Page 4 of Charmed By the Orc

My mother would be appalled at my behavior. I could practically hear her chiding voice in my head. “Guruk, you need to stop this foolishness and attend your duty.”

I groaned, echoing the sentiment aloud. “Get it together, you fool.”

Dragging my gaze away from the lovely stranger, I staggered outside as the first of the heavy rain began to fall. The torrents battered the house and soaked through my clothes in seconds as I headed toward the barn. My feet squished through the water sloshing in my boots.

I sighed and grumbled at the sky. “Perfect.”

3

Sammy

My head throbbed worsethan my twenty-first birthday hangover. Mako had convinced me that I needed to mark the occasion with a bottle of tequila, while Abby called for vodka shots. Even five years later, I hadn’t forgiven either of them for it. As I rubbed at my temples, I thought now I just might let go of the old grudge.

“Whoa, talk about a pounding.” I laughed at my stupid joke, but I didn’t dare open my eyes. The ache across my forehead reverberated down my temples, jaw, and neck. I rolled to my side with painstaking slowness and curled in a ball. “Ugh.”

Funny enough, nothing sloshed in my stomach. And while the headache was brutal, I didn’t feel nauseous. That was weird. Could thisnotbe a hangover? I had migraines every so often. Staring at a screen for hours on end tended to do that. But this felt different.

“Wait a minute, I haven’t gotten drunk in years.” Hell, I rarely drank at all anymore, definitely not like that ill-fated birthday. What was this? I peeled my eyelids open with my fingertips. Mythoughts which had been as foggy as mud cleared enough for a single revelation. “This isn’t a hangover.”

I inhaled through my nose, a deep clearing breath, and tried to work through the pain. I had to figure out what was going on. Laying on my side, I spotted the first oddity in my surroundings. The nightstand to my left appeared to be constructed of oaken wood with a stone top. Since my room at home had a cheap plastic two-drawer night table with an off-white flower pattern, this did not add up.

“What are you?” I reached for the top of the nightstand to investigate further. The movement sent a blast of spasms at the back of my neck, but I persisted. My fingers brushed a strange form. I grabbed at the base of the object and drew it to my eye level. “A unicorn?”

The statue in my hand was carved in intricate detail. A tiny wooden horse with wide spread wings and a perfectly crafted horn at the base of its forehead. “No, an alicorn,” I murmured, my eyes blinking to focus on the object. “Beautiful.”

“Yes, indeed,” a deep bass voice responded.

I screamed. A mysterious statue, the wrong nightstand, that I could handle. But an unknown man in my bedroom? Uh-huh. Forgetting my pain, I flew out of bed…and immediately crumpled to the ground. I didn’t even get a glimpse of the stranger before the pain overtook me, forcing my eyes shut again. I massaged my head and groaned.

“You have to be more careful. We don’t know what’s happened to you,” the same strange voice chided me, closer than before.

With my eyes closed, I threw up both hands in a stopping motion. I tried to peel my lids back to see the man, but my bodywould not cooperate. Keeping calm and the fear from my voice was near impossible. I trembled as I demanded, “Don’t come closer.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.” The stranger sounded on my level now as if he had crouched. “Just let me help you back into bed.”

“No!” I screamed, not caring about staying cool anymore. Panic tore at my throat.

“Listen to me,” his voice gentled, a warmth in his tone. “My name is Guruk. You were found unconscious outside the alicorn’s pen.”

“Alicorn?” A sinking sensation turned my stomach. Why did I get the feeling he wasn’t talking about the statue?

“Yes, the sacred beast was injured not long ago, and she’s been recovering at my farm.” He didn’t appear to have come closer, which gave me a momentary sense of relief. “Were you caught in the storm?’

“Storm?” I felt like a fool echoing his questions, but my head was still pounding and I couldn’t make sense of a damn thing. I tried again to open my eyes and settle my nerves. A bit at a time my lids peeled back. I spotted grains in the floor and used the organic pattern to ground my senses. “There was a storm.”

“Yes,” he said, falling silent after as if to give me time to sort through my thoughts.

“And I was with my friends.” The floor was constructed of an oak wood like the nightstand. I ran my hands over the boards, willing my mind to remember. “We were playing a game.”

“A game?”

At his confusion, I felt my conviction waver. And as if on automation, my head lifted on its own. I was not prepared for the sight. A huge figure sat cross-legged not ten feet from me. His black hair was pulled into a low ponytail at the base of his skull. Muscles bulged behind his simple black vest and leather pants. He wore no shoes, but I doubted he’d be able to find his size with his massive feet anyway. His eyes were a light green, the same shade as my favorite mint tea leaves. But none of that was as important as the tusks sticking from the sides of his bottom lip, nor the green-teal hue of his skin.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t think. My jaw dropped as every thought fled my mind.

Then, with frightening speed, my memories slammed into me: the campaign, the game, my friends, the storm, the alicorn, and… “Havenlore.”

“That’s right,” the man—male?—answered. “You’re in the central village of Havenlore.”