The Runes of Destiny

by Megg Jensen

  “You cannot leave this house,” the orc said. “It is surrounded by twenty of my best assassins. Even if you best me, which is doubtful, they will dispose of you.” He circled Tace, spinning his axe expertly in one hand.

  Her hands went to her hips, where her daggers usually rested, but she was once again reminded they had been confiscated. She had nothing but her bare hands. Still, her only chance was to defeat this orc and hope he was lying about the others outside. She had to cling to that hope.

  “Join us,” he said.

  Anger coursed through her body. She was a fighter. A killer. It was her life. But now she had a noble reason to fight.

  “Never.”

  He hefted his axe over his shoulder and brought it down in an arc.

  Tace moved, but not fast enough. The blade met her arm, just above her tattoos.

  And it stopped cold on her flesh.

  Confused, the orc tried to pull it back—but the axe wouldn’t budge. Instead, it began to hum.

  A cold sensation began to spread where the axe met Tace’s skin. She smiled through the pain. She knew that, once again, she had passed some sort of test.

  “What’s happening?” The orc let go of the axe and stumbled backward.

  Tace grabbed the axe handle in her palm and lifted the blade from her arm. It moved easily, as if it had been waiting for her touch the whole time. On her arm was a new tattoo. The new symbol she now bore, was the letter ‘W’ with a horizontal line through the middle.

  The third rune.

  It was the symbol of the Consecrated, representing the conflict all orcs feel. And now it was a part of Tace. She’d rebuked the Consecrated, and she’d won.

  “Tell them to let me go,” she said, “or I’ll kill all of you and send you to the god you love so much.”

  The orc panicked, flung the door open, and called out, “She is possessed. Run or she’ll kill us all!”

  Tace followed him out, brandishing the axe in her left hand while her right arm glowed with the power of the tattoos, singing out to all who dared oppose her.

  Five orcs eyed her warily as her captor ran into the dark, not even waiting for his companions.

  She felt power coursing through her. She could only imagine how fearsome she appeared to those who didn’t understand the sheer power of hope.

  “We can take her,” one of the orcs said, nodding to the rest.

  They crept toward her, brandishing a variety of weapons. The blade of a sword glinted in the moonlight. A mace whooshed through the air as its owner began his swing.

  Tace felt the whole world slow down. Her senses took in each minuscule movement. Nothing went unnoticed as her muscles tensed for a fight.

  Raseri jumped off her shoulder and took to the sky. Tace’s calves tightened and she leapt toward the orc with the sword, hacking his arm off with the axe before he could even flinch. His howls tore through the darkness.

  Another orc turned and ran, but three remained, their lips curled in snarls as they brandished their weapons.

  Moonlight reflected off a female orc’s hips. Tace’s daggers.

  Returning their smiles, Tace leapt toward the orc closest to her and slammed the bottom of her boot into his chest. He stumbled backward, but quickly regained his footing. Tace spun, the axe blade slicing the air, holding the other two back from attacking. Her best odds lay in killing one at a time.

  “You would have been great as one of us,” said the orc she had just kicked. He shuffled backward out of her reach.

  “I don’t think so,” Tace replied. “You’re awfully pathetic.”

  His surprise gave her the opening she needed. She threw the axe—and it landed squarely in his heart. His eyes bulged as he looked down at the blood spraying from the wound in his chest.

  Tace lunged forward, recovered the axe, and kicked him in the abdomen as hard as she could. With a squish, the orc’s body relinquished the axe to Tace’s able grasp.

  “Who’s next?” she asked, turning toward the other two.

  “You are,” the female with her daggers responded. She came at Tace with a guttural howl.

  Tace ducked, dropped the axe, and rolled underneath the orc. She kicked out a leg, cracking the second orc just above his ankle. He buckled, falling to the ground, and Tace jumped on top of him and snapped his neck.

  A sharp point landed between Tace’s shoulder blades. A sword. She held still atop the dead man.

  “We wanted you to return to us. It didn’t have to come to violence.” The voice floated behind Tace, as if it were coming from a ghost.

