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

38. Khiara

38

KHIARA

T he back of my neck itches fiercely. I fight the urge to scratch at it. That would arouse suspicion, and I cannot afford for anyone to give me a second look. I pull the hood of my cloak lower over my face, keeping my head bowed and hunching my shoulders to change my height. I’ve even altered my normal gait, affecting a limp in an effort to avoid being recognized.

On the surface, there isn’t a lot for me to be worried about. The people wandering the streets are heading to the latest gathering at the infernal machine. Called by the Shaman they look dazed and unaware. Yet I know beneath those blank stares some are very much aware and alert.

The worst thing that the Shaman and his loyal Maulavi have done is divide us. It was subtle, happening slowly enough that none of us recognized what was happening until we were living in suspicion of one another. Neighbor informing on neighbor, ever vigilant for someone else to nominate to be sacrificed to the Paluga.

Anger fills my head with a buzzing sound that makes me want to strike out. Hurt something. Someone. Anyone. I keep that pushed down though, because I’m not an idiot. If anyone recognizes me, they won’t have to worry about who the next sacrifice will be, because it will be me.

Muda got me this cloak and wanted to stay with me, but I sent him away. If he was caught in my presence the Maulavi wouldn’t hesitate to kill him too and I can’t have that on my conscious.

A mother carrying her child blocks my way forward. The buildings along the street show extreme damage and debris has blocked the street down to a single pathway through. She is trying to pick her way over the rubble when her foot slips. She yelps as her ankle twists, fighting to not only keep the grip on her baby but to protect it as well.

I jump forward without thinking. I grab her shoulders and lift, pulling her free of the tumbling stones. She grunts and turns I assume to thank me then she sees my face. The recognition is instantaneous.

Her dark green skin pales, her mouth drops, and her eyes widen. She clutches the child closer to her chest as it cries in protest to the rough handling. She shakes her head, eyes darting around but if she’s looking for help, escape, or to make sure no one else sees who I am I do not know.

“Shhh.” I make the shush noise putting one finger to my lips.

She bites her lip and nods. Her eyes dart around more as she carefully backs away. When she clears herself from the rubble she stands still for a long moment, bouncing the baby in her arms trying to calm it. She takes a long, slow look around, then nods sharply before turning and walking away.

I may have screwed myself. I don’t know, but what kind of male would I be if I let her and her child fall or be harmed? My dragoste needs a male who will care for her always. A warrior, a male of honor, I cannot be but who I am. Only then will Ibe worthy of her. I will not change. Especially not out of fear of consequences from the Shaman.

Still, standing here and waiting is a bad idea. There are more eyes on me already. No one stands around in the streets. Not any longer. The city is not safe for anyone and only made worse by the recent quakes.

Pulling the hood closer, I pick my way around the rubble. Reaching the damaged wall of the building I slide along it, using its shielding to let me observe the area hopefully without being spotted.

No one seems to be paying any attention to me. I reach an alley, then take one last gander for any onlookers. Satisfied that I’m not being watched for the moment, I slip into its welcoming shadows. Garbage mingles with the debris. I go halfway down then stop, pressing as close as I can to a wall, and wait.

I look up as well as watch the alley entrance, checking the roofs. My heart beat is the only way to measure the passage of time. I want to make sure that no one is coming. When I’m satisfied that I’m not being followed, I wait a little longer. One never knows if a pursuer may only be more patient than you.

Still, no one comes, so I resume my journey. Using the alleys, I am able to reach the outer edge of the city and get close to the animal pens. The fungus I need will be stored close by the cudov cages. Even though the bells are tolling, calling all the Urr’ki to the dark tower and the stage that holds the infernal machine, those on duty with the animals will not go.

The animals cannot be left unattended. They are too dangerous to not have someone watching them all the time. They are kept in an almost constant state of rage. Hungry, abused, and ready to be used against the Zmaj. I quit doing this job because I could not stand the conditions the animals are kept in. I wish I could have done more but anything else would have meant my death.

As I get closer to the pens I crouch, using the shadows to approach without being seen. Four Urr’ki move around the area, tending to their duties. Two of them are at the shack which is my ultimate goal; In there will be the dried fungus that Sek’su needs.

The quake has damaged the building and the two Urr’ki are working on repairing it. This is not good. They won’t be finishing the work anytime soon. The longer I am here the greater the risk, not to mention that Sek’su’s survival becomes less likely too.

One of the workers moves towards my hiding spot. He’s looking at the ground, at what exactly I cannot tell, but he’s coming closer and closer. Any moment now he will see me. It is inevitable.