by Ramy Vance
Cire hung his head after recounting the history of his people. “That was why we were such easy prey for the Dark One. We were completely cut off from the other realms. And we were assumed to be violent and evil from the beginning. What better people to enslave for your armies? Before anyone knew of the Dark One, it was assumed that orcs were just going on a genocidal rampage. It was believed to be in our nature.”
Terra watched Cire’s eyes, how they grew deep and sad as if he had been there himself. But she knew why. Cire had spoken to her in length about the role of the shamans in his culture. Shamans were responsible for upholding the magic and rituals of orcish history. Though Cire hadn’t been there in person, he had absorbed enough of the stories to feel as if it had been his life.
Creon broke the spell Cire had cast over Nib-Nib and Terra. “Looks like we got one. One of the satellites I dispatched a week or two ago has been in position long enough for us to have gathered some reconnaissance. I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t last, but it’ll give us a general idea of what’s going on.”
The holoscreen they were watching began to show the feed from the last couple of days.
Cire gasped when he saw the footage.
Terra didn’t understand what was so surprising to Cire. “What is it?”
Creon pointed at the screen. “This is…this is not the orcish world. We would have never done something like this. It goes against everything we stand for, all our principles.”
The orcish world had been transformed. Monolithic, technologically advanced buildings formed massive, expanding cities. Orcs walked about as if they were performing everyday business.
Hoverbikes and hover ships floated throughout the city.
Some of the orcs caught on the surveillance had undergone technological improvements, many of which Terra didn’t recognize. Creon confirmed they were far more advanced than anything he’d ever seen.
Terra clicked a section of the video, zooming in on the orcs moving about. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with it?”
Cire puffed out his chest. “Orcs have always prided ourselves in our connection to our land, to our planet. We were born within the world, and we have taken our pride with us. Never in all my years would I have imagined that our world would have been carved up like this. I’ve seen all I need to see.”
The holoscreen cut off as Creon awkwardly shifted his weight from side to side. “I’m sorry, Cire. It hurts me to see this done to your people.”
Terra could understand Creon’s emotional response, something she’d rarely seen from the goblin. In the Nine Realms, orcs and goblins were both considered evil races. Cousins of sorts. In many ways, Creon probably felt like someone had defiled a distant home.
Cire went to the door. “I would like to be alone for a bit.”
After Cire left, Terra received a comm from Anabelle. “What’s up, my dude?”
Anabelle sounded panicked when she spoke. “You need to turn on the news right now. BCN.”
Creon was already tuning the holoscreen to the channel.
Terra was horrified by what she saw. It was a protest in the middle of New York. Humans were carrying signs and shouting in the streets. One of the signs read, Defeat the Orc Menace! Another, Orcs Beneath Our Boots.
“Fuck. I’m glad Cire wasn’t here to see this,” Terra muttered before hitting her comm. “What’s going on, Anabelle?”
“Human public opinion about orcs has grown pretty strong over the last few weeks. Guess the battle with Rasputina and the Dark One’s forces tipped it over the edge. People here are livid. I’ve been on the ground for a while. Nobody is making a secret about this. They’re out for blood.”
“Are any of the interviews Cire and I are giving making a difference?”
Anabelle took a little while to answer. “They were for a bit, but things have gotten worse. They’ve had their homes destroyed. They can’t grasp what the Dark One represents. To them, it’s just orcs killing humans.”
Terra looked from Nib-Nib to Creon, not knowing what to say. “What are we supposed to do?”
“You guys have that interview today. Knock it out of the park, and get Cire on the camera, talking.”
Terra took the stage to an onslaught of boos. She was accompanied by Cire, who wore his traditional shaman garb, and Nib-Nib, whose eyes fluttered in the bright lights of the soundstage.
The crowd was incensed. They screamed curses and held signs describing the depth of their hatred for orcs.
