[Queen of Orcs 03] - Royal Destiny

by Morgan Howell

  “I will,” said Dar. “Just tell me.”

  “Let me go. Right now.”

  “You’re in a nightgown, and you can’t walk barefoot in the snow!”

  “I will if you let me.”

  “You’ll have clothes and boots soon,” said Dar, wondering why Sevren hadn’t arrived. “Then you can go. Until then listen to me.”

  “Liar!” said Girta, stopping her ears with her hands.

  As Dar stared at the queen with a mixture of frustration and remorse, she saw that the situation was hopeless. For the first time, she imagined the abduction from Girta’s viewpoint. It had to be her worst nightmare. I’ve been so stupid! She’ll never trust me now. Dar gloomily pondered her options and could envision none with a happy outcome. She decided that all she could do was free Girta when Sevren arrived with clothing, apologize profusely, and leave with the orcs immediately. That course would surely doom Girta and lead to war, but both results seemed unavoidable. It was clear that Kol had outsmarted her.

  Having decided to free Girta, Dar wanted to do it quickly. For that, she needed Sevren, and her impatience grew as she waited for him. It’s well past dawn. He’s late! It was midmorning before the barracks door opened and Sevren entered. He was snow-covered, and his expression was both surprised and disturbed. Dar didn’t hold back her anger. “Where are those clothes? I’ve been waiting far too long!”

  “Clothes? What need have you for them?”

  “For Girta, fool!”

  “Girta? Your orcs killed her. All Taiben’s in an uproar. The gates were closed. It wasn’t easy getting out.”

  “The queen’s not dead,” said Dar. “She’s right here!”

  Sevren followed Dar’s gesture and spied Girta slumped on the floor, wrapped in Dar’s cloak. He walked over to her and bowed. “Your Majesty, all the criers say you’re slain.”

  Girta looked up. “Slain?”

  “Aye, Your Majesty. They say your orc guards did it.”

  “What happened to them?” asked Dar, her voice urgent.

  “Killed in a bloody fight.”

  The news confirmed Dar’s worst fears. Remorse and grief left her stunned. It’s my fault they’re dead, she thought, fighting back tears.

  “What of the prince?” asked Girta, her face animated for the first time.

  “He’ll be crowned king this afternoon,” said Sevren. “Rumor says he’ll declare war.” He turned to Dar. “I came here to make sure you knew, though I hoped you’d already fled.”

  “How can this be?” asked Girta. “How can this be?”

  “I’m na a royal guardsman anymore. I hear my news from criers, like everyone else.”

  “But I’m alive! How can they say I’m dead?”

  “I suspect that’s the Queen’s Man’s doing,” replied Sevren.

  “No,” said Girta. “It’s all a mistake.”

  “How can you say that?” asked Dar.

  “Yes, a mistake,” said Girta. “But one that’s easily corrected.” She turned to Dar. “Let me go to Taiben.”

  “That won’t be safe.”

  “My son’s there! He thinks I’m dead.”

  “Because Kol told him so,” said Dar. “He won’t let you prove him false.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “You’re not talking sense,” said Dar. “Stay. You must.”

  “She will na be safe here,” said Sevren. “Neither will you.”

  Dar suddenly understood why Kovok-mah had been able to sneak Girta past the guards: Kol had given orders to let him pass. With a chill, she realized he planned to attack two queens at once. She spoke to Girta. “If the gates are closed, they’ll be manned by Kol’s men.”

  “They’re called the Queen’s Men,” said Girta. “Their loyalty is to me.”

  “I’m na so sure of that,” said Sevren. “I know some of those men.”

  “I won’t abandon my son,” said Girta. She spoke to Dar. “Lend me your boots. I think they’ll fit me.”

  Dar thought the matter over, weighing hope against pessimism. There was a chance the queen’s appearance would unravel Kol’s plans, but only if Girta received the reception that she expected. Dar doubted she would. Then Dar envisioned trying to drag Girta away from her child, who had fallen into Othar’s clutches. She sighed and acquiesced to Girta’s plea. “You shouldn’t go alone. I’ll provide an escort.”

  Girta objected, but when Dar made it clear that the escort wasn’t optional, she grudgingly agreed to it. Afterward, Kovok-mah approached Dar. “Muth Mauk, I brought this mother here. If she’s harmed, it’ll be my fault. Please let me protect her.”

