Cat o' Nine: Courtship of Knives

By Renee Adams

Kyan is the infamous Cat o' Nine, formerly a spy, thief, and assassin. In the second book of the Cat o' Nine series, having won her freedom from her former vampire lover, Nybaaz, she and her companion, a Warg named Grawl, are entrusted with a message for the duchy of Agonul warning of an impending Orc invasion.

With sharpened blades and twisting schemes waiting for her around every corner, Kyan tries to shed her dark past and become a normal Mau. War is right around the corner though, and it's a bad time for the Cat 'o Nine to disappear.

The Orcs aren't the only threat. Dangers exist on the inside of Agonul's formidable walls too. Kyan and Grawl soon find themselves caught up in the middle of love, murder, and treachery.

Only this time, an entire kingdom is at stake.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Renee Adams
• Release date: Jun 10, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458086006

Renee Adams

Renée Adams lives in New Jersey with many pets who kindly share their home with her. Between dreams of one day becoming the local “crazy cat lady” and fantasies of ruling the world with an army of robots, she writes, draws, plays video games, and does martial arts.

Book preview

Courtship of Knives

Book 2 of the Cat o’ Nine Series

Mark Turton & Renée Adams

Edited by Barbara Kessinger

Published by Mark Turton and Renée Adams at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Mark Turton and Renée Adams

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

Mystholt & Euland

Agonul Keep

I.

Vuudush, the Orc king of Strongmount, scowled at the grisly sight by his feet. All around him, his Orcs nervously shuffled, casting anxious glances back and forth between their King and the blood-covered body of the vampire Nybaaz lying on the ground, staked through the chest with nothing fancier than a torch.

They were in the dungeons of Vuudush’s mountain fortress. Torchlight flickered a dim orange on the damp, stone walls. Underfoot, the dirty, bloodstained floor had once been smooth stone. Now it was cracked and caked in layer upon layer of dirt. Other corpses of Dwarves lay unmoving on the floor, but no one paid any attention to those. Dwarves were expected to die in an Orc fortress. A vampire, especially one wielding as much power as Nybaaz, was not.

All the cells in the dim dungeon were empty, the doors left wide open. Every last one of their Dwarf and Gnome prisoners, with the exception of the dead Dwarves, had escaped, and they’d taken the Elf princess and that Warg thing along with them. It was a pretty safe bet that the Cat o' Nine had gone with them.

With an angry roar, the Ogre-sized king abruptly grabbed the nearest Orc and threw the unlucky sap against the jagged, rocky wall. He smacked into it with a sickening noise right next to a flickering torch then dropped to the ground, unconscious.

Find them, you worthless fools! Vuudush boomed, his voice echoing among the empty cells, "Send out bands to search the mountains! They know our plans! And sound the drums! Muster the horde! We must gather our army and march now!!"

When the Orcs around Vuudush only milled around, not sure exactly who their king was addressing, Vuudush roared with fury. Swinging his battle-axe indiscriminately, he chased the Orcs out of the dungeon.

I said NOW, you sons of troll whores! NOW!!

Thus motivated, his subjects fell over themselves to do his bidding—and get out of the way of his axe, yelping when the edge of that particular weapon got too close, Orcs fled the dungeon like a horde of rats until the giant Orc king was practically alone. The only ones left were the Orcs who worked in the forges, trembling on their knees.

Get up, you sniveling cowards! Vuudush spat. Back to work! You have swords and armor to make! MOVE! You!!

He grabbed the smallest of the lot, jerking the shaking sword-maker off his feet by the front of his leather apron and dumping him next to Nybaaz’s corpse.

Toss that trash into the lava pits. It smells like it died centuries ago.

Y-y-yes, K-k-k-k...

The little Orc was so frightened, he couldn’t talk.

Sneering, Vuudush smacked him hard across the back of his skull, knocking the poor Orc flat over the corpse of Nybaaz.

Pitiful little cave mouse, the king growled.

Vuudush turned away to leave as the other Orc smiths snickered under their breath at their comrade’s misfortune, but when their liege paused to glare at them, they hurried back to their own anvils and forges.

Breathe...Yer alive...Just breathe, Thimbleflint, the tiny Orc told himself over and over. Let’s just get this blasted chore over with!

