Chapter 26: Hostage

The wagon rumbled on, the bickering between Orkesh and Mina fading into the background as a new, unsettling sight caught their attention. From the rear of the wagon, Rook appeared, his cloaked form moving with its usual silent efficiency. But this time, he wasn't empty-handed. Slung over his broad shoulder, like a sack of grain, was a figure wrapped in a dark, hooded robe. The figure was surprisingly large, yet thin, almost gaunt.

Orkesh's jaw dropped. Mina gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Manicia, hearing the sudden silence and the sharp intake of breath, quickly stopped the horse, pulling the reins tight. The wagon jolted to a halt.

"Rook! What in the…?" Orkesh stammered, scrambling from the driver's seat. He rushed to the back of the wagon as Rook gently, almost carefully, laid the cloaked figure down on the ground. The hood fell back, revealing a face that made Orkesh's breath catch.

It was an orc, but unlike any they had ever seen. Its skin was a sickly grey, not the usual green, and its features were sharp, almost refined, lacking the brutishness common to its kind. Its body was lean, almost emaciated, a stark contrast to the hulking warriors that haunted their nightmares.

"Uhhh… where did you find that guy?" Orkesh asked, his voice a strained whisper, his eyes darting between the unconscious orc and the impassive Rook.

"He was following our caravan earlier, when we first arrived at Stonehorn Crossing," Rook's deep, synthesized voice rumbled, perfectly calm. "I detected his presence. I felt that we were being watched, so after we sold our goods, I was looking for him. He made an attempt to observe us from a closer proximity, which allowed for his apprehension."

Mina, her initial shock giving way to concern, knelt beside the orc. "What should we do about him?" she asked, her voice soft.

Manicia, however, stormed over, her fur bristling, her hand already on the hilt of her dagger. Her eyes, usually wary, now blazed with a cold, vengeful fire. "We should kill him, I say! Slit his throat! Hang him from the nearest tree and write 'Fuck the Orcs' in his blood for all his kind to see!" Her voice was tight with suppressed fury, the words a raw outpouring of suppressed pain.

Mina recoiled, her face paling. "No, Manicia! Look at him! Don't you pity him? He's so thin, so… weak." Her voice was filled with genuine distress.

Manicia whirled on her, her eyes blazing. "His kind didn't pity us when they slaughtered my mother and father! They didn't pity your husband, Mina! They didn't pity any of our kin when they burned our homes! So I say we show him no pity!" Her hand tightened on her dagger, her knuckles white. The words were a shield, a wall against the grief and helplessness that still gnawed at her.

"Even if that's true, Manicia," Mina pleaded, her voice trembling, "you can't just blame him for what his kind did to us. He might be different. I say we should hear him out first."

Manicia scoffed, a harsh, humorless sound. "Oh, yeah? And what if he was sent to spy on us? What if he's just a scout, sent to find our new home so they could find us and kill us all, finish the job?" Her eyes flickered to the unconscious orc, a deep suspicion etched on her face.

Orkesh, stepping between the two kobold women, his gaze fixed on the orc's neck, spoke with a newfound authority. "I say we should just let our new boss deal with him. Besides," he said, pointing to a small, intricate artifact hanging from a leather thong around the orc's neck, partially hidden beneath his tattered robe, "I guess there's a much deeper story to this guy." The artifact, a polished, dark stone with strange, glowing runes, seemed out of place on such a ragged figure.

Manicia huffed, her anger still simmering, but the mention of the Lich seemed to deflate some of her fury. She turned, walking back towards the coach seat, her movements stiff. "Whatever you say, cowards." The word was a lash, but it was aimed more at her own helplessness than at them.

Mina sighed, a long, weary breath. Orkesh patted her back, a comforting gesture. "Don't worry about her, Mina. She's just as devastated as we are. She's just a lot stronger and braver than us, and she shows it differently." He then turned to Rook. "Anyways, Rook, where should we put him? The wagon's basically full, save for the two seats up front."

"I will carry him," Rook stated, his voice calm and unwavering. He bent down, effortlessly lifting the unconscious orc and slinging him over his broad shoulder once more. "Until he wakes up. That way, I'll have full attention on him in case he escapes."

Orkesh nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his face. "Okay. Let's go. We still have two more days on our journey." He climbed back onto the driver's seat, taking the reins.

Rook, the orc draped over his shoulder, moved with his usual silent, steady pace, following the wagon.

The figure on his shoulder stirred. The orc, who had been feigning unconsciousness, slowly opened one eye, a sliver of green light. He had heard every word, every accusation, every terrified whisper. A complex mix of emotions crossed his face: pity for the kobolds' suffering, disappointment in their quick judgment, and a profound, chilling realization.

He had underestimated this 'Rook.' He had been so focused on the wagon, on the kobolds, that he hadn't even sensed the undead's presence until it was too late. He had seen the way the cloaked figure moved, the impossible strength, the unnatural silence.

This isn't just an escort, he thought, a cold dread settling in his gut. This is something far more dangerous. And it was right behind me the whole time.

He closed his eye, feigning unconsciousness once more, his mind racing, trying to process the implications of this silent, powerful guardian.