Cast Into Shadow

by Angela Colsin

  Sadly, ogres possessed a great deal of physical strength. So shooting him would be like shooting a human with a pellet gun, even at point blank range—maybe it would slow him down, but it would definitely piss him off.

  Still, ogres did possess some intelligence—they were best described as toddlers that threw nuclear temper tantrums when they didn't get their way. So there was a chance, however small, that she could reason with this one to let Tyrone go, perhaps by offering something better than a human meal.

  Sadly, she never got the chance.

  Instead, the ogre quickly spotted her, and wasted no time swinging his free fist in her direction, sending her flying into the wall. The blow forced the air from her lungs just as the back of her head smacked into the stone, causing the world to grow fuzzy as her weapon clattered to the floor along with her glasses.

  Her body crumpled over just afterward, consciousness drifting amidst the sound of gunfire.

  Tyrone had obviously drawn his own weapon and blindly pulled the trigger in the dark of the cave. Yet he didn't manage to fire more than three times before the ogre reacted—furiously.

  With a loud roar, the creature used his meaty arm to sling Tyrone down toward the ground, then tossed his body in her direction.

  Trying to clear her cloudy mind, she watched her partner tumble to a stop nearby, and realized by his blank stare and the blood dribbling from his nose that he was gone.

  The ogre had snapped his neck.

  Kivsey's heart plummeted into the pit of her stomach with the ground quaking under the enraged ogre's fists, his tantrum causing a section of the wall to crack. As a result, a number of stones toppled down around their bodies—not that Kivsey took much notice.

  Instead, she'd already blacked out.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ♦

  The hunters hadn't lied. In three days' time, Mikail had scarcely encountered any game, and when he did, it wasn't yet old enough to be considered a decent source of food.

  But a minor amount of tracking confirmed the reason beyond a doubt—ogres had definitely moved into the northern caves.

  The tracks were a sure sign of the oversized creature's presence, and the only trouble was the distant locale they were occupying. Because ogres were too dense to know how to successfully cover their course, it wasn't difficult to follow them. Yet these seemed to have taken a position to the far north, and the further Mikail went, the more convinced he became that they were staying in an old, abandoned castle his people called The Nexus.

  Settled on a small island in a subterranean lake, the castle was quite a sight to behold. With two towers, a stone mason bridge, and a large courtyard, his people had been awed to discover the structure. The question of who'd constructed the dwelling and why had never been answered, but they'd located several magical supplies inside, including a group of teleport spheres in the courtyard that offered access to a number of worlds.

  This network of spheres was the reason for the castle's name, and The Nexus had come in handy for various reasons—particularly freeing slaves from Perosia.

  Mikail gritted his teeth over the thought, briefly recalling the fate of his parents while silently heading toward the top of an incline from which the castle towers were already visible. The tracks were leading straight to it, and he only prayed the ogres responsible for the food shortage were in the area so he could kill them and finally return to Satorala with good news.

  Thankfully, the gods seemed to be listening because, no sooner than he'd had the thought, he reached the top of the hill and noticed a male ogre making his way across the bridge leading to the castle's entrance.

  At least eight feet tall with a bald head and two tusks jutting from his bottom lip, he'd be easy enough to sneak up on and take down. Yet Mikail didn't immediately attack, and instead, cloaked himself in shadow to quietly stalk his target in the hopes of discovering where this ogre had been camping—and with who.

  In the process, the ogre turned left at the end of the bridge, and the moment his body emerged into full view, Mikail realized he was dragging two people across the ground behind him. From a distance, they appeared to be human—Terran in origin if their clothing was any indication—and any other day of the week, it would've been surprising to see them.

  But considering The Nexus possessed a portal sphere to Terra, Mikail could only imagine these humans had discovered its sister sphere in their world, then accessed it and met their demise at the hands of this ogre.

  The thought raised a legitimate concern, but not one he had the time to consider in that moment. Instead, he moved through the shadows as soon as the ogre exited his line of sight, and started following him back to his camp.

