by Megg Jensen
“No.” Frader waved a hand in the air. “You go. I’m… I’m going to think for a bit.”
“Well, don’t waste any time thinking about Ademar. I’ll let him out in the morning with a swift kick to the arse as I tell him never to come back. There’s nothing for him here.” Ed hitched up his pants at the waist and lumbered out the door.
Frader picked up the rock and held it in his palm. A strange warmth spread over his hand and up his arm. He set the rock on the table, and the sensation faded.
Odd.
He picked the rock up with his other hand. He felt the same sensation.
He set the rock down again and studied it.
It didn’t appear to be different from any other rock he’d ever picked up for a game of stones. If he’d seen it on the ground, he wouldn’t have looked at it twice. But clearly there was something different about it. Magic of some kind.
Frader laughed at himself. He was being ridiculous. It was a rock.
He touched it again with a fingertip. No strange sensations. Nothing. He must have imagined it before—he’d let Ademar get inside his head. He rolled his eyes, frustrated with himself for listening to the rantings of a man he’d once called a friend. A man who had clearly lost all sense of reality when he left for the orc lands.
His chuckle was cut off by a sharp sensation that surged through his finger, up his arm, and punched him squarely in the chest. He flew backward out of his chair, and his head hit the wall behind him before his fell to the floor.
He groaned and rubbed the back of his head. He’d have a lump there, that was for sure.
He looked back at the table. The rock sat where he’d left it, unassuming and innocent, as if it, too, were wondering what had just happened.
Staggering to his feet, Frader grabbed the silk cloth and wrapped the rock in it, careful not to touch the rock with his skin. He put it back in the box, closed the lid, and fastened the latch. His hands trembled with trepidation and his head pounded with each beat of his heart. He tucked the box under his arm, left the pub, and headed for the prison.
He needed to talk to Ademar.
He found the guard alone with Ademar and his silver pet. He was glad they were the only prisoners at the moment. Frader wanted to have this discussion without any curious ears about.
He nodded at the guard. “Take a break. I’ll watch them.”
The man eagerly leapt from his chair and bolted out the door.
“What was that all about?” Frader said. “Have you been upsetting the guard?”
Ademar smirked. “Frensia has been singing for us. Would you like them to start up again?”
“Oh, I would enjoy singing the history of my kind to you.” The silver thing began to wail in a language Frader couldn’t even begin to understand, and Frader had a sudden desire to stab himself in the ears with a rusty awl.
“Stop!” he yelled.
Frensia looked at him, its face sad. “But I was just getting to the first spawn.”
“Spawn?” Frader asked. He waved a hand in the air. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” He slammed the box down on a table. “Do you mind explaining what’s in there?”
“Did you open it?” Ademar asked, his eyes eager with anticipation.
“Just tell me what’s in it.”
Ademar laughed. “So, you did open it. And you touched it. How are you feeling?”
Anger bubbled up in Frader’s chest. “I’m feeling pissed, Ademar. What is it? Why do you think it can stop what’s happening up in Agitar? It’s just a rock.”
“It’s not just a rock, and now you know that as well as I do.” Ademar crossed his arms over his chest. “You also know I haven’t lied about anything, don’t you? So why not let us out, give me the box, and forget you ever saw us.”
“How can I forget what I’ve seen? I have to know what it is. Tell me, damn it!”
Ademar motioned for Frader to come close to the bars that stood between them. Frader couldn’t help himself; he met Ademar at the metal bars.
“It’s the greatest repository of magic I’ve ever found,” Ademar said. He told Frader all about how the stone had transformed Hugh, and how Hugh had told him to keep it hidden all those years ago.
Frader found himself getting caught up in the story. He would have found it unbelievable had he not touched the stone himself and felt its power. “Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?” he asked when Ademar was finished. “We were best friends.”
“I wanted to, but Hugh told me never to tell a soul. But I guess now the secret doesn’t matter any longer.” Ademar pulled back. “Will you let us go now? Please, Frader.”
Frader looked back at the box. He wanted to believe that he could do something great with that stone, but… somehow, he knew the truth. When he’d touched the rock, he’d felt the truth. The stone didn’t want him.
It wanted Ademar.
“Fine,” he said. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.” He grabbed the keys off the wall. The lock released with a groan.
“Thank you, friend,” Ademar said, clapping Frader on the back. “I owe you one.”
Frader sighed. “Just take that rock with you. And… that thing, too.” He gestured to the umgar. “And Ademar… don’t come back.”
Ademar picked up the box, then grabbed the guard’s cloak off a hook and tossed it to Frensia. “Put this on.”
The umgar wrapped the cloak about its shoulders and pulled the hood over its head. “It fits. Do I look human now?”
“Well…”
Frader understood Ademar’s hesitation. Even in the cloak, that thing definitely did not look human.
“Where to next?” The umgar rubbed its hands together. “Will I meet more of your childhood friends? I’m not sure I like the first two, but considering Frader let us go, I’m willing to give him another chance.”
Ademar grabbed his pack from the table and stuffed the box into it. “Let’s just go before he changes his mind.” He looked at Frader. “Thank you. You’ve done the right thing.”
