Page 57 of Warlord's Mate

She looked for Jorrick but didn’t see him. A glance at the hut made her pulse leap. Jityria was walking inside.

As long as she’d been here in camp, Jityria had been the personal servant to the warlord. She’d known it since day one and seeing her come and go in and out of the warlord’s hut was a daily occurrence but now—Marcy felt a rush of heat travel the length of her body.

The urge to stand up and run over there was strong, but she refused to let anyone know how much she hated seeing that hateful thing anywhere near him. She could stop it in an instant though. All she’d have to do was tell Jorrick of the times Jityria had hit her or pushed her around but she wasn’t about to be the reason the bitch died. She’d feel guilty about it for the rest of her life, regardless of how badly Jityria treated her.

Jorrick walked out of the hut, Jityria hot on his heels, and he started toward her, then stopped. Their eyes met, and she knew in an instant what he was thinking. He’d been coming to tell her he was leaving. And stopped before anyone realized he was about to do it.

He adjusted the bandolier of knives over his bare chest and tightened the sword belt around his hips. Someone yelled, telling those going to head out, and Jorrick gave her one last look before he turned and followed them. He said something to Vikram who was apparently staying behind, then looked back at her before stepping into the trees. She bit back a smile when he winked at her.

Jityria headed their way and Marcy rolled her eyes before turning back to what she was doing. Playing inDrexunbrains and tanning hides was more pleasurable than talking to her and she hoped whatever it was she was coming to say was said quickly. Her being ordered to go help prepare the afternoon meal for those who remained behind wasn’t unusual, nor was the look of contempt on Jityria’s face.

Marcy stood and washed her hands, then headed across camp with Krista. The rest of the day was filled with preparing and serving meals, foraging for nuts and roots and by the time the sun had lowered in the sky, Marcy was ready for the comfort of her bed, even if Jorrick wasn’t in it with her.

She was halfway across camp when a buzzing sound whizzed past her ear. A scream followed, then all hell broke loose.

They’d been attacked once before, but never to this extent. Marcy ran toward the females hut as dozens of aliens raced into camp, Vikram’s bellowing shout that they were being attacked ringing in her ears. Krista was the only one she saw when she reached the hut and grabbed her by the arm and ran to the cluster of bushes behind the dais Jorrick’s chair sat on.

They fell to their knees, both panting for breath as Krista yelled, “What’s happening!”

Marcy pulled clamped a hand over her mouth. “Be quiet.” She raised up enough to see what was happening. “My guess is we’re being attacked by a rival camp.” Which was pretty convenient now that Jorrick wasn’t here. Was there someone in camp conspiring against him? After everything he’s told her over the past few weeks, it wouldn’t be the first time.

As camp followers went, it was impossible to tell one from the other. Unless she saw a face, she had no idea which alien fighting belonged to this camp or the one attacking. Marcy sank back down when she saw Tizhila and Sabera running her way. When the two fell to the ground where they sat, both of them panting for breath, Marcy eyed them both. “Where is Celestia?”

“I don’t know.” Tezhila braced her palms on the top of her legs. “I didn’t see her.”

Marcy raised up again, searching camp for her blue-skinned friend. As it had been the last time, the camp was in chaos, only now, the warlord and the other hunters weren’t running back into camp to save them. An alien whose lower half looked like a spider was by the fire pit. He grabbed the burning logs from the ground and started throwing them on the nearby huts and tents. Smoke filled the air as the structures started to catch fire.

The noise was deafening then. The clang of metal and screaming along with the harsh sound of fire licking its way up old, dry wood filled the air and just when she thought things couldn’t get worse, Jorrick’s chair exploded in a shower of splintered wood that rained down on top of them. Marcy looked up when the others started screaming. The orange hulking alien Kr’Atek, who had tried to take her once before, stood on the dais grinning at her. His lipless smile looked almost feral and his eyes held a wild glint that had he been on earth, it would have made her think he’d smoked something potent.

One of the three females behind her was screaming as if someone was killing her and Marcy knew if they didn’t move, that may very well be the case. She jumped to her feet, grabbed Krista’s arm and yelled, “Run!”

Kr’Atek gave chase. She could tell by the thunderous stomping of his feet. She saw Celestia running across camp when they cleared the brush. She headed toward the path near Jorrick’s hut, the others behind her. They made it to the trees, and she glanced behind her to make sure the others were following. She tripped over her own feet a moment later. “Keep going,” she yelled, wincing as she tried to get back up.

Something hit her a moment later, a hand clamping around her arm. She was jerked from the ground, her entire shoulder aching her arm was pulled so violently. “I told you I would have my revenge.” Jityria laughed in her ear, then gave her a shove. She landed at Kr’Atek’s feet.

“Make sure she suffers the most,” Jityria said as Kr’Atek reached for her. Marcy turned her head as she was lifted from the ground. Jityria’s smiling face went out of focus when Kr’Atek raised his fist and slammed it into the side of her head. Her knees gave out, and she blinked against the pain as she watched men throwing burning limbs into the tents and huts as the others were being herded into a straight line. It looked as if she’d survive the attack but she had to wonder if death wouldn’t have been an easier out.

It felt like the longest hunt he’d ever been on, which was pretty pathetic as they’d only been gone a day. Jorrick quickened his steps as they climbed the ridge, anticipation of seeing Mar-see a burning thing in his veins. Those in front of him slowed before coming to a stop and he shoved someone out of his way when they stood there unmoving. When he reached the top of the ridge line, he saw why they were all just standing there.

His camp was smoldering.

Smoke filled the sky, black and sooty. He could smell burning wood now and a look into camp showed the majority of everything burned to ash. His heart started pounding, and he was running before the others even moved.

There wasn’t a structure standing when the hunting party made it back to camp. Dead lay everywhere, and those who were still alive were beaten and bloodied. All the faces he saw were those of the weakest under his protection. The others, the ones he’d left behind to protect the camp were either dead or no where to be seen.

Jorrick’s gaze shot through camp looking for Mar-see. He stared toward his hut but stopped when he saw it’s smoking shell. It was destroyed. Nothing remained of it and he feared going further and finding her there.

She wouldn’t have been there. She would have been with the other females.

Blood rushed through his veins so fast at the thought, he could hear nothing but the whooshing noise it made inside his ears. He turned to where the females hut sat. Much like his own, the space it had been held nothing now but charred remains.

He ran a hand through his hair as anxiety started to gnaw at him. Where were those he’d left in charge? “Vikram! Kyre! Aryan!”

A harsh cough to his left made him turn. Someone lay near the smoking remains of another hut. Jorrick hurried across camp and dropped to one knee beside of him. It was Wyvind. Black soot covered his entire face, the whites of his eyes standing out in the darkness surrounding them. “What happened here?”

“Attack.” He coughed again, then wheezed.

“Can you sit up?” Jorrick helped him and waited until he was steady before saying, “I’ll find you some water,” and took off at a run to the cooking pits. They hadn’t been spared in the attack either. The stores of food were gone and Cayen lay not far from the work table, his throat slit.