CHAPTER 36

ORC RAIDERS

The next few days flew by. By day, they galloped through the snowy landscapes, and by night, they camped on frozen grass, finding what comfort they could. Tonight was no different. Triska used her magic to conjure fiery orbs that melted the snow around them, creating a warm, glowing circle in the cold.

Mark had caught a rabbit, skewered it on a stick, and was roasting it over the orbs. The meat turned a golden, roasty brown, the smell teasing their hunger. When it was ready, Mark carved it up with his knife, handing Triska a piece before biting into his own. For a meal on the road, it wasn’t bad at all.

“Why did your parents hate you?” Mark asked, breaking the silence after a few bites. “Sorry if that’s too personal. I just can’t imagine parents hating their own kid.”

Triska sighed deeply. “I was four or five—I don’t remember exactly. I set our stable on fire by accident. That’s when I first discovered I could conjure fire orbs. That’s when I learned I had magic.”

“You didn’t have to learn a spell for that?” Mark interrupted.

“No. Some magic can be done instinctively by people with powers—just by focusing hard enough. The more complex stuff requires chants. And, of course, there are counter-chants like the ones you use. Those don’t need magic to work, but they can still mess us magicians up.”

Mark nodded, motioning for her to continue.

Triska took a shaky breath. “After the fire, my older brother almost died. My parents were terrified of me. They started treating me like I was cursed, like I was evil. They kept me isolated. Then one night, I overheard them talking. They’d reached out to an official magical order, hoping to send me away, but the order rejected me. They usually don’t take in people with family ties—they think we’re liabilities. That’s why they prefer people born into the order.” Her voice trembled. “So… the order suggested killing me—the order would send an executioner to do the deed. My parents agreed. To them, I wasn’t their child anymore—I was just a monster they had to get rid of.”

“Seeing you are still alive, I assume you found a way to escape?”

Triska nodded slowly. “But not before they caught me eavesdropping. I yelled at them, called them terrible parents. My mother grabbed a knife.” Her voice broke, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s too much,” Mark said softly, wiping her tears with his hand.

“No, I need to. Someone should know.” She took a shaky breath. “They didn’t see me as their daughter anymore, only a threat. In my panic and rage, I conjured fire orbs and hurled them at them. They screamed as the flames consumed them. The smell of burning flesh…” Her voice cracked, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I grabbed what I could and ran. Our house was on fire. I didn’t stop running until I reached the woods. I survived there for weeks like a wild animal until a hunter found me. After what happened with my parents, I’d learned I needed to hide my magic. I pretended to be a helpless orphan. He took me in, raised me for a few years. But then he died in a hunting accident when I was still a teenager. After that, I was alone again. I had the skills to survive by then, and that hut you found became my home.”

“I’m sorry. Killing your own parents, losing the only person who cared for you—that’s more than anyone should have to bear. No wonder you’re angry. No wonder you’re bitter. It’s human.”

Triska didn’t reply for a moment, but her eyes met his, shimmering with both pain and gratitude. “What about you? What’s your story with your parents?”

“I…” Mark hesitated. It wasn’t a question he’d ever really thought about. It seemed simple, obvious even, yet somehow it had never crossed his mind. “I don’t remember. About a year and a half ago, I woke up with no memory in some village. An old man told me my name and that I’d been a knight serving Archon Anthemios. I was rewarded with a pill of forgetfulness after slaying an Elder Dragon.”

“An Elder Dragon?!” Triska’s eyes widened. “I thought those were just myths! Not only did one exist, but you killed it?”

“Yeah, pretty badass, right?” Mark chuckled. “Too bad I don’t remember a damn thing about it.”

“But why take a pill to forget everything?”

“They said I suffered some kind of loss so devastating, I begged to erase my past life—start fresh.”

“A doomed love affair?”

Mark shrugged. “Maybe? Who knows?”

Triska tilted her head, studying him. “Have you ever… fallen in love during your travels?”

“Don’t want to brag about it, but I’ve had sex with a lot of women.”

“I’m not talking about sex, Mark. I mean love.”

Mark’s smirk faded, and his voice softened. “There was this one woman,” he admitted, his thoughts drifting to Guanyu. “I never told her how I really felt, though. There was something there, something real. But her father wouldn’t even let me teach her swordsmanship, so romance was out of the question. He kept us apart. And considering I’m a wanted man in Archon Hanying’s realm while she’s a lady of the Imperial Court… yeah, it was never going to work. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe there’s someone out there who’s a better match for me.”

