For Love Orc Money: Abaddon, #3

By Christina Winds

He's fighting for his people. She's fighting for her legacy.

Honored to be chosen as one of the first from Abaddon allowed back on Earth, Cliff is determined not to waste the opportunity to help the struggling orc race. If he can just learn how to create a magic-powered computer, his race will have the income and freedom they need to heal.

Victoria has dreamed of running her late father's computer manufacturing business since she could walk—preferably before her spitefully incompetent mother finishes destroying it. In the meantime, she's more than willing to help the fascinating man who wants to learn all about computers.

But just as she learns Cliff is even more fascinating than she knew, the fight for her father's business turns more dangerous than she could have imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christina Winds
• Release date: Jan 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781733679664

Christina Winds

One day, an introverted young girl sat in her high school classroom, listening to the teacher instruct her about things she had already learned from the books she loved to read. Not being the social type, she decided to combat her boredom - and pretend to be working - by writing her own book instead. That initial story ended up being hundreds of hand-written pages long. And had absolutely nothing resembling a plot arc. But the stories and characters stuck around as the girl grew up - her saviors in times of stress or boredom...or work meetings which are often both. They entertained her, distracted her, and both kept her out of and got her into trouble. Eventually, they told her that they were tired of being stuck only inside her head. They wanted a change of scenery. When they started to yell loudly enough, Christina gave in and agreed to put them all into their own books.   It's going to take a while to get to them all - it's crowded in there. Currently, Christina Winds spends her days wrangling databases and her evenings as a mother of two teens, mom-taxi driver, cook, handyman, woodworker, dog-toy thrower, cat servant…and prolific reader. In what spare time she can squeeze out, she writes novels. Her favorite stories are the ones in which the bad guy isn't all that bad—if only you understood his point of view. Everyone is the hero of their own story. It is her belief that we should all look for that hero in everyone we meet.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Cliff Morda gazed out over the rolling fuchsia hills outside the newly-renamed Liberty Keep—former home of the lich Noya and confiscated for the traitorous crime of keeping hundreds of orcs as slaves. Now, orc children played in the formal garden, supervised by their older siblings while their parents toiled in the fields in the distance. Familiar and unfamiliar. The fields were getting worked like every year, but this year for the benefit of the orcs themselves instead in slavery to Noya. The children watched over by their siblings, but this year they tried to learn the ins and out of the extraordinary exercise called 'playing' rather than being assigned some task to help keep the master happy. Contrasting dualities that spoke to the dichotomies of his own life and the orc people.

The orcs were still a broken people, recovering but not yet well. To heal, they needed to bind the split in their natures back together.

With that thought in mind, Cliff walked over the desk against the wall behind him and picked up the pages laying there. Such a thin stack for the magnitude of the change it represented. He sat down to read over it again. It had to be perfect.

Do you think he will approve it? a soft voice asked from the doorway.

Cliff turned and found his mother, Evangeline Morda. With her blonde hair and crystal blue eyes, his mata exuded an air of delicate fragility that Cliff knew was completely misleading. No one could survive what she and his father had if she were as fragile as she appeared. She was his inspiration and his motivation. He stood to give her a hug.

Yes, I think so. The other Councilors may not like it, but King Eric is a reasonable man and I believe he will see the sense of it.

His mother held him close, always extending her hugs as if to make up for his early years when she hadn't been allowed to give him any at all for fear of drawing attention to him. I am frightened for you every time you get so close to the king, she admitted. A lich of so much power...

Cliff stepped back and took her shoulders, staring into her eyes to underscore his sincerity. King Eric is not a danger to me, Mother. I promise you. He is nothing like King Zed was. Nor like any other lich you've ever met. He's as different from them as real liches are from the 'undead skeleton' myth of the humans.

His mother's lips quirked. I've known a few that could have been the origin of that myth.

Cliff smiled in acknowledgement but refused the deflection. This king is a good leader, not arbitrary and capricious like those lich you've dealt with. The only danger in the palace is to traitors who try to harm him or his mate. And Queen Tamara is compassion embodied. No matter what, you can take comfort in the fact that King Eric would never be needlessly cruel because it would upset his Concordia, and he allows nothing to do that. Not even himself.

And you're sure she is his Concordia? she asked. His honest and true, Maker-granted Concordia?

Yes. I've seen the bond myself. A shifting, bright, rainbow rope stretching between them, thick and true in my magesight. Even one of King Eric's power cannot fake a Concordia bond.

Evangeline nodded, smiling with slight relief. Then I will trust in the Maker's wisdom. He would not grant a Concordia to the unworthy. And someone who would harm my sweet boy would definitely be unworthy.

Chuckling at her reasoning, Cliff gathered his notes and his petition. You trust the Maker but not your own son?

A rare impish grin creased her face. Of course. I've known Him longer.