  Dar wanted to say that he bore no guilt for her decision, but seeing his need to atone, she agreed to his request. It pained her to do so, for she knew she was endangering him. I’ve endangered everyone, she thought, once again fighting back tears. Two have already paid for my foolishness.

  Dar chose four other orcs to complete the escort. As they donned their armor, Girta dressed in Dar’s boots and extra clothes. When the orcs were ready, Dar spoke to them. “Washavoki great mother wishes to return, but I’m unsure how she’ll be greeted. Evil ones may try to harm her. She’s our friend, and you must protect her.” Then Dar stood in the open doorway to watch the orcs and Girta depart. The falling snow transformed them into ghostly shapes that soon disappeared altogether. Only then did Dar shut the door and retreat to the warmth of the hearth.

  Waiting was agony. Only the slender possibility that Girta could undo Kol’s treachery allowed Dar to stave off despair. But she had little confidence in that scenario, and her fears grew the longer she waited. When a sentry announced at last that orcs were approaching, Dar ran barefoot into the snow to meet them.

  Although she could see only gray shapes initially, Dar knew something was wrong. The orcs were running and there were fewer than five. As they approached, their forms became clearer. One orc was carrying Girta. Two orcs were carrying a third. Another orc was missing. Dar called out, “What happened?”

  “Washavokis shot many arrows,” shouted an orc as he ran. “Washavoki queen is wounded. So is Togu-mah. Garga-tok is slain.”

  Stunned, Dar followed the party into the barracks. Kovok-mah carried Girta, who had an arrow protruding from her shoulder. Its feathered end had been snapped off, but the rest remained, surrounded by a growing bloodstain. The queen stared at Dar with wide eyes, her pale face marked by shock and pain. “They knew me! They made certain I was their queen. But when the gate opened, there were archers and they…they…” Girta shuddered and glanced at the shaft jutting from her shoulder. “But an orc stepped in front of me. A living shield. He died for my sake.”

  Dar looked to Kovok-mah, who was bleeding from a gash in his cheek. “Garga-tok?”

  “Hai. It’s like she said. He took her arrows until one struck his eye and killed him.” Kovok-mah made the sign of the Tree.

  At that moment, Dar felt the full weight of sovereignty. My decisions caused all today’s tragedies. They had sealed the fates of Nagtha-yat, Magtha-jan, and Garga-tok. Dar wished with all her heart that she could alter her choices, but that was impossible. She also knew that she must continue making decisions. There was no other option; she was Muth Mauk.

  Dar spoke to Kovok-mah. “Can you give healing magic to Queen Girta and Togu-mah?”

  “Togu-mah will join Muth la soon,” replied Kovok-mah. “No herb can cure his hurt.”

  “Then treat queen. Will you give her leaf that makes her sleep?”

  “Hai. Removing arrowhead will be painful.”

  Dar spoke to Girta in the human tongue. “Girta, we’ll give you healing magic for your wound. It will make you sleep. When you awake, we’ll be far from here.”

  “But my son!”

  “He’ll be king by this afternoon. Take hope from that. He’s been deceived, but we may yet undo Kol’s treachery.”

  “How?”

  “I’m not sure. All I know is you must stay alive to do it and this place isn’
t safe.”

  “Oh Dar, I’ve been a fool!”

  “But you don’t remain one. Both of us must learn from this day and make better choices in the future.”

  Kovok-mah, having retrieved his bag of healing herbs, knelt beside Girta. Dar grasped her hand. “An orc died so you might live. Will you trust Kovok-mah to heal you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll leave you in his care. I must see Togu-mah.” Dar caught a hint of panic in Girta’s face, but she had other pressing concerns. She rushed to Togu-mah’s side. He was lying on the floor. Lama-tok knelt beside him holding cloths to the front and back of his neck. They were soaked with blood, as was the front of Togu-mah’s armored tunic. The sight made Dar queasy. She ignored her uneasy stomach to kneel beside her dying mintari. The orc’s face was pale gray and his eyes were half-closed, but he spoke when he saw her. “Muth Mauk,” he whispered. “You honor me.”