Triska nodded. “That’s how I feel about Sokolov. I’m still angry and hurt, but you’re right. I can’t let his rejection ruin my life forever.”

“Let’s get some sleep. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

They wrapped themselves in blankets, the cold night air softened by the magical warmth still lingering from Triska’s orbs. The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, they rose and packed up camp. Mark secured their supplies onto his horse, and they mounted together. As he spurred the horse into a gallop, Triska clung tightly to him, the wind whipping past them as they rode into the new day.

About an hour later, they arrived at a quiet, snow-covered village. It was bigger than the ones Mark had passed through before, maybe a hundred or so people living there. The houses were wooden, with thatched roofs and chimneys puffing trails of smoke into the cold air. Mark guided his horse slowly down the snowy dirt street, stopping in front of one of the larger buildings—a tavern with a stable beside it.

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He rode up to the stable, dismounted with Triska, and tied up the horse. Together, they stepped into the inn.

Inside, the place was alive with noise, at least by village standards. People were smoking, drinking beer, eating hearty meals, and talking loudly. But their conversations weren’t cheerful—Mark could hear the tension in their voices.

He made his way to the counter, where a bald, middle-aged man was pouring drinks.

“Hey,” Mark said. “Two beers.”

The man set down two mugs, one for Mark and the other for Triska. “Name’s Boyan,” the man said. “We don’t get many strangers around here, what with the raids and all.”

“What raids?”

“Damn orcs,” Boyan spat. “They’ve been creeping around the outskirts, stealing livestock and scaring the hell out of everyone. They haven’t hit the village yet, thank the Gods, but it feels like it’s just a matter of time. That’s why everyone’s here today, eating and drinking like it’s their last chance. And with Archon Vlad’s soldiers busy fighting Innokentios, we’ve got no one to protect us.”

Mark took a swig of his beer. “I’m a swordsman for hire. And her”—he gestured to Triska, who was halfway through her drink—“she’s no slouch in a fight either. We can take care of your orc problem.”

Boyan leaned forward. “Are you serious? Don’t get me wrong—we need help—but two people against a whole tribe of orcs? That’s madness.”

Mark smirked. “I’ve dealt with orcs before. Worse odds, too. Now, let’s talk price. Two hundred coins.”

Boyan let out a loud, exasperated groan. “Two hundred?! That’s a fortune!”

“Alright,” Mark said with a shrug, starting to turn away. “Guess we’ll be on our way, and you can handle the orcs yourselves.”

“Wait! Damn it. Fine! Fuck. We’ll scrape it together somehow. But you’d better be good for your word and take care of those green bastards!”

Mark grinned, finishing his beer. He turned to Triska. “Ready for some action, partner?”

Triska set her mug down with a smile. “Always.”

With that, the two of them walked out of the inn, ready to face the orcs. They made their way to the north edge of the village. Suddenly, from the shadows of the nearby woods, a swarm of orcs burst out—green-skinned, hulking brutes wielding swords and roaring battle cries. Mark drew his blade with a steely hiss, while Triska summoned glowing fire orbs in her hands.

“Time to kill some orcs,” Mark said, charging headlong into the fray.

The first orc came at him with a vicious swing. Mark deflected the blow, his sword sparking against the crude steel. With a quick counterstrike, he severed both of the orc’s wrists, leaving it howling in agony. One wide slash across its chest silenced it for good, and the creature crumpled to the ground.

Two more orcs lunged at him. Mark deftly parried their attacks, landing a swift kick to the groin of one while warding off the other’s blade. As the first stumbled back, doubled over in pain, Mark drove his sword straight through its chest, the blade piercing clean through and dripping with greenish blood. He yanked it free just in time to block another strike from the second orc.

With a series of quick, powerful slashes, Mark drove the remaining orc back, forcing it to drop its weapon. Its sword clattered onto the snowy ground, and Mark wasted no time. A single swing of his blade sent the orc’s head flying, its green blood staining the snow as the head rolled to a stop.

Nearby, Triska was holding her own. She hurled two fire orbs at a pair of charging orcs, the flames engulfing them instantly. Their agonized screams filled the air, and the acrid stench of burning flesh reached Mark’s nose. More orcs rushed toward her, but she summoned additional fire, immolating three more attackers.

