Page 6 of The False Shaman (Claimed by the Red Hand #2)
ARCHIE
I got a real kick out of riling up the new shaman. And why not? He was unexpectedly young and strong and…dare I say it? Even handsome. In his own way. For an orc.
I supposed I wouldn’t have thought so, back in Wildwood. But the majority of the faces I saw nowadays were green.
Maybe the color was starting to grow on me.
Or maybe it was the hint of decency I sensed beneath his brusque exterior when he had me unchained. Probably just wishful thinking on my part…but at the very least, I suspected there was tolerance.
Couldn’t say the same for Gargle.
I’ve never understood why some bullies feel the need to pick on the underdogs. There’s a saying in Wildwood: it’s like squashing bugs in a basket. You’d think a big, strong orc wouldn’t get off on poking and prodding an unarmed slave. But cruelty is its own reward, and Gargle was especially fond of rewarding himself. I’d have to be sure to keep out of his way.
Unfortunately, the only part of the caves I’d memorized yet were the passages surrounding Taruut’s chambers. The old man couldn’t walk—and for the majority of my convalescence, neither could I. Caves are nothing like buildings, with square walls and level floors and everything the size you’d expect. Caves were built by nature, not people. Broad tunnels squeezed down to nothing. They twisted and turned and looped back on themselves. They might lead to a delightfully hot, if somewhat stinky, bath. Or they might end in a sharp drop into the earth too deep for the lantern beam to reach.
Still, hoping to keep out of the honor guards’ way, I made sure my lantern was shuttered. Only the thinnest shaft of light peeked through to ensure I didn’t tumble down a bottomless pit. I was putting some distance between the guards and me when I came upon a passageway I’d never taken before, and the moment I came to the far end, I knew I was somewhere different . My skin prickled and the small hairs at the back of my neck stood on end. I’d never put much stock in so-called magic…but the chamber at the end of the passage definitely felt like a place of power. A slick-looking golden sheen coated the walls. It shimmered like honey in the faint glow of the lantern. Preserved things were pressed into its surface—leaves, roots, animal bones—all frozen in time.
“It’s amber,” said a lisping voice, and I whirled around, the single light beam dancing wildly. Crespash stood in the tunnel, blocking my way out. And while he might’ve looked slight and scrawny compared to the huge, bulky orcs, now that the two of us were alone, he was clearly more than a match for me.
I suspected my normal weapon—flirtation—wouldn’t do me much good against the goblin. I did my best to look wide-eyed and innocent, though I wasn’t sure if that would impress a creature with eyes that took up half his head.
The goblin slunk into the chamber, feet utterly soundless on the crumbly stone floor as he dragged a stumpy finger along the chamber wall. “Tunneling through rock, you’ll find pockets like this on occasion. Rooms hollowed out by long-ago trees…trees as big as a whole village, with roots wider than a road. You’d think a goblin tunneler would be pleased to come across such a find. After all, that’s fewer tons of rock they’ll need to move.”
He’d eased up beside me—and obviously, I’d seen him coming—but I hadn’t accounted for the absurd reach of his lanky arms. A cloudy membrane flicked over his bulbous eyes just as he snatched the lantern from me and threw the shutter wide. I held up a hand, squinting through my fingers, as the whole chamber blazed with reflected orange light.
“Amber might be prized by the jewelsmiths,” Crespash said, “but if all the creatures stuck here aren’t an ill omen…I don’t know what is.”
He gestured with the lantern, and my gaze fell on a figure stuck in the resin. I’d seen gems with small insects fixed inside—an ant, even a spider—but nothing like this. Within the glistening wall, right beside my head, a frog was trapped in time. It was a huge specimen nearly as long as my forearm, frozen mid-leap. As if maybe was trying to escape. If only he’d been quick enough.
The goblin tossed the lantern back at me, and I scrambled to catch it as it guttered wildly. He doesn’t care if it goes out , I realized. He could see in the dark.
“You know a lot about caves,” I said, hoping flattery might work where flirtation was clearly unwelcome.
He spat a hiss of a laugh. “I’m a goblin. That’s like saying rocks are hard. Even my simplest cousins can tell shale from slate. But I’m far from simple….”
The membrane peeled back from his eye, revealing a glistening gray orb of an iris with a black slit pupil in the center.
“…and I see how you’re trying to get under Droko’s skin.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“Deny it all you want, but I know a troublemaker when I see one. Orcs are predictable creatures. Born and bred to follow the rules. Not goblins. We’re well aware the only way to get ahead is to double-cross your enemies before they do the same to you.”
Despite the warmth of the caves—and a burn I’d just acquired catching the damn lantern—I shivered.
“Let me tell you something, little human.” The goblin stepped forward, and I took a matching step back, well aware now of his longer reach. A hand shot out and I bent backward to avoid getting smacked, but he was only fanning his finger-stumps in front of my eyes for emphasis. “The only thing standing between me and a gaggle of bloodthirsty orcs is Droko. Without him, I’m screwed. If they take it in their minds that I need discipline, there’s nothing left for them to cut off but my dick…or my head. And I’m not willing to lose either one. Understand?”
I swallowed hard. “I’m a slave, same as you. We’d be better off working together.”
“If you think I’m gullible enough to call you my ally just because you’re not an orc, think again.”
Before I could protest, he fit himself into a crack in the wall I hadn’t even seen. He gave off a grunt of effort, contorting as his joints popped. And then he was gone, and the chamber of amber was quiet, save for the hiss of my lantern, and the beating of my own heart.
The goblin wouldn’t help me? Fine. I didn’t trust goblins anyway—and I’ve always found that the only one I could depend on was myself. So, where did that leave me?
Escape was out of the question—if the orcs didn’t hunt me down in the woods beyond the gates, wild animals certainly would. And if Bess was to be believed, the handsome young shaman might be inclined to extend his protection to me…if I served him well. It wasn’t enough to kneel at his feet, either.
Anyone can suck cock.
I would need to make myself indispensable . Not just making Droko’s meals and tasting his food, but being the extra hand he never knew he needed.
Not only was the fresh, young acolyte new, but he came from another clan entirely—whereas I had spent a lot of time with Taruut, just him and me, with no guards in sight. I’m a quick learner. I’d watched him sort through his ingredients, navigating by touch. And I’d witnessed his healing rituals first-hand.
I was the perfect guy to show Droko the ropes.
But then there was Gargle. From the moment I’d opened my eyes in the steam room, I could tell he had it in for me. And if Droko began taking advice from him, I would be the one who was screwed.
I'd just need to keep Droko's attention focused where it belonged—on me.