by Ramy Vance
Then it was over. Anabelle was awake again, with Grok sitting across from her, the orc’s face hard and unfeeling. “You’ve been holding up better than I expected. Most anyone would have cracked by now. But you? Even caked in your own shit, you’re still holding your head high.”
Anabelle tried to open her eyes, but they were swollen shut. “I’m going to kill you. When I get out of here, I’m going to kill you.”
Grok smiled wryly. “Is that true? What about today?” She unchained Anabelle’s legs and hands. “Kill me. Go for it.”
Anabelle stumbled to her feet. Her body hurt too much to move. And Grok had broken her toes a day or two ago. Standing was agony. But she stood, nonetheless.
There was still mana in Anabelle’s body. She sensed it there. She drew it into her hands and took a step. Before she could take the first swing, she fell into Grok’s arms.
Grok patted Anabelle’s head as the elf tried to stand. “Oh, Anabelle. I never thought I’d say this, but you’re almost sweet when you’re this hurt. I can see the murder in your eyes. All that hatred locked up there, unable to get out.” She kept Anabelle propped up and kissed the top of her head. “You have to give in to it. Not just let it reside in you. You have to be the murder.”
Anabelle’s mind was blank. All she could think about was ripping Grok’s heart out. She gurgled the words, “I’ll kill you” over and over until they were indecipherable.
Grok helped Anabelle back into her seat. “You won’t do anything of the sort. When I’m done with you, you will be mine. I’m going to unlock the killer in you, Anabelle, and then we’ll be unstoppable.”
A part of Anabelle returned. “Unstoppable?”
“Yes. It’s all about power. Strength. The Travelers weren’t strong enough. That’s why they couldn’t continue. The nine realms? Too weak. And one day, perhaps the Dark One will not be strong enough.”
Anabelle tried to open her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“The Dark One controls because he has power, but power can create blindness. He will fall eventually.”
“You want to take on the Dark One?”
Grok’s eyes were serious. “Think of it—the two of us. We could topple him and rule instead. He’s spread too thin. His war is spinning out of his control, yet he continues. He’s grown too used to having control through unnatural means. This is something he would never suspect.”
“What makes you think I would help you?”
“Because once you see the truth, you won’t want to do anything else. Let’s see what else you have locked up in there.”
Grok grabbed Anabelle’s head again.
The flood of memories came once more, this time faster than before. Anabelle felt like her head was being unstitched from the inside. Yet some pieces seemed clearer than they’d been before. Almost as if she could reach out and touch them. If only she could touch them.
Anabelle lifted her aching arms, stretching her hand out. Her finger pressed against Grok’s temple.
The pain stopped. The room was gone.
Anabelle was sitting in a garden. She was a child, playing with a wooden sword as two ancient elves watched over her. A third elf came over, limping with a cane. “Anabelle. Rise.”
The child did as she was told and turned to face the three old elves. “You know what today is, right?”
Anabelle avoided their eyes. She knew what day it was, but she didn’t want to say it out loud. That would make it real. “Yes,” she finally said.
“Extend your hand.”
Anabelle stretched her hand out to the elders. “Recite your lesson,” one of the elders said.
“The Path of the Lost is pain. It is misery. It is the death of myself. To be Lost is to know nothing.”
The elder pressed his finger to the back of Anabelle’s wrist. Fire erupted over her hand.
Anabelle’s eyes widened as she screamed. As she pulled away from the elder, another grabbed her hand and held it tightly. “Recite your lessons.”
Tears streamed down Anabelle’s cheeks. “Please, make it stop, please make it stop, please make it stop.”
“Recite. Your. Lessons.”
Anabelle’s body trembled as she struggled to speak, but the elder did not release her. “Wh-wh-when you are l-l-l-lo-lost…you c-c-can’t be f-f-f-found.”
The fire spread up Anabelle’s arms, and she shrieked, fighting to pull away from the elder who held her tighter still. “Recite,” the elder repeated.