  It was a tedious process in which Mikail kept a discreet distance despite his literal invisibility. Though ogres weren't smart, they were ferocious, and sadly, their senses were finely tuned. So if this one caught wind of his presence, it would likely stop to investigate, forcing Mikail to kill him before locating his encampment.

  But the creature remained oblivious to the Warlord, unwittingly leading him to the shore of the lake where a fire pit sat, and Mikail wasn't surprised. The lake was a clean source of water, and the moment he had the thought, the ogre called to someone nearby.

  “Marooga, me got foods!”

  Marooga? Mikail sighed, realizing this ogre was apparently providing for a wife just as a female emerged into view.

  In the process, he drew in close enough to see the humans they intended to eat more clearly, and found himself intrigued for two reasons.

  First, one of them wasn't dead.

  Second, she was part elven.

  Mikail sneered. Though he wasn't as disgusted as he would've been if she was a full blooded elf, even a trace of their kind was enough to cause derision. But despite his dislike, he was relieved to find her alive if only because it offered the chance to learn where she'd come from, and if Satorala was in any danger of being discovered by outsiders.

  Still, her continued survival was questionable when her captors took notice as she shifted in place with a soft groan.

  “One ain't dead, Nuguk!” Marooga exclaimed.

  Grumbling as if annoyed, Nuguk walked over and lifted a fist above her head with the obvious intentions of putting her down for good.

  But his wife quickly stopped him by calling, “Wait!”

  Rushing over with heavy footfalls, the female ogre leaned to push the human onto her back, then let a gasp.

  “It's a she-man!”

  For some reason, Marooga seemed completely enthralled by the fact that the human was female, stroking some of her hair back before adding, “Pretty long hairs, and she has face paints, too. They done so nice!”

  Turning her gaze up to her husband, Marooga declared, “Me keep her, Nuguk!”

  Mikail just stifled a groan, unsure what was more disturbing; the fact that ogres considered humans a delicacy, or that one of them wanted to keep the female like a child would keep a doll.

  But Nuguk didn't seem to mind his wife's interest, probably because they had another human to eat—though there was no doubting that the moment their food supply ran out, they'd eat the female, too.

  Saying they lived that long. Which they won't.

  All Mikail needed to do was a quick sweep around the camp to confirm these two were the only ogres that needed to be dispatched, then attack and put a stop to the problems they'd caused his people. Afterward, he could confront the half elf, and return home.

  So it was time to get this done.

  Kivsey woke to the sensation of being dragged across the ground, but couldn't shake the fog from her mind well enough to figure out why before the motions stopped.

  Yet she clearly heard someone telling Marooga they had food, and tried to push herself over without success. Who the hell is Marooga? Nuguk? What kind of names are those? And what smells like trash?

  In those initial moments after awakening, the questions seemed too complicated to figure out. But she also fel
t as if not knowing the answers put her in danger—and that's when it hit. Ogres.

  Kivsey recalled her sporadic trip through a portal and being knocked unconscious just as she was rolled onto her back to find herself staring up at the ugliest woman she'd ever seen in her life. With two small tusks jutting up from a mouth caked with red paint, and yellow eyes smeared with bright blue-green eye shadow, Marooga stared at her the way a child might stare at a new toy.

  And when she declared Me keep her, Nuguk!, Kivsey knew that was precisely the source of this ogre's interest.

  But she couldn't be too upset over the turnaround when playing along with the idea would give her a chance to escape—saying such a feat was possible. With the way her head throbbed through a daze she couldn't quite snap herself out of, she was fairly certain she had a mild concussion.

  So her mobility was likely compromised, which would make any attempts to sneak away next to impossible. Of course, the problem would be easy to solve by taking the healing tonic in the medical kit attached to her belt, but she didn't want risk losing it to the ogres by trying to drink it in front of them.