Shaking his head, he pulled her close. Walk me to the portal?

Of course.

Arm in arm, they strolled through the hallways to the room where King Eric had established a semi-permanent portal until the new conclave of freed orcs got themselves established. The shipments of food, clothing, and other necessities of life were becoming less frequent as the orcs became more self-supporting, but for now, the portal was vital to their health and safety. Conveniently, it also allowed Cliff to spend more time at the keep rather than at the house he kept in Capital City for Council periods.

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As they rounded the last corner, a heavy step came up behind them.

Off to do more useless posturing in Capital City?

Cliff suppressed a groan at the familiar and derisive voice. Gritting his teeth, he turned to address the orc behind him. Maxis. Maker's Greetings to you. Cliff nodded politely and turned back around, tugging gently on his mother's arm where it linked with his, urging her to ignore the belligerent prodding.

Maxis refused to let it go, however, moving around them to block the hallway—and with his broad shoulders, he blocked it very effectively. The massive orc had lived in his battle form for so long, he no longer seemed capable of shrinking back down to his human-sized form. Scarred from head to toe, the faint green tinge to his skin from his battle form only highlighted the crisscrossing lines and ragged evidence of past trauma.

I asked you a question, Silkskin.

Evangeline gasped at the insult, and Cliff squeezed her arm in warning. Yes, Maxis, I am heading back to the Capital. Is there something specific you would like me to present to the king?

Maxis sneered. Why present anything to him? He won't be around much longer. The orcs have had enough of being everyone's slave. It's time we took back what we're owed.

You cannot beat the king, Maxis. You'll only get more orcs killed. Give my way a chance.

Talking? What sort of chance is that? Will it keep my sons off the battlefields when that's the only job people will hire them to do? We may pick our masters now, but we're still slaves. Liches made us into warriors. If warrior is the only thing they will let us be, then it is time they reap what they sowed.

I understand your frustration, Maxis. And I'm working on solutions. The king does listen. Just give me the time to make him understand.

Maxis snorted. What can a silkskin make anyone understand of what we have suffered? We gather. If nothing changes, when we are strong enough, we will attack. And we will show the liches even their king is not strong enough to stand against us when we unite.

With a contemptuous grunt, Maxis stalked off. As he disappeared around the corner, Cliff's shoulders slumped. His mother rubbed a soothing hand on his back. You can't win them all over, love.

I know. But he's not wrong to be frustrated. And he's not alone.

Your way is better, Cliff. You know this. Enough of our people have died in the battles of others. It's time for us to stop all the fighting and heal.

If it works.

Clifton Tiberius Morda, I did not raise you to be a quitter!

Cliff sighed at his full name. Never a good sign. I'm not quitting, Mata. It's just a moment of exhaustion. Maxis will never listen to me so long as I remain unscarred, and he's not the only one. My 'silkskin' will always mark me as unmated and untried to those like Maxis. To him, I'm little more than a child who should be disciplined for daring to go against those with more experience who obviously know more than me.

On the other hand, his lack of scars were what had gotten him the Councillorship. As a silkskin with no combat experience outside of training, having lived centuries now without finding his mate so that he could even add to their numbers, to most orcs, Cliff was considered as close to useless as it was possible to be. Therefore, he had been the obvious—expendable—choice when the orcs had needed someone to risk making contact with the communities of other races. Winning a position on the King's Council had been a natural extension of that—a job everyone wished done but no one wished to do. His silkskin had, in a number of ways, been a benefit for him in spite of the bias from his fellow orcs.

His mata reminded him of that now. Scars do not make the man, Cliff. They are marks of honor but they are not the only way to be honorable. You may not have found your mate yet, but you are an adult. And the only one brave enough to volunteer to become a Councilman working so closely with the king. Maxis will see that in time. They all will. Your job terrifies me, but I am so, so proud of you.

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What's not to be proud of? Cliff's father met them at the portal, and Evangeline shifted from Cliff's side to her mate's. Looking at them, Cliff realized anew that there was no one he admired more than his parents. His father, scarred head to toe, one leg replaced with steel from the knee down, displayed his love for his mate in every ridged line of scar tissue. Each line was a testament to her own strength of will. And they still gazed at each other with a devotion that awed him.

Maxis was being his usual charming self, Eva told her mate.

Sam scowled. Maxis is a short-sighted hothead. Your mata is right, Cliff. You're doing good work, and we are proud of you. He stepped forward and pulled Cliff into a back-slapping hug with as much meaning as his mother's tighter one. You take care in the Capital, Cliff. Watch your back.

Cliff hugged him back. Thank you, Pata. I'll be back soon, you know. This is not the first time I've gone to Council. I've been serving close to three hundred years.

Sam didn't smile. Capital City is a dangerous place, son.

