[Queen of Orcs 01] - King's Property
Read [Queen of Orcs 01] - King's Property Online
Authors: Morgan Howell
Morgan Howell
Contents
The Queen of the Orcs Trilogy by Morgan Howell
This book is dedicated to
Beryl Markham, Lúthien Tinúviel,
and Carol Hubbell
Glaciers have erased the past. The mountains are diminished. The plains are scraped bare. The First Children have departed, and their works have perished. Only tales remain, worn thin by retelling.
One
Dar walked alone down a mountain path, bent beneath a load of firewood. The trail she followed hugged steep rocky walls that blocked the morning sun, so the air and ground still held the night’s chill. Nevertheless, she walked barefoot and wore only a tattered, sleeveless shift with a rag to cushion her shoulders. Dar moved quickly to keep warm, but the sound of a distant horse stopped her short. None of her neighbors owned one, nor did anyone in the tiny village beyond the far ridge. Only strangers rode horses, and strangers often brought trouble.
Dar listened. When the hoofbeats died away, leaving only the sound of wind in bare branches, she continued homeward and arrived at a hollow devoid of trees. Its stony ground had been prepared for spring planting. At the far side of the hollow lay the only building—a rude hut, built of rocks and roofed with turf. The horse was tied nearby. Dar was considering leaving when her father’s wife emerged from the low building with a rare smile on her face. The older woman called out. “You have visitors.”
The smile heightened Dar’s wariness. “What kind of visitors?”
Dar’s stepmother didn’t respond, except to smile more broadly. She moved aside, and six armed men stepped from the dark hut followed by the village headman, whose air of self-importance was subdued by the soldiers’ presence. Dar’s father came after him. Last emerged Dar’s two little half sisters, looking frightened. All watched Dar carry her load over to the woodpile. She set it down, then asked her stepmother again, “Thess, who are these men?”
“King’s soldiers,” replied Thess.
“Why are they here?”
“There’s a levy for the army,” said the headman. “Our village must provide two.”
“Then they’ve come to the wrong place,” said Dar. “My brothers are dead, and Father’s too old.”
“It’s not men they want,” said Thess.
“I’m no fighter,” said Dar.
Thess laughed humorlessly. “Then you’ve fooled me.”
“Not all who serve the king need fight,” said the headman. He turned to one of the soldiers. “She’s the one.”
“Father, what’s going on?” asked Dar, already guessing the answer.
Her father looked away.
“This was his idea,” said the headman.
“It’s for the best,” said Dar’s father, his eyes still elsewhere.
“Best for
her
,” said Dar, casting her stepmother a resentful look. “She’ll be pleased enough to have me gone.”
“I’ll be glad for some peace,” retorted Thess. “Always the proud one, you.”
“Unlike
some
, who’d tup a man for a space by his fire.”
“You’d be a wife, too, if you weren’t so willful.”
“She’s best suited for the army,” said the headman.
“
I’ll
determine that,” said the soldier in charge. Though he was the youngest, his helmet and arms were finely made, and his armor was metal, not leather. “Murdant, see if the girl’s fit.”
The murdant, a man half again the age of his officer, slowly circled Dar, taking in her sturdy grace. He thought her old to be unmarried, perhaps two dozen winters. Though unkempt, she had pleasant features—large dark eyes, a delicate nose, russet hair, and full lips—making him surmise it was her temperament that had kept her single. As if to confirm this, Dar stood with a defiant expression, fists clenched at her sides.
“Show me your teeth,” said the murdant.
Though Dar realized the murdant was unlike some suitor who could be scared off by a show of temper, she pressed her lips tightly together. The murdant only grinned, then roughly pinched her cheeks with his thumb and forefinger to force open her jaws. He got a quick glimpse into Dar’s mouth before she struck a blow that he easily warded off. “She’s got her teeth and the rest of her looks sound enough.”
“She’ll do,” said the officer.
The headman bowed. “Tolum, we always fulfill our duty to the king.”
The officer regarded him disdainfully. “This spinster’s no great sacrifice.”
Thess entered the hut and returned with a small bundle wrapped in a threadbare cloak. “I’ve gathered your things,” she said, handing them to Dar.
The tolum mounted his horse. “March her to our camp and be quick. I’ll be waiting.” Then he rode off.
The murdant addressed the other soldiers. “You heard the tolum. Move!” He turned to Dar, who clutched her bundle with a stunned look on her face. He had seen that expression before.
Her people have given her up
, he thought.
She has nowhere to turn
. Still, he doubted her defiance was extinguished. “You fixing to give us trouble?”
Dar shook her head.
“Then come along, we have to catch up with a horse.”
Dar turned to bid farewell, but her family had disappeared into the hut.
At first, only the tread of the soldiers’ booted feet broke the silence. Dar walked blank-faced among the men, considering what to do. To buy time, she trod as though her feet were tender, hoping to slow the pace. Dar knew the path would pass a steep slope that was covered with loose rock.
They won’t expect me to scramble up it barefoot
. Dar was certain she could elude the soldiers, whose armor would encumber them, and escape into the heights above.
Dar tried to imagine what she would do afterward.
I can’t go home
. The headman would declare her an outlaw, and Dar was certain no neighbor would risk sheltering her. She would have to go far away, and that was her dilemma. In the highlands, a woman without kin had no rights or protection. To dwell anywhere, she would have to beg some man’s leave, and Dar had no illusions what price would be exacted. She recoiled at the thought.
When the soldiers marched past the rock-covered slope, Dar made no escape attempt. Having weighed her options, she chose what seemed the lesser evil—an uncertain fate with the army. The path turned away from the tumbled rocks and headed into a valley. As Dar trudged toward a new life, she thought of the one she was leaving. She would miss her half sisters but little else. Her relations with her father had been strained ever since her mother’s death. This day’s betrayal was only his latest. Life in the stone hut had consisted of hardship, visits from unwanted suitors, and the barbs of a spiteful stepmother. Dar tried to cheer herself with the thought that she was abandoning these afflictions; yet she already suspected they would be replaced by different ones.
As the marching warmed the soldiers, their tongues loosened. “Do ye think the tolum will get himself lost?” asked one in an accent foreign to Dar’s ears.
“Even he can follow hoofprints,” said a companion.
“And his horse has sense,” said another, “even if he lacks it.”
