Women who dare to hope on Protheka usually end up dead.

I knew I had one of two fates that awaited me as prisoner of the orcs.
Be eaten by one of them. Or screwed by all of them.
The snake warrior Izmah and his men rescued me.
He took me back to his stronghold.
Treated me better than I had ever been treated before.

But Protheka is a cruel world. Filled with cruel beings.

Am I wrong to hope that our bond will see us through our enemies who seek to tear this naga warrior from his mate?
Hope may be dangerous, but it’s worth it when it comes to the right person.
And Izmah deserves all that I have.
Even though I only possess one last thing to give him.

My love.

Chapter 1

Izmah

Light streaks through the only window of the War Room. Here, more than anywhere in Kaynvu is where I belong, what I was raised for. As commander of Fort Marzu, it is the place that I call home. But never have I been called here for an emergency meeting such as this.

The mid-afternoon sun warms the room and I stretch my arms out to it, enjoying the way that it feeds my body. But I know this is the only form of comfort I am here to receive. The air tastes of suppressed panic and is laced with fear. An emergency meeting of the Council is a rare and unwelcome request.

Something is wrong.

My second-in-command has that look upon his face that makes my shoulders tense and my chest push forward. This is not good news, and with each flick of my tongue I can taste that there is more to come. Whatever this is and whatever has happened has occurred under my command, and as such I am responsible.

“Orcs,” I say under my breath, knowing that this is the most likely of reasons we have been called here. Dark elves have become less of a concern recently, though the city of Ter is always a potential threat. But that is why we are situated here, in the mid-east of Nagaland.

“Captain Faaz, it would be better for all of us, and especially for you, if you were to just spit out these words,” I hiss.

He looks back at me from across the table through slitted eyes. “Of course, commander. I am about to recount—”

“Then in the name of Atia just get on with it!”

He bows his head in deference and I know that he will take this up with me when we are alone—and I will let him— but for now this is how it will be. Zumir is a trusted friend and ally, someone who I have known since we were small children, but I am in no mood for wasting time on trivia.

This fort, along with its outposts on the east of Nagaland, has been holding the line against the dark elves and orcs since time immemorial. I, and the warriors that I command, as well as all those that came before me, are the guardians of the naga people, and this insult is not something I am able to tolerate.

“As we are aware, orc attacks are becoming more frequent in the towns and villages and now this has escalated with an attack on Outpost Three. I can report that the situation is grave. The attack was quick and deadly, and there are many questions still to be asked and answered about how such a large number of orcs were able to gain access to the station without being seen.”

Zumir’s news wakes something up inside me that I have not felt for a long time. Orcs are never that far away, but this is more than just some beasts pillaging their way through our lands, I can feel it. We are the most formidable of our kind and there are few from any species that would dare try their chances in this way.

“This is unheard of—orcs are incapable of attacking us with such stealth,” says Mansir, leader of the council.

Tongues flicker and hisses fill the air that is now thick with unasked questions and the type of cold fury that only our kind can possess. I look around at my most trusted advisors, feeling their concerns while trying to remain the calm and considered leader that I aim to be. Something that right now is beginning to slip away, like water off a rock.

“This has become more of a problem than we could have anticipated,” says one of them, his words drawing a small smile from me. How many times have I told them it is my job to anticipate such things?

Though they may believe themselves and our structures to be invincible it is this attitude that means they will never occupy the position that I do. A leader always anticipates problems, knows where the weak spots are, has an eye on the enemy even if they are far from sight.

But even I did not see this coming, and this starts to gnaw at me. Never have I questioned my ability to lead Fort Marzu and its connected outposts, and this is a strange and unwelcome feeling.

“We must act immediately!” says Zumir. “I have reports of many fatalities and those who are left have been gravely injured.”

I meet his eyes with my own. “And we will,” I say calmly, though I am unsure how much longer I can refrain myself from snapping. “What else do we know?”

“The captain of Outpost Three is still alive, though he has sustained injuries,” he informs us. “Captain Esmooh fought with honor and strength against the invaders.”

“But not strong enough,” I sneer. “If he does recover from his injuries, it would seem I will need to reconsider his position. And the outpost itself?”

“There is structural damage, but it can be salvaged, though we will need to move quickly to have a fully functioning station. Something I know we can all agree is of the utmost importance at this point.”

The thought of a weakness in our line of defense makes my already-cold blood chill further. Our outposts are situated from north to south of the line and they must be working at their full capacity if we are to maintain our defensive might.

“Perhaps we should think about reinforcements from the west,” Mansir suggests. “This is an unnatural occurrence and as such they should be aware of it.”

Each word that spills from his mouth drives the wrath of Atia through me. Orcs attacking our line of defense, slaughtering us as though we are helpless humans—this is not the way of the naga, and it certainly should not be happening on my watch.

“How can this be!” I bellow, hardly able to contain the rage that begins to drip through my veins like poison.

         Looking around the War Room I see nothing but the faces of those that should know better. An orc attack on one of my outposts is not something I will tolerate, let alone the dead and the injured that now seemingly litter the place as a result.

         “This is not what I expect from warriors of Kaynvu. You disgrace yourselves before me, your king and Goddess Atia herself!”

         But as commander of Fort Marzu this truly falls on me. The dishonor this brings already starts to seep beneath my skin and scales, adding to my anger and threatening to take me over completely. But this cannot happen. I am the commander of this fort because I can control these urges and channel them in the direction I wish for them to go.

         “Do you dare to dishonor me in such a way! I am your commander and as such can deal with this insult that these beasts have visited upon us! The elite of the west are loyal and true, but they can never rival our strength and skill.”

         The table shakes as I bring my fist down upon it. “We are the protectors of our great nation. This is our job, the one we were made for!”

Silence fills the room, thick and heavy.  I sense their trepidation and reluctance to say more. Drawing my ire is not something that any of my subordinates wishes upon themselves.

         “I am sure our honorable friend did not mean to offend you Commander Farzu,” Zumir says. “I think what he is suggesting is that this is unprecedented and as such must be dealt with quickly.”

         Narrowing my eyes, I glance around the table into the faces of each of those around it. “To insinuate that we need to be rescued by those from the west does indeed offend me. You dishonor me and yourselves by suggesting such a thing!”

         “Commander Ferzu, my apologies for any offense that I may have caused. I was just attempting to suggest that the palace should be made aware of this. What if the orcs were to attack Fort Marzu or Marzula itself?” asks Mansir.

         “Enough!” I roar.

         Though his words slice at my already thin patience I can see his point. The attack on Outpost Three is unprecedented. I have heard nothing of the sort in all my years, and so it would be foolish and indeed dangerous to assume an assault on Fort Marzu or the city that services it.

         “Marzula is well-protected and prepared for any such attack, but we must always remain vigilant,” Zumir replies, daring to look in my direction.

         He is right of course, and I will not let my rage or sense of honor get in the way of doing what I am here to do: Protect my people. It is my duty to ensure that the fort and the city are safe. An attack on Marzula, the small city that serves this military base could have grave consequences. 

Many of the military command, the troops and their families live here as well as the countless number of merchants and journeymen that serve Fort Marzu. It would be the perfect place for an enemy strike which is why we must always be prepared.

I gaze intently at my friend and ally, my eyes cold and steely. “Agreed. Which is why I will be traveling to Outpost Three to find out what is happening as soon as this damned meeting is over with!”