Page 38 of The Orc Chief’s Baker (Orc Mates Of Faeda #4)

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

brOVDIR

B rovdir stepped out of his home, into the crisp, chilly morning feeling lighter and fuller than he’d ever been in all his years.

The sun was bright, birds chirped in the trees despite the winter cold, and the clan members he passed were both lively and pleasant.

He could not wait to get back to Trinia.

But he needed to find a way to keep her first.

“Brovdir, hold a moment!”

He would have groaned had he not been in such a good mood. He turned to find Plog rushing over to him as fast as his elderly legs could carry. The male certainly was spry for his old age.

“Brovdir, you look fit. I suppose last night perked you right up.”

Irritation flashed behind his eyes, but his spirits were too high to censure the male. “What do you need, Elder?”

“I just came to let you know that we’ve gathered some of the males and sons and are going to start digging.”

Brovdir’s stomach dropped.

“Don’t worry.” The male held his hands up with a smile.

“I’ve got all the right tools in all the right places.

If you know what I mean. Women can be a good motivator to our males, and I’ve got a few on my side already.

Hilva in particular has been ripe with worry over the boar, so she’s convinced her mate to help.

Not sure his hearing will recover, but he won’t need that for digging, anyway. ”

“No,” Brovdir said quickly.

“Don’t look so aghast. I was just jesting. I don’t think Hilva did any real damage that a quick healing tincture can’t undo.”

“No! No digging .”

“No digging? But how will we make the trap?”

“No need for a trap.” Brovdir groaned. “There are no boars!”

“Well, not yet, but there will be. I can feel it.”

Brovdir blinked in bewilderment. “You can feel what ?”

“The need to dig! I feel it right deep in my bones. Right where the Fades themselves speak. I’ve got the truth deep inside me just wriggling to get out and the only way out is through digging!

Don’t worry, all three of us elders have it under control and are communing as often as we need to make sure the Fades will is done. ”

Brovdir’s mind reeled from all this random information. “ Fades will?”

“I’m sure that you’re worried because of the sinkholes. I understand. But we’re taking every precaution.”

“No. That isn’t . . . I don’t mean?—”

The elder turned away. “You come by later to have a gander. We’re on the westernmost point near the butchery. I’m certain once you see it, you’ll just be delighted.”

Before Brovdir could argue any more, the male walked away and disappeared down another wooded path.

He took a few deep breaths and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Imagined how Trinia would laugh when he told her about this.

His irritation faded to a brief chuckle as he envisioned her lovely, smiling face.

He continued on to the hall, making quick work of the walk, blessedly thankful that he didn’t get stopped again.

Inside, many orcs and a few human mates had settled in to eat, though not as many as usual. The smell of the breakfast stew was more pungent than usual, and the combination of dandelion greens, lavender, and fish being boiled in the three main cauldrons made his stomach twist.

Most of the orcs he passed were eating fruit.

And listening in as Sythcol censured Gegvi.

“I just don’t understand how you could mess up the entire meal this often.” Sythcol raked a dirt covered hand through his white hair and left streaks of grime. His eyes had deep, dark green bags beneath them. His skin had lost its luster.

“I was just telling you it’s not finished yet.”

“I don’t want to hear it. Breakfast is to be served at dawn. It’s well past dawn.” Sythcol’s voice was rising. “What is even in here? Dandelions and lavender ? What possessed you to make such a grotesque combination?”

Brovdir was about to intervene when Ogvick approached him from the left. He stopped, glad to see a friendly face, though his relief dimmed when he noted that the usually jovial young warrior’s expression was a mask of concern.

“Chief,” Ogvick’s voice was a low whisper. “Have you spoken with Caivid yet?”

“No. He’s looking for me?” Since taking up with one of Oakwall’s shepherdesses, Caivid spent very little time in the clan. Brovdir was glad that one of his oldest friends was happy, but would be lying if he said he didn’t miss him.

“He was supposed to... maybe he got caught up with Susara and...” Ogvick glanced nervously toward Sythcol.

“What’s wrong?” Brovdir demanded. It was unlike his young friend to be so uneasy around the conjurers.

“Last night, we...” Ogvick lowered his voice. “Last night Sythcol was?—”

“Ogvick! What are you saying to Brovdir?” Sythcol’s shout caused Brovdir’s spine to straighten.

“Nothing, Chief.” Ogvick’s voice was strong and firm, but Brovdir had known him nearly his entire life and could sense unease in the way Ogvick held his arms and balled his fists. “Just informing him what was made for breakfast.”

Sythcol narrowed his eyes. “I’m certain he could smell it.

