Page 17 of The False Shaman (Claimed by the Red Hand #2)

DROKO

The sun was lowering on the horizon when I saw Ul-Rott out of the caves. My sense of time was off-kilter from spending so long underground. One look at the purpling sky—just as cloudless as the chieftain had claimed—filled me with urgency and dread. If I didn’t find the crypt by morning, the old shaman would have to go on a funeral pyre, like a lowly soldier.

And Ul-Rott would stoke the flames with my headless corpse.

I strode back to the chalk map, searching desperately for some way we’d overlooked. No doubt the answer was right there. I just needed to see it.

I was on my hands and knees, following a sinuous path with my fingertip, when the sound of orcish footfalls paused in the entryway. I glanced up and found Kof regarding me with some confusion through his single eye. “Droko the Sage,” he said quickly, touching the ground with his bent knee. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine.” Though I wouldn’t be for much longer if we didn’t find that crypt.

“Please.” He sidestepped a chalk line and then hovered at my side, as if searching for some way to help me up without actually touching my sacred person. “This is the work of servants. It’s not fit for a shaman.”

I pushed back into a ready crouch, planting my elbows on my knees. “Time is running out. Unless you have something useful to add.”

Kof squatted beside me. “I have been scouting the northernmost tunnel….” He hesitated.

“And?”

He pointed at another of the markings with a wince. “And it loops around, and exits here.”

The last two potential routes…both of them useless.

“Then that’s it. We’ve explored every possible passage big enough for an orc, and not one of them leads to a crypt. There must be something we’ve overlooked.” I turned back to the map, hoping to find any gap that might contain a crypt.

Kof shifted uneasily.

I glanced up, finding his scarred brow furrowed with concern. “What is it?”

“It’s not my place to say.”

“You’re the captain of my guard. If you don’t tell me what you think, then who will?”

He pondered his words for a moment, then forced himself to speak. “Any of us can stare at this map. Even me…with a single eye. But the only one able to hear the whispers of the ancestors is you.”

Meditation. A shaman’s solution to any problem. But the last thing I wanted to do was sit on my thumb and pretend to be receiving some esoteric wisdom. I was no man of thought, only action. If I wanted the orcs to believe I was a shaman, though, I’d need to play along. At least until Kof ventured back into the caves so that I could resume my strategizing in peace.

When I made my way to the meditation chamber, my mind was on the tunnels as I dragged my fingertips across the cool stone wall. I couldn’t see much of anything by the tricky light of a lantern. Surely, it was possible the guardsmen missed something. Unless they touched every surface, a narrow passage, a hidden gap, would be easy enough to overlook. If only I could go back to the map and take another—

A figure stood in the open door of my sanctuary, backlit by a flickering brazier. Taruut come to visit from beyond the veil of death? A ridiculous notion that I immediately dismissed. All this talk of visions and ancestors had clearly gone to my head. I raised my lantern and threw open the shutter….

Only to see it was Gorgul waiting for me in the chamber.

Of all the guards, he was the most ambitious. If anyone had made progress, it would be him. “Did you find anything?” I asked.

A pleased smile wrapped itself around his tusks. “I’d say so.”

It looked like I would manage to live another day, after all….

At least until Gorgul tossed me something distinctly head-shaped, and I realized it was the source of my “ivories.”

Dropping the skull, I stiffened and drew myself up to my full height—Ul-rott was right, I did make a better soldier than a shaman. But as such, I could see that without armor, without a weapon, I stood no chance at all against the spear in Gorgul’s hand. The honor guard was supposed to be my weapon.

I would have preferred a sword. Unless you’re phenomenally clumsy, cold steel won’t bite you in the back.

“Don’t worry, Droko the Sage ,” Gorgul sneered. “I’d be an idiot to do you any harm. Especially when there’s so much you can do for me.”

He invited me into my own sanctuary with exaggerated politeness, then rolled the stone over the doorway to seal us both in.

I squared my shoulders and declared, “I am your shaman. You are the one in service. Not I.”

Gorgul’s stance didn’t change in the slightest. He was relaxed and confident. Even bored.

“Here’s how it’s gonna work,” he said. “First of all, we pick out some dusty, out-of-the-way corner no one’s bothered with for ages. We throw some old bones inside, then smoke up the place with so much incense, Ul-rott won’t be able to see the tips of his own tusks, let alone what’s in the room. You chant your nonsense and shake your stick and make a good show of putting the old man to rest. And once it’s all said and done, you get rid of that one-eyed fool and appoint me as your new captain.”

It was a sensible plan…which made it all the worse. I’d approached the situation like an obedient soldier, and I’d just presumed Taruut’s honor guard would be the same. All the while, Gorgul had been scheming to get ahead.

All these years of being drilled in duty and respect…. I had a lot to unlearn.

“Don’t look so disappointed,” Gorgul said. “Won’t it feel good to stop pretending? Do as I say, and I’ll leave you be. You can carry on spewing your fake predictions and dicking your slaves. And everyone will be happy.”

Did he know about Archie, or was he just probing for weaknesses? He was only half-right—I’d just as soon fornicate with a wild boar as touch the goblin—but I steeled my expression so as not to give anything away. Too bad I couldn’t quell the desperate pounding of my own heart. And as Gorgul glanced into the brazier where scraps of Archie’s shirt remained, I suspected it was no guess.