Then he took Frensia’s hand—and both Ademar and the umgar disappeared.
Frader’s jaw dropped and his eyes bugged out. He reached out with a trembling hand to where the two of them had just been.
They were gone.
And he had no idea how.
It was time to go back to the pub. He needed a drink.
Chapter 34
Dried blood spatter was crusted all over Tace’s body—except for the three tattoos on her arm. It was as if her body knew those were sacred spots and respected them. Surely blood had landed on those tattoos while she slaughtered the enclave of Consecrated, but if it had, it had somehow dissipated on its own.
Not that it mattered to Tace. Clean or dirty, she would take no time for ablutions. Not when she knew her friends were in danger. She’d walked all night through the forest, only stopping to rest for an hour here and there. Raseri flew with her, helping her to push forward when she was too tired to continue. Without Raseri’s encouragement, Tace might have given up. The little dragon never let her forget why she kept putting one foot in front of the other. Love. Not just for her friends, but for her city and her fellow orcs. It was an emotion Tace had suppressed since her father’s death. But no longer. She now knew what mattered in the world. It wasn’t the race to death and Drothu’s arms. It was the love she carried for those who mattered.
She would return. She would tell them. All of them, including the ghost of her dead brother, Vron. She would work as hard to save him as she would those who still lived.
Raseri landed on her shoulder and cooed in her ear.
“There’s water ahead?” Tace said, realizing how thirsty she was. “Good. It’s time for us to take a short break, isn’t it?”
Raseri’s head bobbed up and down and her tail wrapped around Tace’s neck.
“You’re growing quickly,” Tace said. She tickled under the dragon’s chin. “Your tail almost wraps completely around my neck. Pretty soon yo
u’ll be too big to perch on my shoulder.”
Raseri’s promised water wasn’t far ahead. A gentle brook bubbled through the trees, its clear blue water an open invitation to her parched lips. Kneeling next to the bank, Tace cupped her hands and dipped them into the cool water. Knowing she’d hurt herself if she drank too quickly, she paced herself, taking in only what her body could handle. But Raseri dove right in, sucking up large quantities as she burst in and out of the stream.
Once her thirst was sated, Tace sat back on her heels and looked around at the tall trees with dark leaves, but no vegetation worth consuming. Apparently even a few berries were too much to ask for.
Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t let herself get too weak. Water could sustain her, yes, but with the pace she’d set for herself, she’d quickly succumb to starvation if she couldn’t find food. And it wasn’t just her. Raseri needed food, too. She’d never forgive herself if the poor dragon died. Since she’d saved it in the forest north of Agitar, the two had formed a tight bond. Raseri had even chosen to stay with Tace over her own mother.
Though perhaps that’s how it was for dragons? Tace knew little about them, despite having more experience with them than perhaps any other orc. Throughout her life they had been mere beasts of myth and legend, not believed to exist—until recently. When Tace had been led to a secret hideaway of theirs, she’d released a swarm of them from death. Her soul had also shared the body of a dragon to help defeat an evil orc.
It made no sense to her how they had been living in the world of the dead. Live dragons, chained among souls? Yet it was through them that she’d been born again, given a second chance to make the right choices in life. Her newest tattoo proved that she’d indeed been reborn. She couldn’t wait to show it to Ademar.
If she made it back to Agitar.
And if he was still alive.
Raseri let loose with a high-pitched squeal.
“What is it?” Tace asked. She wished she could hear Raseri as she had heard the dragon whose body her soul had shared.
Raseri was flying in circles, whipping her tail in agitation. She darted between the trees, flew back to Tace, rapped her on the head with her tail, then flew away again.
Tace sprang to her feet, her eyes scanning the woods, alert for danger. Her hands drew the daggers on her hips. She wished she had brought the old orc’s axe, but she hadn’t wanted to be burdened by its weight.
Raseri suddenly darted upward, hitting branches with her wings, knocking leaves to the ground in a messy concert.
“Damn it,” Tace whispered. “Where did she go?”
She needn’t have worried. Although she couldn’t see the tiny dragon, she could still hear its squeal. She frowned, thinking Raseri ought to be quieter about her alarm, but at least it told her where to go.
She followed the sound to the edge of the tree line. Raseri flew around before her, her wings flapping as she strained to fly higher. With a hand over her eyes, Tace looked upward—and inhaled sharply.
A huge amethyst dragon soared above, framed by a sky of clouds.
Raseri squeaked, trilled, and darted back down to Tace, bobbing her head.
Tace laughed. She’d rarely seen Raseri so excited, and was relieved it was due to a good thing. Sheathing her daggers, she watched the great beast. The amethyst dragon danced lazily in the air as if she hadn’t a care in the world. And perhaps she didn’t. What were the problems on the ground to her?
Tace wished that she could soar with the dragon again, if even for a moment, high above the death and war on the ground. For she was certain this was the same dragon she’d flown with when they escaped the Nether.
As if hearing her, the dragon came down toward her, weaving gently back and forth before landing with a thud.
Although this great beast could easily kill her with one claw to the abdomen, Tace ran to her side without trepidation, arms extended. Yet just before she could lay hands on its magnificent scales, the dragon swept her head to the side and her nostrils sent a blast of hot air nearly knocking her on her arse.