Thimbleflint was no stranger to disposing of bodies. Being the smallest, he got the job whenever the creeps in the dungeons got carried away or when King Vuudush had someone executed. In the past, he’d dragged every imaginable dead thing down this tunnel: deceased Orc rivals, burly Ogres, warty Trolls, Human or Elf slaves, and more Dwarves and Gnomes than he could count. That wasn’t saying much, since he couldn’t count more than his fingers and toes, but he was sure it was a lot!

This time though, the dead guy had already been dead before he’d been killed.

Thimbleflint’s hands were still shaking as he tugged the vampire lord's booted foot with one hand and held a small lantern with the other.

Vampire lord. Hmph. He doesn’t look that tough, Thimbleflint thought with bravado, trying to convince himself of it. Lord Nybaaz, as he’d heard the pasty-faced corpse called, was no bigger than the average Human male. Even when this bag of bones was walking around, Thimbleflint hadn’t thought much of his appearance. To the tiny Orc, Nybaaz looked like some high-toned dandy-do-well with his dark hair all slicked back and his fancy get up, all the way down to sissy lace and polished riding boots.

It was only when Nybaaz had actually looked at Thimbleflint that shivers went up Thimbleflint’s spine. Those eyes had glanced at him once when the vampire had entered the dungeons, and Thimbleflint had felt like the vampire saw him as no more than a potential meal. Now that neat hair was a black, dirty mop, the clothes hopelessly stained by soot and dirt mixed with blood. The once snow-white shirt under the coat was in an equally sorry state, soaked red with the vampire's own blood. Well, wait...if a vampire drank other people’s blood, was it truly his own blood?

Thimbleflint frowned to himself and pushed that thought away. His head hurt whenever he used it too much. The point was that despite the pathetic state of the dead vampire, the little forge Orc had just come that close to the end of his miserable existence. He was already shaken up, and now this vampire’s dead, red-eyed stare was still creeping him out. And with his mouth open like that, Thimbleflint could see the fangs every time he looked over his shoulder.

Don’t be lookin' at me like that! he snapped at the corpse with bravery he certainly didn’t feel. I’m not the one who ordered ya fed to the fires, ya know!

He shifted his hold on Nybaaz’s foot and looked over his other shoulder.

Those eyes still stared at him, rattling Thimbleflint enough that the Orc tripped over a rock.

Yelping, he went sprawling face-down into the dirt, and his little lantern shattered on the hard ground, its light snuffed out. Had it not been for the glow of the lava pits up ahead, Thimbleflint would have fled right then and there.

Breathing hard, Thimbleflint picked himself up and forced his trembling hands to grab the cadaver's boot again. Lugging the body closer to the edge of the nearest pit of molten, boiling rock, Thimbleflint wiped his brow (more out of relief than the heat). He regarded the staked vampire with repugnance.

Here we are, blood-sucker, he said with a grunt. Sorry this is the way ya ended up dead...or undead dead...or is it un-undead? Ugh, you’re making my head hurt again.

Nybaaz didn't answer.

Bah, if you’re gonna be like that, I hope ya burn for eternity! Off ya go then, Fangs!

Thimbleflint muttered as he tried to heave the vampire closer to the edge, huffing and puffing and straining his little body as he pushed the vampire’s shoulders.

Thimbleflint paused.

Gotta be a better way to do this, he said aloud, scratching his head.

The problem, he decided, was that stake sticking through the body’s chest and out the back. The bloody, pointed end was digging into the ground and dragging like a large claw. The Orc wondered how wise it would be to remove the stake. The vampire was already dead as a rock, after all. And that was a perfectly good torch. Thimbleflint would need something to light the way back too. His lantern had shattered, and he didn’t want to fall again. Why waste it?

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, the tiny Orc rubbed his gloved hands, grabbed hold of the torch, and braced a foot on Nybaaz’s chest.

One...two...three!

Thimbleflint yanked as hard as he could.

The torch only budged an inch. He tried again. Then again. Then after a little rest, he tried again. Finally, he jerked it out with a sickening squelching noise, and Thimbleflint tumbled back on his rump, holding the blood-soaked makeshift stake.

Yeck! the Orc muttered with disgust. Dropping the torch, he climbed back to his feet, dusted himself off, and waddled back to the vampire awaiting cremation. Pushing on Nybaaz’s shoulders, Thimbleflint resumed his efforts to push the corpse off the edge again.

C’mon! Thimbleflint grunted, straining. Stop being—oof!—stubborn! Go...have a...nice...after-afterli—ACK!!

