by Ramy Vance
“I did not think you would tell me, but I thought it worth asking. I do not need to know. Instead, I want to ask a favor of you. As I said, there are orcs who are part of a resistance against the Dark One. Our numbers are small, and we are scattered, but whoever is helping you has resources. What I say next is not said lightly. I am one of the last surviving shamans of the older tribes. It is within my ability to crown new chieftains. I have yet to meet an orc worthy of such a title, but it is a title I would like to bestow upon you. And with that title, I would ask you to petition help from whoever aids you.”
“Why don’t you just ask yourself?”
“Because I am an orc, and I will not be trusted. But you? You will be believed. Regardless of your decision, though, I still would like to bestow the title of chieftain upon you. It is an honor, but so much more than that.”
Terra was interested. “What else?”
“Orc chieftains are given an unrivaled level of respect. That respect falls upon the goblins as well. If you were to accept, you would be considered to be one of the strongest orcs, capable of commanding the respect and support of any orcs who are not under the Dark One’s influence. Free orcs would have a duty to serve you if you were to ask. You could raise an army if you chose. An army of loyal warriors.”
Terra thought about the prospect. An army of her own. What would she even do with an army? She hardly knew what was going on with the Dark One. But she knew she didn’t need the details. She’d experienced firsthand what the Dark One was capable of: uprooting and destroying the lives of innocent people. “What do I have to do?”
Cire held up two fingers. “One, you have to survive. Second, you must allow me to give you the sign of a chieftain. It is simple, painless, and not nearly as awkward as a healing ceremony.”
“What’s the catch?”
“There is no catch. There are chieftains who choose to seclude themselves in the mountains, studying our old legends. Others raise families in the hill, waiting to be called to war. And there were others who were farmers until a time of need. But in those times, it is always the chieftain who decides. Nothing is expected from them, only desired. You would also receive a steward. Me. I will swear myself to you to be used as you see fit. As long as blood pumps through my veins, it would be yours.”
Terra sighed as she thought it over. “You don’t expect me to sit on my ass, do you?”
Cire smiled slyly. “I do not expect you to do anything other than what you have been doing.”
“Fine, I’m in. Give me the sign.”
Cire stood over Terra. He spat in his hand and rubbed the saliva across his palms and down his fingers. Then he pressed his hand to Terra’s face, covering half of it. A warm, pleasant feeling flowed along Terra’s skin. When Cire removed his hand, the sensation remained. Then Cire fetched her water bowl and handed it to her.
Terra looked down into the water. There was a fading brown imprint of Cire’s hand.
“And now you are to be named. Terra, She Who Was Hewn from Orc Bone. Please say it back to me.”
Terra repeated her title as she looked into the water bowl. As she spoke, Cire’s handprint returned, resting on her face for a little bit before fading again. “When an orc sees that, they will understand your claim.”
Terra felt like she should say something to commemorate the event, but she’d never been one for speeches. Instead, she simply said, “Thank you,” and handed Cire the water bowl.
Cire took the bowl and placed it on the ground. “Now, all you must do is survive. What you choose to do with your authority is up to you, but I will always be by your side. I am sworn to you.”
Terra nodded, uncertain of how to thank Cire for such a commitment. “So, how much more of that wine is there?”
Cire smiled mischievously. “Enough for a celebration for our new chieftain.”
Chapter Eleven
Anabelle was busy getting the invasion squad ready. She’d confirmed with Myrddin that once Abby and Creon had zeroed in on the specifics of what they needed for transportation to Terra, they were going to be moving out ASAP.
The pool of recruits and soldiers to pull from was significantly smaller than the last mission. There had been casualties and many injuries. Even beyond that, the soldiers were exhausted. Expecting them to be able to do another hadron collider jump and combat so quickly afterward was unfair and cruel. Yet that was exactly what Anabelle had done.
Blackwell and Naota showed up, both looking beyond haggard. Naota’s usual animated and bizarre eccentricities were hardly noticeable as he sat slumped over, waiting to listen to whatever Anabelle had to say. Blackwell wasn’t much better. His eyes were sunken in, deep black circles made it look as if his eyes were in a grave.
Fifteen more soldiers showed up to the meeting as well. That may have been all that could have spared. Anabelle didn’t care about the number, though. The plan wasn’t to wage an all-out battle at the arena. It was to slip in and out quickly. Pick up Terra, then get the hell out of there. That’s what Anabelle explained to the soldiers. There weren’t many questions.
Anabelle told them to all keep their comms on and be ready for any last-minute announcements. Then she dismissed them and went to take care of her own business. Roy hadn’t been at the briefing. That had her worried.
The medbay was much emptier than when Anabelle had visited Roy and Abby earlier. Most of the wounded soldiers had been healed and discharged. They were probably recovering in their barracks. If the mission could have been postponed by a day, there was no doubt that the ranks would have been swollen with volunteers.
Since Terra’s arena fights had been broadcast, there had been a groundswell of folks willing to take on the most dangerous missions. That had backfired today. Because so many people had volunteered, everyone had been run ragged.
