Page 23 of Savage Devotion (Orc Warrior Romances #2)

KAELGOR

T he moonless sky swallows us whole as we descend into Ember Hollow's smuggler tunnels.

Five of us total, Ressa, myself, and three hand-picked soldiers whose loyalty she's verified through methods I don't question.

The entrance yawns like a wound in the earth, carved between collapsed foundation stones where the old temple district once stood.

My brother died fifty yards from here.

The thought arrives unbidden, sharp as winter steel. I push it down, focusing on the mission. Intelligence gathering. Expose the spy network. Simple objectives wrapped in layers of personal stakes I'm still learning to navigate.

Ressa moves ahead of me, torch held low to minimize our visibility from deeper in the tunnels.

Her steps are silent despite the uneven stone floor, each footfall placed with the someone who's spent years learning to survive in hostile territory.

The light catches the curve of her neck where it meets her shoulder, and I have to force my attention back to tactical concerns.

"Passage splits ahead," she whispers, voice barely audible above the distant drip of water. "Intelligence suggests the main smuggling route goes left, but there's a secondary tunnel to the right."

"Secondary tunnel leads to the old bone yards," I reply quietly. "Abandoned since the first clan wars. Good place for private meetings."

"That's our target."

The air grows colder as we move deeper underground. Not the natural chill of stone and earth, but something else. Something that makes the hair on my arms stand upright despite my leather armor.

Echo Spirits.

Ressa notices my tension immediately. "What is it?"

"Listen."

We pause in the darkness, torches extinguished, letting our eyes adjust to the absolute black of the tunnels. At first there's only silence, the profound quiet that exists only in places where the living rarely venture.

Then I hear them.

Whispers. Not words exactly, but a ghost of words. Voices that once carried meaning, now reduced to syllables that drift through the bone-cold air like smoke. Echo Spirits—the remnants of souls who died violent deaths in these tunnels, trapped between worlds by the intensity of their last moments.

" Brother... brother... why didn't you save... "

My jaw clenches involuntarily. The spirits don't speak to everyone, only to those who carry similar wounds. Survivor's guilt is like a beacon to them, drawing their attention with magnetic intensity.

"Kaelgor." Ressa's hand finds my shoulder in the darkness. "What are you hearing?"

"Ghosts," I say simply. "They're drawn to unfinished business."

"Dangerous?"

"Usually just irritating. But they can signal our presence to anyone else down here who knows how to listen."

We relight the torches and continue moving, but the whispers follow us now.

Soft susurrations that seem to come from the walls themselves, speaking in languages both familiar and foreign.

Some are definitely orcish, fragments of war chants and death songs.

Others carry the cadence of human dialects, probably smugglers and tomb robbers who met unfortunate ends.

The tunnel splits again, then again. Ressa navigates with the confidence of someone who's studied these passages extensively, leading us deeper into the maze of carved stone and natural cave formations.

The smuggling routes are old, some dating back to the original settlement of Ember Hollow, others carved more recently by people who needed to move goods without attracting attention.

"Movement ahead," whispers Jorik, one of our soldiers. He points toward a distant intersection where torchlight flickers against the walls.

We extinguish our own lights and advance in darkness, using touch and memory to navigate the rough stone floor. The whispers grow louder as we approach, but now they carry a distinct quality. More urgent. More warning than haunting.

" Trap... trap... turn back... "

I grab Ressa's arm, pulling her to a halt. The soldiers behind us freeze immediately, recognizing the silent signal for an immediate stop.

"Something's wrong," I breathe directly into her ear. "The spirits are trying to warn us."

She nods, trusting my judgment without question. We've developed that kind of partnership over the past few days—the ability to communicate complex tactical concepts with minimal words or gestures.

The distant torchlight moves in patterns that suggest multiple people, but the positioning is too convenient. Too perfect for an ambush. If we'd continued our approach, we would have walked directly into a prepared killing ground with limited escape routes.

"How do you want to handle it?" Ressa asks.

I consider our options. We could retreat, gather more intelligence, and return with a larger force. Safe. Predictable. Likely to yield minimal results since the opposition would have time to move and adapt.