Tace laughed. She should have been afraid, or cautious at the very least. But she couldn’t bring herself to act like an orc around this dragon. She remembered what it felt like to be one with her. To be her. She was still one of them, whether she looked it or not.
She opened her mouth and let out the biggest roar she could muster. Raseri mimicked Tace’s roar with her tiny voice.
The older dragon looked at them both, curious. Then she rested her head next to Tace.
Tace reached out and placed her hands on the dragon’s neck. The dragon lay still, allowing her touch.
Hope swelled inside her. Maybe this dragon was what she’d needed. Whenever she’d been at her lowest, a dragon had shown itself and rescued her. Somehow, they were connected, Tace and the dragons.
“Will you take me home?” she asked. Then she closed her eyes and thought the question: Will you take me home?
She waited.
Yes. You saved my dragons when they were trapped in the Nether. We owe you a great debt. Climb on my back. I will take you wherever your heart desires.
An unspeakable wonder washed over Tace when the dragon responded. She had hoped, against all hope, that the dragon would help them. But to get an actual response from a dragon other than Raseri, one she could strangely hear in heart, was beyond thrilling.
“Hop on, Raseri. I don’t think you’re ready to fly that high on your own.”
Raseri settled herself around Tace’s shoulders. Then Tace took a deep breath and scrambled up onto the dragon’s back. She straddled the great beast, settling her hands upon the scales. And before she could shout, “I’m ready,” the dragon lifted into the sky.
Chapter 35
Vitagut’s heart pounded with each clomp of his draft horse’s hooves as they rode with haste toward Inab. Maysant’s arms were wrapped around his waist. Her fingers could not touch, so she gripped his shirt for support. To him, the tiny elf felt like no more than a pack on his back.
The tunnel they’d found had indeed led them outside the castle. Upon exiting, they’d snuck to the stables and stolen a draft horse, and now they were skirting the edge of the forest. Vitagut didn’t want to waste any time getting help in Inab. He’d offered Maysant the chance to go back without him, but the little elf was just as determined as he was to secure assistance. He didn’t like leaving the others behind, but if anyone could take care of themselves, it was Alyna. They agreed the best path was forward.
Sweat poured down his back as the sun rose above them. He was sure it was running right down the poor elf’s face, pressed against him as she was. She would require a bath when they arrived at Inab. He would be sure to find a female orc to attend to her, though it was unusual for their kind to interact.
Vitagut had been shocked to discover that Maysant’s mother, the queen of the elves, had even considered coming to Agitar to help. But of course, she’d left quickly when matters got worse—and that only reinforced his belief that elves were not as tough as orcs.
Maysant tapped on his back.
“What?” he growled over his shoulder.
Her response was muffled, her face still pressed into his back.
Well, if she wouldn’t sit up and speak to him properly, he wouldn’t indulge her. He was soon to be king of all orcs—and to have earned the throne. Whereas her path to power was to wait around for her mother and two older siblings to die.
The tapping continued.
Finally, Vitagut couldn’t stand it any longer. He pulled on the reins. “What is it?” he demanded, irritated.
Maysant peeled her face from his back. “I need to relieve myself.”
Vitagut held in a sigh. He needed to behave regally. “I should do the same. Let’s take a break.” He slid off the horse’s back and pointed into the woods. “You take that section over there. I’ll go the opposite direction.”
He held out a hand to Maysant, but she shooed him away and sl
id off the horse’s back awkwardly, landing on one wobbly foot before righting herself.
She offered him a smile. “Thank you for stopping.”
Vitagut gazed back toward the west, a grimace on his face. There was nothing to smile about. Not yet. He had no idea how to stop the ghosts or save the few remaining orcs. His only hope lay in Inab, in the wise counsel of his father. The sooner they arrived, the better.
“Stretch quickly. I want to be back on the horse as soon as possible. We haven’t a moment to waste.”
Though he wouldn’t admit it, he was glad for the chance to relieve himself as well. The journey to Inab normally took a day and a half at a steady pace. He was determined to make it before sunset, even if it killed the horse. But that was a long time to suppress nature’s call, even for an orc.
They were soon on their way once more, riding as hard as the horse could handle. As the sun began to set, Vitagut found himself pressing his heels into the horse’s flanks even harder, but the horse failed to increase his pace. The great beast was flagging, worn out from the expedition he’d been forced to endure. Still, he kept going, and his waning strength was enough. Though they had to continue on after the sun had set and the stars had begun to peek through the canopy above, they arrived at Inab.
Vitagut’s heart leapt as the firelight of his city appeared in the distance. He promised himself the draft horse would be given special treatment and given as much time as he needed to recover. He had done all that could be asked of him.
And Maysant… she could rest as well, wash up, and eat and drink to her heart’s content. No doubt the ride and excitement had exhausted her.
Vitagut would of course waste no time on such simple concerns. He would immediately go into conference with his father and their wisest friends. Together, they would solve this problem.
Before they reached the outskirts of the city, an orc rode up to them on a horse. “Vitagut!” the orc shouted. “Your father will be pleased to see you.”