Anabelle let herself into Roy’s room. He was awake, propped up in his bed, reading a holopad. He looked up at Anabelle when she entered the room. “Doesn’t look like you need any time to rest,” he said gruffly.
Anabelle sat beside Roy and tried to speak as casually as she could. “It’s the elf blood. When you live for hundreds of years, you start to appreciate how little you need to sleep.”
“Wish I could say the same. Even with everything healed up, my body still feels like it got hit by a fucking tank. Sorry to say, I won’t be joining you on the rescue mission. Myrddin won’t let me get out of bed. Says if something happened to me, the dragonriders would be toast. First time I’ve ever been too important to endanger my life.”
Anabelle laughed as she thought of how annoyed Roy must be. “So, what happened? I’m assuming you read our debriefing.”
Roy put the holopad down and nodded. “Yeah, I got hit with the same crap. They sent a fucking drake after me. Thing damn near tore me to shreds. Still not sure how I ended up here, but living is living. Even if I got treated like a chew toy.”
“Not a lot of people would have survived that. You should be proud of yourself. You’re a resilient chew toy, at least.”
“I’ll make sure to put that on my dating profile.”
They chuckled nervously. Anabelle avoided Roy’s eyes. Even with all the flirting they’d done before, telling Abby she had feelings for Roy had made those feelings much more concrete. She was partially glad Roy wasn’t coming on the mission. He looked too messed up for her to do anything other than worry about him. “How long are you going to be on bed rest?” she asked.
“At least a couple of days. I’m not gonna be having any fun for a bit, but that’s all right. I’m thinking of it as a vacation. Shame that the only time I get a vacation is when I’m knocking on death’s door. Glad that bastard didn’t answer.”
“I don’t think anyone takes a vacation when you’re in the middle of a war.”
“Point taken. So, about that whole dinner date thing. You know I was just messing with you about that. I mean, not that I wouldn’t, you know, want to go out or something some time, but I know how shit is. Sorry
for bringing it up. That was unprofessional.”
Anabelle waved away Roy’s words as she leaned back in her chair. “Don’t be stupid,” she said, and she left it at that. She still wasn’t sure what to make of the whole situation with Roy. Maybe if they weren’t risking their lives every day. How did anyone even think of having a relationship when that kind of madness was going on? How the hell did Sarah and Kravis pull it off?
Anabelle looked around the room so she had something to do rather than just sit in awkward silence. “The drow who was in here. Where did she go?”
Roy picked the holopad back up and scrolled through it aimlessly. “Got to have a real nice, personal conversation with Myrddin soon as she woke up. Don’t think the old man was happy about bringing in someone who was under the Dark One’s control. Can’t say I thought it was the smartest idea either. But the guys said they checked her for a chip, and it was burned out, so guess that means she’s okay.”
Anabelle didn’t know where she stood on the topic. She thought it was extremely dangerous to be dealing with anyone who had ever been under the Dark One’s control. How did you tell if someone was not in control of their own mind? The drow could easily be a double agent. At the same time, anyone who’d experienced what the Dark One was responsible for was a needed ally.
On top of that, Abby was pretty certain Persephone had been the assassin who was meant to kill Abby.
Either way, that decision was beyond Anabelle’s pay grade. That didn’t mean she couldn’t find out. She hit her comm, patching to Myrddin. “Hey, where’s the drow?” she asked.
Myrddin answered instantly. “I assumed you would want to speak with her. She’s been provided a room for the time being.”
“You think she’s actually free of the Dark One’s influence?”
“We put her through several tests. Passed every one. If she is under his mind control, it is a sort we haven’t seen yet. I believe that is enough reason to keep her close.”
Anabelle laughed. Myrddin was always thinking of the long game. He didn’t ever seem to be caught up in small details. Even if the drow was under the Dark One’s control, he saw this as a chance to learn something. Maybe something that could tip the tide of the war in their favor. “Can she receive visitors?” Anabelle asked.
“She would no doubt appreciate some.”
Anabelle clicked off her comm and stood. “I’m gonna go introduce myself to our new guest,” she said.
Roy had returned to his usual stoic self. “Sounds good. Let me know if you find anything interesting. I’ll see you in a little bit. Be safe out there.”
Anabelle reached down and squeezed Roy’s hand. “Get some rest. And I will.”
Chapter Twelve
Persephone was kept on the far side of the barracks, away from the other soldiers and staff. Anabelle assumed it was a security precaution. If Persephone turned out to still be under the Dark One’s influence, if she were to try something, she’d be a good ways from anyone to harm.
Anabelle knocked on the door twice and waited for an answer. The door creaked open slightly, and a pair of dark brown eyes stared out of the crack between the door and its frame. “Hello,” Persephone squeaked.
“My name is Anabelle. Just wanted to stop by and say hi. Welcome you to HQ. Do you mind if I come in?”
Persephone opened the door wider and retreated farther into the room. It was hard to see her as the assassin that had been sent to dispatch Abby. The drow who was in front of her was a mousy, scared thing. She didn’t have any of the drow confidence Anabelle had often seen among Persephone’s people.
