Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35 by Galvin, Aaron (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📕

What was this message passed between you, then? He looked between Ishmael and Arsen. These words meant to reach the Blackfin?

The Orc was the first to give him a reply. He told me to say the whole of the Devil’s Triangle would rejoice with the prodigal son’s return, sir.

Cursion cocked an eyebrow as he looked on Ishmael. Prodigal son?

Ishmael shrugged in boyish answer. Admittedly, I have always shown a flair for the dramatic. He looked on Garrett. And I thought the Blackfin should like to know where his nephew would be delivered. Or, say rather, to whom his nephew should be delivered. Ishmael gave a mocking bow to Cursion. For your son is the prodigal one returned, no?

Garrett sneered. You weren’t talking about me, then, he thought to himself, his interactions and journeys with Ishmael leading him to know better now. You were only ever thinking about yourself.

The high chieftain too ignored Ishmael’s words in favor of Arsen instead. If your message were delivered to the Blackfin, why have you come here, Orc? Why do you attack my people?

Told you that the Blackfin sent me, sir, said Arsen. Sent me in punishment for not being brave enough to die when facing Red Water like my brothers-in-arms. He said that I were a bloody fool once to deliver him such a message. That I might as well be a dead fool to deliver an offer in reply.

An offer, you say? Cursion asked.

Aye, sir. The Blackfin said if you’ll send his nephew back to him, safe and whole, then he’ll set his sister free to swim back to you in fair return. A prisoner exchange, if you will.

Makeda? Cursion’s voice broke in naming her. She’s alive?

Aye, sir, said Arsen. Alive and well, for now. Last I seen anyway, even if she were in chains.

Garrett looked to his Nomad father, doubt creeping in his mind at what the high chieftain’s response would be. Don’t send me back. Garrett prayed, well remembering his encounter with the Blackfin outside of Crayfish Cavern. The mandate put to him of killing Lenny Dolan to prove his loyalty to the Orcs and the Violovar. He had no knowledge at the time that the Blackfin was his uncle, but the thought of being wanted by him now and in exchange for Makeda’s freedom set Garrett’s teeth to chattering. Why does the Blackfin want me so bad? Garrett wondered. What does he intend?

Cursion drew closer to Arsen, his hand reaching for the dagger at his belt. The Blackfin confuses me with his own desires. I believe you had it right from the start, Orc, he drew the dagger and raised it to Arsen’s throat. The Blackfin sent you here to die.

Arsen winced and cried out the moment the iron touched his skin. Please, sir! Don’t kill me. Please . . . let me swim for shore. I’ll swallow the anchor, sir. On my honor I will.

Garrett sneered at the pitiful act. You don’t have any honor, Arsen. He looked to Cursion when the high chieftain glanced over at him. I begged him to not kill our pod-mate, Pieter, outside of New Pearlaya. He chose to do it anyway. Garrett glared at Arsen. He enjoyed killing my friend.

I didn’t though, Arsen whined. Honest, I didn’t. He were a weakling, that one. Would’ve been killed anyway in the first battle he went to. Aye, and gotten others of our pod killed too, no doubt. Maybe even you, Weaver. All it takes is one weak link in a chain to break it. Pieter was ours.

Our pod was already broken, said Garrett. And you were one of those to break it.

Ishmael whistled lowly, drawing the attention of all. All of this talk of Orc pods and killing has set my blood to boiling . . . he played to the Nomads surrounding them before settling his gaze on Garrett, a wicked gleam in his eyes. Aye, and wondering where certain loyalties lie.

What do you mean? Garrett sneered back at him.

You and this hostage were once recruits of the Painted Guard, no? Ishmael posited. And you say this Orc here killed one of your friends, yes?

He did, said Garrett, even as his gut needled at him for every word uttered by the Nomad that he had crossed the Salt with.

Ishmael smiled. It seems to me then that Lady Fate has offered us all an opportunity this day. He drew his own dagger, then, spinning it easily around in the palm of his hand so that he might hold the blade’s end and offer the hilt for Garrett to take hold of instead. Aye, quite the opportunity. Vengeance for your slain friend and former pod-mate, his smirk widened. As well as the chance to show us all where your true loyalties lie, Garrett Half-Orc.

Garrett hesitated to reach out for the blade, even as Ishmael continued holding it out in offer. He glanced at Arsen, his face pale and eyes flitting back in forth in careful watch. Garrett looked back at Ishmael. You want me to kill him?

Who better? Ishmael challenged. You know this Orc hostage, and what murderous acts he has committed against his kindred. Also, both our wise leader and the Blackfin have already doomed him. Did this Orc not claim to wish for a swifter, cleaner death at our hands, rather than be returned to the Blackfin and face his tortures? Ishmael lifted the hilt again in further, urgent offer. Give this one the end he seeks, Garrett Half-Orc. Or make him suffer, if you would rather. Either way, let you prove where your loyalties truly lie now – to your proud father and us Nomads all, he glared at Arsen once more. Or refuse, and swear yourself to the Orcs that you abandoned and claim to loathe.

Shivering beneath the careful watch of all the surrounding warriors, Garrett took hold of the hilt, his fingers closing around it. Garrett lowered the dagger as soon as Ishmael released the full weight of the blade unto