Shades of Death

by Ramy Vance

The two tumbled into the sand, Sarah struggling to get away from the wyrm. There was no way she could handle a wyrm at close distance. The serpent could easily rip her to shreds.

  Sarah managed to roll out from under one of the wyrm’s massive legs. She reached for her gun. It was gone, knocked off during the fall.

  She scrambled away as the wyrm came lumbering after her, its jaws open, acidic drool dripping from its fangs. The wyrm towered over Sarah, slamming one foot down, pinning her to the ground.

  Kravis’ dune buggy hit the wyrm’s side, knocking it off Sarah, exposing its soft stomach.

  Sarah ran over to her totaled motorcycle as Kravis continued to ram his buggy into the wyrm. She picked up the rocket-launcher which had been flung from her and aimed at the wyrm’s stomach.

  “You got about ten seconds to get away,” she commed Kravis.

  The gnome kicked open his door and leapt out of the buggy as Sarah fired. The rocket hit the wyrm square in the stomach and exploded, sending wyrm guts everywhere.

  Sarah went to help Kravis to his feet. “Let’s go check on that truck.”

  The pair returned to the truck, which had stalled. If any other orcs survived, they had already fled. The remaining gnomish driver was waiting for Kravis and Sarah at the freight cargo. “Didn’t want to start unwrapping our presents until you two got back.”

  Kravis groaned as Sarah stalked past the gnome. “You could have come over and given us a hand.”

  “Saw the explosion. Figured you two were the cause of it.”

  Sarah climbed onto the back of the freighter and pulled the door open. The hold was nearly empty. She found a couple of boxes, but nothing to justify the size of the freighter. “Were they just transporting a fucking wyrm? That doesn’t make any sense,” she muttered.

  Kravis and the other gnome were also looking through the cargo hold, trying to locate the supplies their informant had told them about.

  Sarah finally approached a small black box, the only one in the hold made from steel instead of wood. She opened it and pulled out a vial about the size of her hand. Inside was a black liquid. Sarah held it up to her eye to get a better look.

  The liquid in the vial surged forward, trying to attack Sarah from behind the glass.

  Kravis came to her side and pointed at the vial. “What the hell is that?”

  Sarah was still watching the vial as the liquid in it swirled about. It looked angry. “I don’t know, some kind of black goo. I think it might be alive or something.”

  “Goo isn’t alive.”

  “Myrddin needs to see this, and I want to talk to the guy who did intel. He’s got a lot of explaining to do.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Terra had never been a fan of talk shows. Her mother had watched them often while Terra was a kid. She had distinct memories of people droning on about stories that weren’t interesting. If it wasn’t that, the crowds were loud enough to be cheering at a sports game. The whole situation had left an odd taste in Terra’s mouth, one she could never understand.

  Now Terra was backstage at the Steve Campbell Show, the second-highest-ranked political talk show in the United States. For the first time, Terra wished she hadn’t been ripping the heads off her Barbies while her mom watched television.

  Three makeup artists flittered in and out of the room, each time coming back with different palettes and brushes for Terra’s face. She had no idea what they were doing. She knew how to use makeup, but these three artists were on a whole other level.

  The makeup artists talked as they worked, only speaking to each other, never to Terra, who was happy to be ignored. Having people fuss over her face without asking how she felt about it was beyond irritating to Terra. She probably would have snapped at an artist if they had spoken to her. And then Terra would be the stereotypical image of reality television.

  Why the hell is Myrddin having me do this? Like, do people even take this kind of stuff seriously?

  Terra knew why, though, even if she didn’t like the sound of it. She was a hero to the humans. All of Earth had watched her fights in the arena, thanks to Abby and Anabelle. Terra was the reason humans still talked about the war with the Dark One. It only made sense that Terra be the face of the human cause.

  That and Anabelle would leave everyone feeling a little bit shitty.

  Terra had no problem with Anabelle.

  As a commander, she was good.

  As a friend—though using the word might be premature—the elf was surprisingly delightful.