Terra was still surprised that public opinion had swayed so much. Before the last attack, it had seemed humanity was only slightly worried about orcs. For the most part, humanity had still been ignoring the war with the Dark One.
Once the interview got underway, Terra could see why opinions had changed.
Terra had been briefed on the content of the show she would be on. Anabelle and Roy had described it as a fear-mongering telecast that appealed to the basest fears of the people. Terra knew something about these types of people. Her younger brother bought into these kinds of conspiracy theories.
When Terra visited him, she expected to be greeted by a television show host ranting in the background about globalists, or how solar technology had been developed by aliens as a means of brainwashing Americans into paying social security.
The talk show host, Frank “Don’t Tread on Me” McCarthy, was the most well-known peddler of conspiracy theories. Terra had been surprised when Roy had assigned her to appear on the show, but he had explained that McCarthy had recently risen to superstardom with his coverage of Terra’s battles.
Anabelle had been a little ashamed to admit it, but Frank was responsible for getting Terra’s fight out there when many other television stations had deemed it too risky to show such violent material. Now, Frank was capitalizing on his fame to get the blood of humanity boiling. And what better way than with hate.
Frank motioned for the DGA agent and her guests to take a seat. The soundstage had the look of a professional newsroom with a flair for the theatrical. A flag fluttered behind Frank, and his desk was filled with piles of paper, as well as a typewriter.
Terra could smell the liquor coming off Frank the moment she took her seat.
Frank slammed his fist on the table and stared into the camera. “Welcome back, fellow patriots! Today we managed to wrangle Terra from humanity’s so-called savior, Myrddin the White Liar. She’s also brought along some of her alien friends. Terra, these ‘allies’ as you call them, are they the same ones who helped you escape the arena?”
Terra, who had been getting used to these interviews—they were, in fact, battles of a different nature—straightened her spine and folded her hands politely. “Yes, Cire and Nib-Nib here were instrumental in helping me survive as long as I did.”
“And how are we to know they aren’t spies for this Dark One? If he even exists. This orc looks very similar to all the orcs that have been killing humans by the thousands. And what kind of name is Nib-Nib? How do we know that isn’t some kind of code meant to activate a sleeper agent in the crowd? Hell, we could have all been Mk-Ultraed. Our brains are not meant to be tampered with. Would you—”
“First and foremost, Cire doesn’t look like ‘the orcs who have been attacking.’ He just looks like an orc, like we all look like humans. And Nib-Nib is a nickname. We couldn’t begin to pronounce her actual name.”
For some reason, this answer elicited rage from the crowd, and their booing drowned Frank out until the host slammed his hand on his desk, eating up the attention he was getting.
“Well, hold on,” he began once the crowd calmed down. “Let me hit you with this. Does this orc even feel the slightest remorse for the…” Frank shuffled through the different papers on his desk until he held one up triumphantly. “For the three thousand New Yorkers displaced in your last orchestrated battle?”
Terra’s eyes scrunched. “What do you mean, ‘orchestrated’?”
“Oh, you can’t fool me, Terra the Bootlicker. Can’t
fool ole ‘Don’t Tread on Me!’ We know these attacks are all part of the globalist agenda to destabilize our economy and topple this great state! What do you have to say to that?”
Terra was done listening to Frank. “Okay, I’m going to spell this out for you. There is no agenda behind this. We aren’t orchestrating anything. A multi-dimensional force is attacking humanity, along with orcs, elves, and everyone else. You’re a big fan of talking about the different dimensions and planes of reality on this shithole of a show. Are you going to tell me you think it’s all fairies and giggling gators out there? Are you so dense that you don’t think there could be a potential threat? And is all that hippie stuff you’ve been talking about a lie?”
Frank’s mouth hung wide open. He obviously wasn’t used to being spoken to like that.