Cliff withheld a sigh. King Eric isn't like Zed, Pata. As I told Mata, he is a fair, reasonable man with a Maker-gifted Concordia. As long as I don't move to harm him or his mate, he won't harm me. And with all he has done for our people, I'm not about to try to hurt him.

Sam nodded. As you say, son.

But the words were appeasement, not conviction. After enduring centuries of torture and slavery under the rule of one lich or another, Cliff wasn't sure there was anything that would reassure his parents and allow them to understand he was safe around a lich as powerful as King Eric. 'Powerful' was forever linked to 'abusive' to them. Even though Eric was the one who outlawed slavery when he took the throne, they still considered him untrustworthy and dangerous.

Cliff was only a young child when King Eric had abolished slavery, so he lacked much of the wary prejudice older orcs held for liches while his upbringing around the survivors allowed him to completely understand why they felt the way they did. And to be fair, the king was most definitely dangerous to those who threatened him or his.

Still, King Eric was unique among his race for his compassion, and Cliff wished he could find the words to make his parents believe him and relieve their anxiety.

Knowing he wouldn't be any more able to convince them now than he'd been in the past, he hugged them both once more before stepping through the portal for the scheduled Council meeting. But the concern preyed on his mind, and he walked the familiar path on auto-pilot.

Until he almost collided with someone exiting a side hall a few steps from the door.

Oh! Your Majesty! My sincere apologies. I wasn't watching where I was going. I hope I didn't hurt you? He scanned Queen Tamara anxiously for damage, paling slightly at the presence of the king standing behind her.

Tamara laughed. I'm fine, Cliff. No harm done. Though some stoplights at some of these intersections might not be a bad idea. She tossed a teasing glance at her mate.

Stoplights? Cliff was puzzled by the term. He understood the words separately, of course, but the way she said them together implied a whole new and unfamiliar meaning.

Colored lights on Earth, Tamara explained. They put them at intersections to help control traffic. Green means go, yellow means prepare to stop, and red means stop. It's a way of making sure people take turns and don't run into each other by trying to cross at the same time.

Cliff was impressed. Both by the idea and by the thought that there existed on Earth places with enough traffic that such a device would be needed. A brilliant idea, my lady. You humans are so inventive.

Well, thank you, Cliff. I suppose it's necessary when you don't command magic. What were you thinking about so intently?

He looked away uncomfortably. It's nothing, my lady. Just...a family problem.

Well, to cause you such concern, it can't be 'nothing,' Tamara countered with a soft smile. Is it anything we can help with?

No. I thank you, my lady, but I do not believe so. It is only...my parents lived through much both during King Zed's reign and before. They worry for my safety here in the Capital, and I cannot find the right words to calm their fears. He shook his head. It is an old concern, my lady. Nothing you should concern yourself with.

'Here in the Capital,' King Eric repeated. His lips quirked. That's code for near me, am I correct?

Cliff flushed. Yes, sir. But they don't mean anything by it, Your Majesty. Not towards you, he said quickly. They judge only by their own...bad experiences with liches.

Tamara snorted. From what I understand, you may have just won the prize for the largest understatement in the history of Abaddon. She lightly punched her husband. And no doubt your 'big baddie' reputation doesn't inspire them to warm fuzzies, either.

King Eric raised a haughty brow, but Cliff imagined he saw humor dancing in the king's eyes. I worked very hard for my reputation. His tone darkened. And earned every bit.

The queen put a consoling hand on his arm. I know, sweetie. But it can't help but be concerning to Cliff's parents. They don't know you like I do, so they're bound to be frightened for him. Can't we invite them here to meet you? Try to put their fears to rest?

With a sight Cliff was coming to see would be the new normal for his king, Eric softened as he looked at his mate and agreed. Of course we can. He looked up at Cliff. It's a bit late to make arrangements for today's meeting, but this is going to stretch into tomorrow. You could invite them to come watch the session if you like. Show them around the palace and the city if they have the time.

That's a great idea, Tamara said. They can watch the Council session and see that Eric does not, in fact, throw lich-bolts at you all when you disagree with him.

Another teasing glance at her husband, and Cliff found himself envying their ease with each other. To be so certain you were loved by someone that nothing you could ever possibly say would threaten the bond. A craving for his own mate hit him with the force of gryphon in a hunting stoop. Which was odd as he'd never experienced more than a mild wistfulness at the thought of a mate before, but it was something to be dealt with later.

I can bring them here? he asked, glancing at the king for verification. There will be a session tomorrow?

It was unusual for meetings to roll over to a second day, but there was something in the king's tone that said it would happen in spite of a meeting agenda that had looked light to Cliff, even considering his own proposal. Interesting, but not worth irritating the king by asking for reasons at the moment.

