Dragon Riders of Etrea—Chapter 24

The three men approached the orc encampment on horseback as the sun was thrice its own height above the horizon. On their way, Rasud chanted, calling upon his ancestors to grant Henrik strength and speed. They couldn’t do much, but every bit helped.

Henrik positioned himself front and center, ensuring he would be the first one seen and addressed. That also meant he’d be the first one attacked, so he had to do this just right. The orc camp drew near, and Henrik studied it closely. 

It was arranged in a crude circle around a single hut. Henrik assumed that was where the witch-woman slept; he couldn’t see her lying her head on a saddle like the men. One thing he knew about orc society was that they placed their shamans above basically everyone except the chiefs. 

One orc had an antelope on a small folding table and was butchering the carcass. Stones had been arranged in a circle just outside the camp, ostensibly for cooking, although Henrik saw no firewood. The witch-woman would likely take care of that.

Several orc men noticed them approaching and called out. It caused quite a stir in the orc camp, and men began hurrying to gather their weapons. That was the narrow window of opportunity Henrik needed.

He booted his horse into a gallop, and managed to rein him in just outside the camp before any of the orcs were ready. He drew his sword and stared them down, showing not a single drop of fear.

“Who among you is the strongest?” Henrik roared at the top of his lungs. “Who among you is brave enough to face my blade?”

The orc nearest him took a step closer with a sneer on his face and a sword in his hand. Henrik pointed his sword at the man.

“Are you the best this group has to offer?” Henrik asked, loud enough that the others heard. “Is no man stronger than you?”

“Who gives a fuck,” the orc growled. “None of that will matter when I’m pulling your guts from a hole in your belly while you scream.”

“Watch your mouth,” Henrik said to him. “Or I’ll close it for you.”

That comment enraged the young orc, but at that moment another one pushed his way through the crowd. 

He was large, nearly as tall as Henrik and deeper in the chest. Scars covered his ruddy green skin, and one of his tusks was chipped with the tip broken off. His face looked like it had been used as an anvil at some point. The orc took one look at the man threatening Henrik and raised his fist.

“If you think you’re the strongest of us, you’re welcome to prove that. Feel like using that sword?”

The smaller orc glared, but lowered his sword and took a step back.

“I’ll meet your challenge,” the massive orc said as he looked Henrik up and down. “But first tell me, why does a human charge into our camp demanding a fight?” His eyes narrowed. “With another human, and a halfbreed witchman by his side. Are you that eager for death?”

“Because you have something I want,” Henrik said. “And once I kill you, I’m taking it back.”

“The egg?” The orc laughed and turned in a circle. “This motherfucker thinks he can have the egg!” 

Twenty orcs laughed, loud and strong at that. A small orc with shifty eyes stepped up next to the massive warrior.

“I didn’t go through all the effort of stealing it just to hand it over to a fucking human!” he said angrily.

“Who demands the egg?” a woman’s voice called out. 

The orc men immediately went silent and lowered their weapons. The flaps of the lone tent opened and a woman emerged.

She wore robes similar to Rasud’s, but hers were thinner and open in the front. Her face had the strong lines of the orcs, but was surprisingly attractive, if one could look past green skin, tusks, and a murderous look in her dark eyes. Her hair was black, just like Rasud’s, and was held from her face with combs made of bone and gold. 

“By the gods, I’m in love,” Rasud said, guiding his horse closer. “Henrik, you’ve got to let me handle this one.”

The woman stepped closer to them, walking slowly to show she didn’t consider them important. Tobias, she immediately disregarded. She looked quizzically at Rasud—the witchman had once said that his shamanistic powers were rare among the orcs. Her eyes focused on Henrik for a moment, looking him up and down.

“And who are you?” she asked as she stepped closer.

“My name doesn’t matter,” Henrik replied. “I’m here to fight for the egg.”

“That’s great, but I didn’t ask why you were here,” she replied without missing a beat. “I asked who you were.”

“His name is Henrik,” Rasud interjected. “And I am Rasud, a powerful witchman, as you can see. The strongest shaman in the land.”

She eyed Rasud briefly, then turned back to Henrik. “I will not deny Yakha his fight, but you will not have the egg, even if you win.”