  “Thwa. It’s you who honors me.” Dar wanted to say something that gave meaning to his sacrifice, but she lacked words to convey her feelings. They were too intense and confused. She felt horror, love, grief, regret, and gratitude all at once. All she could do was stroke his cheek and say, “Shashav, Togu.”

  Togu-mah smiled.

  Dar wanted to remain by Togu-mah’s side, but there were other demands upon her. She went over to where Kovok-mah was treating Girta. The queen had chewed the sedative leaf and was already unconscious. Kovok-mah exposed where the arrow’s broad head had pierced the queen. “Will she live?” asked Dar.

  “I think so,” replied Kovok-mah, “if her wound doesn’t fester.”

  Then Dar turned to Sevren and addressed her next concern. “Why hasn’t Kol attacked?”

  “My guess is he lacks the men for an assault. His Queen’s Men are a smaller force than the old royal guard, and he must spread it thin. He’ll need the king’s warrant to call soldiers to Taiben.”

  “He’ll get that soon enough, no doubt,” said Dar. “He probably already has it. We must leave before the soldiers arrive.”

  “Aye. Everyone believes you’ve murdered our queen. It’s war for certain.”

  Though Dar knew she had to act quickly, she had to avoid acting rashly. Her first impulse was to flee. I can’t wait for an attack. She had less than forty orcs, and her foe could summon regiments of men. I have to flee, and Kol knows it. So what will he do while he’s waiting for troops? The answer was apparent. “Kol will take the pass,” said Dar, “to cut off our retreat.”

  “Aye, that makes sense,” said Sevren. “He’ll na need many men to hold such a narrow way.”

  “I know of another road home. It’s longer and more difficult but…” Dar stopped, realizing that by the time she returned home by the Old Road, Kol could take the New Road and be waiting for her.

  “But what?” asked Sevren.

  “The pass. Kol will use the pass.”

  “Aye, there’s na way to stop him.”

  “But there is,” said Dar. “I can seal that pass forever, but only if I get a message through it.”

  “A handful of archers would stop you cold.”

  “Only if they get there first,” said Dar. She was on the verge of telling the orcs that they must leave immediately when she checked herself. If Kol’s men beat them to the pass, disaster would ensue. The urkzimmuthi would have no queen and no warning of Kol’s invasion. Dar tried to assess the chance that the way remained unguarded. Since Kol knew about the kidnapping, he could have pulled the Queen’s Men from the garrison and sent them to the pass. It seemed possible, but there was no way to be sure. The only thing that Dar was certain about was that Kol always planned ahead.

  Dar was forced to make a decision, and she did so with a heavy heart. A chance to seal the pass, however slim, couldn’t be forsaken. She called out in Orcish, “Lama-tok! Ven-goth! I need you.” The two orcs hurried to her side. “You must get message to Yat clan hall as quickly as possible. Warn them washavokis plan to attack. Tell Tok clan sons I want pass sealed immediately.”

  The two orcs bowed.

  “What I ask of you is dangerous. I think washavokis are also headed for pass. If they get there first, they’ll be waiting with arrows.”

  “Then we’ll leave right away, Muth Mauk,” said Lama-tok.

  Then Dar spoke to them as if she were their muthuri and not their queen. “Lama and Ven, you’re dear to me. Take care. If you encounter washavokis, don’t throw your lives away.”

  The two bowed, donned their cloaks, and headed for the door.

  “Wait!” cried Dar. “Shouldn’t you wear your armor?”

  “We’ll run much faster without it.”

  “Hai,” replied Dar. “That seems wise.” She watched them depart with a heavy heart. When the door closed, she noticed Kovok-mah standing beside her.

  He bowed. “Muth Mauk, Togu-mah is dead.”

  Thirty-nine

  There was no time to grieve. Soldiers might arrive any moment, and Dar had to organize a hasty retreat. She told the orcs to don their armor, fashion a stretcher to carry Girta, and procure food from the garrison’s kitchen. A few reed shelters remained from the summer campaign, and she sent some orcs to search for more in the abandoned barracks. As they left, Sevren approached Dar. “What can I do?” he asked. “I want to help.”

  “Are you sure? This could end up like the Vale of Pines.”

  “The new king’s army will be Othar’s army in truth. I will na serve such an evil cause.”

  “Then I’d be glad for your aid,” said Dar. “Girta needs boots and warm clothes. And I must know what’s going on in Taiben.”

