The Sleeping King

by Cindy Dees

Balthazar stepped close to him. “The rules of the fight are that there are no rules. This is a fight to the death.”

  Will nodded his understanding. He’d expected no less. Still, it was intimidating to hear the words.

  The healer added fervently, “And for stars’ sake, make it good.”

  He could do this. He’d fought Boki before and won. Of course, he’d mostly relied on stealth, surprise, and a hefty dose of luck to beat them. It had been the swords of others who finished off his opponents, though. Did he have it in himself to kill if it came to it? To look another being in the eye and take his life in cold blood?

  Too late to back out, now.

  While a bevy of orcs planted dozens of torches around the top of the pit, Will stepped into the loop in the end of the rope. A single Boki casually lowered him as if he weighed no more than a babe. A ring of avid orcs leaned over the edge, jostling for position to see the fight. It was a miracle none of them fell into the pit with him.

  He spotted Eben and Cicero in the crowd but saw no sign of the girls. That was good. He stood an excellent chance of dying this night, and he did not want Rosana to carry that memory with her forever.

  “Where do I go to resurrect, White Heart?” he asked.

  “Go to the Light. Your spirit will know what to do.”

  He eyed the Boki warrior who’d been chosen to face him. He looked young—if a bumpy-faced, leather-skinned, undershot-jawed orc could look young. He had a collection of scars to be sure but nowhere near as many as the thanes who’d argued over him.

  A young warrior, then. Proven probably, but not their best. Will supposed he should be grateful that they were trying to give him a fighting chance. Either that or this fight was so far beneath their honor that they’d passed the combat down to someone too junior to refuse the fight.

  Will sighed. He could only do his best and hope it was enough. It wasn’t like he could count on Bloodroot to help him, after all. It took him about two heartbeats to realize his best would be little more than a pitiful joke against this warrior. Across the packed-dirt circle, the Boki they’d sent down the rope to face him had pulled out a pair of axes and wielded one in each hand, swinging them as easily as if they were extensions of his arms. Will gulped.

  “Arm self, hoo-man!” someone yelled down from overhead.

  Will gave his staff a nervous swing. It banged clumsily against his boot. A little help, Bloodroot? This is your quest, too.

  But only thunderous silence echoed inside Will’s head.

  I swear, if you abandon me now, I’ll never help you again.

  But as the young Boki stepped forward into the middle of the pit, it appeared that was exactly what Bloodroot intended. Will was on his own.

  He glanced up at the circle of Boki overhead, a massive wall of leathery green writhing in the glare of the torches. Someone started a rhythmic grunting and the others quickly picked it up until the din was deafening.

  Will’s opponent touched his forehead with the crossed axe heads. “Ki’Rig Agar,” the orc announced.

  Will saluted back, touching his forehead briefly with the tip of his staff. “Will Cobb.” He was tempted to give them his father’s name, but he wished to get out of this thing alive and kept the identity of his sire to himself. Nonetheless, he silently dedicated this combat to the memory of his parents. He swept the staff across his body, gripping it in both fists, and assumed a ready position. The Boki did the same.

  They commenced circling each other slowly. The grunting overhead rose to a howl so loud it hurt Will’s ears. Cursing under his breath, he braced for the Boki’s charge. At least he got that part right. The warrior roared and came running, his axes swinging like a windmill gone wild.

  Will threw up his staff and caught a mighty blow on the shaft. He bent beneath the attack and slid to the side, deflecting the worst of the force, turning the parry into a riposte with the tip of the staff in a single movement his father had taught him a lifetime ago with a scythe. It wasn’t as smooth as when Ty did it, but it served well enough. He jabbed the Boki in the ribs, and he fell back to regroup.

  The Boki leaped in on the attack again and the tips of Will’s staff flickered like candles in the wind, barely managing to counter the orc’s rapid swings. His staff work was not fancy, but was sufficient to keep him alive for a few more breaths.

  He jumped forward this time, but the orc was fast. And strong. The middle of Will’s staff and the Boki’s axe handle locked over their heads, and the orc easily pressed Will’s back into an arch that forced him to retreat stumbling. The Boki pounced and Will barely got away, catching himself on the ground with his left hand to keep from falling outright.

  He might be quicker than his opponent, but the orc was definitely stronger. And worse, the Boki seemed to know how to use it to his advantage. Ty would have told Will to look to his footwork and stay well clear of the larger, more powerful opponent. Thing was, in this tiny pit he had nowhere to go. Will dusted off his hand and settled into light balance once more. Come on, Bloodroot. A little help here!

  The Boki gathered himself for a major attack, jaw thrust out, gaze determined. Despite his superior speed and agility, Will wasn’t at all sure he could beat this focused Boki.

