Orc’s Forbidden Claim (Red Planet Dragons of Tajss #33)

9. Saylor

9

SAYLOR

M y head bangs against a low-hanging part of the ceiling. Stars dance across my eyes and I’m pretty sure I black out for a moment or two. Tears fill my eyes, but I grit my teeth and take pride in the fact that I don’t cry out despite how much it hurts. Our captors seem to enjoy our pain and I’m not going to give them the satisfaction if I can avoid it.

I don’t know how long we’ve been traveling. Time has lost all meaning as they continue to drag us along the tight tunnel. I wonder if Khiara is looking for me. He must be, right? He’ll come for me and Sek’su will come for Wren. It’s only a matter of when not if. It must be. Yet the further we move away from the compound, the longer we’re in these monsters’ grasp, the harder it becomes to hold on to hope.

My clothes are torn from the rough treatment of being dragged along the rough cut stone. Instead of getting wider or nicer, the tunnel has gotten tighter the further along we’ve traveled. The Urr’ki are crawling without enough room to even rise. The one pulling me along moves ahead a foot or two, stops and drags me up even, and then repeats the process. It has made for very slow progress, which is good. I’m in no hurry to get where they are taking us. I’ve heard enough about the Shaman and his adherents. The horrors they do to their captors, even to his people. It would be almost comical if it wasn’t so deadly serious and real.

The Urr’ki ahead of us grunts something in their language and everyone stops. I try to see what is happening but the one dragging me blocks my view. I hear them shifting and shuffling around then I’m drug forward. Suddenly the ground is gone and I’m falling.

“Ah!” I cry out as my stomach drops faster than my body.

I’m caught in an Urr’ki’s arms. His hands grope while his horridly scarred face leans in close with a lascivious grin. I struggle to break free of his grip but he’s too strong. One of his hands mauls at my tit. I twist and squirm, moving out of his grasp. A barking command comes from above and he grunts then tosses me aside. I land hard, smacking my head yet again. My hands and legs are numb while my head is pounding from being banged multiple times.

Gritting my teeth against the exploding pain that fills my skull, I twist myself around until I get into a sitting position. Right after I manage to do that, Wrenlee drops out of the ceiling into the arms of the handsy one. When I see him doing the same thing to her rage floods through my head and body. The pain recedes from the tidal wave of anger.

I scoot across the floor towards him and when I’m close enough I lean back and kick the back of his leg with everything I have. His leg collapses. He grunts in surprise, losing his grip on Wren who drops to the floor. He stumbles forward, managing to not fall on his face, which is unfortunate.

He whirls around, pulling a short club from his belt. He growls, saying something that I assume is a string of curses as he storms towards me raising the club. I scoot back, raising my bound hands in a futile attempt to protect my head from the coming blows.

“Gah!” Wren screams.

The Urr’ki stumbles again and this time he doesn’t keep himself up. He stumbles past me and there is a very satisfying smack as his head hits the cavern wall. Wren and I share a satisfied look and a grin.

“Rawr!” he roars, pushing himself off the wall.

I’ve managed to get myself scooted around so I see him coming. I keep scooting until I’m next to Wren. He stomps towards us, club raised, face twisted with anger, growling as he comes.

I glance at Wren. We don’t need to speak to know we’re thinking the same thing. As one we lie onto our backs and raise our bound feet. The best defense we have against this monster. I know and I’m sure she does too that it won’t be much, but it’s better to go down fighting than to not.

He slows his approach seeing we are ready. He raises his club and moves to the side, trying to avoid our meager defense. His eyes are narrowed, his lips curled into a scowl. He feints to the right, switching at the last second and rushing in on the left.

“Ach!” I yelp, trying to twist myself in time to stop him from making it past my legs without at least landing a blow or two.

Wren does the same, but we get in one another’s way. Before he makes it past our legs something drops out of the hole in the ceiling behind him. I’m only dimly aware of it. My stomach is tight, yet gurgling with nausea, knowing that there is almost nothing I can do to stop this monster from taking whatever he wants.

The club raises, filling my vision as it slowly swings down toward me. It’s not going to hit my head the angle is wrong for that. I’m thinking it will hit my ribs. Muscles clench tight in anticipation of the incoming blow.