Terra didn’t let up. “Secondly, you’re a straight-up racist. People do this every time a war happens—you demonize whoever we’re fighting until people are in such a blind rage they don’t know the difference between anyone. Thirdly, Cire is sitting right here. Any questions you have about orcs, you can ask him. So, let’s hear what he has to say about your first one.”
Cire cleared his throat as he waited for the booing from the crowd to subside. It took a while, and Terra admired Cire’s patience. Finally, the orc said, “The loss of human lives deeply grieves me. I was at that battle. I watched my brain-washed brothers and sisters engage in atrocities none would ever have wanted.
“What is happening is horrible for humanity, and my heart aches for you. That is why we are trying our best to fight the Dark One. No one needs to experience what my people have—to exist as something other than yourself, purely for the purpose of another. I speak for all orcs when I say we would never want to do any harm to any of you. We were weak, and the Dark One took advantage of that.”
Cire began to cry, and he made no attempt to hide it. “The truth of the matter is, if you are going to hate orcs for anything, it should be for being too weak to have stood up to the Dark One when we had a chance, and now we are paying the price. That is why we must stop the Dark One. He will destroy all of you if he is not stopped, just like he has destroyed my people.”
Cire wiped away his tears and sat in silence, looking all the stronger for being able to show such raw emotion in front of so many.
Even Frank seemed caught off-guard by Cire’s response.
Someone in the crowd started clapping, then another. Before long, the entire studio was applauding.
The tone of the interview was different after that. Frank was on the defensive, and Terra and Cire were beating him into a corner. Nib-Nib chittered along as best as she could.
By the time Terra, Cire, and Nib-Nib left, Terra knew they had won the fight.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sarah and Kravis sat beside a spy who had traveled from almost three hundred miles east of their current position. The spy didn’t talk much, and Sarah was okay with that. He presented his information quickly, gave a detailed explanation for his arrival, and set out his plan.
The spy was a hacker. He had infiltrated the Dark One’s fortress a year ago and had been siphoning information since then. It was imperative that his findings be sent to Myrddin immediately, and Sarah made sure it happened.
The next issue was a necessary extraction. The Dark One possessed valuable information concerning something that would interest both Sarah and Myrddin’s forces.
“What is it?” Sarah asked.
When the spy spoke, his voice was grave. “You came across a shipment of a black liquid a few days ago. There is information concerning that. I’m not quite sure of the contents, but I know it is heavily guarded.”
“Why would you need us for this? We don’t have any particularly good hackers here. Definitely don’t have the tech for it.”
The spy shook his head as he raised his hand. “The tech isn’t the problem. I have the necessities. I need backup.”
Sarah looked dubiously at Kravis. “Neither of us is much into that kind of tech.”
The spy knelt and rifled through his knapsack. He extracted two VR-helmets and handed one to Sarah. “It’s a fully immersive combat-hacking software. Firewalls appear as enemies that have to be eliminated. The program is closer to a combat simulator than anything else. And from what I’ve heard, you’re one of the most accomplished fighters the resistance has to offer. You were my first choice.”
Sarah took the VR-helmet. “Okay, what do we have to do?”
“We need a place to sit or lie down. We slip them on. Once they boot up, it’ll be self-explanatory. It’ll be a tough fight, though.”
Sarah motioned toward her tent and began to walk in its direction. She looked at Kravis, who nodded discreetly. They both knew the rules for situations like this. If something seemed sketchy, Kravis would handle it.
She wasn’t too worried, though. The insignia the gnome wore was one Sarah recognized. In addition, the Dark One primarily used gnomes for manual-labor camps. Rarely combat situations. He lacked faith in gnomish combat abilities. A flaw the resistance was hoping to exploit.
Sarah and the spy lay on the bed, and she slipped the VR-helmet on. The world around her faded as she felt herself uploading into a digital world.
She saw nothing but a flat green plane. The spy was next to her. “What now?” she asked.
