by Megg Jensen
Ed stared at him silently for a few moments, then looked at his wife. “I’m okay with it, if you are.”
“Fine,” she said. “I don’t want anyone else’s belongings in my house anyway. Get in, then get out.” She stepped aside, pulling little Emma with her, who peered up at Frensia with a wide smile on her face.
“I want a pet like that thing, too!” Emma said.
Frensia knelt down. “I am not a pet, little one, but perhaps someday if you are brave and strong like Ademar, you too can make friends from all over the world.” They stood and patted the girl on the head.
Ademar smiled as he stepped inside. Finally, he could do something to help the orcs.
Chapter 25
Frader followed Ademar and his strange companion into Ed’s home. His childhood friend had clearly changed in the time since he left with Hugh to study orc religion all those years ago. But Frader had also grown and changed. He now held the position of chief of intelligence. It was he who had collected information after Hugh’s death. It was he who had quietly passed that information to the queen. His network of spies kept him well informed—particularly about Ademar’s actions in the north.
They may have been the best of friends as children, but Frader knew, with certainty, that all of this was Ademar’s fault. It was his orc girlfriend who’d offed Hugh. Frader and his spies didn’t believe for one moment that Hugh had killed himself. No, his death had come at the hands of the orc female, and for some reason Ademar was protecting her.
And now the humans were without a queen. They’d returned to their daily lives, but they had no leadership, and that would become a problem, likely sooner than later. Lissa’s children were still too young to take the throne, and even if they weren’t, no one knew of a suitable regent. Too many had died during the battle with the orcs and the xarlug. They’d thrown away their best minds in retribution for Hugh’s death.
But now that Ademar had returned, at least they would find some justice.
Frader would have arrested him already, but he was curious about what Ademar had come here seeking. He would gather intelligence first, under the guise of a friend. And then he would do what was right. What was necessary.
There had been a time when the two friends knew all of each other’s secrets. At least Frader thought they did. Then one day Ademar packed his bags and announced he was leaving with Hugh. As Frader said goodbye to his old friend, he felt as though he was talking to a stranger. He thought he’d known Ademar inside and out, but his friend would not have left. Apparently, the boy who’d been his friend had never been who Frader thought he was.
That was what made it so easy for him to turn on Ademar now.
Ademar stepped into his childhood bedroom, which was now Emma’s. “Frensia,” he said, “can you help me move her bed?”
Frensia moved to one end of the little girl’s bed. Together they moved it to one side, though Ademar did the bulk of the lifting. The umgar had the appearance of one who had never performed a day of work in its life. And perhaps it hadn’t. Frader knew nothing about the race, but he wasn’t impressed. Humans were hard workers, their hands calloused, their skin dark and leathery from being out in the sun. Not delicate and smooth like Frensia’s, who had probably never lifted a finger in… its? his? her? life. Frader had no idea what the umgar was.
Ademar dropped to his knees on the worn floorboards and began rapping on the floor with a closed fist, listening carefully for any variation in sound. When a hollow sound came from one of the boards, he looked up at Frader, his eyes twinkling with excitement. Whatever he was hiding, they would soon lay eyes on it.
“Need help prying it up?” Frader asked.
“Sure.” Ademar pointed to the other side of the board. “It used to be loose, but it looks like someone fixed it since I left. If we both tug hard, I bet it’ll come loose again.”
Frader wedged his fingertips under the loosest part of the board. The wood pinched his skin. “On three,” he said. “One. Two. Three!”
Together, they yanked. The board groaned, then popped loose, flying across the room and nearly hitting Frensia on the head.
Ademar gave the umgar only a slight glance before thrusting his hands into the hole. He rooted around, then grinned at Frader and gently eased a box out of the hole.
“This is it,” he said. “What I came for.” He patted the top of the metal box.
“What’s in it?” Frader asked.