Suddenly the club drops. The Urr’ki is pulled back, his head jerking as he gurgles. Another one of the Urr’ki is behind him. He has his arm wrapped around his neck and is choking him.

Two more Urr’ki drop through the hole, but they don’t interfere with the conflict. Instead, they take up positions and silently watch. The one holding him says something and I wish I could understand their language. The one being choked shakes his head, sputtering something that barely sounds like words.

The one holding him says something else. The one being choked eyes are rolling up into his head and he looks like he’s about to pass out. His struggling is getting weaker, his hands patting at the arm around his neck, no longer pulling on it. He says something as his body goes limp and his eyes drift close.

The one holding him twists away from us and then pushes him away. The Urr’ki stumbles two steps and then drops to the ground. The one who choked him out turns back to us. He walks over and kneels at our feet.

“You okay?” he asks in Zmaj.

I look at Wren, unsure how to answer or if it makes any difference what we say anyway. Wren shakes her head, shrugs, then looks at the Urr’ki.

“Does it matter?” she asks.

The Urr’ki looks at her for a long time. It feels as if minutes crawl past while he stares unblinking. He has rich brown eyes that seem incongruous with the forest green shade of his skin. Finally, he blinks.

“Yes,” he says. “Shaman or no, we are not animals. Prisoners should not be treated poorly.”

“He tried to…” I say, trailing off when his eyes lock onto mine.

There is a surprising depth and intelligence in those eyes. I don’t know why it surprises me, but it shocks me into losing my train of thought.

“Yes?” he asks.

There are now four more Urr’ki behind him watching, not counting the one he choked out, who is rising to his hands and knees while rubbing his throat. He turns his head enough so that he can glare at Wren and me.

If looks could kill.

I smile and blow him a kiss. His face contorts in rage. He pushes himself to his feet and moves forward but two of the Urr’ki move between him and us, blocking my view of what happens next.

“Where are you taking us?” Wren asks.

“Home,” our captor says.

“Home? Your home?” I ask and he nods. “Who are you?”

“I am Piada,” he says. “And you?”

“I’m Wren, this is Saylor,” Wren answers for both of us, and he nods.

“Good. We must travel. Can you walk?”

“Not with our feet bound like this,” Wren snaps, raising her feet to show off the ropes binding her ankles.

Piada pulls a knife from his belt, moves in closer, and slices the ropes free. A moment later he does mine. Blood rushes painfully back into my feet. The pins and needles feeling is so strong and so painful that I whimper. I clench my fists and teeth to keep myself from doing it again. My hands are still bound so I can’t rub them to ease the discomfort which is annoying and frustrating.

“Walk?” Piada asks.

“Do we have a choice?” Wren asks.

“Why do you want us?” I ask.

“Orders,” Piada says with a shrug.

He reaches out and grabs Wren by her bound wrists and pulls her to her feet. She wobbles and he places a hand on her arm, assisting until she is steady. Then he comes to me and does the same. I stomp my feet several times to get the blood flowing more easily. Finally, the unpleasant sensations ease up.

“It’s easier with our wrists free too. We might fall otherwise,” Wren says, holding her wrists up in front of him.

Piada stares for a long time then grunts and cuts the binds on our wrists too. He barks orders at the others, and they all move to obey. Except the one who groped us. He glares at Piada, crossing his arms over his chest. He barks in their guttural language. Piada stops what he is doing, slowly turning to look at him. He walks over to the defiant Urr’ki who is a head taller than him.

Piada tilts his head back and says something. He doesn’t raise his voice, if anything it sounds like a harsh whisper. The defiant one does raise his voice, throwing his hands up in the air and waving them wildly around, ending with one hand pointing at me. I look over at Wren who is watching the interchange.

“This is bad,” I whisper in Common.

“Maybe not,” she says in the same. “Watch.”

Her eyes aren’t on the conflict now, she’s looking at the others. It only takes me one look to see that they are siding with Piada. They don’t do anything overt to give it away, but it’s in their positioning and in where they’re looking. All of them have their eyes on the defiant one and their eyes are not friendly.

