As the moon rose high into the night sky, Knez was shoved back into his cage. His muscles were sore from a long day of physical labor, but it was all worth it, because he had mapped every part of the camp in his mind—every tent, every pathway, every warrior's position.

  The night was lit up by campfires as orcs huddled together, drinking ale and tearing into roasted blue deer. Laughter and rough songs echoed through the air. The shaman rose to his feet once more, knife in hand, and slit the throat of the last blue deer prepared for the occasion, letting its blood spill onto the earth—a ritual offering to the land that had sheltered them. The others carved up the carcasses, skewering meat over the flames to seal the ceremony with a feast.

  Outside the cages stood a lone young warrior, who was visibly bitter for being asked to guard the prisoners while the rest made merry and drank into the night.

  Knez sat in one corner of the cage. He had been awkwardly silent since he returned to confinement, his eyes wandering to and fro as he watched the events unfolding before him, keenly observing the scenes like a hawk—even ignoring Borte's hesitant questions and Hermeti's probing grunts. But as the night deepened and snores began to rumble from his cellmates, a sudden gasp shattered the quiet. Knez collapsed, blood trickling from the sides of his mouth, as he tossed about violently on the dirt floor, visibly in pain.

  Borte scrambled over, her hands hovering uncertainly. "Knez? What's happening?" He thrashed harder, ignoring her.

  The commotion drew the attention of the young warrior, who was now standing in front of the cage. He yanked the door open, walked in slowly, and stopped before the convulsing figure. "What is wrong with you?" No response came—just more violent jerks. The orc dropped to one knee to get a closer look at the prisoner, but that was the worst decision he had made in his whole life, because the next thing he felt was a huge pressure on his chin, and he blacked out. Knez had thrown an uppercut at the exact moment the warrior was dropping down to his knees; the momentum of the punch, aided by the momentum of the warrior's dropping body, sealed his fate.

  Knez leaped to his feet, wiping blood from his lips with the back of his hand. Borte's eyes widened, her breathing shallow, but Knez wasn't done. He picked up the warrior's axe lying by his side and delivered a clean blow to the neck of the unconscious orc, severing the head in one smooth strike as blood splattered his face, warm and sticky. Borte and Hermeti held their breaths; the sudden shift from quiet prisoner to ruthless killer was too much for them to take in at one stride.

  Knez snapped his chains with a grunt and strode to the door. He paused, glancing back. "Don't you plan to leave?"

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  Hermeti's lips twitched into a grim smile, a spark igniting in his eyes, approving this—whatever this was. He pushed himself up, wobbling, as Borte steadied him. She rifled through the dead orc's pockets, fishing out the keys, and unlocked their restraints with trembling fingers.

  Knez led the way, his steps silent and sure. They trailed behind him, Hermeti limping heavily. Knez made a straight line for the opposite cage. "A promise is a promise," he muttered underneath his breath as he fumbled with the lock until it clicked open.

  The humans inside shrank back, eyes wide at the bloody orc, but little Anna's face lit up, her small hands reaching out for an embrace. Her parents hesitated, suspicious about anything and everything.

  Knez, not willing to waste time convincing them, spread his arms, and Anna broke free from her parents' grasp, wrapping herself around him. He scooped her up effortlessly, her weight light as a feather, and turned. Her parents exchanged glances before hurrying after their daughter. Anna had told them about her encounter with the mister that promised to set them free, but her parents quickly dismissed it as a child's effort to cheer up her parents.

  Borte shot Hermeti a puzzled look, but he just shrugged. Knez was a riddle wrapped in blood—they'd stopped trying to unravel him.

  They all made their way quietly toward the opposite side of the camp, where the giganteans were tied. Six of them—that was more than they needed. He cut three loose; the shaggy creatures stamped impatiently as he kicked them free.

  He turned, voice a low whisper. "Borte, help Hermeti get on that one," he gestured toward a gray gigantean. "Both of you should ride the muddy one," he pointed to Anna's parents, who were still stunned by the whole situation. "Get moving," he bellowed, skeptical if they could ride the beast even with their combined strength.

  Knez mounted the black gorgeous gigantean in front of him; given its physique, it was probably Jemuka's personal ride. They quickly vanished into the darkness amid the thudding of hooves.

  They rode south through the night, hearts pounding with fear. Borte kept glancing over her shoulder, expecting shouts and spears. The humans clutched each other, faces pale. But no pursuit came.

  The reality of their successful escape only dawned on them as the night gave way to the first light of the day. They slowed down to catch their breaths. Hermeti was almost unconscious from the strain; his body couldn't keep up with the stress. One would probably mistake him for a ghost at this point. The humans were not better off either; the gigantean had proved a tough challenge for their battered and weak bodies. Even Knez was feeling the fatigue, but the adrenaline rushing through his veins masked the ache for now.

  Anna stirred in his arms, awake but her eyes remained closed. Knez rummaged through the saddle pouches, fingers brushing dried strips of meat—orcs usually stored dried meats on their rides for quick snacks while out on long hunts. He pulled out a few thin slices and offered one to Anna, holding it to her lips, but she turned her head away, too weak to chew.

  Knez shrugged and gnawed on it himself, the salty tang grounding him. The others searched their own pouches, finding nothing but empty leather. He divided the rest of the dry meat reluctantly while holding the little girl in his arms like a fragile package. His mind was already racing ahead, crafting the fastest path southeast toward the distant shores.