  Terra had never had many friends, instead opting for a small group of individuals who she would have died for. She’d been caught off guard at how quickly she’d clicked with Anabelle after the DGA had rescued her.

  After spending more time with Anabelle, it wasn’t hard to see why. The elf was captivating. She cast a spell on anyone she spoke to, even when she was being a complete dick. Which was why Anabelle probably wasn’t doing the show.

  Terra had picked up on Anabelle’s generally dismissive nature toward humans. It didn’t bother her. Generally, Anabelle’s opinion about humans not being capable were the same ones Terra had held for years. The difference being that Terra had been one of those humans. Myrddin’s decision to not have Anabelle addressing a good chunk of humanity made complete sense.

  Still, Terra wished there had been another human readily available. If Abby had been old enough, Terra would have pushed the job toward her. The kid was bright and personable. She would have been great for the small screen.

  Roy would have been another good choice. But Terra could already see the problem with him. Blind in one eye, covered in scars, practically needing a cane after his last fight. Roy probably wouldn’t make people want to jump up and take up arms.

  One of the makeup artists hit Terra in the face with a powder brush, and she flinched. Terra’s instinct was to grab the woman and throttle her, but she held her irritation in check. She had to laugh at herself. Six months ago, she never would have imagined being angry enough to speak up about a problem. Now she was ready to fight anything that inconvenienced her. The arena had had a lasting impact on her.

  Anabelle entered the room, and the artists momentarily stopped their work. This gave Terra time to glance over her shoulder and wave at the elf. “How you liking the royal treatment?” Anabelle asked.

  Terra shrugged as the makeup artists fell silent and returned to their work. “Can’t say much. You used to have to sit through this shit all the time, right?”

  A shadow danced over Anabelle’s eyes but disappeared almost as fast as it had arrived. “Nearly every waking moment of the last thirty years. The worst part of modeling was always having someone on my face. Honestly, I only learned how to do my own makeup so I could grab a couple of minutes to myself. The whole world, it’s pretty suffocating.”

  Anabelle sat on the couch. She crossed her legs, and her eyes zeroed in on Terra. “Any idea what you two are supposed to be talking about?”

  Terra squirmed under Anabelle’s gaze. She’d seen that look before. It was the same way Anabelle watched her enemies, lining up to take her shots, before eliminating them in the most efficient way possible. So, why was Anabelle looking at Terra like that?

  “No, not really,” Terra replied. “Myrddin only told me I’m supposed to talk with Campbell about the war.”

  “Well, what are you going to say?”

  “Oh…I hadn’t really…I mean, I didn’t prepare a speech or anything. He’s going to ask me questions, and I guess I was gonna try to answer them the best I can. That’s how interviews work, right?”

  Anabelle leaned back on the couch, stretching her arms out behind her. “Yes, dear, that’s exactly how it works.”

  Terra felt the sting in Anabelle’s words. She wasn’t sure if the bite was intentional or not. Either way, it prickled Terra’s skin. “Shouldn’t be too hard. Anyone with half a brain can answer a question. My mom used to watch trash like this all the time. Seemed like a bunch of regular people to me.”r />
  “This is the Steve Campbell Show, one of the most-watched cultural commentaries in the world. ‘Normal people’ don’t go on this show. I never managed to get so much as an invite. I can’t begin to imagine who Myrddin had to talk to to make this happen. He must have called in some pretty big favors.”

  “The way you say ‘normal,’ you sound disgusted.”

  Anabelle’s gaze softened. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. Normal isn’t bad. It’s just that Campbell doesn’t have plumbers or nannies on his show. He has—”

  “World-renowned models.” Terra heard the acid in her voice. She hoped Anabelle had as well.

  Anabelle sat up straight as she cracked her index knuckle. “Anyways, I should get going. Just wanted to stop by and wish you luck. Break a leg out there. Not literally.” The elf stood and headed toward the door.

  Terra instantly regretted feeding into Anabelle’s pettiness. Maybe there was a way to recover this. “Hey, wait. You got any tips for a newbie?”