  “I was never given a choice,” Tace answered, forcing her breathing to stay even.

  “Hordain always let you choose. No one forced you to join the Consecrated. You turned on us. Not the other way around.”

  “I was lied to my whole life about Drothu. You’ve been fed the same lies. Perhaps you’d like to switch to my side?”

  Tace braced herself for the thrust of the sword, but it did not come.

  “Get up.”

  Slowly, Tace stood and turned to face her opponent.

  “Much better. Now I can see the look on your face when you die, you weaponless bitch.” The orc swung the sword above her shoulders, screaming with the effort. Just as suddenly, her screams turned into shrieks as a tiny dragon slashed and stabbed at her face.

  “Raseri! Go!” Tace cried. She lunged for her daggers, easily slipping them from the orc’s waist, then grabbed the orc by the shoulders, spun her around, and held her tight against her chest.

  “You love this. You love killing. You are one of us, whether you admit it or not,” the orc hissed, spitting on Tace’s arm.

  “I am nothing like you,” Tace whispered in her ear. “Not anymore.”

  With a flick of her wrist, she slit the orc’s throat, as she’d done so many times in the past. Except this time, she took no pride in the action. That part of her had died when she met Hugh and Ademar.

  “Are you ready to find our way back to Agitar?” she asked Raseri, weariness weighing on her heart.

  The little dragon cooed as she nestled upon Tace’s shoulder once again.

  Tace began her trek in the dark, though she had no idea where she was or where she was going. She only knew she didn’t want to spend another moment in this place.

  Chapter 27

  Vitagut sat and kept watch in the waning darkness as the sun’s rays crept in through a small window near the ceiling. The room they’d chosen to sleep in was small—a storage room off the main hall. They’d decided it would be easier to defend from intruders—but to be honest, Vitagut wasn’t sure if they even could defend themselves from the orc ghosts. Could the ghosts float through walls? Who knew? It was possible they’d barricaded themselves in a place that would only serve as a prison with no hope of escape.

  The castle was in ruins, a mere shadow of its previous magnificence. Vitagut knew what the grand city had once been; as a child, he’d visited Agitar with his parents, and he could still vividly recall its golden turrets and marbled halls, splendor beyond his wildest dreams. Inab was his home, and glorious in its own right, but it was plain compared to the grandeur of Agitar as it had been.

  Those memories of Agitar were what had driven him to rise to the challenge when Rafe showed up in Inab, looking for someone to lead an army to aid Agitar. His mind had filled with the glory that he’d witnessed, the castle that had surpassed anything he’d ever seen. He had wanted to resurrect those images, those glories.

  But now…

  Vitagut sifted rubble through his fingers.

  He could no longer deny the truth. There was nothing here to resurrect. Even the few orcs that had survived to meet his arrival were probably all dead by now, or possessed by the ghosts. Agitar was lost. Survival was all that mattered now. He had to return to Inab before evil crept its way there. He had to prepare them for what was to come.

  He had to ensure the rest of orcdom wouldn’t meet Agitar’s fate.

  In the corner of the
room, Alyna stirred. The sun lit up her face. Vitagut repeatedly had to remind himself that she was a faun and not a human. Not that he knew much of either. In Inab, he’d rarely seen a being of another race. Now here he was with a faun, two elves, and a human.

  He looked around at the others. Ghrol snored in a corner. Kazrack slept on his back, his silver hair carefully pulled over his shoulder, his hands laced upon his stomach. Beside him, Maysant’s limbs were all akimbo, her eyes squeezed shut, and occasionally she let out a yelp or a grunt. The two siblings couldn’t be more different.

  His friends would tease him endlessly when they found out the company he’d been keeping. He only hoped the world would have room for that sort of harmless ribbing. After what he’d witnessed, he couldn’t imagine laughing again.

  Alyna sat up and rubbed her eyes. The tattered blanket she’d had over her fell to her waist. She stretched her arms over her head and yawned. Then, as if she suddenly recalled their situation, her eyes snapped wide and she looked around the room.

  “Safe?” she asked Vitagut quietly.

  He nodded.