Anabelle stumbled to her knees, screaming as she tried to yank her hand away.
The elder held on. “Anabelle, you must continue through the pain. It will not end. It never will.”
Anabelle swayed to the side, her body shivering. She spoke slowly, stuttering over her words, but she spoke, nonetheless. “When you are lost in the pain…you will find your anger. In that anger, you will find hatred. And in that hatred, you will find yourself.”
The elder released Anabelle, and the fire extinguished itself.
The child Anabelle curled into a ball, holding herself and crying as the elders turned and walked away, leaving her alone with her pain.
Anabelle snapped back to reality. She forced her eyes open and looked up at Grok. “What the fuck was that?”
Grok folded her hands and stared into Anabelle’s eyes. For the first time, Anabelle saw something other than hatred there. “We were taught the same, Anabelle. The only difference was they tried to hide it from you, tried to cover it up with pain. Your Travelers tortured a child. They set your arm on fire. Over and over.”
Anabelle didn’t want to listen to Grok. She didn’t care what the orc was saying. But it didn’t matter. She knew what she had just seen. Even worse, she knew it was true. “The Path of the Lost is that dangerous?”
Grok nodded as she took Anabelle’s hand in her own. “The Path of the Lost, The Traveler’s Path… There is even a human path, long forgotten. Well, not that long forgotten, it seems. I have heard there are those who practice it.”
Human path? Anabelle thought. What is she talking about? But Anabelle was in too much pain to ask any questions. Too much pain to even think of any more questions.
“But the Path of the Lost is the only true path to power. You lose yourself in the pain. In pain, you find anger. Anger breeds hatred. And there is power in hatred.”
Grok took a step forward. “Lose yourself in pain. Forget who you were. Focus only on who you want to be. Then, and only then, will you find true power.”
Anabelle was tired. Too tired to speak. But she felt Grok’s words deep within her. That was what had always held Anabelle back. She had never given in. Grok had, and Anabelle could see how strong it had made her. Maybe that was what it took.
“How did you do it?” Anabelle asked.
Grok smiled, her lower fangs flashing brightly as she clasped her other hand around Anabelle’s. “Let me guide you.”
Chapter Forty-Four
The free orcs had retreated into the Great Hall. Here they were amassing their forces, taking stock of the weapons that they had available to them. The attack had come so quickly, and without warning, that they had no immediate plan.
Terra had been summoned as soon as the attack began. She quickly shook off the effects of the booze, helped by a concoction the orcs had already brewed to end intoxication without the hangover. Apparently, battles breaking out in the middle of a party was a likelihood each tribe was ready for. “What do we have on our hands?”
Persephone and Nib-Nib came forward, along with a handful of orcs who had been outside when the attack started. “It was hard to get a clear number. But they came in heavy with a lot of dropships.”
Cire pointed at two orcs and said, “I need a perimeter check and an estimate of forces. Doesn’t need to be too in-depth, but we need an idea of what we’re up against.”
Terra studied the members of the different tribes. “All right. Well, I guess tonight we’re going to have to show the Dark One just what the horde is
capable of, right?”
Cheers went up throughout the hall as the orcs pounded their chests. “Prepare for battle!” Terra shouted.
As the orcs continued their preparations, Cire grabbed Terra’s shoulder. “This must be the Dark One’s retaliation for reclaiming the gnomish world. He’s suffered tremendous losses. It makes sense to take out as many orcs as possible in one sweeping move.”
Terra shook her head as she rubbed her brow. “Are you saying we just spent the last few days helping the Dark One?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s help if you had no idea about it. Personally, I thought he would have been too occupied with the gnomish world to worry about us scooping up orcs that he wasn’t even capable of pushing out into the open. No one could have expected this.”
“Still feels like shit. Persephone? Nib-Nib? Are you two combat-ready? Do you need anything?”
Nib-Nib chittered and shook her head. Persephone asked, “Are there any guns available?”
