by Megg Jensen
Ademar took a sip, and was surprised by the earthy flavor. “I haven’t had this since I was a boy in Soleth. Where did you get dandelion?”
Alyna laughed. “I found it to the south. Either the humans accidentally dropped seeds while they were coming to attack Agitar, or it’s made its way north over the years. I knew you’d appreciate it. Dandelion is probably too delicate a taste for the orcs. They prefer wormwood, which, to me, tastes like sludge.”
Ademar glanced up at the sun and took another long drink. It wasn’t overhead yet, meaning he hadn’t slept as long as he’d feared. “Where is everyone?”
“They’re covering the mass grave with more dirt, creating a mound to honor them.” Alyna took another sip of her tea. “I couldn’t go. Knowing Vron is under there kills me. I can put up with a lot, Ademar, but this…”
He knew exactly how she felt, having buried Tace only hours ago. But she was alive again, and Vron wouldn’t be.
“Vron was a good orc. He will be missed,” Ademar said.
“I know. It warms my heart to hear so many others express similar sentiments.” Alyna closed her eyes. “I could have done better with him. With our… relationship.”
Ademar had had the same thought when Tace died. That there was more he could have done or said. Alyna had to live with her regrets, but there was still a chance for Ademar to make things better.
“I never wanted to be with him long-term,” Alyna continued. “To me, he was good for a night here and there. He always wanted more. I wasn’t willing to give it to him. He never complained. He took what he got.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “I feel like such an ass.”
“Don’t,” Ademar said. “He loved you for you. If you had spent all day hanging off his shoulder and cooing, he wouldn’t have paid you any attention. You’re strong and independent. I think that’s what Vron loved most.”
Alyna smiled. “You’re very right, my friend.” She clinked her cup against his. “To love.”
“To love.”
They finished their tea in silence. After Ademar’s cup had been drained, he washed it in a basin and set it with the others. Everyone shared now. There was no personal property anymore.
“I think I’ll head off and help them.” He rested a hand on Alyna’s shoulder. “Don’t be down for too long. Vron wouldn’t have wanted it.”
Alyna laughed. “Somehow I think he would be pleased at the depths of my depression.”
Ademar smiled. “You may be right. I’ll see you later. Take it easy.”
Alyna saluted Ademar as he walked away from the campfire toward the burial plots. In the distance he could see shovels moving with precision, and as he drew closer, he heard a lament being sung, providing them with a rhythm to work by.
Frensia stood off to one side, humming a lay similar to the one they’d sung while Ademar dug Tace’s grave. Ademar trudged to their side, his body aching. Apparently one good night’s sleep wasn’t enough to shake off the weariness of the last few months.
He spotted Tace next to Vitagut, that new orc who wanted to be king. They worked solidly side by side. Ademar had to admit, so far Vitagut was as good as his word. He could have killed them all last night and thrown their bodies in the pile. No one would have been the wiser. Instead here he was, helping just as he’d pledged he would.
Ademar hated questioning Vitagut’s intentions, but he couldn’t help it. There were so many other times Inab could have come to Agitar’s aid—and hadn’t. In fact, many had assumed Agitar would be overrun with orcs trying to claim the throne after Rafe abdicated. But the other orc cities had been strangely silent.
Why now?
Frensia began another song, as melancholy as the last.
Ademar walked over to Tace. “Have an extra shovel?”
“Here, human.” Vitagut thrust his shovel at Ademar’s chest. “This one is lighter than the others. I’ll find one more appropriate for an orc of my size.” He sauntered off.
“Wow,” Ademar said.
“He’s right, you know.” Tace didn’t miss a beat with her shovel. “You are smaller than most orcs and likely can’t handle the same tools we can. No point in hurting yourself.”
Ademar wanted to come back with a retort, but he couldn’t think of one. They were both right, and it annoyed him beyond measure. Yes, they were strong, burly orcs, and he was only a puny human. Tace reminded him of it all the time. But he put up with it because Tace was… well, Tace. Vitagut pointing it out just pissed him off.
