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Chapter 22

Melelea

Wodred carries me through the tunnels, as we still need to share the heat charm, following the golems in silence. I can feel the tension in Wodred’s body as we move along. He is still wary of the golems, of the help they have offered us. But I trust them. They are beings of stone, solid, dependable, honest stone. I cannot imagine that they would break a promise or resort to some trickery. It is not in their nature. And because I trust them, Wodred is trusting them as well, but I know that he cannot help but be protective of me. That is his nature.

As we move through the dark, only dimly illuminated by the lumen fragment, I think of last night. Of how willing and wanting I was. Of Wodred’s strong, gentle care of my body. He made me feel wanted. Beautiful. Precious. I could feel his love for me in his touches almost as surely as if we had a Mating Bond in place, where we could feel each other's emotions.

The thought of a Mating Bond sours my mood, however. It makes me think of Guruk, of the night when he accidentally Claimed me, of his Mating Bite I had to cut out of my skin. It reminds me that I am not beautiful. I am scarred and broken. Wodred has not seen all of me. We made love in total darkness, with most of our clothes still on. I am almost certain he has never seen the scar on my shoulder. The gouging, puckered circle that is an ever-present reminder of how wrong a relationship can go. Would his feelings for me change if he were to gaze on that scar? It is ugly evidence that my body is not that of a young, untouched female, along with the stretch marks on my stomach. I am old and weathered, aged with experience, and as much as I might like for it to not be true, I have a past. A past with another orc.

Wodred’s arms tighten around me, the pressure breaking me from my melancholy musings, as if he can read my thoughts and is comforting me. And perhaps he can. I have not had my usual orikiri leaf tea in days. My emotions can be detected in my scent without the tea to dampen them. I need to be more careful in my thoughts.

After traveling for a bit, we come to a stop right in front of a passage that appears to have been walled in. Tightly packed stones block the way, a deliberate deterrent. I expect us to turn and take the other path, the only one available, but the golem, Granite, reaches forward and presses one of the stones. It sinks in with an audible click, and the wall of stone slowly slides out of the way, revealing another passage. A waft of humid heat expels as it opens, the smell of sulphur burning my nose. The hot spring we have been smelling must lie beyond this point.

I am dumbfounded. We would have never found this path. I wouldn’t have even thought to consult my stones about entering a blocked tunnel. If this is the way out, Wodred and I would have wandered down in the dark for ages, completely lost. It is a gift of the gods that the golems found us and agreed to help us.

Wodred goes to step through the passageway, but Basalt stops him, placing a stone hand on his shoulder.

“You must turn your light off at this point,” he says, his voice just as rough and grinding as Granite’s.

“Why?” challenges Wodred. “We cannot see in this darkness without it.”

“You will be able to see,” the golem responds cryptically. “But the light is bad for our home, and we do not allow it.”

Their home? Is that where we are going? The reason that they made us promise not to reveal anything we saw to the outside world?

Wodred looks like he wants to argue some more, but I place a calming hand on his chest.

“It’s all right, Wodred,” I say. “If they say we will be able to see, I trust them.”

The orc looks torn. I know that he doesn’t want to give up something that could be a tactical advantage, in case this is a trap. But I do not believe it to be, so I add on, “Please. For me.”

That seems to decide him. He nods stiffly, and I tap the lumen fragment in my hand, plunging us into darkness.

But then an almost magical thing happens. Just beyond the passageway they are leading us through, the walls begin to glow, as if with purple starlight. The moss on the walls is luminescent and lights the space with gentle luminosity.

“Star lichen,” I breathe out, in awe. “I have never seen so much in my life.”

“What is star lichen?” Wodred asks, his voice also sounds disbelieving at the sight in front of us.

“A magical ingredient for some of the most difficult spells in the world,” I tell him. “Powerful and precious. It is exceedingly rare. A small vial is worth a king’s ransom. This much is . . . like a dragon’s hoard but more costly.”

“Do not disturb the lichen,” Granite says, breaking into my explanation. “It is the lifeblood of my people, and we will suffer no one to steal it.”

“Of course, we will not touch it,” I assure the golem. “It is yours.”

The golems seem to relax at my words, as if they expected us to lose our minds with greed at the sight of the star lichen. Which, to be fair, many magic users would. This much star lichen would make a wizard into a being of magic, akin to a dragon or a faerie. But we have no need for such magic, and I would not risk the golems’ wrath and being left in these tunnels just for an ingredient, no matter how powerful.

I do wonder what he means by the “lifeblood of his people,” but I do not ask. Instead, I turn my head toward Wodred, seeing his features lit up in the purple light.

“I think you can put me down now,” I tell him. “It seems warm enough in these sections of the tunnels to be separate.”

Wodred considers my words and then nods. I am sure that he is also considering that if he is not carrying me, it will be easier for him to fight if necessary. A small smile plays on my lips at the thought. Typical orc.

We walk through the entrance to the star lichen passageway, and the stone wall slides back into place behind us. We are cut off from the rest of the tunnels. Though I do trust the golems, I have a moment of unquiet. If something goes wrong, there is no escaping back the way we came. I can only send a prayer to Vena, the troll high goddess, that nothing goes wrong.

Traveling down the tunnels that are dotted everywhere with the star lichen is a surreal experience. Like walking through the night sky. It is beautiful and not an experience I ever thought I would have. As we walk along, I get the urge to hold Wodred’s hand, to share this experience and what I am feeling with him. I reach in the dim light to find his hand, and the orc starts as my hand brushes his, but very quickly takes my hand in his, sheathing his claws.

We walk in silence, holding hands and following the golems, the star lichen getting improbably more dense on the walls as we travel, intensifying the light. Finally, the tunnel opens into a huge open cavern, and my breath catches at what I see.