If you think it would make them less anxious, King Eric shrugged, then by all means, bring them. But if they don't want to come, don't force the issue. I don't want you giving them coronaries while trying to ease their fears.

Tamara scoffed. "Surely you aren't so scary you don't induce heart attacks at the mere thought of meeting you."

Forgive me, my lady, Cliff said softly. "But yes, I'm afraid he really is that scary to most of Abaddon."

Tamara opened her mouth to object, but Eric stopped her. "Remember, my love, before you start defending me, I need to be seen as scary. The more people who are afraid of me, the fewer challengers dare to come out of the woodwork. I may not kill people on a whim in truth, but if they think I might, it keeps them safer. And the rest of Abaddon as well."

Was that the reason the king dealt with challengers so harshly and so publicly, Cliff wondered? But it made perfect sense. Cliff had been as terrified as his parents when he first won the position of Councilor and anticipated meeting the king. Determination won over terror, but the battle was fierce. All he had known was the king's public persona as seen in his challenge battles—harsh, deadly, and utterly unforgiving. Centuries before the king had brought back broadcasting technology from the humans, the battles had been described in explicit detail in every tavern, at every garden wall, and in every other gossiping spot in the realm. Every story was the same: if you challenged the king, you died. No exceptions, no reprieves.

With the advent of Earth's technology, King Eric and his royal teams of liches had modified the human concept of television to work with magic instead of electricity, and every challenge to the king was broadcast live, replacing any other programming on any station. It was plain the king wanted the news of them spread far and wide.

Once he had worked with the king for a while, it had become difficult to reconcile the man Cliff saw in Council with the one seen in those battles. It hadn't made sense that the compassionate, reasonable debater in Council could also be the deadly, merciless killer. The king had declared slavery illegal soon after taking the throne, thereby earning Cliff's loyalty. But with those battles vividly on display for centuries and influencing his impression of the king, trust had taken longer to build.

But now it made sense. Like amputating a gangrenous limb, the killer showed a form of compassion by his very lack of mercy. By not only defeating but devastating his opponents, he prevented others from following in their dangerous footsteps. And what an honor to be trusted enough that Eric gave away the secret in front of him.

Perhaps Cliff would feel differently if he thought any of those challengers would be a better ruler. But the reasonable people of Abaddon approached their Councilors with concerns and suggestions, and King Eric listened well, leaving little justification for challenges beyond a craving for power. Such a craving did not a good ruler make.

Deciding to take a little risk because the king seemed to be in such a relaxed mood, Cliff asked a question that had tickled his curiosity for a while. My lord, if I may ask? Eric's brow rose in inquiry. Why did you challenge King Zed? Then he hurried on before the king could answer. Not that I am not most grateful you did—as is, I daresay, all of Abaddon. But your challengers seem to want to be king while you...don't. And yet, you challenged for the crown. Did you want the power at the time?

King Eric sighed while his queen smirked a bit at his side, obviously already knowing the answer and finding it amusing. He kissed her knuckles. Why don't you go ahead and open up the Council meeting, Tamara? Go over the minutes from last time and get all the procedural stuff out of the way.

She nodded, gave him a peck on the cheek, and strode on ahead.

King Eric turned back to Cliff. I'll tell you the answer, but I would appreciate it if it goes no further, for the same reason I just mentioned. If it were known, it would only inspire more challenges. And frankly, I got really tired of that shit centuries ago.

Cliff nodded and bowed to his liege. I shall not tell a soul, Your Majesty.

"Then the truth is, I didn't want the crown then any more than I do now. All the political maneuvering and fighting off challengers...let's just say it is not my idea of a good time. But I also know—as I knew then—that as liches go, I'm damn powerful. I knew I could take on Zed and win where most others would not. He was strong. It's how he remained in power as long as he did. So, my thought was to get him out of the way and let someone else take over who would be a better ruler. I stupidly never thought the ruler would end up being me."

The puzzle that was his king added another piece in Cliff's understanding. So after you defeated Zed, you did not expect to be king. But then...

But to keep the crown, strength is required. Abaddon will allow nothing else. But all the other strong candidates were exactly like Zed. If I turned the crown over to any one of them, there would be no improvement of circumstances for most in the realm and would likely have been even worse. The realm would have been thrown into war after war as others tried to stage another coup and then another. Each caste with their favorites, each clan a favorite among those. The fighting would have been endless.

You were acceptable to them all?

Most, Eric confirmed. "Or at least not hated by them all and accepted as much as Abaddon accepts any ruler. As a lich, I am Warrior Caste and so acceptable to the majority of the Warriors. But I was also raised by ogres and was considered to be honorary Builder's Caste, as well. They liked the idea of a Builder king who could take on Warrior challengers and win. And, on a personal level, I was offended by the thought that I could fight so hard and at such cost to get rid of one sadistic king just to put another sadist in power—which seemed to me to be any