by Rosie Scott
“We will need to send out a hunting party to gather dinner,” Cyrus said to Uriel and me, as he looked at the settling army with his blue eyes.
I took note of our army, which was made up of mostly mages. “How do you form hunting parties?” I questioned, observing that they had few archers.
“Send out a few fire mages,” Uriel replied, with one light eyebrow raised. “Hunting and cooking can be done all by the same person.”
Cyrus chuckled softly at that. “If you want the meat to be undercooked in some places and charred in others, I suppose you're correct.”
Uriel laughed, his youthful face bright as he shrugged. “It was an idea that was worth a shot.”
“What kinds of animals here are best for eating?” Azazel came up to my side, his black eyes focused on the two Sentinels.
“This army is trained to eat anything,” Cyrus replied. “Why?”
Azazel nodded to the grasslands in the east, where I could see nothing. “There are plenty of animals in the plains. Four-legged beasts with bones sticking out of their heads.”
Nyx laughed from behind us where she'd settled lazily on a bedroll. “What the hell kind of animal is that?”
“A deer?” I questioned, glancing at Cyrus and Uriel for answers.
“Ah,” Cyrus nodded. “Close. We have ceros which live in the cliffs and come to graze in the plains at night. They are prey animals, but they are gigantic.” The Sentinel looked over Azazel's bow with admiration. “If you think you can take one down, shoot it in the lungs.”
“Behind its shoulder blade?” Azazel asked for affirmation.
“Yes. And be careful, friend. They have been known to charge. Those bony extensions can do some damage. They are called antlers, by the way.”
Azazel turned to the east and retrieved an arrow from the quiver at his hip. With his eyes still on the dark horizon, he tilted his gorgeous bow, pulling the black arrow back until the muscles in his arms bulged with the effort. The ammo was loosed with sharp precision a moment later and soared through an arc in the darkening sky until we could see it no longer.
The archer put his weapon away and started using his telekinesis spell, all without a word.
“The only problem with Azazel being so good at what he does is we can never see the arrow hit,” Nyx complained.
“Yeah, and he can still do that despite the fact that his eyes were about burned out of his head,” Jakan teased her. “What's your excuse?”
“Laziness,” Nyx retorted, to which the friends both laughed.
“Did you hit it?” Uriel asked the archer for clarification. The healer squinted toward the west, though we could still see nothing.
“Yes, it's dead,” Azazel replied, though his smooth face was frustrated. “They must be as giant as you say, Cyrus, because I can't get it to budge.”
“You're not...doing anything,” Cyrus replied, confused.
“Telekinesis,” Azazel said, turning to use the spell on the Sentinel. Though Cyrus looked alarmed at first, he chuckled softly as the dark brown locks of hair that made up his bangs were pulled toward Azazel in the air.
“How quaint,” Cyrus quipped.
Uriel glanced toward a group of soldiers. “You four. There is a slain ceros to the east.” He pointed one pale finger in its direction. “Care to fetch it?”
The soldiers quickly stood to do as their superior asked, eager for a meal. The two Sentinels joined Azazel and me as we finally sat beside the other Renegades. Cyrus still watched the archer with intrigue, so it wasn't surprising when he spoke first.
“You are the one Altan said was nearly blinded,” the Sentinel pointed out. “And you can still see that far?”
Azazel nodded, though he waved a hand by the side of his right eye. “I can't see over here, but the rest of my vision was restored thanks to Kai and a surgeon from Tal.”
“I always knew the Alderi could see better in the dark, but that beast was at a far distance,” Cyrus mused, waving off to where the soldiers had disappeared from view to retrieve it. “Forgive my ignorance of your people. I do not mean to offend.”
Azazel shook his head. “Don't be ridiculous. Curiosity is how people learn. Alderi eyes see better regardless. Day, night, distance. Some eyes are better than others. Mine happen to be among the best.” He nodded to Nyx. “Hers are of average quality.”
“Should I take offense to that?” Nyx retorted with a grin.
