[Queen of Orcs 03] - Royal Destiny

by Morgan Howell

  A son bowed. “In kitchen, there are cooking oils that could help piles ignite.”

  “Wise thinking,” said Dar. “Use lamp oil, too.”

  Another son bowed. “Cloth could be soaked in those oils. That would make it light quicker.”

  “Hai,” said Dar. “Do that, but save all white cloth. Worn like cloaks, it will make you hard to see in snow.” Dar could tell by the orcs’ faces that many failed to grasp the idea of camouflage. It seemed a foretaste of the difficulties ahead. “Do this thing and trust in my wisdom. Is there anything else that can speed fire’s spread?”

  “Deetpahis are waxed wood,” said a son. “They’ll burn well.”

  “Good suggestion,” said Dar, “but I must consult with lorekeeper first.” She turned to Zna-yat. “You know this hall well. Decide which rooms should be set ablaze and direct sons in assembling piles. I think we’ll be lighting them soon.”

  Dar spoke to her other mintaris. “Assist Zna-yat. Sevren, come with me.” Then she addressed the assembled sons. “Zna-yat will tell you what to do.” She rose to see the lorekeeper. “Remember, Zna, washavokis should find nothing they can use. Keep me informed. I’ll return here soon.” As Zna-yat bowed, Dar hurried out of the room with Sevren at her heels.

  “Have you been following what I’ve said?” asked Dar in the human tongue.

  “I understand Orcish better than I speak it,” replied Sevren. “Having your fighters wear white capes was a clever idea.”

  “Which a lot of them don’t grasp,” said Dar. “Murdant Teeg was right. Orcs lack guile.”

  “Their queen doesn’t.”

  “So talk to me about tactics,” said Dar as she walked. “What will Kol do first?”

  “That depends on what he wants. If it’s just plunder, he’ll camp and wait for dawn to attack. If it’s slaughter, he’ll surround the hall right away to cut off any escape.”

  “Othar’s his master,” said Dar. “I’m certain he’ll want slaughter.”

  “Then get your folk out quick and have them hide their tracks as best they can.”

  “There are ways out from this hall other than the road,” said Dar. “If Kol thinks we’re in here, he won’t go hunting for us.”

  “But as soon as you torch this place, he’ll know you’ve fled.”

  “I’ll wait until the last possible moment.”

  “We could end up trapped in a burning building.”

  “That’s not your problem,” said Dar. “You’re going with Nir-yat. Those sons with her must learn how to fight.”

  “They won’t listen to me.”

  “They’ll listen to her.”

  “What if I can’t explain things properly?”

  “Kovok-mah will help you.”

  “You’re sending both of us away, and staying in the hall?”

  “Only until it’s on fire.”

  “But…”

  They reached the entrance to the lorechamber. “We’ll finish talking after I speak to the lorekeeper.”

  Forty-four

  As Dar expected, Yev-yat was in the lorechamber, not her muthuri’s hanmuthi. She was crying as she sorted the stacks of deetpahis. Dar understood her grief, and her voice was gentle when she called the lorekeeper’s name. Yev-yat started, then bowed. “Muth Mauk, you told us to gather tools. These are mine.”

  “And how many can you carry?”

  Yev-yat’s face seemed to crumble with despair. Her mouth trembled, but she was unable to reply. Dar embraced her, and for a while, she simply held the shaking mother. Then she spoke. “I’ll have everyone take one deetpahi with them when they depart.”

  “Two, Muth Mauk. Please, two. They’re not heavy, and there’s so much wisdom here.”

  Dar smiled. “Two, then. You must hurry and select them. We depart soon.”

  Yev-yat went over to a table. “I have your two already.” She handed Dar an ancient deetpahi, its wax dark with age. “This is Deetpahi of Morah-pah. It foretold this hall’s destruction.” She grabbed another wooden slat. “This speaks of Taren-hak.”

  “That name is new to me.”

  “To me also,” said Yev-yat. “I read it only few days ago. Since then, I’ve saved it for your return.”

  “Why?”

  “Taren-hak was reborn mother, like yourself. She was blessed to urkzimmuthi son. Afterward, she had three daughters.”

  Dar stood stunned, oblivious of everything except Yev-yat’s news. “So I could bear children?”

