Chapter 2
COURTYARD
Bakura followed the stairs, up to the third floor of the dungeon. He was hunting now, though he had wasted some time dealing with that mangy drunk’s armor.
But he wasn’t worried. His prey was slow. And stupid.
The big soldier would be easy. Bakura just hoped the coward hadn’t gone ahead.
The second floor came and went. It all looked the same: empty cells, rusted iron, and the smell of mold and dung. As Bakura came closer to ground floor, the stench of swamplands curled into his nose.
I miss the desert, the boy thought. But that made him think of the past, so he focused on the stench.
Orcs have good noses, and Bakura was no exception. He could smell the humans. Smell the fear on them.
He was getting close.
The first basement was better kept, and the cells almost looked like bedrooms. All empty.
He heard their panicked voices around the corner. Bakura walked slowly, quietly, grateful now that he was barefoot.
“Come on, Pawd,” said the coward. “We’ve got to keep going!”
“I can’t. I— Look, you just… Go on without me! Right?”
“I can’t leave you! What’s this talking, Pawdric?”