He began shoveling with vigor, determined to keep up.
When the sun rose high above them, Tace tossed her shovel on the ground and whistled. “Take a break. Have something to eat and rehydrate yourselves,” she shouted.
Murmurs of thanks rippled through the group as the orcs headed back to their respective tents. Last night, Tace had told the orcs of Inab to make use of whatever unoccupied tents they found. There were certainly more than enough to go around.
“Vitagut,” Tace called out. “Join us. We should speak.”
Vitagut took long strides around the mound, a grim look on his face. “Thank you. I was hoping we could speak sooner rather than later. I’m pleased you are prepared to discuss the future of Agitar.”
“I’m not prepared to do any such thing.” Tace spun on her heel and headed back to their tent.
Vitagut looked at Ademar, his eyebrows raised.
“I suggest following her,” Ademar said. “It’s the only way we’ll find out what she wants to say.”
“After you, human,” Vitagut said, holding out an arm.
Ademar gritted his teeth. Tace used to call him “human,” too. It annoyed him then, and it annoyed him even more now when Vitagut did it. It felt so condescending.
Ademar jogged, trying to catch up with Tace before Vitagut did. As he ran, that annoying elf, Kazrack, leapt out of one of the tents, nearly knocking him down.
Kazrack bowed to Vitagut. “Hello. I heard you came to discuss the future of Agitar. As you may have heard, I am the rightful king.”
Vitagut stopped in his tracks, confused. “You’re an elf.”
“Your powers of observation are beyond measure,” Kazrack said, beaming.
“I don’t understand.” Vitagut looked to Ademar. “Why are there so many races here other than orcs? What has happened to Agitar?”
“We are diversified.” Kazrack hooked his arm through Vitagut’s. “Agitar is a welcoming city, open to everyone, not just orcs. Let me tell you more about our wonderful city as we follow Ademar to Tace’s side.”
Holding in a laugh, Ademar increased his pace.
Chapter 11
Kazrack puffed out his chest, trying to appear as large as the hulking orc next to him. He refused to let someone else claim the throne of Agitar when it was clearly his.
“As you can see, I am the rightful ruler of Agitar,” Kazrack finished saying, after explaining the entire situation in one breath. He looked up expectantly at the orc.
Vitagut stared straight ahead, obviously deep in thought about his predicament. Soon enough, he’d announce he was returning home and would happily leave Kazrack in charge.
“I think we’ll let the orcs of Agitar decide this one,” Vitagut said at last. He looked down at Kazrack. “May the best orc win.”
“Or elf!”
Vitagut’s stride increased, leaving Kazrack behind.
“Brother!” called a high-pitched voice.
Kazrack turned to see his sister exiting her tent, her oaf friend standing guard outside.
“Yes?” he asked, forgetting Vitagut for the moment.
“I wanted to talk to you before you said anything to the new orcs.” Maysant ran to his side, her golden hair bouncing down her back.
“Too late. I already spoke with Vitagut. I’m sure he’ll head home soon enough.” Kazrack looked down his nose at his sister. “Nothing you have to say will change that. It’s time you accept my place here as king of the orcs.”
Maysant slapped her fo
rehead. “Kazrack! You’re an idiot! Or do you have a death wish? There’s no way the orcs want you as their king. Not then, not now. You have to let go of this ridiculous dream.”
“Then what do you suggest I do?” Kazrack crossed his arms over his chest. “I will not go home to Mother with my tail tucked between my legs.”
“We could just keep helping the orcs,” Maysant said. “That’s what Ghrol and I plan to do.”
Ghrol drooled as he smiled. “Msent help!”
“That’s fine for the two of you, but I can’t just sit here and pretend I’m needed beyond my wisdom and leadership.” Kazrack sat down on a log. “I don’t have the physical strength to help bury the dead. I cannot engineer strong structures to rebuild the city.” He looked up at his sister, hopeful. “I am more beautiful than anything else on the continent of Doros.”
Maysant rolled her eyes.
“Okay, okay.” Kazrack threw his arms in the air. “It’s true, but the orcs don’t care, do they?”
