“Er … greetings,” Danr said, setting the bowl by the fire to heat. “I’m Hamzu. This is Aisa and Talfi. We’re from Balsia, and we’ve had an accident.”
“Where is his leg?” said a male orc with dark hair that clashed with his golden eyes. “I see it nowhere.”
“I don’t know,” Danr said. “The magic that brought us here hurt him. If you’re willing to help us, we need more wood for the fire and more water.”
“And rags,” Aisa murmured, “for fresh bandages.”
Talfi’s breathing was quick and his eyes were shut. Danr couldn’t tell if he was unconscious or asleep from whatever Aisa had given him. His skin looked like wax. The bandage was still leaking blood. Danr’s stomach twisted at the sight. Was this some kind of punishment from the Nine for being a regi? Belinna, the goddess of love and war, wasn’t kind to men who spurned her favors. Had she arranged this? It had happened moments after Talfi confessed. As a punishment, it seemed awfully harsh. Danr’s jaw tightened. He was trying to help the gods, help Death herself. If the Nine wanted him to succeed, they had a strange way of showing it.
Two of the orcs built up the fire with more driftwood from the river. They built it higher and higher, and the smoke climbed a gray pillar into the sky. The other orcs stood about with their arms folded, apparently content to do nothing but wait and watch while Aisa tended Talfi. Several paces away from the heat of the fire, the first orc, the auburn-haired woman Danr had encountered at the river, held out a long, lean arm.
“I am Kalessa from the Eighth Nest, daughter of Hess and Xanda,” she said. Her spear lay across her back, along with her shield. A short bronze sword was sheathed at her hip. The great wyrm she’d been riding slithered down to the river for a drink. It made almost no noise as it slipped over the grass, and Danr understood how Kalessa had appeared behind him so suddenly. He held out his arm to her as she had done for him.
“Hamzu,” he said, “son of Halldora and Kech. Er … Emissary Prince of the Stane, nephew of Vesha, Queen Under the Mountain.”
He was expecting a handshake. Kalessa clasped Danr’s forearm instead—or she tried. Danr’s arm was much larger than an orc’s fingers could encompass, though her grip was strong. Her golden eyes met his brown ones pointedly, and for a moment, Danr’s breath caught. She was beautiful, and his body tightened at her touch. Then Danr understood that she was greeting him, and he engulfed Kalessa’s forearm with his own hand.
“I feel deeply about your friend,” Kalessa said. “May Grick smile on him that his pain be light and his passage quick.”
“Er … thank you.” So many strange images pulled at the edges of Danr’s vision. A woman in woven armor. A dozen orcs. The saddled wyrms and their unblinking eyes. Aisa bent over Talfi’s pale form. And the bonfire that climbed higher and higher. One of the orcs tossed something on it that gave the smoke a greenish cast and a sweet smell.
“I have never met one of the Stane,” Kalessa said. “Or the Kin. You said magic brought you here. What has happened?”
Danr forced himself to snatch his scattered thoughts together. He was an emissary and needed to act like one. But it was damn hard with Talfi lying over there. He felt helpless and stupid. And guilty. It was his fault. He shouldn’t have told Talfi he could come.
But he had, and now they were here in Xaron, and Danr had to persuade the orcs to join with the Stane against the Fae, and it looked as though Kalessa was the place to start. If Kalessa had never seen Kin before, it was a good bet he had arrived ahead of Hunin’s men. Danr touched the torc around his neck and then the pouch at his throat to make himself concentrate. The truthful answer to her question was already pushing its way out of his throat.
“The Stane are coming out from under the Iron Mountains,” he said. “The Fae will declare war on them the moment they do, and the Kin lands of Balsia will become the battleground. I’m here to ask the orcs to fight beside the Stane.” He glanced at Kalessa and the other orcs with just his left eye, gathered a bit of information about them, and quickly added, “For the glory of the Kin! You can fight beside giants and destroy the Fae. Bards will sing your name forever!”
“Is this true, then?” Kalessa cracked her knuckles. “Our shamans have seen auguries that whisper of a great coming war, and now you arrive with a truer word of one.”
“I hate to bring bad news,” Danr said. “I don’t—”
“Bad?” Kalessa drew her sword and slapped the flat against her forearm. “This is wonderful news! The Nine bless us with a chance for glory!”