  Alyna stepped carefully around the others to Vitagut’s side. “What do you think we should do today? Explore more of the castle to find a way out of the city? There has to be an escape route. I can’t imagine they only built one to the barracks.”

  “Any castle would have a way for royalty to get out in an emergency.” Of course, any such escape route would have been one of the best-kept secrets of the castle. Any way out was also a way in.

  “We should go back to the throne room,” she said. “I know we looked there yesterday. I know it’s been demolished by the xarlug. Still, we could have overlooked something very simple. I think it’s the best place to resume our search.”

  “I agree.”

  The three others stirred as they woke.

  Kazrack stood, smoothing out his tunic. Despite having spent the night on a rubble-strewn floor, the elf somehow looked like he’d spent an hour grooming himself for the public. “When I was king of Agitar…” he began, but Alyna cut him off.

  “Kazrack, you were not the rightful king,” she said, irritated.

  “When I was king of Agitar,” Kazrack said again, ignoring her admonition, “I was not told of any such escape route. If I had known of one, perhaps I could have saved the human queen. I fought the xarlug bravely, but she met an untimely death.”

  “Shush, Kazrack.” Maysant emerged, yawning, from behind her brother, as bedraggled as he was pristine. “No one believes your stories.”

  “If only Brax were still alive, he could confirm the truth I speak,” Kazrack said. He wiped away a non-existent tear.

  “Bder! Bder! Bder!” Ghrol yelled.

  “It’s okay, Ghrol. We’re going to be okay.” Maysant patted him on the arm, then turned back to her brother. “Convenient that the only witnesses are dead. Anyway, I agree with Alyna. I think we should look in the throne room again. The theory is sound. We must have missed something.”

  “How could we miss an entire hidden passageway?” Vitagut asked. “The room is broken. The entrance would be obvious.”

  “Unless,” Maysant waggled a finger in his face, “it isn’t.”

  Vitagut resisted the urge to grab her finger and bite it off. This elf was more astonishing with every passing moment.

  “Maysant, Grhol, and I can check the throne room,” Alyna offered, “and the two of you can stay here and talk about Kazrack’s time as king. Maybe you can learn something from him, Vitagut.” She winked and reached out for Maysant’s hand.

  Maysant grabbed Ghrol and the three left before Vitagut could object.

  Kazrack sat on a chair and smiled. “Hmm, where should I start? I was born in Gailwyn to Queen Ambrielle, the greatest…”

  Vitagut stalked out of the room, escaping Kazrack’s life story, and jogged to catch up with the others. “Don’t ever leave me alone with him ever again.”

  Maysant laughed. “And everyone wonders why I left Gailwyn to spend time alone in the forest.”

  Vitagut was surprised by her laugh. Not the fact that she laughed, but how it sounded. It wasn’t unpleasant or annoying, like he’d assumed an elf laugh would be. It was like a dinner bell—warm and comforting, and yet filling him with anticipation of what was to come next. He was only now realizing just how sheltered his life had been with regard to other races.

  “Wait for me!” Kazrack yelled from behind them.

  Maysant spun around. “Quiet, Kazrack,” she hissed, resting a delicate finger over her lips. “We’re not in our safe room anymore. We don’t know what lurks in these halls.”

  “Nothing, I hope,” Alyna whispered. “I’m quite tired of fighting. I just want to return to my grove in the forest.”

  “Whereabouts?” Vitagut asked, his voice low.

  “I’d prefer not to say. I’ve managed to keep it secret my entire life. Visitors are not welcome.”

  “Why did you come here then?” Vitagut asked, truly curious. He knew so little of those he was with. He’d come to Agitar expecting to rally its survivors, and for all he knew his four strange companions were now the only survivors the city had to offer.

  The faun sighed. “I came to warn the orcs. I had a premonition something terrible was about to happen. I just… I wanted to help them, then return to my home. But circumstances wouldn’t allow it.”

  “Vron?” Vitagut said.

  Alyna nodded, her eyes moist.

  “I’m sorry,” Vitagut said. And he truly was. He didn’t have a love back home, but he’d seen the love his parents once shared—and he’d witnessed the sadness in his father’s eyes after his mother’s passing.

