Page 4

FOUR

“Where are you off to in such a rush?” Nargol arrived at Magoza’s side.

Her stride matched Magoza’s as they strode down the main hall of the stronghold, Angarth Keep.

Magoza had woken up and had one thing on her mind.

Find that woman.

“And whose ass are you about to kick this morning? Didn’t you get enough yesterday when you sent all those warriors to the healers?” Nargol snickered.

Magoza’s gaze cut to her sister.

“Someone needed to teach them a lesson.” Magoza sniffed.

She had no problems issuing her punishment to the three slacking warriors.

It had done them some good.

If they thought they were going to fight for her father, they had better think again.

They needed warriors who were focused, dedicated to their training, and loyal to no one but their chieftain.

Acting like teenage orcs was not the mindset of a warrior who she wanted to lead.

The three of them had faced each other in the pit in front of the others.

She had made an example of them that she was sure no one would repeat their mistakes again.

“These three have decided that training was not for them today,” Magoza shouted.

She strode around the dirt-covered ground.

Dust flew up with each of her steps.

She glanced up at the surrounding warriors who’d gathered around.

The pit was a crude fighting circle that was constructed deep in the earth’s surface.

Patrons could stand above the fighters and gaze down upon them.

It had been created decades ago to allow those who wanted to watch a fight to have a perfect view.

Not only was it used for training demonstrations but for situations such as this.

Magoza’s scowl deepened as she thought of the way the beauty had scrambled to her feet and raced off into the woods.

“Is that the heart of a true warrior?” she asked.

She was met with the fierce response of the orc warriors.

She paused and turned to the three warriors.

Their fight was not to be training.

No, that was not the way of the orcs when it came to the pit.

Here it was the real deal.

They would fight as if their lives depended on it.

And it might.

The loser would face Magoza.

No one wanted to face her in the pit.

“It is a dishonor to your fellow warriors to not take your training seriously. A careless decision on the battlefield could cost your fellow orc his or her life,” she said.

The three of them straightened to their full height.

The twin suns’ rays were beaming down on them.

They would not be shown an ounce of mercy.

Xul met her gaze head-on, but it didn’t last for long.

There was much potential in him, but he had a lot to learn.

Olaf and Dake both cast their gazes to the ground.

Magoza rested her hands on her waist. The sounds of chatter from the warriors was a low hum as their discussions began on who would be the last one standing.

Magoza had purposely chosen for the loser to face her.

If she had chosen the winner, then none of them would want to win, but to be the loser—who would face her—they would be desperate to win so they wouldn’t have to fight her.

“May the best male lose.” Magoza smirked.

The fight between the three was surprisingly decent.

Magoza strode up the dirt path to stand next to her sister.

Nargol hadn’t tried to interrupt her or change her mind.

Her sister was in agreement that they must be made an example of.

Plus her warriors thrived off battles.

Shouts and growls filled the air as they clamored to see the three males battle.

As she suspected, they had been desperate to not be the loser.

The three fought it out until there was only one loser.

Olaf.

When Magoza entered the pit again, silence fell.

She pulled out only one of her twin axes.

Her eyes narrowed on the warrior.

Their words regarding the tuskless beauty echoed in her head.

Magoza did not hold back.

“Where are you headed?” Nargol’s voice broke through Magoza’s memories.

They turned the corner, and the scent of freshly baked bread assaulted her senses.

Magoza stomach reminded her she hadn’t eaten her morning meal.

“The kitchen,” Magoza snapped.

She was on a mission.

She would snag a bite to eat, but she needed to speak with the cooks.

According to the three wounded warriors, the cooks may know where to find the beauty.

Magoza was determined to seek her out.

Thoughts of her had filled Magoza’s mind, and she had to know who she was.

She couldn’t sleep; her skin crawled with the thought that the female could be out there somewhere unprotected.

She’d been unsettled the entire night, and the need to find her weighed heavy on her.

Half-breed or not, she was beautiful and was probably mated off.

Magoza practically snarled at the thought.

“Ah, I’m hungry as well. Nothing like going directly to the cooks to grab the first portions.” Nargol chuckled.

Magoza didn’t say a word.

They arrived at the kitchen were the staff entered.

She barged in and scanned the room.

It was bustling with workers scurrying around.

Orders were being barked at as if they were warriors on the battlefield.

Her gaze landed on the head cook, Fodor.

He had been running the kitchen of Angarth for decades.

He was legendary when it came to his meals and recipes.

Even her father and mother did not impose on his turf.

The kitchen was his domain, and they trusted him to run it.

Her sister headed over to where the bakers were working while Magoza beelined it to Fodor.

“ Orra , Fodor,” Magoza greeted the esteemed chef.

Fodor was a graceful seven-foot orc whose hands had produced some of the best meals she had even had the privilege to eat.