As another group of four closed in, Triska shifted tactics. This time, she conjured razor-sharp shards of ice, flinging them with precision. Two shards struck the chests of two orcs, a third embedded itself in the forehead of another, and the last pierced one unfortunate orc’s eye.

The half-blinded orc staggered, screaming in pain. Mark quickly ended its misery with a swift slash across its throat, the creature choking before collapsing lifeless into the snow.

Another orc rushed at him, its sword slicing horizontally. Mark ducked just in time, feeling the blade graze the top of his hair. Still crouched, he thrust his sword deep into the orc’s stomach. With a sharp pull, he freed his blade and turned to meet the next foe.

This one carried a massive wooden club studded with crude spikes. The orc swung hard, and Mark barely dodged the first blow. The second strike caught him square in the chest, sending him sprawling backward into the snow. His chainmail had absorbed the brunt of the impact, but the force left him winded.

The orc closed in for the kill, but Mark grabbed a handful of snow and hurled it into its face. The orc flinched, closing its eyes in irritation, and that moment was all Mark needed. Springing to his feet, he delivered a horizontal slash so clean it severed the orc at the waist. Its two halves fell apart, collapsing separately onto the bloodstained snow.

More orcs stormed toward them, roaring in fury. Triska unleashed a flurry of icy shards, each one striking true—foreheads, chests, shoulders, and eyes. Mark waded into the chaos with his sword, slashing and hacking relentlessly. Green flesh flew through the air, splattering his armor with the thick, sticky blood of his enemies. Arms and legs were severed, chests were skewered, and heads rolled onto the bloodstained ground.

Within minutes, the battlefield was a graveyard of dismembered orc corpses. The surviving orcs, still a sizable group, hesitated. Faced with the overwhelming carnage, they turned tail and retreated into the woods, their battle cries replaced by fearful silence.

Mark stood there, panting, sweat dripping down his face. “Well… that was something. Wow.”

Triska smirked, brushing stray hair from her face. “We definitely showed them. That felt good. I think I burned off a year’s worth of frustration.”

Mark chuckled. “Glad your first mission was so invigorating, partner.”

Back at the village, the two strode into the inn, their clothes and armor smeared with green blood. The villagers froze, stunned to see them alive. Mark approached the counter and slapped his hand on it. “I need two rooms. One for me, one for the lady. Get us bathtubs, and someone to clean our gear. Oh, and my reward. Take what I owe you and hand over the rest.”

Boyan stared at them, wide-eyed. “You actually killed them? All of them?”

Mark nodded. “Most. The rest won’t be back anytime soon after what they saw.”

Still in shock, Boyan handed him a heavy pouch of coins and showed them to their rooms. “Let’s call it a night,” Mark said to Triska. “See you tomorrow.”

Mark entered his small room, as modest as one would expect in a village inn. He stripped off his blood-soaked armor and handed it to Boyan for cleaning. Dropping onto the bed, he relaxed for a while until Boyan returned with a wooden tub filled with steaming hot water.

“Here you go,” Boyan said, setting it down.

“Thanks,” Mark replied. Once alone, he shed his clothes and slipped into the tub, letting the heat soothe his sore, battle-weary muscles. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment of peace.

Just as he got out, the door swung open.

“Mark—” Triska started, then froze. Her eyes widened, and her face turned bright red upon seeing Mark completely naked before her. “Oh!” she gasped, clamping her hands over her eyes. “I-I should’ve knocked!”

Mark grabbed a towel, entirely unfazed. “What do you need?”

“I… uh… nothing! Never mind!” Triska stammered, spinning around and rushing out.

Mark chuckled, shaking his head as he dried off. After calling Boyan to remove the tub, he collapsed onto the bed and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next morning, sunlight streamed into the stable as Mark saddled his horse. Triska joined him, her cheeks tinged with pink.

“Ready to hit the road?” Mark asked.

Triska nodded, then hesitated. “About last night… I was going to ask about that book of spells you have. The one you got from Vivian. I think her knowledge could help me become stronger.”

Mark gave her a nod. “Sure. You can study it, but the book stays with me. It’s come in handy before—our duel proves that.”

“Thanks. And… sorry for barging in.”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t mind it at all,” he grinned, making Triska blush even harder.

He mounted his horse, and Triska climbed up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. With a nudge of the reins, they galloped out of the village. For that is the life of a wandering swordsman, to always be on the move.