The corpse’s arm had shot up and grabbed him by the throat in an iron grip. Thimbleflint frantically struggled as he gagged, trying to break free, but it was futile. He would have screamed with panic if he could have, but the grip closed off his airway too tightly. Those red eyes were glaring at him again, but they weren’t so dead now.

The look in them told the hapless Orc that he was indeed meat, and Lord Nybaaz was dying of thirst.

Nybaaz yanked his captive down and sank his teeth into the Orc’s jugular. He drank the foul Orc blood greedily, his iron grip keeping the wriggling piece of meat from escaping until the tiny thing’s struggles dwindled to death twitches.

Nybaaz tossed the dead Orc aside, shakily pulling himself to his hands and knees before he gasped out, I respectfully...decline...your invitation...to the afterlife.

His arms shook as they tried to hold him up. When he looked down, the gaping hole in his chest was still there. The fresh Orc blood was already starting to trickle out. He would need more blood to be able to regenerate. Much more.

As a temporarily solution, he ripped the Orc’s tunic off and stuffed it into the wound. It would stanch the flow while the rest clotted.

Gellantra, he wheezed. Come to me.

Nothing happened.

Gellantra! he repeated more forcefully. I summon you!

Only the boiling, bubbling lava and hissing steam answered him.

Damn, he cursed. He’d been staked too long. His hold on all his undead slaves must have been broken. Gellantra, his Ghoulswords...all of them had likely either found their release into death, or were wandering aimlessly about like stray pets by now. If found, they’d soon be destroyed, if they hadn’t already been.

And all his living servants, he thought darkly, were no longer worthy of his trust. Especially a particular Mau.

As I said...sorry, my love.

For a long moment, Nybaaz faltered. He remembered the look of sorrow on her face, and the tears running down her cheeks as she had thrust the stake into him. He had seen the regret in her green eyes. She hadn’t wanted to do it. She’d felt she had no choice.

Had he been too harsh? Had he been too demanding of her? Could he have done something to prevent all this? In his way, he had loved her, after all.

The moment was fleeting however as anger over her betrayal overcame him. He’d loved her, and she in return had chosen a flea-infested mongrel-man over him. What was more, she had tried to kill him for that mutt. Him! Nybaaz!

Sorry, Kyan? No, not yet, he seethed aloud. "But you will be. I will make you truly sorry!"

First things first, he told himself. He needed to retreat to a safe haven and lick his wounds. But soon, very soon, he promised himself, the Cat o’ Nine would rue the day she had decided to cross Nybaaz.

II.

We could have been at least to the river already, but noooooo! We had to listen to your nose! grumbled Kyan.

Hey! My nose is better than yours, and you know it! If we’d tried your idea, we’d be back in the bloody Orc tunnels, Grawl shot back as he turned around in place, trying to get his bearings.

From his tall, muscular build, rugged square jaw, high cheekbones, and his long, shaggy, black hair braided along his temples, anyone could tell that Grawl was a Northman. What people couldn’t tell at a glance was that he was not just a Human. He was a Warg, a person who could turn into a wolf the size of a horse, or an even bigger wolf-man form covered with fur, bristling with teeth and claws, and as strong as a giant. His nose and ears were as sharp, if not sharper, than any hound too. And while all that sounded like a werewolf, Grawl hated being mistaken for one. He was no cursed beast. All of his changes were controlled and at will.

Even with his gift, his abilities, and his deerskin tunic and trousers that marked him as a woodsman, he had the half-exasperated, half-confused look of the lost. The Strongmount mountains was not well-known territory to him. He was more at home on the windswept tundra and icy fjords. But while he only looked disoriented, the Mau next to him looked completely out of place.

In her black leathers and cloak, armed with several throwing knives and a rope-dart, one might expect to find someone like Kyan in the streets and dark alleys of Gorkath or Nerot. She was about average Human height, but she was definitely not Human. She was a Mau, a combination of cat and Human. Long blond hair flowed between two pointed ears, and a fine layer of fur covered her body, mostly yellow with tabby markings. Her eyes were green, and she had whiskers that laid flat against her cheeks on either side of a small nose. Claws could be extended from her fingers to greet enemies, or retracted for friends.

Still, for all her feral characteristics, it was easy to see that Kyan was more accustomed to roads and people than wilderness. Few would expect to find her trudging along a barren route in the mountains that might or might not have been called a path, grumbling about her empty belly and rubbing her hands together to try to keep warm.