His dark hair was pulled up into a tight bun on top of his head.

She had always been surprised someone with his size and physique had ended up here in the kitchens.

“I said now!” he growled at a servant.

The poor orc snatched up the silver pan of food and rushed away.

Fodor swung around toward Magoza, his frown immediately disappearing once his gaze took her in.

He straightened to his full height and bowed his head to her while his fist slammed against his chest over his heart.

“Commander. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“I need information.” She folded her arms in front of her.

His eyebrows rose high at her declaration.

Interest appeared in his dark eyes.

It wasn’t often that a commander would seek out the head chef for information.

This was an odd request, but he may know where she could find the tuskless beauty.

“I’m not sure how I can help you. Are you seeking the secret ingredient to my chunky qumte stew?” His eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled.

He barked a hefty laugh and slapped his leg.

“You are not the first to come down here asking. I’m not telling. That recipe was passed down from my father, and his father gave it to him, and his father gave it to him.”

Magoza bit back a chuckle.

She remembered the stew he had prepared a few days ago.

It had been all the talk over the stronghold.

She’d had three servings and even leftovers for breakfast the next day.

It had been a hearty meal with delicious spices, vegetables, and meat.

“I wouldn’t dare ask for your family secrets. That is something you hold on dearly to. Just make sure you pass it on to your son,” she replied with a smile.

“No doubt. He’s a wee babe right now. Just cut his first tooth, but when he’s old enough to hold a knife, he’ll be right here in the kitchen at my side,” Fodor boasted with pride.

The big orc’s grin stretched from ear to ear.

He and his mate had just welcomed their first bundle of joy about six months ago.

His smile slowly disappeared.

“If not my recipe, then what information can I provide you, Commander?”

“I am told that there is a half-breed female who comes around here. She sells fruits and veggies to our kitchens,” Magoza said.

Fodor would definitely know who she was talking about.

There was nothing that went on in his domain that he wouldn’t be aware of.

He took pride in the food he served, so Magoza was sure he would have a hand in every vendor who came through the doors.

“Amuleta? Yes, she comes here once to twice a week.” He visibly stiffened under her watch.

Amuleta. So that was her name.

Magoza repeated it in her head, and a warmth rushed through her.

It was a unique and beautiful name, just like her.

“She’s a decent being. Half-breed or not, she is a good woman. She forages and grows the best fruits and vegetables. She comes here to offer us first choices before she sets up her stand at the market. Those crotori pies I made that you loved, were because of her. I believe she grows them,” Fodor rambled on.

He paused for a moment and took her in.

He tilted his head to the side.

“Why? Has she done something?”

“Where can I find her?” Magoza ignored his questioning.

Amuleta hadn’t done anything but steal her attention away.

The burning need to find her grew in Magoza’s chest.

“I’m not quite sure where she lives, but I do know she’s a forager deep in the Eltaki Woods. I’m guessing she lives north of here,” Fodor replied.

Curiosity burned in his eyes, but he must have thought better than to ask any other questions.

“I hope she’s not in trouble. It’s a shame how she’s treated. She’s a sweet girl. I asked for more crotori berries. Hopefully she will return soon with more.”

All Magoza heard was Eltaki Woods and north.

It was a start.

“ Shamir omie .” Thank you.

Magoza patted the orc on the shoulder in assurance.

“I promise you she’s not in trouble. I just need to find her.”

Magoza stepped back and turned on her heel.

She began to stalk out of the kitchen but first needed to snag a few items to take with her.

She would need sustenance while she went on her mission to find her tuskless beauty.

Amuleta.

Magoza was on high alert.

Something had startled her shukan, Barto.

She held her breath and opened up her senses to try to detect what had caused her beast to tense beneath her.

The sounds of the forest continued on.

She doubted a predator was nearby, otherwise there would be silence.

She relaxed slightly and patted Barto on the neck.

“It’s fine. Why are you so spooked?”

His fur was thick and coarse.

Her shukan may be a large animal, but he was swift on his feet when they needed to charge into battle.

He was trained for war and had been her faithful shukan for many solars.

She glanced at the sky which was blocked by the tall trees and their leaves that provided shade from the twin suns that were high.

She blew out a deep breath and inhaled sharply.

The scent of water was close.

“Come, my friend. Lets get you a drink.”

The one thing about shukans were their dense hair could cause them to overheat, so one had to be careful to rest their animal.

Their long hair disguised their leathery skin that was hidden beneath it.

This provided protection against their enemies’ weapons.

Magoza squeezed her legs to signal for Barto to continue on.

She swept the area with her gaze to keep a lookout for whatever had gained his attention.

She tightened her hands on the reins and guided him along.

They ambled toward the sound of running water.

Magoza relaxed, not sensing any threat.