“You don't take offense to anything,” Azazel replied, to which Nyx shrugged as if it were true. “I once knew an Alderi man whose eyes were lower quality. You can usually tell because theirs are red. The eyes appear human, with a red iris amongst white. Unlike ours,” he added, pointing between himself and Nyx, “which are fully black.”
“Calder,” I mused, subconsciously looking down to the copper ring he had given me. I held it between two fingers of my opposite hand, feeling the energies humming within the conductive metal. My heart ached with longing. How I missed Calder. I wished I had gods I could pray to in order to ensure his safety and well-being. Then I thought of Hasani and hoped he was also okay. At this point, Hasani would know Eteri had rejected his offer of an alliance, but he wouldn't be aware that Kirek was on her way with an army and news of their reconsideration. I could only imagine the stress he felt now as he prepared T'ahal for an attack without any support.
“Who is Calder?” Cyrus questioned, his blue eyes falling to the copper ring, understanding it had significance.
“A good friend of mine,” I replied. “The man with the red eyes. He is the leader of the underground, now.”
“I have to be frank with you,” Uriel started, light gray eyes swimming in my own. “I trust what you've told us, for you have two Alderi in your group, but otherwise I don't think I could have believed the underground was taken at all.”
“Oh, it was,” Nyx commented. “I'm the one who killed the queen.”
Cerin huffed in humor. “And you'll never let anyone forget it.”
“You're just jealous you didn't get the last hit,” Nyx retorted playfully.
Anto spoke up. “I'm pretty sure I saw him pause before he could and call you over.”
Nyx lifted up one finger before her lips. “Shh. Go back to being quiet.”
The orc chuckled. “Yes, ma'am.”
“May I ask one other question which has me distracted?” Cyrus asked. When we all were quiet and receptive, he nodded toward Anto. “I have heard awful things about the orcs. I didn't know they ventured outside of their kind.”
“My blood ventures outside my kind,” Anto replied, watching as the soldiers finally dragged the ceros back and started to set it up to butcher. The animal vaguely resembled a deer, though it was many times the size. Its antlers were fuzzy and gigantic in both width and length, stretching about twelve feet from tip to tip. I couldn't imagine how much the animal weighed, but it was bulky and muscular and appeared to have enough meat on it to feed the entire army for a day or two. One black arrow stuck out from just behind its left shoulder blade, having pierced the lung perfectly.
“You are a half-breed?” Uriel asked Anto, bringing our attention back to our conversation.
Anto nodded. “Orc and Celd.”
“Oh.” Uriel's tone alerted us to some contention, though he quieted.
“Was it the orc or the Celd half that caused you hesitance?” Anto questioned. His strong face held a small smile as if to invite nonjudgmental conversation.
Uriel chuckled, embarrassed to have been called out. “I'm sorry if this seems rude, but the Vhiri generally look down upon the Celds.”
“The Vhiri generally look down upon everything,” Cerin replied, to which a few of us chuckled.
Uriel looked down to the ground before him, two light hands brushing absently over the grass. “Yes, I suppose that's true. We're isolated in Eteri, you know. The queen's judgments of the world extend to her people only because they know no better. As you've surely noticed, Alderi usually don't escape to come here.
We do not have orcs in this country. There are some half-breeds of dwarves here, but only because of the events of history. Humans don't tend to come here unless they are from Nahara because Chairel hates us. The Celds are isolated in Chairel. They allowed their forest to be claimed by the humans, which is viewed here as a sign of weakness.”
“Eteri loves war, the Celds love peace,” I replied. “It's not exactly a match made in heaven.”
“No,” Uriel agreed.
“You view the Celds as weak,” Anto commented. “As do the orcs.”
Uriel swallowed with indecision as he glanced back up at the orc. “Personally, I do not view the Celds as weak. I have never gotten the chance to know one. The queen? Yes, she does believe them to be weak. That mentality sometimes spreads to her people.”
“Why?” Anto asked. “What are the weaknesses of the Celds?”