Jagged, gray stone and patches of snow were the features at this altitude. The stunted pine trees and shrubs offered little to no shelter. It was cold, and the air was thin. Kyan was ravenously hungry, and her stomach ached. They had been wandering around for the last few days, trying to find the way out of the Strongmount without running into Vuudush’s Orcs, and a day ago, Grawl had lost their supplies. The strap of their pack had snapped and tumbled down a deep ravine to feed whatever lurked in its depths.

Kyan scowled as she walked ahead of Grawl. You don’t know that, mutt! Her stomach rumbled yet again and she cursed. "And speaking of bad ideas, I'm not the one who lost our supplies down a thrice-cursed, Abyss-be-damned ravine!"

"That wasn't my fault! The thrice-cursed, Abyss-be-damned strap snapped!"

You were probably gnawing at it like a marrow bone.

Are you always this charming?

You deserve it! We haven't eaten in a day and a half. I'm hungry!

What happened to that showing off trick you did back in Fynn’s Hills, hmm? the Warg taunted. Flick! Dead bird. Flick! Dead rabbit!"

Do you see any birds or rabbits on this Gods-forsaken mountain?! Huh? What about flint? Or usable tinder? Not everyone wants a belly full of worms to help the starvation along!

Grawl had to admit she had a point. There was nothing but rock this high. Still, he was too worked up to confess that maybe he’d goofed on not checking the equipment closely enough.

Annoying cat is sounding mighty tasty to me at the moment, he muttered under his breath.

Sit, Kyan growled, compelling him just as he stepped into a patch of snow. He sat down hard, getting his backside wet.

Hey! he protested, jumping back up. No fair!

And eating me is? she retorted crankily as her stomach growled. Truth be told, it was her stomach that was doing the talking today. We have to find food.

Yeah, yeah, I know! he answered sullenly. You know I wouldn’t try to eat you anyway.

Besides the point, Kyan grumbled back. You called me a ‘cat’.

You call me a mutt all the time.

You don’t mind when I say it nicely, Kyan retorted, but her heart wasn’t in it. She sat down on a boulder, holding her stomach. Grawl, we’re really not gonna get much farther without food.

I hear ya. Stay here. I can catch something easier as a wolf, he said, shifting into the dire wolf form of his.

Back in a bit!

Kyan glowered at the rocks in front of her as if this was all their fault. If you can find some stuff to make a fire, that’d help too! I’m not eating raw meat!

As you command, Your Highness!

Piss off, worm arse.

Kyan huddled there on a boulder, holding her stomach and feeling sorry for herself and Grawl as she watched him lope off. She shook her head, wondering how it was possible for her life to have changed so quickly and so dramatically. Ever since she’d unknowingly tied a spirit-bond between herself and Grawl, life had been turned upside-down. While initially stuck with him, their feelings had grown for each other, and it had come to a head when she had been forced to choose between Grawl or eternity as a vampire with her former mate, Nybaaz. Now Nybaaz was dead by her hand, and she bickered with Grawl almost as much as she found herself melting under his ice blue eyes. Just now though, her growing feelings for Grawl warred with her guilt over Nybaaz, and with gnawing hunger stacked on top of it all, she just wanted to hit someone. Unfortunately, Grawl was the only one around.

Her sharp green cat eyes darted about, trying to spot a mouse, a squirrel, anything that could be called dinner!

A small rock tumbling down the incline a short distance away caught her attention. Her head snapped up. Maybe there were little animals up here after all! But all she saw was rocks and more snow.

Then her sharp ears caught a muffled curse. In Orcish.

Grawl? she called, getting to her feet and starting to slowly swing her bladed rope-dart.

Yes, yes, I know. Wood and food. Working on it.

Orcs!

What?! Where?!

An Orc cautiously poked his head up from behind a gray rock. He cursed when he saw Kyan swinging her rope-dart. The game was up.

She knows! he barked out. Get her!

Orcs sprung up from all around, snarling as they brandished swords and shields, axes, or other weapons. She even spotted archers with barbed arrows.

Here, you mangy mutt! she snapped, diving behind a boulder to avoid the arrows. They have archers!

She let loose with her rope-dart at the first Orc within reach. It nailed the fellow between the eyes before he could jerk his shield up, and he fell. An arrow whizzed past her and skipped off the rocks. The Orcs half-charged, half skidded down the rocky slope. One lost his footing and tumbled head over feet past Kyan.