  “I’ll do my best. If you’re na headed for the pass, how can I find your trail?”

  “The Old Road goes west along the base of the foothills, then follows a river into the mountains. On horseback, you should catch up easily.”

  “Then I’ll see you as soon as I can,” said Sevren, “with clothes and news. Leave quickly. Karm’s grace on you, Dar.”

  “Fasak Muth la vashak tha, Sevren.” May Muth la bless you, Sevren.

  Sevren left. Lama-tok and Ven-goth were already gone. The orcs were strapping reed shelters and packs onto their backs when Zna-yat approached Dar. He held her golden pendant. “Muth Mauk, should I pack this heavy thing?”

  Dar eyed the necklace with distaste, for she felt it symbolized the pointlessness of her mission. She was about to tell him to leave it behind when she thought of the plundering soldiers. “Hai,” she said. “Washavokis treasure yellow iron. It would please them greatly to have it.”

  Zna-yat grinned. “Then it’ll please me greatly to carry it away.”

  As Zna-yat stowed the necklace in his pack, news arrived that the serving women had been slain. To Dar, it was a foretaste of Kol’s savagery and another tragedy to add to a growing list. Her instincts warned her that something foul and malign had been loosed. At the moment, she could only flee it, but Dar understood flight wouldn’t bring safety. I must confront this evil. That’s why Muth la preserved my life.

  General Kol entered the prince’s apartments. The boy sat on his bed, still dressed in his nightclothes. Tears streaked his face, as the prince shuddered from the effort of suppressing sobs. As Kol gazed at the grief-stricken boy, he briefly saw himself as a lad. Then he hardened his heart and put on a mask of compassion. When the prince looked up, he saw a face possessing the perfect mixture of grief and sympathy.

  “Your Majesty,” said Kol. “Such a terrible day.” He walked over to the bedside and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What strength I have is yours.”

  “Why?” asked the prince in a quavering voice. “Why did they kill my mother?”

  “Because it’s their nature to kill. She was good, and they don’t understand goodness. To them, it’s weakness.”

  The prince began to shake.

  “It’s not unmanly to cry,” said Kol, his voice gentle and sad. He watched the boy sob, all the while rubbing his shoulder. When he thought the prince had
cried long enough, he spoke. “There’s something you can do for your mother.”

  The prince ceased sobbing and straightened. “What?”

  “It will be hard, but she deserves this,” said Kol. “A sword’s steel is soft until it’s tempered. So you must face this trial to become a man. And have no doubt; this day will make you one.”

  “What must I do?” asked young Kregant, sounding timid.

  “Visit your mother’s chamber and view the orcs’ handiwork. It won’t be easy, but I’ll be there. You owe this to her memory.”

  “Why?”

  “So you will know your enemy. That knowledge will sustain you when doubt arises. It will allow you to do what’s necessary.”

  The prince looked dubious, but Kol knew that he would come. He wants so much to be a man. Kol snapped his fingers, and servants appeared. “Dress His Majesty.”

  Though servants attired the prince in black and gold, it was General Kol who strapped on his sword. Then he led the boy through the palace to Girta’s apartments. Queen’s Men barred the hallway, but admitted the prince and his general. Even before they reached the queen’s doorway, a bloody tableau was visible. The two men Kol had murdered lay in the corridor, their wounds gruesomely enhanced. They appeared to have been slain in a ferocious struggle. Nor were they alone. A severed arm lay on the floor. Nearby was a hacked and headless torso.

  Kol pretended to be oblivious of the boy’s trembling as he marched him toward the bloody scene. He wanted the prince to receive its full effect. The two skirted the corpses and entered the apartment. Inside lay Nagtha-yat and Magtha-jan. The poison arrows that had taken their lives had been pulled out and replaced by wounds that spoke of a more gallant assault. The men who had manned the other observation post lay near them. Slaughtered for silence and dramatic effect, they added to the carnage.

  The prince scarcely noticed them. His eyes were drawn to the two women who lay nearby. One was his mother’s lady’s maid, her head nearly severed. She still clung to a woman who wore the queen’s nightgown and favorite dressing robe as if attempting to shield her. The prince saw his mother’s golden hair. It was soaked with blood. The face below the tresses was smashed beyond recognition. He felt that he should run and embrace the body, but he retched instead.