Her shukan must be weary and tired.

Once they got to the small river that was close by, she would allow him to relax and drink his fill of water while she ate the food she had taken from the kitchen.

She hadn’t eaten before she’d left.

She had wanted to start her journey to find Amuleta.

“Amuleta,” she murmured.

The name rolled off her tongue with ease.

What she was going to do when she found the woman, she did not know.

But she would inquire about her.

Magoza didn’t know of anyone who lived in the Eltaki Woods.

She knew these lands like the back of her hand.

She and Nargol had spent a better part of their childhood exploring when they were not training.

His muscles grew tense again.

Barto released a high-pitched screech and bucked.

His body reeled back to where he rose on his hind legs, sending Magoza down to the ground.

Her body hit the hard earth that almost knocked the breath from her.

She rolled over to ensure Barto’s big frame didn’t land on her.

She pushed off the ground swiftly, drawing an axe from the sheath at her waist, ready to meet whatever had alarmed her beast.

Another squeal echoed.

Her gaze landed on a fat pekare trotting off into the woods.

Magoza sighed and relaxed.

“A pekare, Barto? How does that scare you?” she grumbled.

She had half a mind to follow the damn animal and kill it.

Their sweet meat was always juicy, and she was sure Fodor would appreciate a freshly caught pekare to prepare.

She glanced down at herself and took in the mud and dirt that caked her.

She released a curse and secured her axe back on her waist. “Come. Lets get you to the water so you may rest.”

They were close enough to where she could almost taste the fresh water in the air.

They broke through the brush and found the narrow river.

Barto didn’t need any coaxing to go to the water.

He practically raced to it.

He took a few steps in and lowered his head.

Magoza sighed and followed her animal.

She bent down and thrust her hands into the cold water and scrubbed the dirt from her skin.

Her stomach chose that moment to rumble.

“Blood and tears,” she muttered.

She stood and shook her hands off and took a few steps over to where Barto stood.

Thanks to her high leather boots, she had no worries about her feet getting wet.

But her clothing, that was another thing.

Her pants and shirt were caked in mud.

Short of removing everything and washing them, she had no other choice but to leave them be.

She snagged her saddlebag from Barto and walked back to the bank.

She glanced around to find a place to sit and rest while Barto took his fill of water.

While she ate, she would decide which direction she would go.

So far she hadn’t come across any homes out in the woods.

Maybe Fodor was wrong in his assumption of where Amuleta lived.

For as long as she knew, no one lived in these parts.

It was quite a trek from town and hidden deep away.

But then again, out here was the best place for seclusion.

It’s a shame how she’s treated.

Fodor’s words echoed in her head.

Magoza was well aware of how orcs held on to their traditions.

She grimaced at the thought of anyone disrespecting Amuleta or any other person to their face because of their heritage.

She eyed a tree that had a clearing in front of it that would be the perfect place for her to eat her food.

She stalked over to the tree and took a seat.

One of the kitchen staff had prepared a bag for her and included a fresh loaf of bread, along with some dried lokapi meat.

She tore off a piece of the bread and bit down into it.

She held back a groan at the softness of it.

There was nothing better than fresh bread.

The lokapi meat was just as good.

She hadn’t realized how hungry she was.

Before she knew it, all of the food had disappeared.

She gave a slight chuckle.

Maybe she should have had them make double for her.

She eyed Barto who had made his way to the bank and was casually grazing on the brush not too far away.

She relaxed back against the tree and glanced around.

It was peaceful here.

She could see why someone would want to live out here.

No hustle and bustle of the town or the stronghold.

An orc could be one with nature.

Magoza couldn’t even remember the last time she’d done anything for herself.

Or even took a break.

Now that she was entering the trials, she was going to have to train even harder.

She refused to let her family down.

It was an honor to represent their clan, but she had to prove herself to be the next chiefess, and she would.

She reached for the waterskin sitting next to her and lifted it to her lips.

She paused at the sound of soft singing floating through the air.

Magoza sat forward and strained to listen to the melodious sound that filled her ears.

She pushed off the ground and swigged from her waterskin again, capping it.

She tossed it down onto her saddlebag and stepped in the direction of the voice.

The voice called to her.

She pushed aside a looming branch and took a few more steps.

Her heart rate increased, and her breaths came faster.

Magoza didn’t know who this was, but their singing was quite lovely, and her feet would not stop.

She came to a dense part of the woods and paused.

On the other side would be the person who the voice belonged to.

They were far from the village.

Who in the seven hells could be out here?

Magoza cautiously rested a hand on the handle of her axe.

She never could be too safe.

It could be a vicious siren who’d made it to land from the sea.

Magoza’s muscles tensed.

She moved the leaves enough so she could peek through them.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight that greeted her.

It was her.

The tuskless beauty. Amuleta.