Page 48 of The Savage Vow
Hagu wasn’t the only one who wasn’t trusting in this situation. Had he given other order to attack her and Makhel? Steal the document then leave them for dead?
“No! Only to follow and report back to him,” he breathed.
Nargol narrowed her eyes on him. He must have seen the glint in them. There was no way she could allow this orc to return to Hagu and notify him that they weren’t coming straight back to Soza.
“Please! Don’t kill me. Whatever you want, it’s yours?—”
A single strike to the neck with her blade cut him deep. His words ended in gurgles, and he reached for his neck. Nargol stood to her full height and watched him until the light faded from his eyes and his body became still and silent.
War was upon them, and this was not the time for mercy.
Now, riding beside Makhel once more, she pushed the memory aside. There would be time later for her to assess the situation and consider how anything could have been handled differently.
But for now, they rode to the witch’s home.
“If we push hard, we should be there within a few hours,” Makhel shouted.
“Good,” Nargol responded.
They continued to ride until their beasts became exhausted. The trees of the forest grew twisted and sparse. Their bark blackened as though scorched long ago. Moss glowed faintly underfoot. They slowed their animals down to a trot.
The air buzzed, not with insects but with something magical.
A ward.
They had passed through a protective spell. Nargol glanced around, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. Whoever had cast the spell was very strong indeed. Had they not been welcomed, they would not have been able to get past the ward.
“We are here,” Makhel announced. “Just up ahead.”
They crested a low hill, and the witch’s dwelling came into view. It was not a hut or a normal home. It was a mound of earth and stone half buried into the hillside. Thick roots coiled over the roof as if holding it in place. The stone walls had strange symbols carved into them. Smoke curled from a narrow vent, carrying the scent of herbs and something metallic.
The power she felt radiated from this structure.
Before they could dismount, a voice rasped from the shadows.
“You’ve ridden far for something you might not be able to afford.”
An old lady stepped into view from the side of the structure. She leaned heavily on a crooked staff as she walked forward. Her skin was wrinkled with age and wisdom. Her gray hair hung down in thick braids past her waist. Her eyes, however, were sharp and bright.
“Mother Sava.” Makhel inclined her head toward her.
“Don’t call me that. It makes me sound old.” She chuckled. Her gaze slid to Nargol and paused. For a long moment, she didn’t speak. Then her thin lips swept up into a smile. “You have your father’s eyes and your mother’s stubbornness. I wondered when one of you would come knocking.”
“You know who I am?” Nargol arched an eyebrow at the elderly witch.
“I’m old, not blind. Of course I can spot a Cydassi a mile away.” She snorted. She turned and waved for them to follow her. “Come. If you are here, then you need something from me.”
They entered the home carved into the earth. The walls were smooth with designs etched into them. Shelving lined some of them and were filled with jars, bones, and bundled herbs. A low fire burned at the center of the room in a pit, casting shadows across the ceiling.
Sava settled down on a stone stool. She motioned for them to do the same across from her on the other side of the fire.
“We have found ourselves in a situation,” Makhel began.
She explained what they needed from her. She remained quiet as Makhel spoke. Nargol took the time to study her. Was she to be trusted? She’d identified Nargol immediately but didn’t seem to care that a high member of the chieftain’s family was sitting in her home. Once Makhel went silent, Sava’s wise gaze shifted to Nargol.
“You are wondering if I can be trusted,” the older orc announced. She tilted her head back and held Nargol’s stare.
“Shouldn’t I be?” Nargol boldly asked.