“Ah. Of course.” Danr pulled himself straighter and deepened his voice. “The Stane are ready to stand beside you as we fight our way into Valorhame!”
“You present well,” Kalessa said. “Your words are powerful. You bring good news, and you are tall and strong and handsome. You should speak to my father. He is chieftain of the Eighth Nest.”
“Thank you.” He was handsome? A hot flush crawled up his face. She must be mocking him. But no—he could see she wasn’t lying. Handsome. No one had ever called him that before. This beautiful woman really thought—?
“The others in my nest will arrive soon,” Kalessa continued. “The wyrm smoke summons them. Come now. You should speak with your friend.”
As they turned toward Talfi, Kalessa’s wyrm returned from the river, its face dripping. It slid up behind her and delicately flicked its tongue over her head. Kalessa turned and pointed to the other wyrms, which were coiled about one another in an emerald mountain. “Go!”
The wyrm bumped her shoulder with its nose. Kalessa pointed and gave the order again. The wyrm wiped its golden eyes with its tongue and scurried off in a huff. Now that it wasn’t threatening him, Danr was able to watch it move. It was easily large enough to carry four, and it flowed across the ground like an emerald river. The power and speed made Danr’s heart thump.
“Wyrms,” Kalessa sighed. “So touchy. But no better steed, yes?”
“Yes,” Danr said, still staring.
“Ah.” She reached up to clap him on the shoulder. “You admire the wyrms. Very good. We will make you an honorary orc, Master Stane.”
“My mother was human,” Danr said, “so I’m part Kin, too.”
“Yes? Even better. Come now—your friend needs you.”
Aisa had already been forced to change Talfi’s bandages. The old ones lay in a scarlet pile. The new ones, however, seemed to be less bloody, even to Danr’s unpracticed eye.
The small crowd of orcs let them through, and Danr knelt next to Aisa. “The next night and day will prove whether he lives or dies,” she said tightly. “If his draugr doesn’t rise before tomorrow evening, he should live.”
“But without my leg,” Talfi gasped. Danr jumped. Talfi’s eyes were still shut.
“You’ll be fine,” Danr said gruffly. “Death is my friend, remember? She won’t take you now.”
“Not while she’s chained up, she won’t.” Talfi managed a sound that barely resembled a laugh. “Don’t let me wander as a draugr when I die. Please! Do something so I don’t.”
“You’re not going to die,” Danr said around the lump in his throat. “You see? I said so, and I can’t tell a lie.”
“Only because you don’t know if it’s the truth or not.” Talfi coughed and winced. “All Nine, it hurts.”
“Here.” Aisa held a cup to his lips and helped him rise slightly. “You need to drink all of this, then sleep.”
Talfi obeyed and lay back down. His breathing evened out a little and he seemed to sleep. The orcs watched, perfectly patient. Danr drew Aisa aside. “What are his chances?”
“Surprisingly good,” Aisa replied from within her scarves. “The wound was absolutely clean, and he should experience no infection. With time, he can recover from the blood he lost. The danger is that his body has received a terrible shock. But his mind is strong, and if I enjoyed gambling, I would bet on his recovery.”
Relief flooded Danr like warm water, but it was tainted with disappoi
ntment. “Talfi will never run again,” he said. “He was the fastest runner I ever saw, and now …”
“Yes,” Aisa agreed. “I can do much, but I cannot regrow a limb.”
“You did save his life. Thank Grick for that.” For a moment, he wanted to hold Aisa close, feel her against him, let her know how much this meant to him. How much she meant to him. Instead he said, “And thank you, Aisa. You’re a goddess, too.”
“Not yet,” she said with a flash of mischief that made his heart flicker. “But perhaps one day.”