  “Hai, it seems so.”

  Dar hugged the lorekeeper. “Shashav, Yev-yat.” Then her face turned grave. “Choose those deetpahis to be saved. I’ll send sons to distribute them. What remains will burn. I’m sorry, Yev-yat. Fate’s often hard.”

  Yev-yat smiled sadly as she bowed. “How could I be lorekeeper and not know that?”

  Dar wondered only briefly if Sevren understood the significance of the lorekeeper’s news. Then her thoughts turned back to tactics. “Tell me how to fight Kol’s army,” she said as they strode through the hallways.

  “Never attack Kol head-on,” said Sevren. “He has too many men. Pick little fights. Win them and retreat quickly.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “He’ll send out men to gather fuel and scouts to reconnoiter. Make sure they don’t return.”

  “How?”

  “Hide and lie in wait for them.”

  “What about the rest of the army?”

  “Surprise them at night when darkness gives you the advantage. Kol’s men will have to spread out. Attack isolated units. Avoid any fight where the odds don’t favor you. When they do, hit fast and disappear. Remember, ten orcs can beat ten men.”

  “What if Kol starts moving?”

  “Send word to the other clans and begin gathering an army. These same tactics work on a larger scale. Plan ambushes.”

  “Such tactics run counter to the way orcs fight,” said Dar.

  “If you command them, they’ll obey.”

  “I want you to explain these tactics to Nir-yat. She’ll have difficulty grasping them, but if you’re persistent, she will.”

  Sevren looked at Dar suspiciously. “This sounds like you’re grooming your successor. Do you na plan to leave this hall alive?”

  “I must,” said Dar. “I possess Fathma.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s too complicated to explain now. Just know that I must survive in order to pass on the crown.”

  “Then why lag behind?”

  “If I’m meant to live, I will.”

  As Dar headed for the Great Chamber, she sensed the emotions pervading the hall. She had seldom heard orcs weep, but many did as they discarded almost everything but the clothes on their backs. How many treasured heirlooms will burn tonight? As muthuris urged their children to hurry, Dar heard some voices raised in anger and others taut with fear. Sons and mothers were rushing through the hallways, bearing all sorts of burdens. Some looked purposeful. Others appeared bewildered. Courtesy was forgotten as orcs stopped Dar to ask what would happen. She always gave the same reply: “We’ll flee to safety. We’ll live.” She hoped it was true.

  When Dar reached the Great Chamber, she discovered a pile of combustibles. Smashed furniture, sleeping mats, and clothing formed a chest-high mound. A son was breaking apart an exquisitely carved chest and tossing its pieces on the pile. Dar gazed out a window at the nearest hilltop, but no signal fire blazed on its summit. As she watched, the swirling snow briefly made the hill fade into ghostly whiteness. Then the summit was visible again. How will the Tok clan reach the pass in this weather? She hoped the storm that hindered climbers would also slow Kol’s advance and hide the tracks of his intended victims. The sooner they flee, the better their trail will be hidden.

  Zna-yat entered. “Muth Mauk, did you speak with lorekeeper?”

  “Hai,” said Dar. “Everyone will carry two deetpahis. Send sons to lorechamber so they can distribute them. Remaining deetpahis will go into fire piles. When
will those piles be ready?”

  “They could be lit now, but there’s still much to go into them. We won’t be completely done until dusk.”

  “Then let’s hope washavokis don’t arrive before then.”

  Zna-yat hurried off to carry out Dar’s instructions. While Dar waited for his return, Tauma-yat’s sons entered the chamber, still dressed in their snow-caked cloaks. The two looked worried. Dar blessed them and asked what they had learned. At first, their observations were unsurprising. Kol’s army was already on the march when the brothers encountered it. They had hidden to watch it pass. The washavokis traveled on foot, except for a few that rode horses. Dar assumed the mounted men were officers. One of the washavokis on horseback was so small that the brothers thought he might be a youngling. Girta’s son? wondered Dar.

  Tauma-yat’s sons had tried to count the soldiers and thought there were more than two thousand invaders. “When do you think they’ll reach here?” Dar asked.

  “Before evening,” said the younger brother.

  “So soon?” said Dar. “I had hoped this storm would slow them.”