Anabelle sat at the desk and tried to make herself look less intimidating. It was something she’d grown accustomed to in her previous position, but it had been so long since she’d had tried to diminish herself, she wasn’t sure if she was still capable of it.
Apparently, her efforts were appreciated because Persephone relaxed. Her cool demeanor softened, and she forced a smile, her sharp incisors glinting. She held her right arm close to her body as if it had been injured. “You okay?” Anabelle asked.
Persephone followed Anabelle’s eye line to her arm and laughed nervously. “Oh, this? Yeah, I’m all right. So, you just stopped by to say hi?”
“Not entirely. I haven’t ever had a chance to talk to anyone who used to be under the Dark One’s mind control. If it isn’t too early, I’d like to ask you a few questions. I know you haven’t had time to rest, but the more information we have, the better.”
Persephone didn’t hesitate to answer. “I’ll answer whatever you want. Anything to help.”
“Okay, so, I guess first, how does it feel? Are you in control of yourself? Are you hearing voices, like him commanding you or anything like that?”
Persephone thought for a while before answering. “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s like…almost like falling in love. You have these feelings for someone and you don’t know why, but they keep getting stronger. Then it stops being like love and becomes something else, but you always feel like yourself. Sort of. I rarely felt like I was doing something I didn’t want to.”
“What changed when you met Abby?”
Persephone looked as if she were genuinely perplexed. “I don’t know. When she was talking to me, I felt something…and I didn’t want to kill her. It wasn’t a whole lot. There was just a moment when I felt like I actually wanted something again, and it wasn’t to hurt her.”
“Hm. And then what happened?”
“Then that feeling went away, almost as quickly as I had it. But Abby did something. She broke the microchip the Dark One had put in me, and then I woke up.”
Anabelle had suspected something like that. She had seen Abby and Martin disable the microchip of an orc in the arena. This was the second time she’d broken someone out of the Dark One’s control—this time, in a much more positive way.
It wasn’t feasible to think that Abby could do that with each of the Dark One’s servants, but if it could be used on one person, there was the potential to develop something that could work on a large scale. It would take time, but it was an idea. “Thank you,” she said. “That’s it. You get some rest.”
Anabelle had stood to leave when Persephone jumped up as well. “Wait, what’s going to happen to me? Am I a prisoner, or something?”
“No, you aren’t. I don’t know what happens to you now. We aren’t going to keep you here against your will. I think you’re the only person who can answer that. You should take your time and think about it. Appreciate being able to make your own decisions.”
“Where’s Abby?”
Anabelle sighed. She recognized that tone of voice. She’d heard it in Abby as well. “She’s coming on a mission with me. She should be back within a few hours.”
Persephone hung her head as nodded. “Oh, okay. I understand.”
Before she left, Anabelle said, “I’ll let her know you were asking about her.”
The orc guards led Terra down the hallway for what felt like the last time. They had come for Terra in her sleep, pulled her out of bed before she could utter a word. Her weapons had been thrust upon her with little ceremony.
As Terra was pushed down the hall, she stumbled, and one of the orcs grabbed her arm to keep her from falling. When she returned to her feet, she leaned against the wall. “I don’t need your fucking help,” she spat as she straightened.
“You’d do well not to anger us, human. Just because you’ve been doing well doesn’t mean—”
“I am Terra, She Who was Hewn from Orc Bone,” she said quietly, her face glowing with the mark of the chieftain.
The orcs stopped walking for a moment, perhaps remembering the heritage deep within them that had been covered by the Dark One’s influence. They looked at each other as if to say, “This was something that we once understood. This a sign that bore meaning to us in a distant and far off time.” Then the moment of reflection was gone. Dried up as if it were never there.
Yet there was one orc wh
ose face still looked as if he remembered. He walked slower than the others, trailing behind Terra, his face reflecting thoughts that were difficult to define.
Terra did not notice the orc. The only thing she paid attention to was the light at the far end of the hallway. It reminded her of those old stories about not going toward the light when you were dying. You always avoided the light. Terra had applied that to all aspects of her life in the past.
The orcs and Terra stood at the end of the hallway, silently staring at the gates ahead of them. After enough time passed, the orc who continued to have a twinkle in his eye turned to Terra. “This is meant to be your last battle. I am sorry that it will end like this, but I hope you bring glory to yourself and all others like you.”
Something about the way the orc spoke put Terra at ease. He didn’t behave like the other orcs. She thought it might be just in her head, but she felt like he was at least trying to continue being an orc. That could have just been wishful thinking.
Terra stared at the stone gates in front of her, wondering what was behind them. She’d survived more than she was capable of since she’d arrived at the arena. Who were these assholes to think this match was going to be her last? She would decide what was her last. Today wasn’t going to be an exception. “This isn’t my last fight,” she said.
None of the orcs responded. She repeated herself if only to hear it one more time.
As Terra waited for the gates to open, Abby’s tracker landed behind her right ear. “We’re coming for you,” the girl said through the tracker.
Terra’s heart raced, and she had to hide her smile. She had forgotten there were people outside the ring trying to help her, trying to bring her back home. They hadn’t forgotten, even if she had. “All you have to do is stay alive for a little bit. We’re coming soon.”