  Anabelle stopped at the door, tossing her hair back with such flair that it was impossible to see her as anything other than a model. “You don’t need my advice. Remember, you stared down a balrog while millions watched. What’s a couple hundred thousand on live television.”

  “Seriously, Belle, I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m asking you if you have any advice.”

  Anabelle turned all the way around and her modelesque mystique vanished. It was as if she’d pulled off a cloak. This was the Anabelle Terra thought of as her friend. “If you freeze, don’t panic or rush an answer. Let ‘em pile up. While the interviewer keeps asking you questions, getting in his own head, you imagine everyone in their underwear. Block everything else out until you can see them. Always helped me.”

  “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “I should get going. Good luck.”

  Anabelle left the room and took all of the coldness with her. The makeup artists breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  Now, Terra understood why Anabelle was so intimidating.

  Everything was a battle for the elf.

  Terra was the third guest on the Steve Campbell Show. She’d hidden behind a giant curtain, waiting through the first two interviews.

  In Wardrobe, the makeup artists had tried to talk Terra into either an elegant dress or a more lowkey but still flattering two-piece suit, but Terra didn’t feel comfortable in either. Instead, she’d chosen to wear her uniform, complimented by an orcish necklace made of dragons’ teeth—a gift from Cire.

  After seeing the guests who had preceded her, Terra wished she had chosen the suit.

  Finally, she was given her cue, and she emerged from behind the heavy curtains, temporarily blinded by the lights and the applause from the crowd. Once her eyes adjusted, Terra went to the comfortable red seat designated to her.

  Steve Campbell was the definition of a posh intellectual. His suit was tailored for a perfect fit, outlining his broad shoulders and chest. His jawline was sculpted for day and nighttime TV, and he managed to straddle the line between allowing his hair to go gray and dying it for the sake of maintaining his youthful appearance.

  That smile though… It was like being caught in a tractor beam.

  Terra took Steve’s hand awkwardly. She sat as Steve did, instantly regretting her decision to be the public face of the DGA and the rest of Myrddin’s plots.

  Steve was still beaming and clapping, rousing the crowd. “It’s great to have you on the show, Terra. We weren’t sure if we were gonna be able to pull you away from the dragons and orcs. How are you doing tonight?”

  Terra looked out at the crowd, momentarily losing herself in all of the eyes and lights. She knew Steve had said something, but she wasn’t sure what it was. “Uh, I’m sorry what?”

  “Looks like we got us a live one today, guys.”

  The crowd laughed. These weren’t the same kind of spectators as in the arena. These people were looking for something different, and it made Terra uncomfortable. She forced a laugh, not knowing what else to do.

  Steve cleared his throat, and his smile disappeared. “So, thanks to you, we’ve recently been introduced to the massive threat to humanity. Although your battles were exhilarating, we wanted to hear from you. What do you think this means for humans? I mean, it was horrible that you were dragged to a whole other world to compete in vicious blood sports, but is it realistic to think that all of humanity is in danger because of a single abduction?”

  This time Terra heard Steve.

  Which didn’t change that she had no answer. Her mind had gone blank. She kept looking at the audience, their dark eyes watching her, and glancing at each other in the confusion at Terra’s silence. “Uh…” was all Terra managed.

  Steve glanced at the producer, who was shrugging behind the scenes. “Well, a lot of our viewers were wondering what your experience on an alien world was like. Perhaps you could shed some light on the details of this conflict with the alleged Dark One.”

  Terra was still quiet. Then she remembered something and chuckled to herself.

  Steve, sensing this was the most he would get out of Terra, leaned forward and asked, “Oh, do you have a joke for us? What’s got you laughing so much?”

  “Just a bit of advice I got from a friend. For remaining calm, apparently, you’re supposed to imagine everyone in their underwear.”

  Steve laughed, relaxing a little more in his chair. “Universally acclaimed advice. How’s it working out so far?”

  Terra smiled and made a show of checking Steve out. “With you? Perfectly. I feel much more comfortable.”

  There were chuckles and laughter throughout the crowd. Terra felt a little more at ease and decided to roll with it. “Sorry about your earlier questions. The whole arena was such a…complex experience. I’m still trying to process a lot of it.”