Uriel studied Anto's face a moment as if trying to make sure he wasn't picking a fight. When he found nothing but curiosity, he finally admitted, “The lack of warfare, for one thing. I don't mean to speak ill of the queen, but I believe her other reasons are fueled by racism. The biological differences of the Celds from the Vhiri disgust her. The things which cannot be helped.”
“Death from a broken heart,” Anto stated as if the answer was simple. Jakan leaned over into his lover then, cuddling into the orc's muscular side to comfort him.
Uriel nodded, though he said nothing.
“I thought all elves could die of a broken heart,” I murmured, confused. “I didn't think it was reserved for the Celds.”
“You are a healer as well as I,” Uriel said. “You know that it is technically possible for any living being to die of stress cardiomyopathy.”
“Yes, but I have heard it is common enough in elves for it to be noted as special,” I replied.
“The Celds stay hidden in their forest for a reason, Kai,” Anto said softly. “It is so common for Celds to die this way that they have learned to avoid warfare and its resulting heartache. The Celds are the only elves who do. Do the Vhiri and Alderi avoid warfare? No...they often revel in it.”
I pondered this for a moment. Because what Anto said was right, I was a little in shock. Something I'd always believed to be true was proven wrong yet again. Traveling the world was expanding my view of it more than I could have ever imagined.
“You study history, Kai,” Cerin spoke up beside me before one pale hand came over to my arm and started scratching it lovingly. “Do you remember hearing of people other than the Celds dying from this?”
I thought of Stellan the Tortured, the warmongering Celd who had died of a broken heart abruptly before his soldiers. “No. One war general died from it, and he was Celdic.”
“Ah, good ol' Stellan,” Cyrus murmured.
“You read history books?” I asked him.
“I read everything I can,” the Sentinel replied, with a smile. “But yes, my favorite thing to read about is war and battle tactics. As a general myself, I suppose that comes as no surprise.”
“There goes my best friend, skipping off into the sunset with Cyrus,” Nyx muttered. I laughed at her joke. I loved Nyx to death, but she did not share my love of history and tactics in the slightest.
Uriel lifted a finger. “Throw me into the hat to be Kai's next best friend. I, too, love reading about history and warfare.”
“Well, we'll all just have to sit down and compare tales over tea,” I said. The two Sentinels chuckled.
“We have many texts about war in both Mistral and Makani,” Cyrus informed me. “Let me know when we return to Mistral if you'd like to look through them.”
“Scirocco has that new library being built in the northern sector,” Uriel reminded him.
“Ah, yes.” Cyrus shrugged, before smiling at me. “Any city you visit, Kai, there will be options available to you.”
“Sounds good to me.” It excited me to know this. I'd exhausted all of Sera's resources throughout my childhood. Eteri was bound to have a different variety of texts.
Uriel caught our attention as he swirled a finger toward Anto and Jakan as they cuddled. “There's a story here we need to hear.”
Jakan chuckled. “Of us?”
“Yes,” the healer replied. “Orcs are from Chairel and Hammerton. You are from Eteri. How in the world did two completely different men end up together?”
“You tell this story,” Jakan told his lover, throwing a hand toward us. “I've already bored them with it.”
Anto laughed softly. “I escaped my tribe in the Cel Mountains and fled to Nahara. Picked up a job as a blacksmith in T'ahal. I already knew a little bit of metalworking from my tribe, so I was an easy hire despite the way I look. Worked there for...say...” Anto trailed off, looking up into the sky as he counted years. “About fourteen years before this little shit came along.”
Jakan laughed, before leaning his head against Anto's upper arm. His face beamed as his lover told the story.
“I loved my job,” Anto continued. “And I had no friends because the Naharans didn't take too well to orcs. So I often stayed at the smithy late at night to work. The more weapons I made, the more money the shop made. Everybody's happy.” The orc paused. “The smithy was three floors high. The owner lived on the third floor. The second floor held excess supplies, and the first floor was obviously the shop. The forge was on the first floor as well, but I was in the middle of retrieving some supplies from the second floor when I heard the door downstairs open. I heard footsteps and metal moving, and so I slowly started creeping back down the stairs. Now, keep in mind, I'm half orc. I don't move slowly, and I'm not quiet.” Anto pulled away from Jakan for a moment, before glaring at him as if disappointed. “I don't know how he missed me.”