  Alyna squared her shoulders. “But make no mistake. While I am here, I will fight for the survival of all of you.”

  “I believe you,” Vitagut said.

  They were approaching the throne room, and Maysant held up a hand. “Wait here,” she said, looking pointedly at Ghrol. “I’ll go in first, alone. Make sure it’s safe and that there isn't anything that will harm us.” She pulled her bow off her back and nocked an arrow as she crept through the door.

  It wasn’t in Vitagut’s nature to let anyone else step in front of danger, much less an elf. She was small and weak. But she was also right: she was quiet when she walked, and thus the best one to sneak in.

  He waited impatiently with the others. Too much time passed. Alyna looked anxious; Kazrack even more so. Only Ghrol seemed unconcerned.

  Then Maysant’s cry came from the throne room. “Help!”

  Chapter 28

  Maysant tensed her arms against the floor, her legs dangling below her into the abyss. Sweat pooled at her brow and dripped into her eyes. “Help!” she yelled again.

  Footsteps thundered into the throne room. She heard a sword draw. Probably Vitagut, ready to slay an enemy.

  “Behind the thrones! I fell into one of the cracks!”

  The sword clattered to the floor, and Vitagut appeared. He reached down and easily pulled her to her feet. “What happened?”

  Maysant wiped her brow with a shaky hand. “I searched the room. It’s clear. But on my way back to get the four of you, I saw something interesting. There’s what looks like a tunnel within that crack in the floor. So, I dropped down to examine it, and I guess I reached a little too far and slipped in.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” Alyna said.

  Maysant was glad, too. Ever since she’d thrust herself into the lives of the orcs, she felt like she had done little more than screw up. She wanted to prove she was competent, useful. Anything other than an idiot who falls into a chasm. That was something her brother would do.

  “Tell me more about this tunnel.” Vitagut was leaning over the hole, squinting his eyes. “I see only darkness. Are you sure?”

  Maysant steeled herself, then leaned over the edge. “See there?” She pointed, her hand shaking.

  It was barely visible, shrouded in the darkness. But if Maysant looked just right, a gli
nt of light from the windows in the throne room illuminated the edges of the tunnel.

  “I… do not.”

  Maysant reached out, put her small hand on the back of Vitagut’s huge head, and tilted it in the right direction.

  Vitagut’s eyes widened. “I see it. The elf is right. There is a tunnel under there.”

  “How do we know it’s not just a servant hallway?” Alyna said. “This castle is filled with them.”

  Kazrack straightened. “The faun is right. It is probably nothing. And just imagine the trouble we’d be in if we went down there and the passage had collapsed farther on. We would get stuck. We would die! When I was king—”

  “Stop!” Maysant yelled. “You were never the rightful king. Stop pretending like you were. It’s not helping.”

  Kazrack smiled from cheek to cheek, as if he were unfazed by Maysant’s outburst. His eyes showed the truth, though. He was hurt. “I was king.” He said it quietly, speaking his personal truth.

  “A real king would lead us to safety,” Maysant said. “Can you do that?”

  Kazrack bit at his lips. “I wasn’t king here for long, as you know. Perhaps I don’t have the expertise to offer advice in this situation.”

  Maysant knew that was the biggest concession she’d ever get from her brother. “Good, then. What do you think, Alyna?”

  The faun tilted her head, peering at the tunnel in the chasm. “It would be hard for us to even get to it from here. And if it leads nowhere, I don’t know how we’d get out. Perhaps two should go and three should stay.”

  “I’ll go,” said Maysant and Vitagut at the exact same moment.

  She turned to Vitagut. “You will go with me?”

  He nodded once. “I suspect we’ll work well together. If we are able to escape, I want to make for my home immediately to get reinforcements.”

  “And we will stay behind in case anyone else needs help,” Alyna said. “Though I am not from Agitar, I can’t abandon it. We have found relative safety in the castle. If there are others, perhaps we can offer this safety to them as well. We will wait for you for a while, on the off chance you have to turn back, but eventually we will look to help others.”