Princess to Pleasure Slave Chronicles (Book Sixteen): Harem Brides of the Goblin King by Amanda Clover & Jay Aury

Author:Amanda Clover & Jay Aury [Clover, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2019-12-02T16:00:00+00:00

The Raid

The caravan wound through the foothills like a train of misery and suffering. Ogres, thick and brutish, pulled the two cages behind them. Nearly a dozen of the heavy brutes. Yet heavy as they were, Targi knew too well that the creatures were all muscle.

The wheels of the carts rattled and bounced over the rocky terrain as they moved among the towering cliffs. From his vantage point on the lip of a crag Targi watched them closely. The brutes were at ease, laughing. After all, what had they to fear? There were no men left to challenge them. No monster would dare fight so many of their kind. They were right on both counts, of course. No man would challenge them.

But it was not a man who stood in the path ahead.

Alia had put on her orcish guise and stood directly in the path of the ogre’s carts, her blade held before her, point in the earth. The ogres slowed at the sight and one, the chief to judge by his bulk and bent metal helmet, moved forward.

“What orc want?” the ogre said, scratching himself as he glared down at the black orc.

“Those cages, and the women in them.”

The ogre belted out a laugh that shook among the cliffs. “You want cage? Not for you. These for Gorus!”

“Gorus won’t have them.”

The ogre smirked, but there was a dangerous glint in those eyes now. He lazily reached back and pulled out a club. “You move, or me move you.”

“You can try.”

Mirth vanished from the ogre’s face. With a bellow he swung up his club and brought it down onto the orc.

Who was no longer there.

The ogre blinked as his club smashed into rock, then howled as Alia’s blade sliced through his hamstring. The ogre’s legs gave in beneath him, sending the brute to his hands and knees, his head bouncing with the impact, leaving the back of his neck exposed. An opportunity Alia didn’t squander. Her blade sliced down, through the exposed neck cleanly. The ogre’s head bounced onto the dusty path.

The other ogres stared, their minds struggling to comprehend the sudden events. Then, one howled with fury, and as one they rushed forward. Alia retreated; sword raised as the ogres surged towards her in a howling mass. Even had they not been blinded by their rage, it was unlikely they would have seen the chalk markings which framed the path. As it was, they rushed past them, never noticing how the runes flared.

The twin explosions rocked the hills. Pieces of ogres flew hither and yon. Howling, confused, bleeding and wounded, the survivors stumbled about in the rubble. They slipped and slid in the gory mess on the ground.

One saw Lysa, her cloak flapping in the wind as she stepped up beside Targi on the ledge and raised her arms. Magic spun about her palms in discs of rune written light, growing into swirling flame. She cast it down, the sorcerous strike washing in a wave of fire through the surviving ogres.

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