  Besides, the tonic would take time to kick in anyway. So she'd have to pretend she was perfectly fine with Marooga's plan to keep her until the chance presented itself.

  Yet, when Nuguk started dragging Tyrone's body toward a fire pit with the obvious intentions of making dinner, she had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out. The mere thought of their plans for her partner was both shameful and enraging. She hadn't been fast enough to save Tyrone, and she'd carry that guilt for the rest of her life.

  But the very least she could do was survive this ordeal and find a way home to inform his family of his fate instead of allowing them to suffer the agony of uncertainty.

  So, when Marooga sat and pulled Kivsey into her lap with the obvious intentions of playing with her new toy, she immediately reached up to the ogre's face and remarked, “Marooga has such pretty face paints!”

  As if surprised by the compliment, the ogre asked in awe, “Dolly really think so?”

  Dolly? Kivsey just checked a groan, continuing her farce by inspecting Marooga's makeup with a nod. “Yes, and she has such curly hair!”

  The ogre did, in fact, have a thick crop of wiry brown hair that would benefit greatly from a brush. And shampoo. Yet the ogre's hair tie was much more interesting—Kivsey quickly realized with no lack of consternation that the strip of black clothe had buttons sewn on like that of a blouse.

  Carla's blouse.

  That's one question answered. Carla had definitely been taken by these ogres, but whether she was eaten, or forced into playing the part of a doll was another question entirely.

  In an attempt to find out which, Kivsey asked, “Am I Marooga's first dolly?”

  “No,” the ogre answered, reaching up to take a fistful of her hair as if trying to decide how to style it—and the jerk she gave was almost too much to handle without letting a yelp of pain.

  Kivsey's right eye watered in response, the throb intensifying as her head was forced to the side. But she focused through her discomfort to ask, “Where's the other dolly? We can style Marooga's hairs.”

  Immediately, the ogre stopped pulling Kivsey's hair with a look of extreme interest. Yet her enthusiasm quickly turned to annoyance as she admitted, “Dolly wasn't playful, always screaming. So me bash her head.”

  Mystery solved. Carla was truly dead, meaning Kivsey was on her own, and if she didn't cooperate with Marooga, she wasn't going to survive, either. Hell, she was already convinced that escaping unscathed was out of the question considering this ogre didn't know her own strength and would probably cause her injury just trying to play with dolly.

  Yet, as she had the thought, a strange sound emanated from nearby.

  Shiiing … thump-ump.

  Kivsey had no idea what caused it, and Marooga seemed uncertain as well because she looked back, asking, “Nuguk?”

  As she turned, the sight of Nuguk's body laying near the fire with his head three feet away immediately snagged her vision.

  It wasn't an easy sight to process because Tyrone was right next to him, already stripped and cut open, leaving Kivsey both sick and confused. Who'd attacked? And more importantly, were they on her side?

  Whatever the case, as Marooga bellowed in shock, then stood so quickly Kivsey tumbled from her lap to the ground, she did know this was her chance.

  Immediately pushing herself up, she started moving, and it wasn't easy. The throbbing in her head amplified the moment she stood, causing her to stumble. But she managed to right herself, and took off as quickly as her legs would carry her.

  Sadly, Marooga wasn't distracted for long—after screaming Nuguk's name, a moment of silence was followed by the angry roar of, “Dolly!” with the ogre's heavy footfalls growing louder and louder.

  Unwilling to have her head bashed in, Kivsey quickened her pace. But her demise seemed imminent as, in her haste to escape, a heavy rock on the path ahead escaped her notice—and she tripped.

  Falling to the ground, she scrambled to get back to her feet, the quaking growing more intense until …

  Nothing.

  At once, everything grew silent, and a glance back revealed why—Marooga was dead.

  Falling to her knees, the ogre's head rolled to a stop nearby as the body slumped forward, landing with a thud to reveal someone standing behind her Kivsey definitely hadn't expected to see.