“No, they don’t,” she responded softly.
“Then what can I do?” Kazrack hated admitting defeat, but admitting it to Maysant was better than his mother. “I’m not ready to go home.”
“Neither am I.” She reached into her tunic and pulled out a piece of parchment. “A letter came this morning by pigeon. At first I thought it might be from Mother, asking us to join her, but it was from our sister. She’s headed home.”
“Really? I thought she was happy where she was. Why would she head home at a time like this?”
“Apparently she got into some trouble and was kicked out.” Maysant waved the parchment in the air.
“Trouble?” Kazrack felt a laugh bubbling up. “Melethiel in trouble? Mother won’t be pleased to hear her favorite child was kicked out of the Library of Filamir. What did she do? Touch a book she wasn’t supposed to?”
“Actually…” Maysant’s voice lowered to a whisper. “She’s pregnant. By a human. I’m sure Mother will welcome her back with open arms, though. She always liked Melethiel best.”
That was true—Melethiel could do no wrong in their mother’s eyes. In her absence, Kazrack had felt he’d risen somewhat in their mother’s esteem, but if Melethiel was returning home… well, it was highly unlikely his mother would be pleased at his return, too. As for her pregnancy—by a human!—he was sure his mother would find a way to pretend the child was fully an elf.
“Let Mother deal with our sister,” Kazrack said. “I will remain here.”
“You know, if you’re willing to be open-minded, I’m sure there’s a way for you to be useful to the orcs,” Maysant said, sitting next to him. “You just need to tone down your rhetoric. Stop reminding the orcs you’re their king and instead offer to help.”
“I can do that. I think.” Kazrack looked at his fingernails. When he first arrived on Doros, they were perfectly manicured and gleamed. Now they were ragged and dirty, a reflection of how he felt. “Perhaps I can offer my services as a scribe. I have impeccable penmanship.”
“I don’t know if there’s need for a scribe… but I’m sure they can find something for you to do.” Maysant leapt to her feet. “Now come on, let’s crash their meeting and make sure they know we’re here to help, not to conquer.”
Kazrack sighed. “Okay, fine. Let’s go.”
As they crossed the encampment, Ghrol lumbering behind them, Kazrack refused to look at any of the orcs for fear of meeting their eyes. He didn’t want to see their disappointment. He looked down at his golden slippers, but even those annoyed him. They were getting so dirty. He should be inside on marble floors.
“Kazrack.” Maysant nudged him with her elbow.
He looked up. Just ahead, Tace, Ademar, Alyna, and Vitagut sat talking around a campfire.
“Go on,” Maysant said under her breath.
“Hello!” Kazrack said, a little too exuberantly. He cleared his throat, then tried again. “May my sister and I sit down?”
Tace glared at him, then looked over his shoulder. “What about him?”
“Who, Ghrol?” Kazrack said with a slight laugh. “He’s simple.”
“He looks strong,” Tace said. “He’s welcome to sit with us, too.”
“Thank you,” Maysant said with a tentative smile. She took a seat, then looked back at Ghrol and patted the space next to her.
He sat with a heavy thump, nearly knocking Maysant off the log.
Kazrack looked around. The only open seat was next to Tace. “May I?” he said.
Tace nodded absently, almost dismissively, as she turned back to Vitagut. “Tell us how you plan to help the orcs of Agitar. Before I even consider throwing my support your way, I need to know why you’re here.”
Vitagut slowly looked each of them in the eye, including Kazrack. He was engaging and strong, two qualities the orcs favored.
“I will be the first to admit, I did not want to rule Agitar.” Vitagut crossed and uncrossed his arms. “When my father brought up the idea, I laughed. I have no royal blood, nor do I have the training to lead an entire city. What do I know about being a king?”
Tace leaned forward, and Kazrack found himself doing the same.
“But when I thought about it, I realized I could help with the rebuilding efforts. I am strong and skilled at such things. I like working with my hands more than my brain. My father made me see the truth: if I could show myself useful to the orcs of Agitar, I could become a servant of the throne. A king who truly does as his orcs want.” Vitagut sat back, his hands on his knees. “Would the orcs here want such a king?”
