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Friza steps forward, sinister intent in her body language. “That’s just the thing,Regent,” she spits the word like it is poison. “Warchief Verrick is missing and you are going to tell me where he is, or you will die.”
Chapter 20
Verrick
The world swims into view as blackness retreats from my eyes. Where am I? What happened? Dull pain throbs through my head and shoulders.
It is quickly apparent that I am in a cell and am chained to a wall with heavy iron chains. I test my muscles against their weight and find my limbs sluggish, though whether that is from whatever is making me so groggy or from how tight my bonds are, I cannot say.
I try to remember what I was doing before I awoke here, but my memory is a yawning chasm, a void where there are no answers. It is easy to deduce that I have been drugged and I remember that the plan the Cabal had for me was to drug me before taking me, that Pellia was meant to administer the draught. But wasn’t she going to switch it out with something harmless? Does this mean that Pellia has betrayed me? That she is like Lucy, rotten at the core and I couldn’t see it?
But no, something tells me that isn’t right. Pellia . . . she wasn’t there last night. My memory is filled with gaps, the potion they used obviously strong, but I recall that Pellia and I fought last night. That she left the room and never came back. I went to sleep and . . . woke here.
They must have drugged me somehow while I slept. Something spurred them to move early. Maybe the fact that wewere staying in Castle Grimble, on their turf, made them feel threatened. I am only glad then that Pellia was not with me when they came. The Cabal might have her right now as well. They believe she is on their side, but how long could she keep up that facade before they figured out the truth? She would be in danger, and I could never countenance that.
My vision finally clearing enough that I can see, I look out at the room where I am captured and see through the bars into a torture chamber. Implements of pain of all kinds are placed where they are easily seen and, by the smell of blood and death in the air, are well-used. Other cells line walls, almost like a depraved gallery set up to watch the acts of sadism performed in the center of a room. Probably meant as mental torture for the waiting prisoners, seeing what fate is in store for them. The cells are blessedly empty. If I have been taken, I have at least been taken alone. None of my orcs are in this predicament with me.
If they mean to frighten me with the view, however, my captors are gravely mistaken. I lived through the reign of two tyrants before my current king killed his father and took his throne. It would not be the first time that I have witnessed torture and it would not be the first time that I have experienced pain. I will not break.
The door opens and two robed and masked figures enter the room, one tall and the other shorter. Their masks are different, one in the shape of a raven and the other, on the shorter figure, a human skull. Both are dipped in gold, gaudy and ornate. The raven masked figure sees me and smiles.
“Ah, our guest of honor is awake. Looks like the sleeping potion doesn’t work as long on orcs.”
The skull masked figure nods, “His constitution is strong. He will make a fine offering.”
An offering? What are they talking about? I grunt and say, my tongue still slightly slurred from their drugs, “If you meant to kill me as a threat to my king, it will not work.”
The robed figures merely laugh. The raven says, “A threat to your king? Is that what you think is happening here? Oh, orc,you have no idea what is in store for you or your king. But you are right about one thing: things for you will only end with your death.”
I growl lightly, an instinctual response that I can’t help, but this only spurs the two to laugh again.
“Listen to the beast growl as he is caged. It is a pity we can’t play with him before the ritual. He would be most diverting.”
“Yes,” agrees the skull mask, “but we must save all his pain for Lord Grazrath. You’ll make quick work of him when the time comes.”
“Yes, but it would be so lovely to draw it out. Perhaps we will do so. Lord Grazrath enjoys a display of suffering, does he not?” The raven smiles, as if the thought amuses him.
“So the profane scriptures say,” responds the skull.
“Then we will perform the ritual and after, when we are meant to sacrifice an enemy to Lord Grazrath’s power, we will make a show of it before the entire Cabal. In fact, we should invite Pellia as well. She would probably like to see her vengeance firsthand.”
That brings me up short. “Pellia?”
The raven laughs again. “Oh, you stupid creature. You did not seriously think that a beauty like Pellia was truly interested in you? Sad monster, she was only sleeping with you to distract and lure you here on our orders. And she did so while hating you and your kind to her very core.”
So the Cabal still trusts Pellia. Good. They won’t try to harm her. I play along and growl again, an angry sound. “You lie!”
“No human could possibly want to fuck a grotesque creature like an orc without an ulterior motive. Even the traitor queen who gave our country to the barbarian horde only did so to save her own neck and crown. You dull monsters are so easy to manipulate, desperate as you are for the love of something more beautiful than yourselves. Love that is impossible to give to a barbarous creature like yourself!”
His words actually land, fresh as I am from my argument with Pellia, where she rejected my declarations of love. So Ilet my dismay show on my face, since that is what he wants and both figures only laugh again, thinking that their plan has worked exactly as they intended.
The raven turns to the skull and says, “Bring Pellia. The ritual will need to start as soon as the sun sets, and we wouldn’t want her to miss our triumph.”
The skull bows and exits the room, leaving me alone with the raven, who turns back to me. I pull at the chains, but find that my strength still seems sapped. The raven says, “Don’t even bother trying to escape. Those are Hex Chains. They steal your strength and imbue it in the steel. The stronger you are, the stronger the chains become. There is no escaping what is coming for you.”
He turns to leave, calling over his shoulder, “So be a good monster and wait, will you? We want you fresh for Lord Grazrath.” The raven leaves through, shutting the door behind him, and I am alone again, with my thoughts. Lovely.
Uselessly, I pull at the chains again, testing what he says and with each pull I do seem to get weaker, so I stop. The Cabal and their dark magics have me. There is no escape.
