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

don’t pretend like the traitor queen I know her for will care about what happens with Selkies like us. Might be she’d even have us all sent right back down in chains to work her husband’s mines again, so she would.”

Lenny was about to argue back when another spoke up instead.

“She wouldn’t,” said Tom Weaver. “Dolan is right. The Nattie Gao that I knew and remember won’t just care about what’s happening down here. She’ll do something about it.” He nodded at Lenny, his grip strengthening on Yusuf’s arm. “And having proof will help her convince the others who don’t want to believe.”

“People believe what they want, Tommy,” Brutus sneered. “You know that, same as me. And as for proof? Bah! Them stacked suits that you’re on about will be taken from us the moment we get back into the capital, so they will. Aye, taken and used again to enslave still more. As for these soldiers here, what you’ll have is a bunch of ninnies who will turn silent and forget everything they done the moment they’re brought before the royals and a crowd. Aye, all the while knowing their Lord Blackfin will come to their rescue, or else put an end to them before they can speak such monstrous things as happened down here at the end of the world.”

“Might be some of that is true,” said Tom. “And I reckon that Nattie might well show these Orcs the same rope you mean to show them now.” He turned to his prisoner. “But, better to speak up and have a chance at keeping your life, rather than know you’re facing a slow death or flaying here and now, am I right, Yusuf?”

The Orc prisoner quickly agreed. “I’ll tell them,” he said. “I’ll confess to all that I know. Everything I saw and heard—”

“And did,” Tom cut in.

“Aye, and did,” Yusuf whispered his agreement. “I’ll tell it all, sir. I swear. Just, please, don’t kill me.”

“No,” said Tom, giving Yusuf a slap across the cheek. “No, you’re not gonna die today, boy. Not if you keep quiet from here on out, that is. But, just so we’re clear, Orc - I don’t wanna hear another word, unless I ask it of you.”

Yusuf nodded, bowing his chin to his chest to keep from looking at Brutus and Henry.

Brutus snorted at the display. Sheathing his blade, he backed away from Lenny and Tom’s group. “Do what you will with your captive, then, Tommy,” he said, rejoining Henry and the Leper gang. “Don’t think to tell us what to do with ours.” Brutus reached for the nearest Orc soldier, yanking him to his feet.

“Brutus . . .” Tom Weaver’s voice was quiet, yet Lenny swore that it carried throughout the cavern. He did not speak again until Brutus turned back to face him once more. “Don’t.”

Brutus hesitated.

Another didn’t.

“Don’t what?” Henry Boucher asked. Taking his knee off his own prisoner’s back, Henry shooed his gang away, then tugged the Orc prisoner beneath him to sit up. “Don’t kill these soldiers because . . . why? Hmm? Because it goes against you and the nipperkin’s morale sensibilities?” Henry did not wait for answer, choosing instead to slit the prisoner’s throat in a swift and well-practiced movement.

Lenny’s gut twisted as Henry hugged the prisoner close against him, the body spasming as the Orc soldier gurgled his last breaths. As the murdered prisoner nodded off, Henry kicked the body away and let his bloodied weapon fall to his side. And all the while, Henry Boucher’s gaze never left Tom Weaver’s. “You are not in charge here, Monsieur Weaver,” said Henry, his gang huddling around him. “No more than Lenny Dolan, or his father before him.” He played to his gang of Lepers and the others upon the platform. “For what little we have, we are all still free men, no?” Henry asked to some agreement from the others. “Oui . . . we are free Selkies here,” his murderous gaze resettled on Tom. “We make our own choices.”

Tom Weaver stepped toward him. “You’re all free to keep making them too,” he said. “But you kill another one of these soldiers, Henry, you and all your Leper friends are gonna find out where my morale sensibilities really lie . . . and where my actions fall short of meeting my principles.”

Lenny tensed when Jemmy T nocked an arrow beside him, the direction pointed at the Leper nearest Henry. He noticed Vasili and some others among the guards too had encircled Henry and his gang without a command given from Tom.

Henry Boucher smiled, unphased and unafraid of all that occurred around him, his gaze unrelenting of its focus upon Tom Weaver.

“Brutus,” said Tom. “You and Henry wanna play judge, jury, and executioner, that’s fine by me. But you give these Orcs a choice – either they agree to come with us, knowing they’re gonna confess to all the crimes committed here . . . or else they refuse that offer and get on to the hanging part right now.”

Some peace offering, Lenny thought of the continued stare-down between the two alphas.

Henry chuckled. “You all want justice for your dead . . . and yet you are loathe to take it, or even allow others to serve the punishment for you.” His lip curled before spitting in Tom’s direction. “Mercy is a small kindness your enemies will not share, Monsieur Weaver. Say nothing of your pity.”

Henry’s gaze shifted to Lenny then, a shudder running down the smaller man’s back at the slight and easy threat. Snapping his fingers, Henry led his gang of Lepers away from the platform, all of them quickly venturing deeper into the cavern and disappearing around a rocky outcropping.

Lenny had the momentary thought to question why Henry and his followers were headed toward the crematorium and the killing fields, but was distracted by Tom Weaver instead.

“Brutus,” Tom called out, his shoulders relaxing with Henry and the Lepers gone. “You good with this . . .