Tace looked around the group, then laughed. “I am the only orc here, other than you, aren’t I? Two humans. A faun. Two elves. And yet we have a city in ruin and a crippled population. We need all the help we can get, Vitagut. Will you agree to help us, even if I can make no promises of an endorsement?”
“I will.” Vitagut reached an arm toward Tace.
She took it solidly in hers, their hands wrapped around the other’s forearms.
“Together?” Vitagut said.
“Together,” Tace agreed.
Kazrack almost blurted out the response as well, but realized it would be best if he remained silent. He would find a way to help them, hopefully sooner rather than later. He was feeling quite useless, as if the last century of life hadn’t prepared him at all for what had awaited him on the continent of Doros.
Chapter 12
Long after the sun had fallen, with Ylantri sound asleep in the opposite corner of the tent, Damor closed his eyes. Resting one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach, he slowly breathed in, held it for a count of five, then released the air in one long, sinuous exhalation. He repeated this until he felt light-headed and his muscles fully relaxed. Letting his mind wander, he let go of his anger at the elves, releasing it into the ether, as he’d done for centuries.
Despite all of the slights perpetrated against him, he never allowed that anger to fester. He would never forget how others treated him, but he refused to let it eat away at him. Not when he was already so fragile. He only needed to hold on long enough to get back to Soleth. He cursed the day the queen chose to march against the orcs.
Brother, your help is needed.
The voice sounded in Damor’s thoughts. He recognized it immediately.
Azlinar, it has been a long time. How may I assist? Damor communicated the unspoken words as easily if the orc were standing in front of him.
I have fallen in a battle, but my work was not done. I know you are close and have been for some time. You should have sought me out. Azlinar sounded annoyed.
Damor couldn’t blame him; he had purposely avoided seeing Azlinar. Not that a meeting would have been easy to bring about, seeing as the old orc had spent all his time underground in the mines. Azlinar’s body was as crippled as Damor’s. For both of them, life had been hard as of late. It would have been a pathetic meeting of two brilliant minds.
I have been… occupied. It was the best Damor could do wi
thout outright lying.
I was serving the queen of the orcs, but we have been separated by my death. I have tried to contact her, but she cannot hear my pleas.
Damor was stunned. I thought Queen Agamede perished in the xarlug attack.
Not her. Agamede’s daughter.
Damor was growing more confused by the moment. She died before King Rafe abdicated the throne.
That wretch was not their true daughter. The real Nemia was hidden away due to a facial disfigurement. Her parents felt it portended something evil, so they traded her for the daughter of miners. No one knew the difference, though any who paid attention to the insipid child should have known.
Rafe and Agamede felt their child was evil due to a disfigurement? Damor couldn’t help but chuckle. It was an antiquated idea—physical marks indicating evil. If they understood the true roots of evil, they would be much more worried about what they couldn’t see.
You must serve her. There is more at stake than you know. Azlinar paused. There is a powerful orc out there who can travel into the realm of the dead. I have seen her. She is a curious shade of blue, very unlike the other orcs. You must destroy her and protect Nemia.
Damor felt the weight of the words on his soul. Trapped up here in Doros, without access to the object that kept him alive, he could promise nothing.
Where do I find Nemia? he asked.
I do not know. Since my death, I cannot see her. It is up to you.
Damor scowled. Azlinar knew very well Damor could not simply prance around the prairie looking. Nor was it likely there was a disfigured orc about. The other orcs would have spoken of it in hushed tones, and Damor had heard nothing.
It is quite possible she has escaped the area completely, he said. But I shall do my best to locate her.
You mustn’t fail, Damor. Find her. Protect her. Serve her.
Damor seethed with annoyance. I will do my best to find her, but I offer no promises.
Good. She is looking for you. I told her about you not long ago, showing her a vision of your face.
How dare you! No one is supposed to know our connection, much less my secret. Still, I will find her.