Kyan ignored him and hurled a throwing dagger straight at an archer. His arrow twanged straight up into the air as the Orcish bowman fell backward. She couldn’t enjoy her good throw though. Two more Orcs were already upon her, swinging battle-axes as they howled war cries.

Kyan stepped back, letting their bodies shelter her from the arrows, and brought up her daggers. She didn’t bother blocking. The axes were too heavy for that. Instead, she used the daggers to push them slightly to the right or left of herself, or over her head. Sometimes she jumped backward, waiting for an opening.

The good thing about rocky mountain paths was that they weren’t wide enough for all of the Orcs at once, but hunger gnawed at her, and she was slow in her movements. Her limbs felt heavy. It wouldn’t be long before the Orcs cut her down.

A large, shaggy blur darted past her from behind, colliding against the trio of Orcs who were advancing on her, lined up in a shield wall. The force of the impact knocked them back and sent one tumbling down the steep incline. Grawl shifted into wolf-man form and tore into the Orcs behind them with ferocious growls.

Kyan bounded up the incline like a cougar toward the archers, hurling throwing daggers at any who dared show their faces and trying to give Grawl some cover. The bowmen were too busy trying to shoot the Warg, but with the creature flinging Orcs aside left and right in his rage, their arrows either missed or hit their comrades. By the time one of them caught sight of Kyan flanking them, it was too late. Her daggers were airborne and hurtling right at them. They fell one right after the other like dominoes.

Even so, Kyan saw more hordes of Orcs coming. Hungry and weakened, she and Grawl wouldn’t be able to fight all of them. Even in top condition, Kyan wasn’t sure they could have taken that many.

Any animal out there who can help me and my Warg friend, please help! she called desperately. She was out of the daggers she had acquired from Nybaaz’s mirror. All she had left were the Dwarven ones, and she was loathe to lose them. The Orcs are after us!

I see you, replied a voice. But I cannot reach you there. Move along the path! When it forks, turn right!

Grawl! This way! Help’s coming! she called to the Warg, running for it and trying to keep rocks between herself and the rest of the Orcs.

Heaving an Orc into the rest, Grawl bounded away on Kyan’s heels.

Who? he asked, pausing only long enough to let her leap on his back.

I don’t know and don’t care, Kyan replied, clinging to him. Just follow the path and hang a right at the fork!

He obeyed, tearing along as snow and rock whizzed past him. The path forked, and he raced up the incline, leaving the Orcs in a cloud of dust behind him. Kyan could see the trail was actually circling the mountain they were on.

Keep going, the voice instructed her. You're almost there!

The trail still climbed higher, and even Kyan was beginning to wonder about the source.

Where are you? she asked, getting anxious. I can't see you!

I am close. Trust me. Keep going.

Kyan could hear the shouts of Orcs behind them. Looking over her shoulder, she saw them down the path in the distance. It didn't seem they had much choice but to trust the voice.

Kyan! Grawl cursed. Damn it! It's a dead end!!

Kyan looked ahead in horror. Sure enough, they'd topped the crest of the climb and a ledge was coming up fast! She jumped off Grawl’s back as he skidded to a halt. Peering over the side, the drop reminded Kyan of the one she had braved vaulting the Orc King's tower. It was a long drop, straight down. There were few handholds at all.

Grawl shifted to Human form, pacing as he cursed some more.

Great! Who were you talking to? A cave bat?! The Orcs got our escape blocked off!

Behind them was a swarm of Orcs climbing the path after them.

Where are you? You said this was safe!

I said trust me. Stay right there. Do not move.

Where are you?! Kyan demanded. You promised to help! We’ll be dead in a minute!

Look up.

Kyan's eyes lifted up into the skies, and her heart nearly stopped.

"C’mon, Kyan, we need to head back and take our chances with the Orcs. If they catch us here, they'll just rush us off the edge.

Grawl... Kyan began, looking very pale. I—

Look, I know it looks bad, but we got no choice! Grawl said. We'll charge right through!

Grawl! Kyan said louder.

What? snapped the Warg irritably, hefting his axes.

I think our help is here.

Huh?

The Warg turned, following Kyan's wide-eyed gaze.

Oh, shite! No, no, no, NO! hollered Grawl with rising panic.

A piercing shriek echoed off the mountain, cutting off Grawl's protests.

An enormous bird of prey was swooping down on them. It was so huge that it could have carried off a small ship or a large boat in its claws. Its wingspan was hundreds of feet long, its feathers dark brown, and its eyes nearly black behind its golden beak.