  A Dok'aal Warlord.

  The darkness of the cavern didn't allow her to make out finer details of his appearance, but judging by what she could see, he was no small man. Nearly seven-feet tall with argent skin the tone of a stormy sky, his long, white hair was pulled back at his nape with two cuffed braids hanging from his temples in front of his pointed ears.

  The leather clothing he wore did nothing to conceal the size and shape of his largely muscular frame, and if that wasn't intimidating enough, his glowing red eyes were now locked on her in an unflinching stare

  Making matters worse, the sword in his right hand, which resembled a cutlass made of a silvery, iridescent metal, was still dripping with blood.

  But despite her concerns, Kivsey was surprised he'd allowed her to see him at all. Dok'aal–or dark elves—were one of the few races that avoided traveling to Terra if only because their appearances were unique enough to be questionable to humans ignorant of the supernatural.

  This meant she wasn't entirely knowledgeable about their race, but the one thing Kivsey did know was that the Dok'aal were reclusive, and rarely interacted with outsiders.

  Yet this one was standing in full view, as still as a statue while regarding her with a stern, fathomless expression that nearly unnerved her entirely before he finally asked a question on a voice as deep as the sea.

  “Are you from Terra?”

  Kivsey blinked. He sounded extremely suspicious, prompting her to ask, “Why? Where am I now?”

  In response, he let an inhuman growl, moving in closer to deftly turn his blade so the tip was at her throat, then repeated his question more sternly.

  Guess he means business. Sighing, she confirmed his inquiry. “Yes, I'm from Terra. Now will you kindly tell me where—”

  “How do you know of this place?”

  At his interruption, she bit her tongue. Normally, Kivsey's patience was decently long, but the fact that she was about to ask what this place was from the start made his abrupt inquiry extremely annoying. Topping it off, she'd just been pulled through worlds, terrorized by ogres, and watched Tyrone die pointlessly.

  So the last thing she needed was a round of twenty questions from a suspicious Dok'aal.

  This put her in very real danger of decapitation due to impulsively snapping at the man. Yet she held her temper, and not simply because she wanted answers, to say nothing of her desire to live. Instead, this Dok'aal had saved her life by removing the ogre's threat, and even if he'd replaced it with one of his own, she was extremely grateful just knowing he'd never c
onsider her a dolly.

  So she took a deep breath, hoping to hang onto whatever patience she had left, because if his short attitude was any indication, she was going to need it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ♦

  Mikail wasn't usually short on patience, but he hadn't been able to help his callous attitude regarding the woman he was now threatening, and not simply because he didn't care to.

  He was also extremely uncomfortable.

  There was no reason to show this half elf any patience, particularly with the location of Satorala on the line. Though Terran elves didn't hold as much interest in actually locating their stronghold as those from Onoria might, there was no way of knowing if she was doing work for the elvish kingdom to gain their favor.

  So he'd started his interrogation, and it wasn't hard to detect a spark of anger lighting in the female's ginger colored eyes in response. She was obviously fiery, a thought that fed his growing discomfort—and much of the source was centered on her beauty.

  Before dispatching the ogres, Mikail had taken little notice of the female or her looks. But now that the danger had passed, he found himself mindlessly taking in details, and she didn't seem to have any physical elven traits aside from her eye color, a honey brown flecked with orange, creating a ginger tone that wasn't common among humans.

  Her hair was long, curly, and butterscotch blonde—a curious shade in his opinion—and her lips were thick, possessing a sensuous shape that wasn't displeasing.

  Yet, the moment he realized he actually found her appealing, he became extremely irritated. Three days ago, he'd been unable to rouse himself for an evening of sex with a voluptuous Dok'aal, and now, a half elf was catching his eye.

  The thought was nearly infuriating, and the only way he could explain it was to consider that maybe he was just tired of the same thing—Nevan was familiar territory while this woman was largely mysterious.

  So perhaps he just needed something different.