Terra shrugged. “You’re going to have to find out about that. As far as I know, these tribes aren’t nearly as reliant on technology as the others. I’ve seen plasma melee weapons but no rifles or anything like that. But you might be able to wrangle one up.” She turned to Cire. “Any ideas? I highly doubt the Dark One sent a force after us that would be manageable.”
Cire scanned the Grand Hall. “We’re not in a great situation, being caught off guard. But it could be much worse. The Hall is defendable. It would be a mistake to hole up in here, but we can use it to advantage. Make a push from here. It would also be viable for a retreat.”
The orcs Cire had sent out had returned. Both bowed to Terra. “They have nearly double our forces,” one said. “And there is something off about these orcs. They’re covered in wiring, technological augments. But the augments…they’re black and flailing as if they’re alive.”
Persephone gasped as she turned to Terra. “The Dark One has augmented his soldiers with the Dark Melody. When I was still under his control, their scientists were working on finding a way to upgrade their soldiers through tech and the Melody. For a while, it was one or the other. They must have found a way to pull it off.”
Terra groaned as she fell into a chair. “Honestly, my first day on the job and I have a cybernetic elder-god-infused army to deal with? Ugh. Fucking great.”
Cire’s face was grave. He appeared to be deep in thought concerning their odds. “It isn’t unmanageable. We fought worse in the arena. There, we only had mostly untrained prisoners, and you still managed to lead them against balrogs and dragons. Tonight, we have the twelve unconquerable tribes of the orcish world, and a decent place to fight from.”
As Terra listened to Cire’s encouragement, the twelve former tribe leaders approached her. One spoke. “Our armies are ready. The Dark One will no doubt be launching his attack soon. They’ve probably started to dig themselves in.”
Terra stood and pulled out her battle-ax. “Then let’s not wait for them to bring the fight to us. Split up your tribes as best you think for this. I want to keep some in the Grand Hall in case a retreat is necessary. Are there any ways out of the Grand Hall other than the main entrances?”
“There is a series of tunnels beneath the hall we can retreat to if necessary.”
“Let’s make sure that it isn’t necessary. We move out on my command.”
Terra turned her attention to Persephone. “Get in touch with Abby. You know she’s been working on a way to destroy the Dark Melody. See if it’s ready and if she can get it to us. That gate she sent with us should work well enough to get that through. Join us whenever you can.”
Then Terra jogged up to the mass of orcs, stepping in front of the former tribal leaders, Cire at her side. She slammed her fist to her chest and roared as she kicked the door open and ran out into the crisp night air.
A shot of plasma went flying past Terra, and she dodged, narrowly avoiding getting hit. Up ahead, the Dark One’s forces had torn up the earth and formed a makeshift wall to give themselves cover.
It was the first time Terra had seen any of the cybernetic soldiers the Dark One created. She’d read through some briefings the Mundanes of Middang3ard had provided about their soldiers having been the ones to have first seen the extent of the Dark One’s technological mastery.
The orcs looked like orcs in name only. They were shallow husks of the creatures they used to be. Biomechanical tubes and wires ran throughout their bodies, and their eyes glowed an eerie blue hue. It was impossible to see where flesh ended and machine began.
Then there was the Dark Melody, a black goo that seemed to flicker out from the bio-mechanical pieces of the orcs, grasping at anything in front of it, much like Terra had seen the surface of the elder god’s skin doing.
But this wasn’t the time to admire the complexities of the Dark One’s perversions. They could look at the dead bodies later.
Terra flung herself through the air, landing in front of the torn-up earth, letting her rage and adrenaline flow through her, increasing her strength. She swiped at the wall, carving a path through. She grabbed an orc and slammed him into the ground before turning to another and slicing its head off.
The orcish tribes were not far behind her. Now that Terra had breached the first area of cover, she could see that the remainder of the Dark One’s forces had massed in the typical orcish fashion: overwhelming numbers. Their own horde. There was no guile or strategy, just death by sheer numbers. Maybe she would have to play it smarter than this if they were all going to survive.