Ademar’s eyes met his in an intense gaze. “I don’t think I should—”
“What is it? Some mystical shit you think I can’t handle?” Frader was aware his tone had switched from jovial to hostile, but he was tired of pretending he was happy to see Ademar. “You leave humans behind for orcs, then fight with them after Hugh was killed? Now you’re back here to get something you hid under the floor before you left? Let’s not pretend it’s something sentimental. You think whatever it is can help you or your precious orcs.”
Ademar’s eyes narrowed, and he pulled the box to his chest.
Out of the corner of his eye, Frader saw the umgar move slightly closer to Ademar. But he wasn’t worried about the silvery slip of a being. Frader could take the umgar down in mere moments.
“You’re going to let me walk out of here, right?” Ademar asked.
Frader grinned. “You’re a traitor. Your actions directly caused the deaths of many of our people. Do you really think I can let you go?”
“Frader, I didn’t do any such thing. You don’t understand.”
“Well, Frader has a point,” Frensia interjected.
Frader turned to the umgar, surprised. “Really?”
“Hugh died under Ademar’s care, and Ademar did eventually run away with Tace, an orc assassin. I can see how it must look to your human eyes. But the fact is, Hugh killed himself, and Ademar is now caught up in a web so sticky he can’t possibly extricate himself from it easily. The orcs are under siege again, their very race at risk of extinction. If Ademar does not return to them with whatever is in that box, evil will conquer the orcs… and it will spread to Soleth. He holds the lives of everyone in Doros in his hands.” The umgar nodded to punctuate its point.
Frader laughed, his belly shaking. “I doubt that. Ed!”
Ed was one of his most trusted spies. It wasn’t a coincidence he lived in Ademar’s old home. That had been part of their plan to keep an eye on all things related to Ademar. Lucky for them, he’d walked right into their trap.
“You need to come with us,” Ed said, his lip curling in a snarl.
Ademar looked up at the umgar. “Frensia?”
“Go. I can fend for myself,” Frensia answered cryptically.
Frader eyed the two of them suspiciously. What could they possibly be planning? The two of them were trapped, with no means of escape other than the door leading into the main portion of the house, and Ed’s wide shoulders blocked the doorway.
“We go together,” Ademar said. “Now get over here so I can—”
“You can’t do anything.” Frader grabbed Ademar’s free arm and twisted it behind his back.
Ademar struggled against him, but just as when they were children, Frader was the stronger one.
“Take the box,” Frader said to Ed.
Ed snatched the box from Ademar and tucked it under his arm.
Frader grabbed Ademar’s other arm and twisted it behind his back. “Now let’s get you down to the prison. I have some questions for you.” He pushed Ademar toward the door.
“Don’t do this. You don’t understand. Frensia told the truth. I’m trying to help everyone,” Ademar insisted.
“Explain it, then.” Frader jerked Ademar’s arms.
“I… I can’t.” Ademar hung his head. “It’s not that simple.”
“Then I guess you’ll have some time to think about it. You and that thing you brought with you.”
“I am not a thing or an it,” Frensia said. “I am neither male nor female. I am both. I am none. You may refer to me as they.”
/> “Shut up, pissant,” Ed said. “You can follow of your own accord, or I can force you.”
Frensia lifted its—Frader could never think of the umgar as their—arms in the air. “No need for violence. Where Ademar goes, I go.”
“Isn’t that sweet?” Ed snarled. “Maybe the two of you can share a cell—and a bed.”
“Don’t be crude,” Ademar said. “You’re half the man Frensia is.”
“I am not a man, Ademar,” Frensia said.
Ademar rolled his eyes. “I know.”
“Stop!” Frader yelled, growing irritated. “Let’s go. To the prison.”
Chapter 26
Tace awoke in darkness, Raseri wrapped around her neck. The little dragon hadn’t left her side, nor had her captor forced Raseri away. It was all Tace could be thankful for at the moment, when everything else seemed hopeless. There was no way out of this prison, but at least she still had her best friend with her.