  He tried to summon the fury he’d held close in his heart ever since that night in Hickory Hollow, but for some reason it was not coming to him. He leaped away from two more concerted attacks, and the Boki above began to jeer. Whatever. He was not here to put on a good show. He was here to survive. To prove his worthiness to finish his quest. His father’s quest, that was.

  Where was his righteous anger? His grief and fury at the loss of his parents? The burning need for revenge that had sustained him throughout the journey so far? Had even his rage failed him when he needed it most? What had the fates—and his father—been thinking when they chose him for this quest? He could not do it. He was not strong enough, or brave enough, or constant enough to see it through, apparently.

  Frustrated, he fended off his opponent as best he could. But in the end, he didn’t stand a chance. Gradually, his defenses buckled beneath the punishing force of the Boki’s twin-bladed assault.

  The Boki’s axe heads continued to pick up in speed and come ever closer to slicing him in two. A terrible suspicion took root in Will’s gut and gnawed at what little confidence he had that the orc was toying with him.

  Fury rushed through him. Of a sudden he found another level of skill within him. One where he was faster, better balanced, more aware. His staff battered at the orc relentlessly, whacking the orc in a dozen places. Will knew from firsthand experience at his father’s hand that no one blow would defeat the orc, but the sum of the bumps and bruises added up over time.

  He did not mortally wound the Boki; but he did seem at last to give his opponent pause. The jeers from above faded gradually. After a nifty move where Will planted one end of the staff against the wall of the pit as the orc charged, letting his foe drive his own gut hard onto the opposite end of the staff, the jeers fell silent, altogether. Will’s opponent staggered back, grunting in pain and gasping for air.

  A new shout went up—distant, not from the ring of immediate onlookers. In that exact moment, he saw desperation enter the gaze of the orc across from him. Saw the moment of decision. Saw the feint that disguised the leap. Both axes chopped down at his neck, one from either side. Will dropped low, trying to catch both blades on his staff. At the last instant the Boki saw the ploy and reversed direction with his left hand, arcing around to swing low and up beneath Will’s guard.

  It was a suicidal move, for it gave Will the entire left side of the orc’s chest, open and undefended. Lightning-fast, Will yanked his dagger free of his belt. He plunged the blade forward and down with as much strength as his tired arm could muster. Too late, he saw the other axe coming up under his elbow to gut him. He leaped back. But not soon enough.

  He felt nothing. One second his knife was driving hungrily into tough Boki flesh, and the next everything we
nt black.

  CHAPTER

  26

  Raina looked up sharply as a Boki thorn burst past the pair of guards watching them. It looked like the shamanic fellow who’d spoken with Will earlier, but she couldn’t be sure. The orcs looked much the same to her.

  Agitated, the thorn waved at them in what looked like a gesture to come with him. What on Urth was going on?

  Rosana was the first to her feet. Raina was alarmed when the orc took off running, and with a glance of alarm at each other she and Sha’Li took off after the Boki and Rosana. Had Will been injured or killed? Was the thorn summoning the Heart healer to fix him? Guttural roars echoed through the night and her alarm grew. What had the Boki so riled up?

  As they ran toward a circle of torches and a seething mass of bodies ahead the shouting grew louder and she fancied she heard the clanging of weapon blows. Was the duel still going, then? Confused, she hurried onward.

  “What’s happened?” Rosana panted desperately at Raina as she drew even with the gypsy.

  Raina shrugged sympathetically. If it had been Justin who might be wounded or dead right now she’d be out of her mind.

  That was definitely the sound of swords screeching on metal among the orcish screaming. Had some sort of brawl erupted? Was Will all right? What of Cicero and Eben?

  Their orc guide stopped abruptly. Raina craned to see around his bulk. They were at the edge of the encampment and black night yawned away from them into the forest. As her eyes adjusted to the deeper dark of the woods she saw, with shock, that Boki were running every which way. It appeared for all the world like the camp was under attack.

  She spotted a cluster of orcs hoisting a pair of bodies out of some sort of hole in the ground. Both bodies flopped bloody and motionless onto the dirt in unnatural poses that did not belong to the living. Horrible certainty erupted in her gut that Will and his opponent were both dead.

  Screams and groans and clanging metal registered vaguely, but Raina had no attention to spare for those as she raced across the clearing toward Will. Rosana’s hands began to glow. Raina followed suit, summoning her white-hued healing magics as she ran.

  A Boki warrior who looked like some sort of sub-thane grunted a series of what sounded like commands to the cluster of orcs around the two bodies. Most of the Boki followed him away into the woods. One of the remaining Boki, a thorn, leaned down and planted a hand on the dead Boki warrior’s chest, muttering something in orcish as his hand glowed bright white.