I flexed my fingers, eager to grab him by the throat and jam his smug face into the stony wall—to tell him that if any harm came to Archie, his skull would be the next one rolling across the sanctuary floor. But he was armed and I was not. And even if I did somehow slay him, I’d have trouble explaining the death of my guardsman within my own walls.

“There’s still time to find the real crypt,” I said coldly. “Now, go.”

Gorgul complied—but with a smirk that told me he only left because he wanted to.

The situation was hopeless. The more I sought to defend Archie, the more likely he’d be used as leverage against me. I itched to do something, anything, to help myself. But I was stuck playing the shaman, and could only pace around the ridiculous cushion where I was expected to meditate. I’d practically worn a path into the floor when the heavy stone door clicked and began to roll aside.

I expected it was Gorgul, come to give me his next command. But the scent of human reached my nose half a heartbeat before I realized the man joining me was Archie.

Relief swept through me at the sight of him—whole, and more than that, well. He’d shed his cadet linens for human garb. It was only clothing. And yet, now he looked not just older and more mature—but far more exotic.

Even beautiful.

“Is it time for breakfast already?” I asked.

“Not quite. I just wanted to see how you’re doing.” How human of him. And strangely heartwarming—which made no sense. My attachment to him only made me more vulnerable…and yet, his presence kindled such hope in my heart.

Grown orcs didn’t tend to each other’s feelings . I would never think to ask the chieftain if he felt trepidation over an upcoming battle—even if he was my own father. Or to see if my captain wanted moral support over an unexpected defeat. The only person I would even imagine speaking with about such things was my bride…the one stolen from me by my brother.

Which somehow mattered much less to me whenever I was with this fragile human.

Archie eased up to me. His gait was distractingly graceful, and his eyes raked my body. His tone was a light banter. “If you’re hungry, I could go put something together….”

Who could think about food right now, anyway? “Never mind about that.” I tore my gaze from the delicate hollow of his throat. “Actually, I want to know your thoughts about something.”

“The wise, all-knowing shaman seeks the council of a lowly human food taster? This ought to be good.”

“You’ve been here longer than I have.” More importantly, I trusted his motives. “Can we dress up an unused chamber and pass it off as a crypt? Or will Ul-Rott have our heads?”

Archie’s brow furrowed—human faces were so expressive. “It’s a huge gamble. The chieftain didn’t get where he is by being stupid.”

“But he is as eager as anyone to lay Taruut to rest. He may believe what he wants to believe.”

“That’s an awfully risky presumption.”

“I’ve walked these passageways myself. There’s plenty of old—” I almost said junk . “Old artifacts we could gather into the semblance of a tomb. There are bones everywhere. The walls are covered in them. Arrange them cunningly enough, wrap some bundles of twigs in a shroud, and there you have it—a succession of dead shamans. Surround them with necessities they would need for their journey across the veil—”

“Y’know what?” Archie blurted out. “I think you’re onto something.”

It seemed an awfully abrupt change of heart, given how skeptical he’d been just a moment before.

But Archie quickly warmed to the idea. “There are quite a few spots where no one has ventured for a very long time. Quite possibly longer than Ul-Rott has been chieftain. Since Taruut was older than dirt, I doubt many orcs around here have been to the last shaman’s funeral. And if they question your methods, you can just claim things were done differently in the Two Swords Clan. It’s perfect.”

He dusted his hands together as if he was eager to get to work and lavished me with a broad, encouraging smile.

It might have put my mind at ease…had his scent not soured with anxiety when he added, “Especially if you dress it up with your stormsilver.”

His eyes raked my body yet again. Not to fantasize about what the two of us had done, I realized. But to figure out where I carried the lump of metal. “You’ve been talking with Crespash.”

“He may have mentioned it within my earshot, yes.”

So, the two of them were working together. And the most obvious reason slaves would be in collusion would be to plan an escape.

How ridiculous of me to think the human was actually concerned about me.

The only thing on his mind was finding a way out.

“You do have it,” Archie said, all innocence. “Don’t you?”

Brusquely, I said, “It’s no business of yours. Now, leave me. I have a funeral to deal with.”

I wasn’t exactly surprised that Archie was planning an escape…more like profoundly disappointed. If we somehow made it through the interment ritual and I went along with Gorgul’s schemes, I told myself, I would end up right where I’d wanted. The Two Swords Clan would be safe. And I would not only have my own household here, but my own dominion.

Too bad the mere thought of it left me feeling hollowed out and empty.

The day caught up to me—or maybe the night. Who could tell what time it was anymore, lurking around in steamy, sunless tunnels that reeked of sulfur. It might even be time for breakfast—the meal that Archie never made—and soon the chieftain would show up with Taruut’s body…and my fate would be sealed. Either Ul-Rott would see through my ruse and relieve me of my head—or I’d succeed, only to live out my days as Gorgul’s puppet.

It was tempting to pull out the stormsilver and see if it held any answers for me in its crackling depths, but the tingle that raced up my arm when I slipped a finger into my belt pouch changed my mind. I squatted gingerly, closing my eyes, hoping some other path would present itself. But try as I might, I could think of no other way.

I must have nodded off, for as I searched, I dreamed.

And all the walls pulsed with flame.