Under The Mountain

Chapter Two

Brinna had scarcely been present during the remainder of her time in the Commander’s office. Her body sat in the chair, nodding at the appropriate moments, but her mind wandered—drifting down dark corridors of memory and doubt. She questioned her worth, her purpose. Had anyone ever truly wanted her? Betrothed at eight by a distant father, betrayed by a husband who found pleasure in others. What place was left for her?

She barely registered the moment Vexmoor placed Alfred’s clothing and weapons in her arms. The soft scent of vanilla and sandalwood still clung to them—Alfred. Her hands tightened around the fabric, but her thoughts barely followed.

Even as he pressed a coin pouch into the folds of her skirt and led her back down the hallway, her body moved without her mind.

Only when she was bodily ushered through the tall doors and into the night did the trance break.

“H–How will I get home?” she asked, arms straining under the weight—not just of fabric and steel, but of grief and betrayal.

“Same way you came, dear. The signs haven’t wandered off.” Vexmoor gave her a wide, dismissive grin.

“It’s dark now. How can you expect me to see anything? Your guards said there were orcs in these woods. Could I not stay here, just for the night?”

Her eyes darted to the tree line, searching for hidden shapes shifting in the brush.

Vexmoor’s smile twisted. “Wouldn’t be proper, now, would it? A recently widowed woman among a barracks of lonely men. Some of them haven’t seen a woman in months.”

The implication hit her like a slap, and the grimace on his face betrayed what kind of men he commanded behind these hallowed walls.

“There must be a room, a cot, a bench—anything.” Her voice grew sharp with pleading. “You can’t send me back through that forest alone.”

“You’ll be safe and warm in your own bed soon enough.” His hand pressed the door as he began to close it.

“Wait—”

The heavy wood slammed shut.

Thunk.

A metal latch scraped into place behind it.

She stared at the door, lips parted in disbelief. Then, with a sigh, she clutched the clothes tighter to her chest and turned—startled to see the elderly guard waiting with her mare’s reins in hand.

“Your horse,” he said, voice low and tired. He held the reins out to her.

Brinna fumbled for them, balancing Alfred’s belongings awkwardly in one arm. Any other horse would have required both hands, but not Daisy. The mare had been hers since she was a foal—loyal to the bone.

“Thank you,” Brinna murmured. Her eyes met the guard’s, and something passed between them—recognition, sorrow.

“You knew, didn’t you?” she asked.

The man winced, shame coloring his features. “Yes. I knew.”

Brinna wanted to scream. To rage. But instead, her breath left her in a long, exhausted sigh. She looked at him—really looked. At the way he stood, weighed down by his own kind of loss.

Perhaps he too had found kinship with Alfred. Perhaps their bond had run deeper than most would allow. A forbidden closeness. A shared truth hidden under the kingdom’s laws and shame.

Alfred had betrayed her—not for who he loved, but for keeping her in the dark. For leaving her to wonder. For lying.

She would have understood. Or at least tried to, not all love looked the same and she recognized that.

“Well,” she said softly, “I hope you’re allowed the chance to mourn him properly...”

The man looked up, surprised. Then he gave a deep, respectful bow. “Sir Garret. And I thank you… Widow Halewyn.”

She nodded once, and allowed him to take the burden from her arms. He bundled the clothes and weapons and strapped them behind the saddle.

As Brinna mounted, she cast one last glance at the looming stone of the barracks. This was the place where Alfred had lived and died. Had written her letters—full of longing, of promises, of love. Lies, now, crumbling under the weight of truth.

She nudged Daisy forward, leaving it all behind, and rode into the growing dark.

-

The forest swallowed the path in pitch-black silence. The trees towered over Brinna like the wraiths from old tales. She’d tried retracing her steps—mirroring the directions she’d taken earlier—but the signposts had long vanished. Only the half-moon offered faint light, filtering through the pines.

She should’ve been home by now. Her body ached from the saddle, and her stomach twisted with hunger. Nothing looked familiar anymore. Just trees, endless and whispering, and the chirps of crickets tucked into the underbrush.

Then, in the distance—light.

A flicker. A lantern.

As she drew near, its form grew clearer—hanging from a low branch, casting a soft glow over a narrow dirt path. She followed its light with her eyes and found, far beyond it, a jagged, snow-capped mountain.

She thought she knew that mountain. It stood beyond the northern market of town.

Had she truly wandered that far off course?

It meant she’d taken a wide arc, but it also meant home was perhaps only half a day away.

She pulled Daisy to a halt beneath the lantern’s glow. Behind her stretched the dark, tangled path she’d come from. She could try to turn back—wait for daylight, retrace her steps properly.

But no… she couldn’t even remember how she’d gotten here.

Her eyes returned to the mountain.

The path before her was smooth, well-kept. No overgrowth, no broken branches. Even the wheel ruts had been recently filled with fresh soil.

Why was such a road unmarked?

She straightened her spine, drew in a breath, and nudged Daisy forward.

She would walk this path. She’d already come too far to turn back now. And the mountain—familiar and watchful—promised she wasn’t lost after all.

Time passed slowly. The forest thinned, but the path remained perfectly tended. Almost too perfect.

And then Daisy tensed beneath her. The mare’s shoulders coiled, ears flicking back.

“What is it, sweet girl?” Brinna whispered, her hand gently brushing the mare’s neck.

Daisy had stopped in her tracks, head high, ears pricked toward the darkened path ahead. She wasn’t prancing or stomping like she did when wary of predators — no, this was different. She looked almost… curious.

Brinna narrowed her eyes, peering into the shadows. Maybe they were approaching another traveler. They had passed plenty on the road to the barracks over the last day. But then something moved.

A figure stepped into a sliver of moonlight that filtered through the branches — cloaked, broad-shouldered, tall, and standing proudly in the middle of the barren road.

A guard, Brinna thought. Who else would be on this path without a horse? Maybe the trail had looped back toward the barracks and Garrett had sent someone to find her. That made sense. It had to be that.

“Hello there, sir,” she called, keeping her tone light and pleasant even as her grip tightened on the reins. She took her cues from Daisy, who still stood frozen but hadn’t bolted — not yet. The mare could always sense danger before it revealed itself.

The cloaked figure tilted its head slightly, almost in question.

“I got turned around trying to find my way back to town,” Brinna added with a nervous little laugh, trying for self-deprecating. “I assume one of the guards sent you to escort me?”

No response.

The figure didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

A chill crept up her spine, cold and sudden. The sensation of eyes — not just one pair — settled heavy on her from the shadows.

“If you could maybe just tell me the way, I’ll go,” she offered, her voice betraying the fear now tightening her chest. Still, the figure only stood there. Watching.

Then, finally, it spoke.

“Aye, woman. You are quite lost, if it’s the town you seek.” His voice was deep — too deep — a smooth, rolling bass that somehow soothed even as it unsettled.

“But I fear,” he said, reaching for his hood, “no man sent me to find you.”

He pulled it back.

Shock slammed into her.

His skin—green. Moonlight shimmered against the sickly hue, illuminating every inhuman feature. Black eyes studied her, slow and deliberate, flicking from her to Daisy as if measuring the threat they posed.

A realization struck her like a blow: orc.

She was alone in the woods with an orc. A man-eating orc.

Terror erupted inside her.

And Brinna screamed — a full-throated, soul-deep scream that shattered the stillness of the night.