Jakan chuckled. “I was probably too distracted by all the nice swords.”
“So that's where this obsessing over Anto's sword started?” I teased him, to which the thief exploded into giggles, remembering our jokes from the forge in Thanati.
Anto shook his head in humor. “So there's this little thief in our shop, and he's piling weapons into this little twine basket. It was the most pathetic thing I ever did see. He was facing the corner, going through weapon racks and picking out the best weapons I made.”
“How long did he not notice you?” Uriel asked, amused.
“Until I stood right behind him and tapped him on the shoulder,” Anto replied, to which Jakan's cheeks reddened.
“I spun around and dropped that whole basket,” the thief admitted. “Pretty sure I shat my pants, too.” He jerked a thumb toward his lover. “Just look at him.”
Anto raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, well, I have to be honest, I was pretty still when he turned around, too. I don't know if any of you will understand, but sometimes you just...” he trailed off, looking over to Jakan with nothing but love in his eyes. “You meet someone, and you know they're special. You just know there's something...there.”
“Hell, this is the cutest thing I've ever heard,” Nyx murmured, her full attention on the story. I couldn't help but be amused.
“There was something there for me too, all right,” Jakan nodded, before glancing over to Uriel and Cyrus. “Fear.” After a few of us laughed, he squeezed Anto's arm. “I'm just kidding. I mean, there was fear, but I felt like I knew you were a good person. And that confused me because you were an orc.”
“You two hit it off right away, then? Despite any preconceived notions you may have had?” Cyrus questioned curiously.
“Oh, yeah,” Anto replied. “I fell head over heels in love with him, but I had few biases against the Vhiri. They were common enough in T'ahal that it didn't bother me. All I knew was that he was the cutest damn thing I ever saw, and I had an instant need to protect him.”
Jakan pulled away from Anto, acting as if he was going to get up and leave. “That's it. I'm too embarrassed.”
Anto grinned and grabbed his lover's arm until Jakan plopped back down beside him. “To be fair, Jakan can protect himself
.” The orc nodded to Cerin and I. “But sometimes, as you two know, that doesn't matter. You still feel that innate need to protect what you love, despite logic or rational thought.”
Cerin and I both nodded in agreement, and I felt the necromancer pull me closer to him.
“What about you, Jakan?” Cyrus asked. “Anto being an orc didn't bother you?”
Jakan shook his head. “I mean, when I first saw him it was scary because I'd never seen an orc other than in paintings, and I'd heard so many bad things about them. But he's his own man. Literally, everything I found out about him was nothing like what I'd heard. And at the end of the day, who are you going to believe? A bunch of people who claim to know better than you, or your own experiences?”
Uriel watched the two men cuddle with intrigue. I could tell his own biases were being challenged, but the Sentinel didn't seem to desire to avoid that. He appeared open-minded to change, which I admired. He finally spoke, and it was with a smile. “These are the types of things people miss out on if they think like Queen Tilda. I am convinced she continues to grow more bitter simply because she refuses to allow herself these types of connections. Even among her own people, she is jaded and impersonal.”
“Has Queen Tilda ever had a husband?” Cerin asked, curious.
“What man would touch that with a ten-foot pole?” Cyrus retorted abruptly, to which I busted out laughing because I hadn't expected such a joke from him. “I'm serious,” the Sentinel went on, trying to convince us even as we laughed. “She has had suitors in the past, but if they stay with her at all, it is only for gold and prestige, which she doesn't take kindly to. I'm actually quite shocked she has ever had children.”
“Have we met any of these children?” Anto questioned. “They are Sentinels, like you?”
“Tilda has had four children over the years,” Cyrus replied. “Yes, they were all Sentinels, but all of them are dead. Three through battle. The fourth?”
