Cover-Up

"Nymhriel!"

The healer was woken with a start by a rough hand shaking her. Her instincts screamed, urging her to flee, hide, protect herself. She cried out in alarm before she even saw who stood over her.

"Thank goodness," the man said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I've been trying to wake you for some time now. Are you well?"

She was in her bed, where Gundshau must have put her after... Terror filled her, and she shrunk away from the man. She barely recalled who he was. It had been months since he last came by.

"Forgive me, miss," he said, noting her manner and taking a step back to a more respectful distance. "I've only come for more of the tea you gave me for my wife's headaches. She's...," he said, pausing with embarrassment. "It's her moon time."

"I... I see," Nymhriel stammered, slowly rising from the bed and smoothing her skirts. "Of course you may have more. Just a moment." Feeling a little dizzy, she went into the main room of the cottage.

The front door stood open, giving the healer a brief glimpse of the front yard as she went to her herbal stores. The boar was gone; Willem, also gone. Even the blood was nowhere to be seen. Fighting to hide her astonishment, Nymhriel clumsily scooped a generous amount of leaves onto a parchment. Perhaps it had been a dream, or a delirious hallucination caused by exhaustion.

"If you don't mind my asking, miss," the man said behind her, and she jumped slightly, nearly spilling the dried herbs on the floor. "What's become of that orc? There's talk in the village that you were just going to let him go."

Composing herself the best she was able, Nymhriel held her voice steady as she answered. "That is what I have done, yes. He healed sufficiently, so I... I let him go free. He was grateful for my aid, and went on his way."

"I suppose stranger things have happened," the man mused. "Though I think many hearts would be eased if you moved to the village. Not for always, mind you," he assured her, noting the rigid set to her shoulders. "Just until... well, until you can be sure the orc ain't coming back, you know?"

"He will go back to his own kind, and good riddance to him," she snapped a little more harshly than she intended. Handing the man his packet, she held her head up stiffly. "I will be fine here, as I have always been."

"You know best, I'm sure," he conceded, turning to leave. Then he turned around, as if remembering something. "Oh, I meant to ask. Is Willem here? Only I saw his horse outside, and..." He stopped when he saw the look on her face. "Miss?"

"I... I didn't know," she stuttered, swallowing hard. "I haven't seen him in days. Why on earth would his horse be here?"

"You don't suppose," the man said hesitantly, "that orc is still around, do you?"

"No, of course not!" she cried a little too quickly.

"Well, he did say something about coming over here and putting it out of its misery for you." He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, then winked and smiled. "He always was sweet on you, Miss Nymhriel."

It was a struggle not to vomit at those words, or to point out once more the King's law. She just wanted the man to leave. "I'm sure if he... if he has resolved himself to track down the orc and... and provoke him, that's not my concern. When he is quite finished, he will... seek me out."

"You ought to see to his horse, then. Poor thing looks a bit parched." Stepping out the door, he waved the packet and grinned. "Thank you for this."

Nymhriel didn't start breathing again until the man had ridden off. As if in a trance, she went out to the yard and took the horse around the back of the cottage. It gratefully drank from the rain barrel. Her fingers shook as she loosened and removed the saddle.

Suddenly, the horse reared its head up and snorted, taking a few steps back. Its eyes rolled in panic. Whirling, Nymhriel came face-to-face with the orc. She backed into the horse's flank.

"Still here," he growled.

She could only nod wordlessly.

His brow furrowed, and he took a step forward. She recoiled, reaching up to clutch the neck of her dress. Bowing his head slightly, he nodded to himself and took two steps back. "I hid man. Finished boar. Meat is in smokehouse."

"Why... why did you kill him?" she choked.

He looked taken aback by the question, then looked away. "Remember some things. Orcs taking tark females." He shook his head firmly, brow furrowed. "Hurt them bad. Da didn't teach me that." Then his lip curled in a snarl. "Filthy tark hurt you. Won't hurt you anymore." He thumped his chest with a fist. "Protect you."

