Page 21 of Sacrificed to the Orc
Hazel’s sacrifice ensures our survival.
Escaping with her, our doom.
My tribe’s hatred for humanity is eternal. No warrior who has lost brothers would let her rule at my side. No mother who has lost a son against the King’s men would ever swallow her hate. Humans are known for their demonic, cunning ways, and they would think me swayed by her black magic, possessed and fit only for purification by fire.
Helping her escape damns my tribe. The little boy whose hair I tousled will starve, his mother who smiled with the faintest hope will not bear another.
My lips curl back.
I will damn them. For her, I will damn them. The cost of their lives cannot be her blood.
I run my hand over my battle-axe. I did not shed it when I entered the sacred sanctuary, ignoring the shamanic decrees.
The blade is not profane.
It simply is.
I will bend the tribe to my will. I do not yet know how, but I will cut down all who oppose me. There can be only one future. Hazel, fat with my child, surrounded by my tribe who will accept my rule. They will bow before her and kiss her hand in fealty.
And if they refuse us, if they choose death, clinging to their ancient ways, then death is all I can give them.
I stalk through the night and take my place back in front of her cage, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath. All I know is that they cannot be her last.
The plan comes from the source of my being. I run my tongue over my fangs, thinking deeply, remembering the power of her songs charging me with energy. Her voice rises in the face of danger, and I will have one chance to use it to escape…
And if my plan fails, then I have no other choice.
There is only one thing I can do to save her.
I will ruin her innocence. I will grab her through the bars and mate her like a beast, destroying her purity, making her unfit for sacrifice.
My life will be the cost, but she will be free.
By our laws, she has not taken up arms against us. Even the shamans cannot touch her, for the life of an innocent cannot be taken unless demanded for the survival of our tribe. Every orc who smelled the stink of my touch on her would know she must be let go, while I scream as the fires burn me, unfit for anything but purification.
My last sight will be the hateful eyes of my tribe, their lips curled back in snarls as they watch me burn.
Long hours I sit, fighting to stay awake, until booted footsteps alert me.
Gorrim is rubbing the sleep from his eyes, walking towards me, and he stops when I see him, raising his hand in friendly greeting.
I stand, forcing myself not to clutch my axe, keeping natural. The man who I used to trust with my life is now a threat.
“Askan. Even the Gods know a man must rest. Let me guard her, and you get some sleep.”
I glance over at her tiny form, wrapped up in the fur coat, my entire world so helpless and scared. She tosses and turns, not finding respite even in sleep, her dreams tortured.
My eyes are heavy and lidded, worn down by long days of little food and rest.
“I cannot leave her side. This was told to me.”
“Alright. Then let me get a bedroll from my home, and you rest here while I watch over you.”
“Thank you, brother.”
He puts his hand on my shoulder, looking into my eyes. “You’ve saved us, Askan. I would die for you.”
I nod, and he strides off, jogging back with a bedroll. I place it directly against the cage bars, and he seems to understand without a word that I do not wish him too close, lifting the stool and placing it ten paces away, sitting and watching out at the village.