  “They marched more quickly than I expected,” said the elder brother. “I fought for Great Washavoki once, and his soldiers never marched quickly. But then, they weren’t fleeing.”

  “Fleeing?” said Dar. “What do you mean.”

  “Washavokis were fleeing black robes like sheep that see prowling wolf.”

  “Black robes? I don’t understand. Who were they?”

  “They looked like washavokis, but they didn’t act like them.”

  “Hai,” agreed his brother. “They moved strangely, as if their bodies had no feeling. They carried two poles that held large black box.”

  A litter! thought Dar. She glanced at Sevren, and his face mirrored her alarm. “Othar?”

  “Did black robes walk like have no spirit?” asked Sevren.

  “Only those who are dead lack spirits,” replied the elder brother.

  “In box is maybe Black Washavoki,” said Sevren. “It take spirits. Make washavokis say yes, even if kill them.”

  “Those black-garbed ones seemed heedless of their persons,” replied the orc. “Perhaps their wills had been subjugated.”

  Dar saw that Sevren didn’t understand the reply. “He said they seemed possessed,” she said in the human tongue.

  “It has to be Othar,” replied Sevren in the same language. “His presence changes everything. Torch this place and flee with the mothers.”

  “If the army finds a burnt hall, it’ll start hunting us immediately.”

  “They’ll start soon enough anyway. Get out of here quick!”

  “No, Sevren. I won’t trade my subjects’ safety for my own.”

  Sevren sighed and bowed his head. Dar turned to the two bewildered orcs and spoke in their tongue. “Sevren fears for my safety. I told him these are dangerous times.” She made the sign of the Tree. “Muth la will protect us. Join your muthuri. Protect her and other mothers. You have pleased me.”

  Zna-yat returned a short while after the two brothers departed, and Dar told him what she had learned. Like Sevren, Zna-yat urged Dar to leave with the fleeing mothers. Again, Dar wouldn’t think of it. Nir-yat arrived a while later. “Muth Mauk, families are ready to depart.”

  “Good,” said Dar. “Are they carrying as much food as possible?”

  “Hai. And each has received their deetpahis.”

  Dar turned to Zna-yat. “All remaining food must be destroyed. That’s critical.”

  “Not one root will remain for washavokis,” said Zna-yat.

  “Good,” said Dar. “Sister, families shouldn’t use road. Instead, lead them down north slope of mountain using pathways between terraces. Try to cover your tracks as we did when we fled Taiben.”

  Nir-yat bowed. “Would you bless each family before they depart? It would bolster their spirits.”

  “Of course.”

  “And Sister, I’ll lead this retreat if you command it, but…” Nir-yat hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. “…I think there is wisdom in another course.”

  “What course?”

  “Our clan’s matriarch…”

  “Muth-yat opposed me!”

  “Hai, but she knelt eventually. If you ask her to lead, it would restore her honor. That would put her in your debt.”

  “So I must humble myself and ask for her help?”

  “That deed won’t demean you,” replied Nir-yat. “It’s said that only big chests have room for forgiveness.”

  Dar made a wry face. “It’s also said that Wise and Easy seldom walk together.” She sighed. “Let’s go see Muth-yat. I suppose I should see Muthuri also.”

  Muth-yat stood in the middle of her hanmuthi beside a pile of its possessions. Her expression was so desolate, Dar’s feelings softened. “May Muth la bless you, Muth-yat, and all your hanmuthi.”

  “Shashav, Muth Mauk,” said Muth-yat, her voice cold and formal.

  “These are hard times,” said Dar. “And hard words have passed between us. Yet I know you’re devoted to our clan. So am I. If we’ve disagreed, it hasn’t been because of that.”

  Muth-yat nodded.

  “Our clan needs you, Matriarch. Will you lead them to safety?”

  “I thought you wished to supplant me with Nir-yat.”

  “Nir-yat accompanied me to Taiben and saw what Black Washavoki has wrought. She understands our peril. Since I must linger in this hall while others escape, I turned to Nir-yat to guide our clan to safety. In her wisdom, she now turns to you.”

  “Matriarch,” said Nir-yat. “If you lead our flight, it will reassure everyone. Will you do it? We need you.”

  Some of the despair left Muth-yat’s face. She straightened. “I won’t forsake my clan.”

