Page 21 of Bound in Flames (The Savage Hearts #1)
Chapter 21
Cleo
T he warmth of Dex’s touch kept me on edge as we stepped out of the small chamber and into the winding stone corridors of the stronghold. The air was cooler here, providing relief to the over sensitized heat that lingered on my skin, my mind still reeling in frustration.
As we walked, I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer scale of this place. The fortress was built with long, spiraling tunnels and chambers that seemed to stretch endlessly into the mountain. Walls were etched with intricate carvings, telling the story of the orcs’ history—scenes of battles fought, of forests and rivers, of a people deeply connected to the land.
“This place is incredible,” I murmured, my eyes tracing the carvings as we passed.
“It’s been our home for generations.”
“Are all orcs trained to be warriors?”
He smiled kindly, but his eyes still held the edge of heat from before, giving me another glimpse of the person behind the Chieftain mask. “Not all. We are a people of the earth, first and foremost. Many of us are warriors, yes, but there are also farmers, hunters, healers. The mountain sustains us, but it is not easy. Everyone has a role to play.”
I nodded, taking in his words as my eyes traced every inch of the new sights in front of me. It was a far cry from the world I had come from, where nobility lived in luxury while others toiled in the fields. Here, the orcs seemed to value every life, every contribution, and everyone was treated equally.
We neared the central hall and the sound of voices grew louder. I could smell the familiar scent of cooking meat and herbs and my stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since the night before.
Dex glanced at me with a knowing smile. “Hungry, little mate?”
The chatter quietened as we entered, and all eyes turned to us, my response died on my lips as I felt a wave of nerves.
“Chieftain Dex,” one of the orcs greeted, bowing his head in respect. “We are glad to see you return safely.”
Dex nodded, his voice steady. “Thank you. Grath, this is Cleo.”
Grath’s eyes flicked to me, curiosity and hope shining in his gaze.
“Welcome, shaman. The clan has been waiting for you.”
I smiled awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you. It’s... a pleasure to be here.”
Dex chuckled beside me, his hand still resting on my lower back.
“Grath oversees much of the farming here,” Dex explained. “He’ll show you some of the ways the clan sustains itself. Have fun, he will bring you back after a quick tour.”
The path to the gardens wound through the rock of the mountainside, tucked behind the stronghold and hidden from the view of those unfamiliar with the orcs’ traditions. I followed closely behind Grath, his muscular legs moving easily over the uneven terrain.
Arriving at the sprawling gardens, I froze, my breath catching in my chest. A lush patch of greenery nestled within the jagged cliffs and barren rock with an energy unlike anything I had ever experienced—a calm serenity. There was a wildness to it that hummed beneath the surface. An earthy perfume filled my senses, and the plants leaned toward us, as if recognizing a kindred spirit.
“Not what you expected, is it?” Grath’s tone was gruff but tinged with pride.
“No,” I admitted, still taking in the breathtaking sight, “It’s… alive.”
Grath chuckled softly. “That it is. Every leaf, every root, connected to the mountain itself. We don’t force it to grow. We ask. And when the mountain agrees, it gives.”
The hum of magic grew stronger with each step forward. I knelt beside a patch of deep green plants, their leaves thick and waxy, and let my hand rest on the humid soil. The connection was instant—a surge of life, but unlike the chaotic bursts of magic I was used to. Here, the power felt natural, like the plants were whispering their secrets to me, devoid of any hint of corruption.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” Grath’s voice was quieter now, laced with understanding as he watched me run my fingers through the soil. “The earth speaks to you.”
“It does.” I could feel the steady heartbeat of the mountain, the way the roots reached deep into the ground, drawing from the life force of the land itself. It was something else—something steadying, something controlled. The garden’s peace felt profound, its quiet harmony a gentle contrast to the unforgiving mountain beyond.
Crouching beside me, Grath’s gaze softened as he watched my movements. “It took us generations to learn the ways of coaxing life from this harsh land. The mountain doesn’t give easily, but it does give.”
Lifting my hand from the soil, the residue of magic was a warm thrumming beneath my skin. “I’ve never felt anything like this before. It’s so peaceful.”
Grath inclined his head in agreement. “That’s because the earth is at peace here. We don’t demand from it, like your kind do with magic. We live alongside it. We respect it, and it respects us in return.”