“My father comes.” Kalessa pointed. In the far distance, the prairie grass was moving as if stirred by a great wind. Dozens of wyrms of many sizes and colors lunged into view, streaming across the hilly plain. Some were just large enough to allow a single rider. Others were so tall even Danr couldn’t have seen over them, and they carried a dozen orcs each. The sun gleamed a rainbow off their scales, and their tongues lashed the air. Danr winced and shaded his eyes at their brightness, but the incredible sight rooted him to the ground. The wyrms barely made any noise as they rushed across the grass, but the orcs shouted and yipped and howled in a cacophony of sound that wove together like their armor. Even the children were shouting. Danr’s heart beat at the back of his throat. He forced himself to stand straight, as a prince should, but it wasn’t easy with an injured friend at his feet and a shouting mob of orcs rushing straight at him. A bloodred wyrm at the head of the formation slid up to Kalessa and Danr and halted. The orc on its back had the same auburn hair Kalessa did, but his was streaked with gray, and Danr’s left eye showed he was trying to hide some stiffness as he leaped off the wyrm’s back.
“Father!” Kalessa clasped him a great, crushing hug, which he returned without embarrassment. Danr shifted, a little uncomfortable but also envious. It would be a fine thing to grow up with a father who hugged. Even if it were an orc.
“Why did you burn the green smoke?” he boomed in a voice three times louder than was needed. “What is the emergency? Who are these people?”
“We were scouting and came across them,” Kalessa said, equally loud, and Danr understood they were both speaking for the rest of the orcs, who had fallen silent on their great wyrms. “They bring great news—an alliance with the Stane and war with the Fae!”
An exultant cheer thundered through the silence. The orcs raised spears and swords to the sky or beat them against their shields. Wyrms rose and hissed their approval. Danr worked not to wince at the noise.
When it at last died down, Kalessa’s father clapped Danr on the shoulder. “It shames us all to admit that the Fae are stronger than our scattered tribes. It has been hundreds of years since we have heard from the Stane, and our irregular contact with the humans is far from a true alliance. With the Stane beside us, we could end these mere skirmishes against the Fae and declare the finest war in orcish history! What is your name?”
Danr shifted. He hadn’t expected a reception quite like this. “I am Prince Hamzu, son of Kech and Halldora, Truth-Teller from Under the Mountain, Nephew to Queen Vesha of the Stane.”
“And I am Hess, son of Nox and Vaxan, Chieftain of the Eighth Nest, Rider of the Scarlet Wyrm.” Hess stepped back. “But where is your sword, if you are a prince?”
The orcs and their wyrms, meanwhile, had moved into a great circle around them, one that also encompassed Aisa, Talfi, and the fire, which continued to send up leafy green smoke. Danr suddenly felt less secure.
“My sword?” He touched the pouch at his throat. “Uh … we left in a hurry, and I didn’t think to take one.”
“Never mind. Kalessa!”
With a great grin, Kalessa tossed her sword at Danr, who caught it by the hilt without thinking. In his hand it was barely more than a large knife. “What—?”
“Those who want to negotiate with the orcs must prove their worth,” he boomed. “Fight!”
He stabbed at Danr. Danr leaped back with a yelp.
“You think this is a game, boy?” Hess snapped. “The Stane insult the orcs by sending a hatchling!”
He flicked his blade at Danr’s stomach. Danr only barely twisted aside. The orcs bellowed their disapproval. Hess was honestly trying to kill him. Blood and fear sang in Danr’s ears. He had no idea how to use a sword, hadn’t even held one until now. Danr tried a lunge, but Hess batted the attempt aside with contempt. Aisa clapped both her wrapped hands over her mouth.
“The orcs do not ally themselves with weaklings.” Hess stabbed again. Danr closed his right eye, and the world seemed to slow. He saw the way Hess moved, how his muscles were still stiff, both from age and from riding the wyrm all day. In a moment, he saw which way the sword point was going. For once, his mind moved faster than its usual careful plod. He dropped the useless sword, stepped sideways on the burned grass, and let Hess’s blade stab his side. Pain slashed his ribs, but Danr ignored it. Hess was now within his reach. Danr snatched at Hess’s forearm with a meaty fist. Hess tried to fall back, but his movements were slowed by stiffness and the way his blade dug into Danr’s flesh. Danr yanked upward, and Hess’s feet left the ground. His sword spun away. Anger roared behind Danr’s eyes. He flung the chieftain straight up into the air. Hess yowled in surprise and … fear? Danr caught him by the front of his woven armor as he fell and slammed him the rest of the way to the ground. Hess grunted and his head lolled. The orcs fell silent.
Panting with anger and pain, Danr slapped a hand around Hess’s neck. Some of the monster came out. He wanted to feel the bones break, hear them crunch.