Or we could spring the trap intentionally, on our terms rather than theirs.

"We give them what they're expecting," I decide. "But not how they're expecting it."

I explain the plan quickly. Simple concept: appear to walk into the ambush while actually positioning ourselves to collapse part of the tunnel system, isolating the ambushers and cutting off their escape routes. Risky, but it gives us the best chance of capturing members of the spy network alive.

"Structural weak points?" Ressa asks.

"Support beams near the intersection. Old temple construction, not designed for long-term load bearing. Enough force in the right places should bring down a section without causing total collapse."

"Explosives?"

"Don't need them. These walls have been waiting to fall for years."

We position the three soldiers at strategic points, each with specific instructions about timing and positioning.

Jorik will create a distraction from the eastern approach, drawing attention while Maren and Beck circle around to block the western exit.

Ressa and I will approach from the main tunnel, trigger the ambush, then retreat to the collapse point.

"On my signal," I tell them. "And if something goes wrong..."

"We adapt," Ressa finishes. "Complete the mission."

The plan executes smoothly at first. Jorik's distraction draws movement and voices from the intersection—at least four people, possibly more. Their positioning confirms my suspicions about the trap: crossbows aimed at the main approach, backup fighters positioned to cut off retreat.

Ressa and I advance with obvious torchlight, making ourselves visible targets. The whispers grow frantic, Echo Spirits recognizing the approaching violence and responding with increasing agitation.

" Death... death comes... run... "

Twenty yards from the intersection, crossbow bolts fly. We dive for cover behind carved stone pillars, letting the ambushers reveal their positions through muzzle flashes and shouted commands. I count voices, trying to estimate numbers and identify leadership.

"Now!" I shout, and Jorik begins his assault from the eastern tunnel.

Chaos erupts as the ambushers realize they're being attacked from multiple directions. Shouts, weapon clashes, the distinct sound of steel meeting steel in close quarters combat. Perfect cover for our real objective.

I lead Ressa toward the structural weak points I'd identified, pulling her away from the main battle. The support beams are exactly where I expected, massive stone pillars that have been bearing the collapsed temple sections for decades.

"Here," I point to stress fractures already visible in the ancient stone. "Concentrated force at the base."

We work together, using our weapons as improvised tools to widen the existing cracks. The stone is old, weakened by time and the constant moisture of underground drainage. Each impact sends vibrations through the tunnel system, and I can feel the instability spreading.

" Danger... collapse... flee... "

The Echo Spirits are screaming now, their warnings overlapping in a cacophony of supernatural terror. They can sense what's coming better than any of us—the approaching moment when gravity and engineering finally overcome human stubbornness.

"How much more?" Ressa asks between strikes.

"Almost..." A chunk of stone falls from the ceiling, missing my head by inches. "Almost..."

The crack spreads suddenly, racing up the support beam like lightning. I grab Ressa's arm and pull her toward what should be a safe position, but the collapse is faster and more extensive than I anticipated.

The ceiling comes down in sections, each failure triggering the next.

Dust fills the air, thick as smoke, reducing visibility to arm's length.

The sound is overwhelming, not just the crash of falling stone, but the groaning of an entire structural system giving up its decades-long battle against entropy.

When the dust settles, we're alone.

The tunnel has collapsed completely between our position and the intersection where our soldiers were fighting. No sounds of battle. No voices calling for help. Only the disturbed stone whispered as it settled, and the Echo Spirits murmured again, joined by fresh company.

"Ressa." I reach for her in the darkness.

"Here." Her voice is steady despite everything. "Injured?"

"Cuts and bruises. You?"

"Same."

I relight our torch with shaking hands, revealing the extent of our situation.

The collapse has sealed us into a small chamber, maybe twenty feet in diameter.

They've completely blocked the entrance we use.

The passage leading deeper into the tunnel system, though partially obstructed, might be passable.

Isolated. Cut off from backup. Limited supplies.

Classic definition of a tactical nightmare.

"Well," Ressa says after surveying our surroundings. "This complicates things."