I sat in the stillness of the garden, absorbing the weight of his words. In my world, magic had always been a tool, something to be harnessed and used . But with the orcs it was something else entirely. It wasn’t just a means to an end—it was a part of life, a part of survival. I wondered if my understanding of magic had been too narrow, too focused on control rather than connection.
I stood stiffly, my legs still aching from the climb the day before. “You grow all your own food here?”
Grath rose to his feet as well, his massive frame towered over me. “Mostly. The mountain provides enough if we know how to ask.”
My eyes swept over the garden again. I could see the carefully tended patches of vegetables and herbs mixed among the wild growth. It wasn’t just a garden—it was a lifeline.
“Even in the harshest winters the mountain provides, but it does not always forgive.” His tone held a warning, a reminder of the mountain’s power. “That is why balance is vital.”
My brow furrowed in confusion. The gardens didn’t look large enough to sustain a settlement of this size. “But… how? How do you grow anything in this climate? It must be freezing at night.”
“It’s the earth’s magic,” Grath explained. “We work with it and the roots reach deep, keeping the plants warm with the mountain’s core. It’s not something that happens overnight. It takes time, patience, and respect. It takes the entire spirit of the clan to evoke this kind of magic. We have been maintaining this connection since it was established centuries ago.”
I could feel the connection between the orcs and their land. They weren’t just warriors, they were caretakers of this place, protectors of the life that thrived here despite the odds. Not just savage fighters, driven by brute force. They were survivors, deeply in tune with the world around them. I realized that there was much I still didn’t understand—not just about their way of life, but about magic itself.
I felt the weight of my ignorance. My people had told stories of this wilderness like it was empty, but it wasn’t. It was grieving. And the orcs hadn’t just lost their home—they’d lost a part of themselves.
“I want to learn. Teach me how to listen.”
Grath stepped forward, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder, though softer now. “You can return here, Shaman, anytime you need peace. The gardens— They don’t just sustain the body; they sustain the spirit. It’s a place for reflection, for balance. You’ll need that if you’re going to embrace the magic inside you.”
The orcs had always seemed so hardened, but Grath’s offer felt like a glimpse into something softer beneath his guarded exterior. I smiled my thanks, truly grateful for the warmth in his offer.
“My grandfather tended these gardens for years,” Grath continued, his voice carrying the weight of history. “He was a shaman, too, though not with power like yours. His magic was small but vital. He kept the balance for our clan, ensuring the mountain provided and the earth gave. He always told me that magic like this—magic that works in harmony with the earth—isn’t about control. It’s about listening and embracing it.”
I felt my curiosity peak at the mention of his grandfather, and I gave him my full attention as we continued to wander the winding paths. Grath gestured for us to sit on the roots of an ancient tree, and I sat gratefully.
“He used to sit right here. He’d close his eyes and sing to the plants, feeling the earth beneath him. He never sought to dominate it, but to keep the balance,” Grath turned his gaze to me, eyes sharp but not unkind. “You’re different. There’s a wildness in you, something stronger than we have seen in generations. I see it in the way the earth reacts to you, how it pulls toward you like you are part of it.”
He hesitated as if carefully weighing his next words. “I believe you are the one from the prophecy. The shaman who will lead us back to the valleys, to reclaim what we lost. I don’t know how it will happen, or when, but I know it in my bones.”
I could feel the sincerity in his voice, and kindness in his gestures. His love for his people and way of life. Amongst all, there was something else—purpose.
“I’m excited to see it, to see how you come into your own. The mountain has been waiting a long time, Shaman.” His voice held an edge, a reminder of their collective hope and expectation.
Taking a final look around the garden, my thoughts raced with all the overwhelming changes in my understanding of the world over the last few days. Grath’s words, the garden’s peaceful hum and the connection I had felt—it was overwhelming, but not in a way that pushed me away. Instead, it felt as though the earth itself was pulling me closer, inviting me to step into the role the clan thought I was destined to play.
Pausing as he stood, he shot me a kind smile over his shoulder, his deep voice carrying a note of finality. “Come back when you need to. The earth speaks to those who listen,” he murmured, a hint of reverence in his voice. “But don’t ever forget to have respect for the ancient power. Your path is a difficult one to walk. Please know that I am here if you need anything.”