Terra called to Cire, “We need to split them up!”
Cire nodded. He raised his hand and rose into the air, his eyes white with energy.
Terra wasn’t sure what Cire was doing. She knew he was a shaman but had never seen him use magic for anything other than healing. She had simply assumed that was his limitation.
But this was not true. Cire’s voice boomed over the battlefield, and an earthquake shook the augmented orcs to their feet. The ground cracked, sending shards of earth up into the air, changing the landscape of the battlefield, and separating the horde.
Terra had never seen the extent of Cire’s power beyond hand-to-hand combat, or blade to blade. She was frankly impressed enough to forget that enemies surrounded her, waiting for a chance to slice her open.
An orc was at Terra’s side, preparing to do just that. He rushed Terra and leapt into the air, his blade descending in a blue arc.
Terra looked up just in time to see her death approaching.
Tentacles wrapped around the orc, suspending him in the air as he writhed, trying to escape. Then the tentacles flexed and squashed the orc, splattering blood across Terra’s face.
The tentacles withdrew as Persephone ran up to her. “You okay?”
Terra wiped her face off. “Thanks. Got a little caught up for a second. Glad to have you out here.”
“What’s the plan?”
Terra pointed at the right flank. “I’m hitting that first. You coming with me or Cire?” Cire landed beside Persephone.
“I’ll go with you,” Persephone said to Terra.
Terra gestured at the other flank as Nib-Nib came up on her side. “You two take the right. The tribes know to listen to you, Cire. Let’s show them we have the right to rule.”
Cire nodded, silent before raising his sword and rallying the orcs behind him.
They separated, Terra running as fast as she could toward the augmented orc flank, ducking between the cover that Cire had created.
The augmented orcs were still trying to get their bearings from the sudden environmental shift.
Terra scooped up a plasma rifle and tossed it to Persephone before shouting at the free orcs. “They’ve tried to make this their fight. Use their weapons against them!”
A couple of orcs glanced dismissively at the weapons from the augmented orcs who had been killed in Cire’s attack. “You expect us to use these?” one scoffed.
Terra turned and punched the orc in th
e face. He stumbled back a few feet, face bloodied. “I expect you to do what needs to be done to win. If you want to try running at a bunch of ranged weapons with only a fucking ax in your hand, be my guest. Let me know right now how you’d like to be buried.”
The orc wiped the blood off his face and laughed. “Do I have to be more worried about you or the enemy?”
Terra selected a rifle and tossed it to the orc. “Depends when you want your ass kicked. Now? Or in a little while?”
The orc caught the rifle and inspected it. “If you survive tonight, I’ll show you what a real fight is,” the orc said, smiling.
Terra chose a plasma rifle. “Sounds good to me. Grab what you can and keep picking shit up! We aren’t waiting for them. This is our home! We defend it tonight!”
Terra slipped out from behind the cover, firing her plasma rifle at anything that moved, Persephone keeping pace with her. “What did Abby say?” Terra called out.
Persephone fired as she dodged a plasma blast. “She’s ready to implement whatever she’s been working on. We just need to clear a space on the battlefield for her.”
Terra scanned the area in front of her. The augmented orcs appeared to be making a push for the cover Cire had made. That meant Terra and her troops had to get there first. If they were able to take the space, they would have enough room for Abby.
“All right, we’re taking this. Push from there. Clear ‘em all out!”
The two continued to fight their way toward the center of the battlefield, ducking behind cover as they needed, watching the plasma blasts fly past them, the air hot with energy.
Terra wasn’t a fan of this duck-and-cover method, but she knew it would have to do until she was close enough. And now wasn’t the time for bravado. More than lives were on the line. This was a breaking point, much like the gnomish world had been. This was a moment to show that the Dark One wasn’t an unstoppable force. To prove he could be defeated.
A screeching roar filled the sky, and Terra looked up.
A dropship had descended into the atmosphere. It was whipping wind and dirt up, making it nearly impossible to see what was around her and the squad.