But Grawl barely noticed any of that. All he saw were talons large enough to skewer a full grown buffalo. And they were extended right for him!

Kyan shut her eyes and braced herself. The talons slammed into her, knocking the air from her lungs. The wind buffeted her as those huge wings flapped above her. She heard Grawl's scream as she was snatched off the barren ground and carried into the air.

III.

This is your idea of help?! Grawl screamed in her mind, wriggling in the grip of the talons that held him.

Would you have preferred the Orc horde back there?! she shot back as the icy wind whipped through her fur and hair, chilling her almost to the bone. Like Grawl, her arms were pinned to her sides and her feet dangled in the air.

Oh I dunno, Kyan! Lemme think! Possible death by Orcs, or certain death as dinner for some giant roc or her chicks! Decisions, decisions!

I didn't know until you did, Grawl! And calm down! She's not going to eat us or feed us to her young.

Told you that, did she? Grawl snarled sarcastically. I'd lie through my teeth too if it made prey hop into my jaws!

You're overreacting! She said to trust her! It's perfectly fine!

I think, Kyan added to herself.

I still hate flying!! Grawl snarled.

I thought that was sailing!

It's anything where my feet aren't on the bleedin' ground!!

Tell your friend to stop struggling, the roc's voice interrupted them.

I'm trying, Kyan assured the giant bird. He's not fond of flying, and he's afraid you plan to eat him.

No, but if he prefers, I can drop him here.

Kyan looked down and wished she hadn't. The ground was so far below; it made her stomach lurch at the thought of falling.

She said she's not going to eat you, but she will drop you if you don't stop squirming, Grawl. Now shut up and hold still!

Grawl lapsed into a sullen silence, but he stopped struggling.

Sorry about that, Kyan said to the roc.

No need to apologize. His reaction is understandable.

It is?

Yes. I helped you because the Orcs kill my young, the roc replied as they soared over majestic peaks. They try to kill me with their pointed trees.

Kyan guessed the roc was referring to Orc ballistae spears.

They shoot at me with the pointed sticks too, Kyan sympathized.

Then the enemy of my enemy is my friend. All the same, you must be mindful who you ask for help here, Druid. There is wildlife that would just as soon turn on you.

Kyan looked out across the land, marveling at the view. Far below, she could see the green pines mixing with the red, yellow, and orange leaves of the oak and maple trees. Why? she asked the roc. Animals have always been happy to help before. Mostly. There were a few smart-mouthed badgers.

Badgers wouldn't consider you a possible meal, the roc pointed out. I might have if it wasn't for the Orcs. I do need to eat after all.

Oh... Kyan said slowly, chagrined. Maybe Grawl hadn't been overreacting after all, she realized.

You've nothing to fear from me, the roc reassured her. You've dealt with smaller animals in the past, yes?

Kyan thought of the whale that had helped her escape pirates, but for the most part, she had to admit the roc was right.

Pretty much, yeah. And not this far out in the wild.

Then they were accustomed to people, or too small to be a threat. Out here, many are larger and more dangerous. They may think you threaten their young or their territory. Some may serve other masters far worse than Orcs, or they may simply think you'll make a good meal. In any case, many are cunning enough to try to trick you, and you could find yourself in deeper trouble than you were in the first place.

I hadn't thought of that, Kyan murmured.

And then there are dumb, nearsighted ones that would just as soon lock horns, head-butt, or trample anything that moves, added the roc with a touch of amusement.

Thanks for the advice, Kyan thought back, meaning it. The dumb ones she could handle with her ability to compel, but trickery from animals was something she hadn't expected. Except from Caw. She felt a pang of loneliness at that thought.

You're welcome. Now, where shall I set you two down?

There's a Human Keep to the south. That's where we're headed. We'll take a ride that way as far as you're willing to carry us, Kyan replied.

Then I will set you down at the base of the mountains to the east, the roc decided, banking in that direction. The Humans in that stone nest by the lake are about as friendly as the Orcs. If they don't want me carrying off their cows on occasion, they shouldn't leave them grazing in the open fields like that!

Kyan couldn’t suppress a wry smile, even as she watched the mountains pass beneath her.

They’re trying to feed the cows and make them fat for milk and meat, Kyan told the roc. I don’t think they mean to leave you free meals.

I have never caught prey that was meant to be freely eaten either, the roc dryly countered as she descended through clouds. Tell them to stop making it so easy if that is their aim.

Nah,