She scratched Raseri under her chin, stirring the little dragon awake. “Are you okay, girl?” she asked, concerned for her friend’s health. She’d shared her food with Raseri, as well as her water. Raseri was only a baby; she had a lot of growing to do. Tace worried the little dragon’s growth would suffer because she’d chosen to follow Tace everywhere.
The wooden floor above her creaked, and the trap door opened. Tace leapt to her feet, her hands in fists at her sides.
A rope dropped into the hole. Tace eyed it suspiciously.
“Take it. Climb up,” a voice said from above.
“How do I know it’s not a trap?”
“Fine, then. Stay.”
Before Tace could utter another word, the rope was yanked up and the trap door closed. A lock clicked into place.
Defeated, Tace sank to the ground, her heart in her stomach. Why did she always have to respond with a retort? All her life, her mouth had gotten her into trouble. Ever since her father…
Something caught in her throat. Her father. Everything changed the day he was murdered—the day his head was brought to their home in a blood-soaked burlap bag. She was small then, but she remembered every detail of that day. The way the orc sneered as he’d delivered her father’s head. The way her mother had shown only bravery. The way her brother had lashed out, nearly getting himself killed.
And all the while, Tace hid behind her mother’s skirts. She was unsure what was happening, but even then, she knew it would change the course of her life.
Her father had been killed for his beliefs—or his lack of beliefs—regarding the orc god, Drothu. So, young Tace decided to atone for his sins by doing everything she could to support Drothu, to make up for her father’s mistakes. She set out to be Drothu’s most faithful follower. She would do whatever was necessary, including becoming an assassin. The more lives she brought to Drothu, the more she was raised in his standing.
And then she’d seen the destructive power of Drothu’s hand in the xarlug. He’d raised the beast to demolish Agitar, killing thousands of orcs in the process. And for what?
Tace didn’t know. None of it made sense.
The trap door opened again, and light shone into Tace’s eyes. The rope dropped again, hitting her on the head.
“Are you going to set me free?” Tace asked.
“Maybe,” the orc said. “Come up and we can discuss it.”
Tace looked at Raseri. “We may as well try.”
Raseri wrapped herself around Tace’s neck, and Tace scratched the dragon on the chin.
She grabbed the rope and pulled herself up hand over hand. When her head poked through the hole, she swung one foot up to the edge and pulled herself out. She stood up straight, her body tense and ready for a fight.
“Relax. Drink this.” The orc held out a tankard.
“The last time I took something from you, I passed out and woke up down there.” Tace pointed at the trap door. “No thanks.”
“Who do you think’s been sending food down to you this whole time? Someone else? It was me. So, drink up. You need your strength.”
Tace hesitated, then grabbed the tankard. The mead coated her throat as she guzzled it. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and slammed the tankard down on a table.
“Not so hard, was it?” the orc said. He gestured to a chair. “Now have a seat. It’s time you and I had a little talk.”
“Talk?” Tace laughed, despite her annoyance. “You brought me here just to chat? Well then, please, let’s get on with it.” She remained standing.
The orc met her eye. “Not long ago, you were a very respected assassin.”
Tace narrowed her eyes. She was, but few knew. Only those she’d served in the assassin’s guild had ever known her identity. Even she didn’t know what other orcs might have been part of her order. She’d answered only to Hordain, the orc who eventually tried to kill her for her wavering faith in Drothu. He belonged to a dangerous sect of their religion called the Consecrated. Could this orc have known Hordain?
The orc watched her, then nodded as if he’d read her thoughts on her face. “Yes… I was a member of Hordain’s ilk. One of the Consecrated. I know you killed him.” His hand rested on the hilt of the axe he carried on his hip.
“So, you want to kill me? Then why not be done with it?” Tace asked. She would certainly fight if it came to that, but she had no weapons, and the old orc’s axe would even the odds.
The orc shook his head. “No. I do not. I want you back in the fold. I want you to return to your roots and be one of us. And I think I can convince you.”
