“Kof, no, he’s full of shi—” The words cut off in a gasp as something in Eli’s arm popped. His pink skin paled and he heaved up bile. Pilgrim let go and Eli folded to his knees, cradling one arm in the other.
I steeled my expression. The more I wanted Eli, the more likely Pilgrim would torture him to keep me complicit. And I wasno fool. Even if I did betray my clan, Eli would never be mine. Not in any way that mattered.
But I couldn’t let them see I knew their game. “The shaman is no problem. He’s young and stupid. But I’ve already had the human,” I said coldly. A calculated risk. “What I want is my father’s sword.”
Pilgrim gave a harsh bark of a laugh. “You see? You might not know who you are—an elite guard from those stinking caves or some unwanted brat from the Lost Clan—but either way, you’re still an orc. And it seems everyone has his price.” He gestured behind me to my so-called brother. “Come on, then, Smeg—hand it over.”
Osmeg came around my blind side, so I had no warning of his reaction…except the look of dismay on Eli’s face.
As I turned to face the orc, my spear clattered against the wall when I tried to raise it. There just wasn’t enough room to defend myself.
“You want my sword, you greedy little brat?” Osmeg snarled. “Have it—in your other eye.”
Osmeg had plenty of space to strike, and the sword was raised high. I dodged a wild swing. The blade whistled past my ear, missing me by a hair’s breadth. I’d always thought I’d die in service of my shaman. Never like this. Yet there was nowhere for me to go—and no way Osmeg could miss me a second time.
But before Osmeg could strike again, a blur of movement caught my eye. Eli, still on his knees, had managed to grab Pilgrim’s eating knife with his good hand. He glanced briefly at Pilgrim’s exposed flank. Then, with a keen look of determination, he flung the blade at Osmeg.
The knife clipped Osmeg’s ear, sending him stumbling back with a yelp of pain. But he held the sword fast, knuckles white with effort, and pointed it at me. “You might think you’re the smart one—and you might have that human wrapped around your little finger, but I’m the second in command around here. Not you. And you’ll have this sword over my—dead—body—”
He’d been shaking the pommel for emphasis with every word…but then his hand cramped, and the heavy sword fell from his grasp. It turned mid-air and buried itself tip-down in the lid of the larkwood chest. The brittle wood split in two, and one of the sides fell away. I nearly expected to see my younger self cowering there. But inside was nothing but an old blanket and a few splinters.
Osmeg stared at his own hand in dismay. His arm was trembling like a tree branch in a storm.
Like Ulka’s had, once the Wrack took hold.
Taking advantage of his distraction, I feinted toward the dropped sword, my muscles tensing as if to lunge for it. Osmeg scrambled for the pommel. But instead of going for the blade, I snatched up a large chunk of the splintered chest lid.
I spun around and hurled the wood at Pilgrim’s head with all my might.
Pilgrim dodged, mostly, taking the brunt of the blow to one shoulder. That was fine—I hadn’t actually thought I would do much damage. I’d just wanted a distraction. As soon as the projectile left my hands, I jabbed my spear past Osmeg and used the point to flick the fallen eating knife across the floor.
The blade spun, glinting in the dim light as it skidded toward Eli. Eli’s good hand shot out, snatching the knife mid-spin. Inone fluid motion, he grabbed up the knife and pressed the blade against Pilgrim’s crotch.
Pilgrim froze, his face contorting in a mix of shock and fury. “You little—”
“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you,” Eli growled through clenched teeth. “Given that the veins on the inner thigh are in the same spot in orcs as in humans—and you’d bleed out just as fast.”
Pilgrim’s eyes narrowed. He put on a brave face, but the subtle tang of orcish fear on the air made it plain that he knew Eli would gladly gut him. It never ceased to amaze me how resourceful humans could be, and how tenacious. They were small and disarmingly fragile. And yet their wills were as steely as that of any orc twice their size.
While Eli relieved Pilgrim of his weapons and kicked them aside, I prodded Osmeg to go join his master. He did so, staring at his trembling arm in dawning horror. The room went silent, save for our ragged breathing, and the scrape of the sword point on floorboards as I took up the ornate weapon.
Eli scrambled to his feet and backed toward me, still clutching the eating knife with his one working hand. Together, we edged toward the door, weapons raised. Pilgrim let out a harsh, ragged laugh. “You think you’ve won?” he said, low and mean. “The Lost Clan has this place surrounded. There’s no way out for you.”
Eli’s grip tightened on the knife. “I’d rather die by Kof’s side than live one more moment as your…thing.”
He meant it. He was ready to fight. To die. For me.
I shifted my grip on the sword, testing its weight as I noted the feel of the worn leather against my palm. It was no spear—but I’d trained all my life to defend Taruut by whatever means necessary.
But Taruut was dead now, and Eli needed my protection. To him, I said, “You wish to leave? Then we fight.”
Not a question—a promise.
I shouldered through the door with Eli right beside me, and we slipped out into the night. The air was heavy with tension, and my heart sank as I took in the scene before me. Men surrounded us, weapons raised, and for a moment, I thought it was indeed our time to die. But then I turned my sighted side to the crowd to see the familiar faces of my honor guard, and I realized I hadn’t been left to fend for myself.
My men looked strong and fierce, and full of purpose. The Lost Clan fighters, on the other hand, were demoralized, with their crude weapons laid down at their feet. It looked like they hadn’t put up much of a struggle. My guardsmen were well-trained, while the Lost Clan were little more than rabble, armed with broken spears and rusted knives.
Among the crowd, I quickly spotted Droko—who clearly needed no protecting. He strode toward me, strong and proud, reveling in the moment. “Don’t look so surprised to see me, Kof. Archie’s fond of you. If I hadn’t followed you out here, he would never let me hear the end of it.”