Just like the rest of us.” Sythcol waved an arm to indicate the fifty or so orcs and women who were all looking about as uncomfortable as Brovdir felt.

Then he turned on Gegvi again, and the male shrank in on himself like a small child about to get a wallop.

“I’ve had no sleep last night and now no food either, and that’s thanks to your abysmal skills, Gegvi.

Now get out of my sight! You’re completely useless to me. ”

The small male jerked as if cracked with a whip and darted for the door. Brovdir’s chest felt like a hallow pit as he watched the cook scurry from the room. Sythcol straightened his clothes, the same ones he’d been wearing the day before and approached. “Ogvick. Get to work on the cooking.”

The young male’s eyes widened, and he looked to Brovdir as if he wanted to confirm the order.

Before Brovdir could respond, Sythcol snapped, “ Now ,” and the male swallowed hard before heading off toward the storage room near the back of the hall where extra provisions were kept.

Brovdir couldn’t recall the male ever cooking anything besides roasting meat on a stick. He couldn’t imagine it being any better than Gegvi’s work.

“Where’s Trinia?” Sythcol started and then he inhaled sharply. His eyes widened. His face paled. “You smell of her.”

Irritation bloomed in Brovdir’s chest. “That is none of your concern.”

“Come with me. Now.” Sythcol turned toward the doorway which led to the spiral staircase.

Brovdir followed without a word, though he longed to argue.

The moment they were within the privacy of the tiny room at the base of the stair, Sythcol rounded on him. “You rutted her? What were you thinking ?”

“My personal life is none of your concern.” Brovdir worked to keep the snarl from his tone.

“It is my concern when it keeps you from your duties and forces them all onto my already overfull plate.” Sythcol’s snap echoed off the trunk of the Great Rove Tree and surrounded Brovdir in a spiral of fury and indignation.

“It took you far too long to call the conjurers and warriors to my side last night. And I know that is because Trinia was distracting you.”

Brovdir gritted his teeth. He couldn’t deny that.

“Why can you not just do as I say, exactly when I tell you to do it?” Sythcol raged.

Trinia’s words from the night before flashed in his mind.

“You’re a chief too, Brovdir.”

“Why must I follow your every order? Am I not your equal in this?” Brovdir’s throat felt like acid as he forced the words.

“Oh, Fades, don’t try to make excuses. You’ve never once complained about following my lead. Not once .”

Brovdir went silent. Sythcol was right. He hadn’t ever complained. In fact, he’d welcomed Sythcol’s judgment this entire time.

He swallowed so hard that he could feel the pain of his scar ricochet down into his chest.

He looked into the eyes of the powerful conjurer before him, with his knotted hair and disheveled clothes.

Brovdir took a breath. “We should discuss later. You need sleep . And food .”

Sythcol gritted his teeth but finally relaxed. He raked a filthy hand through his white hair again and grimaced. “Fuck, you’re right. My mind isn’t what it should be.”

Brovdir nodded. “Later. After rest. I will deal with the clan for now.”

“Thank you.” Sythcol’s shoulders sagged.

“Just make sure you don’t change anything without getting my approval first. And don’t let your warriors lapse in their duties.

And... and make sure Trinia doesn’t leave before I’ve spoken with her.

I need to make sure she doesn’t tell her headman about the sinkholes. ”

Brovdir exhaled hard, but nodded.

“Good,” Sythcol said. “Now I’ll go sleep first, I think.”

With that, they both exited back out into the hall. Sythcol did not pause and headed right out the intricately carved double doors. Brovdir headed for the fruit table and began to fill a bowl for Trinia.

“Chief.”

Ogvick stood behind him, his bushy brows were furrowed with worry and his square jaw was clenched tight. “I need to speak with you.”

Brovdir had already spent far too long away from Trinia, but could see this was important. “About Sythcol?”

Ogvick nodded. “About . . . last night.”

His stomach twisted. “Are things not well?”

“I... I can’t really say. He’s just acting... odd.” Ogvick looked around the room and Brovdir took note that most were paying them little mind. “Caivid and Hendr think so, too. Perhaps if we discussed as a group, we could figure him out.”

Brovdir sighed heavily. He did not want to make Trinia wait for her food another moment. “Sythcol is resting. He’ll be gone a while. Can this wait until the eve?”

Ogvick’s brow furrowed up even more, but he said, “I... suppose.”

“Work the soup,” Brovdir said with a nod toward the bubbling pot that smelled more like a bathtub than a stew. “When done, go find Caivid and Hendr. I’ll be back shortly.”