“Then we’ll have to kill every last one of you and take it,” Tobias said.

Well, that certainly escalated things. The sound of swords being drawn was loud and sharp as every orc man grabbed a weapon. The witch-woman glared at Tobias, then turned back to Henrik.

“Does he speak for you?” she asked.

“No,” Henrik said. “I speak for myself, and I am here to fight for the egg.”

The woman studied Henrik for a moment, then turned and walked toward her tent. “Follow me,” she said, then raised her voice to the other orcs. “No one raises their blade without my permission!”

Henrik swung down from his saddle and walked after the woman, keeping his hand on his sword hilt. He looked straight ahead, focusing on her back, and ignored the grunts and curses coming from the other orcs.

“Ah, no you don’t,” Rasud said behind him. “Anyone makes a move toward me and I’ll fucking burn you to the ground.” A sizzling noise suggested he was showing off, creating fires from his hands. From the way the orcs all suddenly stepped back, that was likely.

The woman turned and glanced over her shoulder at Rasud. She muttered something to herself, then turned and walked to her tent. Henrik entered behind her.

The interior was sparse, but several cushions padded the floor. She sat on one and directed Henrik to sit on one across from her. 

“Henrik,” she began, smoothing her robes over her legs. “First, let us finish our introductions. I am Shel. A witch-woman, as you can see.” 

Henrik nodded at her. No need to be rude. 

“So, you storm into my camp and demand the right to duel with my strongest fighter because you want the egg. We risked much in taking that egg. Do you really think we would hand it over?”

“I think your sense of honor would compel you to when I’m done with Yakha,” Henrik said.

She smiled faintly. “Do you really think you can beat Yakha in a fight?” Her tone was filled with doubt.

“Yes,” Henrik said without hesitation.

She took a deep breath and continued. “I respect your courage for doing this. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man that would do as you have. Why do you want the egg?”

Henrik decided that the truth was the best route with her. He had a feeling she could see through lies like glass.

“I’m returning the egg to the dragon. It belongs with her,” Henrik said.

“So, the warrior has a heart,” Shel murmured, sounding amused. 

She watched him for a moment, looking for a reaction or a sign of what might be going on in his head. Henrik gave her nothing. He kept his face as blank as a stone wall.

“There’s a very good chance you will die by Yakha’s blade, so I don’t see any harm in honesty,” she said, smoothing her hair back. “I wish I could let you, Henrik. I do not like taking a child from its mother, even something as powerful as a dragon egg. But we all must answer to someone. I cannot let the egg out of my grasp.” She looked to the side and laid her fingers on a small chest “The egg must stay with me.”

“And what would happen if you gave the egg to me?” Henrik asked.

“High Chief Torgan is not a man to be trifled with,” she said quietly. “As powerful as I am, I have my limits. I do not have to guess what would happen; he has already told me. If I return without the egg, he will have his way with me for a week. After that, he will peel the skin from my body, then have horses pull my arms and legs out. Whatever is left of me will be eaten by ants and wasps.”

Henrik struggled not to shiver at her description of her possible fate. 

“So as you can see, I cannot allow the egg to fall from my grasp,” she said. “Believe me when I say I wish things were different, Henrik. The truth is I wish the entire world was different. But I am an orc woman, and the only reason I have value is because I am a witch. With my powers I am granted an important place in our society, but I must sometimes do things that are…unsavory to retain that position.”

“We find ourselves at a stalemate then,” Henrik said. “If I do not return the egg to its mother, I’ll find myself in her belly.”

Shel scoffed. “No, you won’t. Tossyth is an emotional wreck over this. Any mother would be over the loss of her son, but this one is special. It’s different.”

“What do you mean?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” she replied, then pushed herself to her feet. “I wish you speed and strength, Henrik. You seem to be a good man. But no matter what happens, you cannot have the egg.”

Henrik stood as well, trying not to let his irritation show. “I think you make a grave mistake in underestimating me,” he said.

Shel shrugged. “So be it. Ready yourself. I can assure you that Yakha is waiting.”

Henrik stared at her for a moment, then left the tent. He couldn’t see any way this day wouldn’t end in bloodshed.