White Halli, he thought. Remember White Halli.
Danr forced the awful monster back and grunted, “Do you yield?”
“I …” Hess’s face contorted. “… yield.”
Danr released Hess, then held out an arm to haul the chieftain to his feet. Staggering only a little, Hess thumped his chest and raised his hand in salute. The gathering of orcs burst into more shouts. Aisa closed her eyes. Danr blew out a long breath and wondered how much time the orcs spent shouting. Then he realized he had just beaten an orc chieftain in single combat and all these people were cheering for him. Never in his life did he think he would hear such a thing. The cheering crested in a wave that lifted his heart and flung his soul to the clouds.
“The Nine,” he whispered, and wished his mother could have been there. Perhaps here, among the orcs and their acceptance, he could find a home.
The cheering died down as Hess clapped Danr on the shoulder, and the pain in Danr’s side bit him like a snake. Blood ran down his side.
“A true warrior,” Hess said. “Fell himself would approve.”
Aisa hurried over and pulled up Danr’s tunic. Her concern made him a little warm. “This will require stitching,” she said. “You were foolish. My heart nearly stopped when—”
“Now it is you, Lady Aisa,” Hess interrupted.
Danr froze. Aisa stared up at Hess from the depths of her scarves and wrappings. “I could not have heard you correctly, Chieftain Hess,” she said. “I am not trained to fight.”
“That is a shame.” Hess dropped a sword at Aisa’s feet and gestured to Kalessa, who drew her own sword. “It will be difficult to prove yourself worthy.”
“I’ll fight in her place,” Danr said instantly, his pain forgotten.
“You have fought today already.” Hess gestured again. His wyrm flashed forward like scarlet lightning and plucked Danr out of the ring of burned grass by his collar before he could so much as blink. Danr kicked and swung his arms, but the wyrm held him high off the ground by the scruff of his neck and he couldn’t connect with anything. Icy terror for Aisa poured over him.
“Aisa!” he shouted.
A few of the orcs started a rhythmic clap that spread through the crowd. Aisa picked up the sword, but even with both eyes open, Danr could see her fear. Kalessa moved in confidently, blade at the ready. Danr desperately struggled in the wyrm’s grip but couldn’t get free. It shook him once like a kitten, and the pain in his side forced him to fall sti
ll.
Kalessa lunged. Aisa abruptly dropped to her knees before Kalessa in the slave’s posture. The sword fell to the burned grass.
“How should I fight you?” she said in a voice that carried through the crowd. “You may as well cut my throat now.” And she lifted her chin.
The clapping stopped, and Kalessa hesitated. For a heart-stopping moment, Danr was sure Kalessa was going to drop her own sword and declare some kind of truce. Instead she gave a battle cry and stabbed at Aisa. Danr’s heart shriveled in his chest.
But Aisa rolled away and flung something up at Kalessa’s face. Black powder scattered through the air like angry dust motes. Kalessa coughed and went off balance, partly from surprise and partly from the powder. Aisa scooped up her own sword and stabbed at Kalessa with it. Danr wanted to cheer. But Kalessa recovered quickly and caught the blow on her blade. She held Aisa’s sword, metal on metal, and stared at her across the X. For a tiny moment, Aisa stared defiantly back. A moment hung between them.
“Surrender,” Kalessa hissed. “Your death will be quick, I promise.”
Aisa kicked at Kalessa’s ankle. The blow connected. Kalessa leaped back. Aisa threw the sword straight at the orc. It whirled in a deadly arc. Danr held his breath. Kalessa easily parried it with a clang. Aisa snatched up a stone and threw it. Kalessa dodged like a snake. Aisa threw another stone, and another. Kalessa dodged every one.
“I will not yield!” Aisa cried. “You may cut off my hands, and I will not yield. You may slit my throat and slice me in half, and I will. Not. Yield!”
She threw a final stone half the size of her head. It arced toward Kalessa’s arm.
And then Kalessa deliberately thrust out her sword. The stone struck the blade and knocked it from Kalessa’s unresisting grasp. The assembled orcs looked at one another and murmured in puzzlement. Danr swallowed hard, though it was hard to breathe now.
Iron Axe Page 20
