The Balborite Curse (Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page B

bones, and he became little more than a skeleton. He died a year later. Since he never took his final vows, the priests gave him a servant’s funeral. No final prayers were said, and his body was wrapped in brown paper and thrown from the cliffs.
    A shiver went through her body as she recalled that memory. She had brought many to their end since that day, but no kill could ever compare to her first. Her upcoming fight with the orcs was trivial in comparison.
    Several seconds later, a group of orcs came into view, three males silhouetted against the setting sun. Their green skin gleamed with rancid animal fat. One dragged a wild hog carcass on a litter, his axe still embedded in the animal’s skull. They laughed and punched each other, snorting and grunting in their guttural language as they congratulated themselves on their successful hunt. She understood some of their harsh orc language, but not all.
    Skera-Kina watched them with narrowed eyes, and right before they passed, she jumped from her hiding place. The laughing stopped and the orcs froze. A shadow of recognition crossed their faces, and the largest male ordered the other two to stand behind him. Then he stepped forward and raised his weapon.
    That’s curious, Skera-Kina thought. In past encounters, the orcs taunted and mocked her, believing her easy prey. Over the last few years, she had slaughtered dozens of orcs, and their initial reaction to her presence had always been the same.
    This was different. The three males observed her warily, their eyes narrowed into slits, as they waited for her to make the first move.
    With a voice like thunder, the largest male spoke. “Olek-anga-mahral,” he said.
    Cursed-shadow-woman.
    The orcs had given her a name. Skera-Kina marveled at this realization. It was a rare honor —as well as a warning. Orcs did not grant formal names to other races. If the orcs had gone through the trouble of granting her a name, they knew who she was, and they were showing respect. It meant that she was now part of their myth-stories, and also …that she was marked for death.
    She was surprisingly pleased. For this, she would fight this creature with honor, without magic or trickery. The largest male raised his axe and shouted his challenge—a hoarse cry that echoed across the bluffs. He pounded his chest twice, so hard that his spiked bracelets drew blood. The black liquid oozed from two shallow punctures near his sternum.
    The other two orcs followed suit, screaming their names, but only pounded their chests once. She understood now. This was an introduction. The larger male was the dominant male, and the smaller orcs were his blood-sons.
    Skera-Kina stepped back and took a wide stance, arching her back slightly to mimic the ceremonial niqu-tixa, the orc ’s challenge position. She lowered the timbre of her voice and issued the formal response to her opponent, her words stilted as she struggled to speak in the greenskins’ primitive language.
    “You battle me.” She struck her chest, spat on the ground, then drew a circle in the dirt and stepped inside. “Round fight, ring fight, circle fight!” she cried, challenging the large male to formal combat. She spun her fists and crouched low –ready to battle.
    The male nodded and ordered the smaller males to drop their weapons. They obeyed immediately, lowering themselves to a kneeling position, their backs rigid, enormous hands splayed out on their thighs. They lay their axes in front of them and faced the circle. If Skera-Kina won this battle and killed their father, each one was permitted to request a revenge match, either until a victor prevailed or until each of them were dead, whichever came first.
    The largest orc stripped down and stepped into the circle without any weapons. He wore only a small leather thong, fitted with a rigid wooden cup to protect his manhood. He was easily twice Skera-Kina’s size, both in weight and bulk. His hairless chest, heavily muscled, was covered