  “Shashav, Muth-yat,” said Dar. “It’s time to leave. Come with me as I give blessings. Nir-yat will tell you about route I’ve chosen.”

  Muth-yat bowed. “Hai, Muth Mauk.” She turned to her family. “Come. Let’s discover what fate Muth la has decreed for us.”

  The hanmuthi they entered next was Zor-yat’s. Dar was unprepared for the nostalgia she felt when she gazed about the room. Soon this will be a blackened ruin, she thought with a pang of loss. Memories welled up: The night of her welcoming feast. The celebration of her rebirth. Her camaraderie with her sisters. I experienced so much joy here.

  Zor-yat seemed surprised to see Muth-yat by Dar and Nir-yat’s side. She seemed even more surprised when Dar embraced her after bestowing her blessing. “I love you, Muthuri,” she said. Then Dar switched to the human tongue, in which Zor-yat was fluent. “I know you can think like washavokis, because you’ve lied to me in the past. You grasp the uses of deception. Use that ability to help Nir-yat understand our foes.”

  “You want my help?” asked Zor-yat in Orcish.

  Dar suspected Zor-yat switched languages so everyone would understand Dar’s reply. “Hai,” she said. “It’s Muth la’s will.” Then she switched back to human speech. “I’m queen because of you. My rebirth and my first journey to Taiben were your doing. This hall’s destruction was foretold, and you played a part in it. Now help our clan survive.”

  Again, Zor-yat replied in Orcish. “I’d be honored to aid you and Nir-yat. How can I help?”

  Dar responded in Orcish. “Help mothers hide from washavokis. Also, Sevren knows ways to defeat soldiers. Help sons understand his plans.”

  Zor-yat regarded Dar thoughtfully, then bowed very low. “Please forgive me, Daughter. I spoke foolishly in Great Chamber.”

  “Pain and sorrow caused you to speak that way,” replied Dar. “I know you love me.”

  Zor-yat bowed again. “I do, Daughter.”

  Dar didn’t know if Zor-yat was sincere. However, a reconciliation would unite the clan, and unity would help it to survive. As Zor-yat’s family left their hanmuthi, Dar hurried off to bless the next family and send them on their way.

  The hall spilled warm bodies into the storm. Moth
ers, children, and sons snaked down the snow-covered terraces. Their burdens were heavy and the way was slippery, steep, and narrow. The mothers were abandoning the only home they knew, the place they had expected to spend their lives. That frightened them almost as much as the hardships ahead and the threat of a brutal death. Dar watched Nir-yat depart with the last orc family. Girta and Kovok-mah accompanied her sister, along with Sevren, who led Skymere down the steep path. Nir-yat directed the sons trying to smooth the trampled snow using brooms made of bundled reeds. Dar hoped the storm would improve upon their efforts.

  Soon, the fleeing figures disappeared into the swirling snow. Dar stood alone, staring at the empty whiteness. Then duty called, and she headed into the hall to wait for General Kol’s army.

  Forty-five

  Zna-yat was in the Great Chamber when Dar arrived. He was staring so intently at the nearest hilltop that, for a terrifying moment, Dar though he was gazing at a signal fire. When he didn’t turn at the sound of her footsteps, she concluded he was not. “Families have departed,” she said.

  “I wish you had departed with them, Sister.”

  Dar changed the subject. “How is work proceeding?”

  “Well. All food is on piles for burning. So are deetpahis.”

  “Have sons smash all windows and throw their wooden frames on piles,” said Dar. “Windows in Welcoming Chamber have best view of valley. We should go there to wait for washavokis.”

  Zna-yat bowed. “This will be done, Muth Mauk.”

  Dar went to her hanmuthi to put on her warmest clothes, then headed for the Welcoming Chamber. It was a large room that lay to one side of the hall’s main entrance and featured three huge windows. Dar recalled her sisters waving from them the first time she departed for Taiben. By the time she arrived at the chamber, its windows already had been shattered. Shards of sand ice littered the floor and the smashed sashes lay atop a pile of other combustibles. Snow blew in through the empty windows. Dar clutched her cloak against the wind and peered out at the valley. It’ll be dusk soon, she thought. Perhaps Kol will camp on the road and arrive tomorrow. Despite that hope, Dar watched nervously for the sentries’ signal fire.