  Steve shook his head as he waved his hands. “My apologies. It was probably an insensitive question. Let’s change gears. Can you tell us exactly what this war with the Dark One entails? We’ve all heard rumors online and so forth, but it’s hard to make sense of it all. It’s not like we’ve had a State of the Union concerning this. Why are the communication channels so bad?”

  Terra went on to explain everything she understood about the war with the Dark One. She wasn’t privy to all of the behind-the-scenes information, but she knew enough to stress the severity of the situation.

  Steve seemed satisfied with her answer. He switched gears again. “We’ve received some questions from fans of yours that we would like to ask you if that’s okay.”

  Terra firmly planted her elbows on her kneecaps and spread her legs out. “Go for it.”

  “This is from Jaime, nineteen, living in San Diego.”

  Terra waved at the camera. “Hey, Jaime! Hope you’re listening.”

  Steve chuckled, noticeably pleased by Terra playing to the audience at home. “Jaime asks, ‘Hey, so I’ve been reading fantasy all my life. What’s it like to fight tons of evil orcs?’”

  Terra instinctively winced at the question. “Evil? Orcs aren’t evil.”

  Steve reacted about the same way to Terra’s answer. “Wait, excuse me if I’m wrong, but don’t orcs make up the majority of the Dark One’s forces? I mean, other than that, we all saw your fights in the arena. Those orcs were out to kill you.”

  “Yes, those orcs were. But they weren’t all trying to kill me. Or humanity. For the most part, the orcs serving the Dark One are under mind-control. And, if you’d been watching the fights closely, you would have seen that I was fighting alongside a lot of orcs who valued my life as much as their own. The whole idea of orcs being evil as a race is ridiculous. It’s an idea we all need to drop.”

  “How are we supposed to be able to drop that? We’ve seen orcs invading multiple places on Earth. Yet we’ve never seen one—”

  A sharp cackle echoed from off stage, the sound fluctuating between high-pitched and a low groan—a parody of amusement.

  Rasput
ina stuck her head out from behind the red curtain. Her face was as pale as snow, smeared with bright red blood, and she wore a black designer suit, the fabric sleek animal fur that puffed at the lapels and collar.

  Terra jumped to her feet as soon as she saw Rasputina, but the lich waved her hand at Terra, who sat back down violently. Skeletal hands ripped from the ground, grasping Terra’s legs and arms.

  Throughout the audience, hands emerged from the tiers, pinning the people to their chairs.

  Steve turned, motioning for Security. Two armed guards ran onstage, guns raised. “Whoever the hell you are, put your hands in the air.”

  Rasputina pouted and raised her hands. “Wait, wait, wait. Before we make any rash decisions—”

  “We said, hands in the air!”

  Rasputina turned to the camera and smiled wickedly. “Don’t say I didn’t warn them.”

  One of the guards approached Rasputina, gun raised. When he was close enough to press the gun to her forehead, the lich leaned forward, her jaw stretching wide, jagged teeth shining. She clamped her teeth onto the guard’s throat and tore out his jugular.

  The guard fell to the ground, grasping at his neck as he bled out.

  The other guard turned to run. Rasputina sprinted after him, jumped onto his back, and tackled him to the ground. She rolled him over and pressed her finger to his mouth as he screamed. “Shush, shush. It’s gonna be over. It’ll hurt, but then it’s gonna be over.”

  Rasputina leaned over the guard until they were nose to nose as she drove her knife into his side repeatedly until his screams eventually faded to gurgles. Then she stood and pointed at Steve. “Sit, please.”

  Steve did as he was told.

  Rasputina approached Terra and pushed her chair to the side. A throne of bones cobbled itself from the crowd, and Rasputina took her seat. She sat there, picking at the loose skin under her nose as she dramatically brushed her hair back from her face. “Uh, this is the part where you ask questions, right? That’s what you’re supposed to be doing.”

  Steve’s eyes were wide, and his bottom lip trembled. “Wait, I’m sorry?”