I don’t know if I would have been able to judge any Urr’ki’s eyes as friendly or unfriendly before Khiara. But I’ve been with him enough now to feel confident in my estimation of their feelings. They don’t like the defiant one.

Piada says something, still in that harsh whisper. The other raises his voice so loud it echoes off the stone walls. The other Urr’ki move their hands to their weapons, waiting for a signal. Piada takes a step back from the defiant one. He tilts his head to the side and then says something in a normal tone of voice.

The defiant one opens his mouth in what looks like it is going to be a smart remark, but it is then that he sees the others. He may be stupid and a boor, but he’s smart enough to read the room and realize he’s severely outnumbered. He snaps his mouth shut and the defiance drains out of him in an instant.

Piada nods then barks orders. The Urr’ki move, three taking up positions behind us, three in front. In front of those, Piada and the defiant one take the lead. Piada puts his hand on the defiant one’s back and pushes him ahead, clearly intending him to take point.

“It could be worse,” I say to Wren, sticking to Common because I’m pretty sure the Urr’ki don’t understand our language.

“They’ll come for us. All we have to do is survive and slow them down if possible.”

I bite my lip and nod. Slow them down. Lovely. How do we do that? A shove in the back forces me into motion. I walk slowly but only a few steps after that and one of the guards pushes until I speed up. I glance at Wren. She has her head held high, imperious. Looking at her you’d never guess she was in the same shitty situation I am. Captured and being led towards certain doom. She exudes calm and control as if she is walking through a crowd of adoring admirers.

Jealousy rises. I’ve always been jealous of her, though I seldom admit it. Not even to myself. All of this has always come so easily to her. She has this naturally impervious armor that nothing penetrates. As one of her closest friends, not her best, that was always Ziva, but I was and am close, I know it’s not true that it doesn’t bother her. But her ability to look like it doesn’t is what I’m jealous of.

I have worked all my life to learn to school my face. To not show the hurt at the cutting words. The snide remarks. The sharp tongues of those who view us as no more than objects. To the masses, we were never human, not like them. We were things. Things for them to admire or to destroy as the whims of fancy might dictate and gods only know which way it might go at any moment.

Wren and Ziva, they walked through it and never let anyone outside see that it bothered them. Of course, in private all of us would talk about it. We would cry, love, and support each other. But my problem has always been I’m no good at lying. My face always gives it away.

This is stupid. Why am I chewing on the past? How do I slow our captors down? Or…

No. I can’t do that. What if I get caught? I dare to dart a glance around, taking in all the captors. None of them seem to be paying particular attention to us. We’re marching and that’s all they appear to care about. Can I? Maybe…

One more quick glance. Darting eyes, nerves rattling like a thousand ringing alarms but no, they’re all focused on marching. Trying to hide what I’m doing I slip a hand under my blouse, finding the ring in my belly button. I grasp it between thumb and forefinger, trying to loosen it with only one hand.

I grit my teeth when I pull it wrong, keeping myself from making a sound as the pain stabs into my belly. Another quick look to make sure no one noticed. Wren is looking at me side-eyed, but the Urr’ki are not. I take two deep breaths trying to calm myself then slip my second hand under my shirt too.

One of the Urr’ki behind us says something and I stumble as fear washes over. I’m caught, I’m sure of it. I look around as the one next to him laughs. It wasn’t me he was barking at. Or at least not what I’m doing.

Okay. Okay. Calm. Be calm.

The hoop comes undone easily enough when using two hands. I palm it in my left hand and then drop both to my sides. I walk along for a while until I’m sure none of our captors noticed anything. I dart a glance at Wren. She gives me a fleeting smile and the slightest of nods. Fearing they may have seen that, I wait a little longer before slowing my steps.

When one of the guards grunts and shoves me, I open my left hand and drop the hoop. My heart is racing as I’m pushed into faster motion. I keep my eyes fixed ahead, listening for one of the guards to notice what I did.

When nothing happens, I close my eyes and offer a prayer to whatever gods might be listening.

Khiara, please be as good a tracker as I think you are. As good as the stories the Zmaj tell about Urr’ki.

And on we march. One foot in front of the other. One step further from home, from Khiara.