Two days later, we reached the border of the Wild, and there we halted. Fidgug set of off on his pony, and the rest of us settled down to wait. It was very still, and Ailsa was fretting as she sat her horse, biting her lip pensively. It was clear the possible invasion and usurpation of her home was riding her nerves to ragged nubs, and I didn't blame her for being on edge. Being a half-orc was hard, it seemed, and when both halves of your dual nature were at war, it was even harder. I knew Ailsa wanted to ride in flails swinging, but the human part of her, as well as her love for Ashton, were keeping her firmly in check, for which I was relieved. I'd grown fond of Ailsa, and I didn't want to see her losing her life in a senseless rampage of revenge.
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As the sun started to set, Fidgug came riding back, whistling cheerily. But nowhere in his notes did we hear the multi-toned call of the nightowl, and we shared grim looks. Ashton, Lanlanor and Khithran unlimbered their bows, and Ailsa's face showed her heartbreak as she hefted her flails. Paradox drew his bastard sword, while Ushat drew her axe from its loop. Temara armed herself with a small blow-pipe, and I reluctantly drew The Undoing. I didn't want to use the sword, but it was our one guarantee against Fidgug and whoever else came in his wake. For we knew, as he approached, that he'd been suborned; there was a darkness clinging to him that I recognised all too well. Ashton and Khithran recognised it as well, their faces expressionless.
Fidgug drew rein when he saw us with our weapons at the ready. "Hey, what sort of a greeting is this?" he demanded, his voice slightly slurred. "I didn't expect to get a fuckin' hug, but weapons? Wow. That's friendship for you."
"What of the Hellgate?" Ailsa demanded.
"Ah, it's fine," Fidgug said with a lopsided grin. "Turns out it was all a big misunderstanding. Gonk and Mogak got their arses handed to them, and Mor's promised the same for any other fucker who thinks they can challenge her authority. Now lose the fuckin' weapons and let's go pay our respects."
Someone's bow sang; I didn't know who had fired the arrow. But Fidgug suddenly went wide eyed, and he stared at the arrow which seemed to have sprouted from his chest as if by magic. Then he toppled from his pony, dead before he hit the ground. Ashton lowered his bow, his face grimmer than before. "Let's get out of here," he said tersely.
But before we could make a move, two-score orcs surrounded us, and I felt my heart sink to the bottom of my chest as I recognised Bumph. There was another she-orc with her, glaring daggers at Ailsa, who returned the favour in spades. "Thought you be here, bitch-hound," she snarled.
The she-orc spat on the ground. "Might as well call it a day, half-breed," she said. "We've got your little band surrounded. I suggest you disarm, or the little firefly loses her wings." 112Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡENXpq1zBN2
I turned in time to see Temara caught in the rough grip of a male orc, and though I knew I could take him with one swing of The Undoing, my wife's wellbeing was far more important. "Don't harm her," I said, fighting to keep my voice calm.
The she-orc snorted. "Oh, give it up," she said. "Don't pretend you give two shits about her, or any of this motley crew. We all know you're itchin' to unleash your weapon." She gestured, and Temara was bundled into a burlap sack, struggling and swearing all the while, at least until someone tapped the side of the sack, and I swallowed my fear as the tiny maelstrom inside ceased to move.
"That's a lie," Ashton said angrily. "Fionn's promised to disarm his weapon."
"You're such a dumb fucker," Bumph said, shaking her head. "Oh well. Now listen good. There's a new peckin' order at the Hellgate. Mor is dead, and Mogak is High Queen. Behave yourselves, and she'll let you live. Fight or argue, and the little sprite gets her wings plucked, before gettin' tossed over the cliff for bein' a nuisance to society."
Ashton nodded to us, and we let our weapons fall to the ground. They were scooped up by the orcs, who then dragged us off our horses and tied us hand and foot, casting us to the ground without care for injury. The horses were led away, but Peyton was left with us, and his swishing tail warned of high temper about to explode. But the hobbles fastened around his ankles curbed him as surely as our bonds curbed us, and I felt my heart break at the pain in his eyes.
After we were thoroughly searched, the orcs hefted us up and carried us into the forest. Human-sounding screams told us the horses had been executed the moment they were out of sight, and Peyton whinnied in distress. One of the orcs cuffed him and told him to be quiet.
"That'll be enough outta you," he snarled, and Peyton subsided, trembling.
As for me, I was furious. I wanted more than anything to be able to use my cannon from afar to deal with these brutes, but I'd promised not to use it, and The Undoing was useless. I could have commanded her to burn the orc who held it, but that would have been a beacon for the dark elves still under Zocerth's control. It wouldn't take much to start a war, and I wanted no bloodshed on my account.
In the end, as we were carted into who knew what unknown trouble, I could only fume and rage to myself. More than anything, I was terrified for Temara and our unborn child, and I prayed she'd be kept safe, and that none of our enemies worked out she was pregnant. But under that fear was an even stronger one; the enemy orcs would doubtless exploit my darker side, which remained uncleansed as yet, and I feared for what they'd do. Or what they'd make me do. 112Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7pLx26PMsy