"Protect...," she whispered. Taking a deep breath, she said more forcefully. "You have put me in a very dangerous position."

"What you mean?" he said, bewildered. "I hide man. I hide blood." Gesturing toward the horse, he added, "Get rid of horse. Nobody know."

"They will look for him," she snapped. "They will scour the hills trying to find him. And they will start here." Rubbing her forehead, she paced nervously away from the orc.

"Then... I make sure they find him, yes?" he offered.

Nymhriel halted. She couldn't believe she was actually conspiring with an orc to cover up... Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she turned and faced him. "Take him... far from here. The horse as well. Leave him where... where you think best, where he will be found." Glancing at the horse, she winced. "Strike the horse. Wound it, but not fatally! Just enough to send it off." She began to calm down as the plan formed in her mind. "It should return to the village. They will, no doubt, come here first, since he was last known to be here. I will tell them... I will say he came back for his horse and left, and I don't know where he went."

Gundshau gave a brief nod of agreement. Nymhriel hastily saddled the horse and handed the reins to the orc. As he turned away, she steeled herself and laid a hand on his arm. She felt his muscles tense as he looked at her questioningly.

"Try to make it look like... wolves did it."

He stared at her for several awkward seconds as her statement sunk in. Blinking uncertainly, he nodded, then led the horse to where he'd stashed the body.

The orc didn't have to go far. The man's remains were tucked into a corner of the woman's smokehouse. When he heard the patient's approach, he'd hidden inside and spent the entire visit carving choice pieces off the corpse while he chewed on a strip of skin. No sense letting such a rare treat go to waste. Unfortunately, now he had to discard the best parts in order to protect his female.

Grinning, he tested that thought as if savoring a tasty morsel. His female. If he'd had any doubts before, they were removed when she asked him to mask his own part in the killing. As though she protected him in return. Yes, that is what mates did. They looked after each other. He'd seen his own parents, so many times, guarding each other's backs. It was what you did, the way of things.

It felt good to remember them as mates, not as corpses.

What with his attack and subsequent dressing, Willem was a difficult burden to bear. Sighing with resignation, Gundshau wrapped the man in a blanket to keep all the pieces more or less together, then slung him over the horse's back. The horse was not particularly keen on the orc, and the stench of death did not improve matters. Sighing, the orc guided the beast off into the forest, enduring the frequent attempts to get away and the occasional bite, encouraged by the thought that once he dumped the body, he'd get to take a swipe at the animal as recompense.

Night was falling when he finally located a place that was far enough from the cottage to divert suspicion, yet near enough to a well-worn path to guarantee the man would be found. Grinning with delight, he turned to the wild-eyed horse that had plagued him the entire trip and raked his claws down its neck. The horse's scream of pain and panic echoed in the silent wood, and it bolted. Satisfied, he saw to getting rid of his tracks.

As he trotted back to the cottage, Gundshau recognized where he was, and on a whim diverted his path deeper into the forest. An hour or two of steady running brought him to the camp where he'd left the band of orcs a week or more ago. Slowing to a walk, he warily approached. There was no sound, no challenge from a sentry. Sniffing the air, he frowned. The wind was at his back, carrying away any scent that might warn him of what was happening, or what had happened. He didn't think he'd like what he found.

When Gundshau reached the edge of the clearing, he closed his eyes and bowed his head. They were there, all twelve of them he was sure. At least, there were twelve poles in the ground with an orc head at the top of each. In the center where they'd lit their campfire was a pile of smoldering bodies. Who knew how long they'd been there? Whether he would have found this after the troll's cave if he hadn't gotten lost in his agony? Or if this fate still awaited them, awaited him, if he had returned sooner?

He should be angry, he thought. He should seek vengeance. But for some reason, he couldn't muster the hate necessary. Couldn't even find the energy anymore. What good would it do, after all? What good had any of it done?

Turning his back, Gundshau walked slowly back to the cottage, his shoulders sagging in defeat.