The Chronicles of Onyx: Book 1

Chapter Sixteen

Undetected, swiftly as barn cats, they moved through the village. Almost undetected, that is. The huge Orc whimpered like an oversized baby as they made their way to the stables. The wounded brute's occasional whimpers and grunts threatened to draw unwanted attention. His wound wasn't fatal, however it slowed him down to merely a stop—with only the Dwarfs' harsh tugs keeping him moving forward. Onyx cast a sidelong glance at the bound orc, her brow furrowing in a mix of irritation and pity.

They neared the stables with the sounds of the horses' soft snorts greeting them. Onyx's heart pounded in her chest, the tension in the air palpable. She hoped that the familiar surroundings of the stables would provide the cover they needed to secure their escape.

She motioned for Rok and Oldren to halt as she peered around the corner, her sharp eyes scanning the area for any signs of movement. The streets remained quiet, with only the orc's intermittent groans to keep her on edge.

"Quiet," she hissed in a low voice, casting a stern look at the captive orc. The orc's black, beady eyes widened in fear and he nodded quickly, a surprising submission given his formidable size.

The three of them moved quickly and purposefully, entering the stables with the wounded orc in tow. Onyx's senses were on high alert, every creak of the floorboards and rustle of hay seeming amplified in the silence.

The stable was dimly lit, and surprisingly empty. The soft glow of a lantern casting a warm light over the straw-covered floor. Onyx's golden gaze met Rok's, and they exchanged a wordless understanding. The wounded orc provided a means of information, and Onyx was growing somewhat tired of the Orc. She didn't much like Orcs, Rok was the only exception. And that was only because he had a heart and a soul present in his gaze. Unlike the dead stare Orcs often gave. But mostly for the reason that he was a kind, misunderstood soul that deep down—only wanted peace.

She turned to the Orc, a cold captivating glare took over her. "So Orc," she said with authority relevant in her tone, the word Orc hung in the air for a moment. "How many of your kind remain in this village, and who is your commander?" she asked in a demandingly, almost as cold and elegant as Demeter's. A tone that dared the orc to resist her questions.

The orc met Onyx's gaze with a mix of defiance and wariness. His beady eyes flickered between Onyx, Rok, and Oldren, a mix of fear and hatred simmering beneath the surface. His lips parted, revealing yellowed and broken teeth, but he remained silent for a moment as if weighing his options.

Rok was at her side and she could sense his readiness for action, his quiet energy like a coiled spring. Oldren, on the other hand, settled down in the hay sipping on his flask of Ale. He had refiled it, and was now enjoying the temporary pause in their escape.

Before Onyx could demand an answer once more, the orc's cracked voice filled the air, his words laden with a Orcish accent. "You think I'll betray my kind, girl? I'd rather meet death than bow to the likes of you."

Onyx's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and frustration, but she wouldn't allow the orc's words get the better of her. "You may have no loyalty to us, orc, but what loyalty does your queen hold for you? You're expendable to her, a pawn to be discarded when no longer useful."

The orc's expression wavered for a moment, a flicker of doubt passing through his coal eyes. Onyx seized on the opportunity, pressing on. "Tell us what we ask and I will show you mercy, what you do with your newfound freedom is your choice"

The orc's eyes narrowed, his internal struggle evident in his features. He remained silent for a tense moment, the weight of his decision hanging in the air. Then, with a begrudging resignation, he muttered, "How do I know that you will not just kill me after you get your information?"

Onyx's gaze didn't waver, "you don't," she paused briefly, just enough to see a smirk appear on the Orc's rugged face as if to say 'see?' before she continued on. "But you do know the cruelty of the queen you support, our only intention is to end the pledge she has released upon the lands of Druzatria", she softened her gaze slightly, "So I ask you once more, Orc, who is your commander?"

The orc's eyes flickered with defiance, his lips curling into a spiteful grin as he seemed to find satisfaction in frustrating Onyx. "He is coming for all of you," he spat out, his voice dripping with venom. "And Sith won't stop until he's dead," he added, his beady gaze flicking to Rok with a mixture of malice and challenge.

Onyx's brow furrowed at the mention of the name. Sith. She knew that name, but Rok's reaction told her that he knew it better than anyone. As the orc's words settled in the air, she turned her gaze towards Rok, her golden eyes seeking his. The sorrow and pain in his eyes spoke volumes, revealing a chapter of his past that he never shared.