“I’ll access the firewalls. We’re going to try to break through all of them at once. Your avatar should be a perfect reflection of yourself in real-life physical abilities. You’ll have to deal with all of the enemies. I’ll be concentrating on navigating through the system. There should be no more than three firewalls. And it will be difficult.”
Sarah had to admit she was a little excited. She’d never tried a VR combat-simulator.
“Also,” the spy said. “Be careful. If you die in VR, you will go braindead.”
Sarah nodded. She was glad there was a little bit of a challenge. Now might be the chance to see if she could push past the seventh chakra gate. If it was possible in VR, it could be possible in real life.
“Well, what are we waiting for?”
Abby was in the lab, and it was well after midnight. She was still working on processing the material Creon had given to her. There were more than just elvish and celestial texts now. Creon and Martin had managed to hack Myrddin’s entire database.
The day before, Martin had prompted Abby with a question that seemed impossible at the time. What if I could help you think faster? The way the AI explained it was that since he was already helping Abby’s system operate on an unconscious level, he could probably regulate most of her unconscious bodily function. He could, in essence, increase her neural pathways, and regrow all of her brain’s grey matter.
Abby didn’t waste too much time thinking about it. She gave Martin permission to get to work. She hadn’t noticed anything at first. Not until her mood slumped in the mid-afternoon. She took a nap in the middle of the lab, and when she woke up, her mind could not stop racing.
She got straight to work, practically absorbing every bit of information Myrddin had locked up. Hundreds of years of notes. Both she and Martin combed through them together.
When Abby began to tire, Martin reduced the amount of lactic acid in her muscles and put her body to a relaxing, sleeplike state. She retained her higher cognitive abilities and continued to read and think.
Part of Abby wondered if she could still claim to be human. That was less of an interesting thought than what was in front of her, though.
As Abby pieced together Myrddin’s disparate ideas and theories, she received a conference call from Roy, Terra, and Anabelle, through Zoom.
Terra waved, smiling widely, and Abby returned the smile. Roy looked noticeably less excited than everyone else. Anabelle looked tired.
“How’s everyone holding up?” Roy asked.
Anabelle grinned the way a cat looks at its prey. “Oh, so informal…”
Roy tensed as if he’d just had a jolt of electric
ity run through him. “Don’t see the point in pulling all that rank crap with you three. We’ve been on the same level for a while. But what do you all have to report?”
Anabelle started first. She explained how she’d been helping with the efforts to clean up New York. Meeting with different families who had lost their homes and helping to organize efforts to rehouse displaced persons. She was also working with a committee to deal with the issues of homelessness in the city.
Abby was surprised to hear Anabelle talking about helping humans. She’d worked with Anabelle long enough to know the elf didn’t hate humans. That didn’t mean Anabelle didn’t hold some fairly problematic ideas about humanity. From the look on Anabelle’s face, Abby would have bet the elf was starting to care a little bit about humanity.
When Terra spoke, she hit the nail on the head. “Looks like someone’s cold, little elf heart is growing. Are you getting warm fuzzies helping people out.”
Anabelle turned away from the camera and raised her nose. “Hardly. I am merely enjoying doing a good job. What about you? Tired of living your life in the limelight?”
Terra shook her head, smiling wide enough to make Anabelle cross her arms and pout slightly. “Nope, me, Cire, and Nib-Nib, are finally starting to get the hang of everything. People are starting to come around. And we haven’t been attacked since the last fight we got into. I could probably make a career out of being Myrddin’s ambassador. Speaking of attacks, what’s been up with that, Roy? How come the lich and Grok have gone silent. I’ve practically been begging to be ambushed.”
Roy looked up from a stack of papers. “Huh? What?”
“You okay, my dude?”
Roy ran his hands through his hair. His eyes were droopy, and he appeared to have aged a couple of years. “Actually, to be completely honest, no, I am not. This kind of leadership, having everyone depending on me—there’s so much to sign off on—but long answer made short: nope, not at all. Still trying to make sense of the information Myrddin left behind.”
