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I wove among orcs rushing in one direction or another, keeping close to the buildings as I made my way to the wall. The staircase was clear, and I crept up it to the top, trying not to slosh the liquid all over myself. I’d be scalded if I did.
There would be no way of knowing if the boiling water caused the damage I believed I saw or the herb, but at least I’d soon know if hot lindenmint tea caused a reaction.
This could be an invaluable weapon for my people.
My people.I shook my head at the thought. They were mine, however, the entire city. And once things had stabilized again, I was going to see how my healer skills could be used to help others.
For now, I’d donned the cloak of a warrior with tea as my weapon.
Shouts and cries greeted me at the top, though at least no dresalods scurried across the smooth surface.
I lugged the pan over to the edge and peered down. A dresalod was scrambling up the wall directly beneath me. It would be the perfect test subject.
I flung the lid aside, and it clattered on the stone floor. Then I hefted the pan and dumped it directly on the dresalod.
Bellows rang out behind me, and fully armed warriors rushed my way.
“Get back,” one cried.
Another growled. “What are you doing here, foolish female?”
And the worst of all. “Grab her. Arrest her!”
Arrest me for what?
The pan fell from my hands, clattering on the stone floor. As numerous orcs stomped toward me, I peered over the wall. The dresalod had fallen to the ground. It writhed, and its body was steaming. Then it went still as the brew completely dissolved its exoskeleton, leaving only a pile of mush and twitching spiked limbs behind.
A cry from over the sea drew my eye. I knew that voice, plus the shriek of that vox.
Feyla spiraled toward the sand, Jaus on her back. A dresalod leaped toward her, landing behind Jaus. She twisted and roared, swooping back upward.
Jaus wasn’t with her.
As the orcs on the wall grabbed my arms and dragged me away, I screamed for Jaus.
I spied him lying on the sand.
He wasn’t moving.
Chapter38
Jaus
When I hit the ground, the wind was knocked from my lungs. While I floundered, struggling to suck in air, I heard my precious mate shouting my name. I couldn’t breathe, but my eyes worked fine.
Orc warriors dragged her away from the wall shouting something inane that sounded like they were arresting her.
Absolutely not.
A growl built inside me, and when it burst free, I leaped to my feet—just in time to swing my mace out at an attacking dresalod. I drove spikes halfway through its skull.
It flopped on the sand, and I peered around.
The rout was over; the remaining dresalods rushed back into the sea, leaving the carcasses of their brethren behind.
One steamed near the wall, but I dismissed it. They’d taken my mate, and I was going to blast through them to rescue her.
Tightening my grip on my mace, I stomped toward the city. Feyla landed in the sand in front of me.