Tace’s once-unwavering faith in Drothu had withered and died. Though she didn’t consider herself a complete betrayer of the faith, like her parents had been, she no longer thought Drothu’s religion of death was a respected path to walk.
“The end is coming, Tace. We must all take a side. Drothu has awoken. He is nearly upon us.”
A shiver went up Tace’s spine. Though she had suspected that might be the case, she had taken no time to consider what it meant. The end of the world. The end of everything.
Yet she had seen the underworld. Someone, or something, had trapped the dragons there. It was only due to her that they had escaped and returned to their home. Whatever was emerging, whether it was Drothu or something else equally malevolent, it would already consider her an enemy.
“What do you expect me to do?” she said. “Renounce everything and follow you blindly?”
The orc sat on the chair and placed his hands on his knees. “Of course not. What I want is for you to listen and carefully consider my argument.”
“If I let you say your piece, will you let me leave?”
“Yes.”
Scowling, she pulled out the other wooden chair and sat.
The orc grabbed his pipe from the table. It was already stuffed with tobacco, and he lit it off a candle. He took two long puffs, then sat back.
“Your parents,” he said, “were once the best of our group.”
She offered no reaction, though his words surprised her. All her life, she’d only known her parents to be Defiants.
“They killed many in the name of Drothu, advancing our cause. But one day your father had some sort of awakening. He believed what we were doing was wrong. We suspected it had to do with a huge change in his life.” He took a deep drag from his pipe, then leaned in toward Tace. “The birth of his daughter.”
Again, she offered no reaction. After her father’s death, her mother hadn’t spoken of him much. Tace had only shadows of memories. She’d loved him very much, but she was a young girl. At the time, all she could think to do was save his eternal soul by growing up to become an assassin herself. It was the path to Drothu. The path to salvation.
“Your mother had a difficult time with childbirth. You nearly died. You turned blue as you suffocated, but your father saved you. An honorable Consecrated would have let you die, sending you to Drothu, as it should have been. But he chose to save your life. This is why your skin remains a curious shade of blu
e. From that day on, he turned his back on Drothu—and on us. In fact, he did more than turn his back on us. His convictions were so deep, he actively fought against us.”
Tace held back tears. Her whole life, she’d felt it was her responsibility to save her family’s souls. But if this orc spoke the truth, then her very life had corrupted everything. She should be dead. She shouldn’t even exist.
“If you come back to the Consecrated,” the orc continued, “if you fight alongside us, you can change everything. Drothu wants you, Tace. He has been denied your company for nearly two decades. It is time for you to change directions, and stop fighting for things that don't matter. None of it matters. All that matters is Drothu.”
Emotions battled in Tace’s chest. For many years she had known, had felt it deeply, that the only righteous path was the one leading to Drothu. And so, she’d killed without remorse. Until the night she failed… and met Ademar. He had shown her another way. And damn it, she’d changed, whether she’d meant to or not. She had died for these new beliefs. Her soul had flown with dragons.
And then she had returned.
There was more to life than Drothu. She knew it deep inside. It was a truth she could no longer deny. It was the only truth.
Looking upon the orc, she pitied him. She could see he believed in everything he said. It wasn’t his convictions that were to blame; it was his lack of experience.
“Join us,” he said. “Come back to us, and Drothu will welcome you with open arms. Even now he is cleansing Agitar of its sins. The ghosts of the dead have risen and are taking back the land for Drothu.”
Tace felt sick to her stomach. Agitar. Her friends were there. The people she loved. She was sick and tired of fighting against Drothu’s minions.
She chose love over death. “No.”
“You must. It is the only way.”
“Or?”
“Or you will meet Drothu sooner than you expect.” The orc leapt from his chair, brandishing his axe.
Tace slipped to the side, narrowly avoiding a slice from the blade. Raseri chirped on her shoulder. “Stay steady, girl,” Tace murmured. “Don’t move. I can handle this.”
