst returned this with a careless toss of his head, and a brittle, tinkling little laugh. “And that’s why you sentsomany letters and messages, of course,” he replied smoothly. “I felt positivelysmotheredwith affection, you must know. Why, if I hadn’t had Eft here, I might have evenexpiredfrom it. Or, wait” — he tapped a claw against his pursed lips — “was that all my murderous masters trying tokillme, while you were off gallivanting about the countryside?”
Wait. Was Kesst saying… he’d hadmastersin Rathgarr’s absence? Masters who’d tried tokillhim? But yes, yes, clearly he was, based on Rathgarr’s visceral, full-body flinch, the way he’d nearly lost his footing. The way his hand was already gripping his sword-hilt, his mouth opening, and closing, and opening again. As if he wanted to ask, wanted to demand if this was some kind of cruel joke, if it was… true.
But he was forestalled by another toss of Kesst’s head, another tinkling little laugh. “But luckily, Eft came along, just in time,” Kesst continued, with a sideways glance toward the orc he was still clutching. “And he’s actually been here for me ever since, unlikesomepeople, hmmm?”
There was another instant’s horrible, hanging stillness, broken only by another full-body flinch from Rathgarr — but then he snapped his fist to his heart, and bowed his head toward this orc. This…Eft. Or, perhaps,Efterar, Abjorn had said.
“Then I am most grateful to you, Ash-Kai, for your good care of my brother,” Rathgarr said thickly. “I have already heard of your great skill as a healer. And I ken” — he rapidly glanced between Efterar and Kesst, his shoulders squaring — “from the smell of you, I ken you and Kesst are scent-bound, also? I am most deeply glad of this.”
Geva didn’t recognize that term he’d used —scent-bound— but there was something oddly hopeful in Rathgarr’s voice, in his unnaturally bright eyes on Kesst’s face. But in return, Kesst was looking suddenly incredulous, and furious, and perhaps even vicious.
“Well, you can take your gladness andchokeon it, Rath,” he hissed, jabbing a sharp finger toward Rathgarr’s chest. “I only smell this way thanks to some quite franklyimpossibleinterventions. In truth, the notches on my requisite belt — or, let’s be honest, on my abused arsehole — likely rivalyours.”
There was another awful dangling stillness, ringing through the too-thin air, through Geva’s shocked, stilted thoughts. Was Kesst — really saying this? That he’d — he’d —
But Kesst was already laughing again, the sound cold, taunting, horribly hostile. “Let’s compare, then, why don’t we, deadbeat brother dearest?” he continued, the smoothness in his voice at total odds with the rage still flashing in his eyes. “How many new lovers do I smell on you since we last met, hmmm? Surely” — he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring — “well over a hundred, at least?”
A…hundred. That wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be possible, could it? — but Rathgarr wasn’t speaking, or moving, or arguing this. No, no, he just kept standing there, staring blankly toward Kesst. And his hand — the hand he’d used to make that greeting to Efterar — was still hovering limply against his chest, as though he’d entirely forgotten it.
“Well, even so, I’ve still got you beat,” Kesst blithely continued, with another brittle, awful smile. “Or wait, they hadmebeat, didn’t they? I’d like to say I enjoyed it, but you know how these things go. When you’re young and weak and beautiful, and trapped, terrified and alone, withoutanyprotection, in a mountain full of ravenous orcs?”
Oh. Oh, gods above. And amidst the mass of chaos now churning in Geva’s thoughts, the uppermost truth was horror. Sharp, sickening horror, because Rathgarr had left home, left Kesst without any protection for sixteen years, and thenthiswas what had happened in his absence? Kesst had been attacked? Abused?Forced? Byhundredsof orcs?!
And the only saving grace — the only tiny, desperate piece of hope — was the way the last of the colour had drained from Rathgarr’s face. The way his hand was still hovering fruitlessly in midair, still as though he’d meant to do something with it, but couldn’t remember how. And the way he was breathing, the sounds heavy and laboured, far too loud in the dead, empty silence.
He hadn’t known. He couldn’t have known. As obtuse and infuriating as he could be, there was no way he was pretending. Not with this.
And suddenly Geva couldn’t bear it for another instant, and she rushed forward to stand beside Rathgarr. Clutching at his still-hovering hand, yanking it into hers, squeezing as tightly as she could.
“He didn’t know,” she choked at Kesst, frantically shaking her head. “He would never have borne it, if he’d known such vile things were happening to you. He’s spoken of you so often, he’s missed you so much, and this is so completely horrifying to hear. We’re so,sosorry.”