  The dead orc lurched, took a great, heaving gasp, and sat up, looking around wildly as Raina, Rosana, and Sha’Li skidded to a stop. The other body was indeed Will, and he did indeed look quite dead.

  Rosana dropped to her knees beside him with a wail of distress. She reached out to heal him, but the thorn grabbed her wrist and shook his head threateningly.

  Balthazar trotted up just then and took in Rosana and the shaman glaring daggers at each other. He spoke quickly. “It is the custom not to heal the dead after honor combat. The fight is to the resurrection.”

  “Then why did they life Will’s opponent?” Rosana snapped, her voice vibrating with fury.

  Balthazar asked something in unintelligible grunts and listened to the grunted reply. “Anton’s forces attack, and they need every able-bodied warrior on the lines. They had no time to wait for Ki’Rig Agar to resurrect.”

  The young Boki, apparently Will’s opponent, interrupted with an angry outburst.

  Balthazar murmured, “Yon warrior is asking much the same. If he lives, his opponent should also live. He’s threatening to kill himself if they don’t let you heal Will.”

  Raina stared at the young Boki in shock. Yet again she was stunned by the depth of the honor in these creatures.

  Balthazar translated the warrior’s angry tirade, “‘Where is the honor in living when this human dies? If I live, so shall he! We fought to a draw. Both live or both die.’”

  The orc raised his axe and held it away from his neck, the blade pointing ominously at his own flesh. He glared around at the orcs still crowding near.

  Raina looked back and forth between the gathered Boki as a short, terse argument ensued. Finally, the orc holding Rosana’s wrist loosed it with a gesture to Will’s corpse.

  Raina laid her hand over Rosana’s. “I know you care for him. But let me do this. In case it takes … extra.”

  The gypsy hesitated for an instant, then nodded reluctantly.

  Raina laid her hand on Will’s chest, called power to her, and murmured the incant to shape life magic. A single thought formed in her head as she released the blast of magic.

  Please let this work.

  * * *

  Will jerked upright, swearing, before he realized he was conscious and before it dawned on him he must have been unconscious. He registered Rosana sitting on her heels nearby as Raina lifted her hands away from him. But then the gypsy flung herself upon him, sobbing, and nearly knocked him over again.

  He hugged her tightly and rasped, “What happened?” A flash of memory came back to him as the words left her mouth. A deadly axe blade coming up under his guard … he looked down at his left side. His shirt was torn and blood and gore adorned its ragged edges. But his flesh was whole.

  “Ki’Rig Agar—” he started. He glanced up in alarm and spotted the young Boki standing not five feet away from him with an axe blade next to his neck. “Are you all right?” he blurted to his foe.

  Balthazar translated his question and the young Boki warrior’s response. “‘Aye. Fine now. Thee?’”

  Will nodded. “Alive. Well fought.”

  As the Boki said something Balthazar rolled his eyes. The White Heart healer translated in disgust, “‘It was a good fight. But not finished. It was a draw. Honor was neither won nor lost. Your spirit is strong and will feed Bloodroot well.’”

  Will blinked. He’d salvaged a draw out of that mess? Not bad for a kid from Hickory Hollow with no real dueling experience. “I will remember your name, Boki.”

  “I know yoo’ name, Willcobb.”

  “Two names. Will. Cobb.” He climbed painfully to his feet. He hated this wobbly, weak feeling. Perhaps Raina could give him a little more magical healing. Okay, a lot more magical healing.

  The Boki warrior yanked at his jerkin and a ripping sound ensued. He held his palm out to Will, and a carved wood emblem lay there.

  “My warr-iuh mark. If no good enuf’ beat choo, me no wea-uhh. You keep fo’ now. One day, I take back.”

  Will snorted. “You can try.”

  The two warriors traded broad grins.

  The young Boki thane warrior thumped Will on the shoulder with a meaty fist, as Balthazar translated, “‘Another day, Will Cobb. We will finish our fight, yes? See who’s the better warrior?’”

  Will grinned and gripped the orc’s forearm while the Boki crushed his in return. “As long as it’s not to the death next time.”

  “Oh, for the love of the Lady,” Balthazar muttered under his breath before translating the orc’s grunted reply. “He says it’s not a fight if it’s not to death.”

  Will should’ve expected no less of a Boki. “Another day, then.”

  To his surprise, the Boki only took time to nod once and then turned and sprinted away from them. “Where’s he going?” Will asked Rosana.

  She turned her tear-streaked face to him and threw herself against his chest again. Startled and pleased, he wrapped his arms around her.

  “Are you really all right?” she murmured.

  “I am now. Right as rain. Perhaps one of you could spare me a little more of your healing energy, though?”

  Rosana reached out for him, but Eben came charging up just then, shouting fit to raise the dead, and she jerked her hands away.

  “We’ve got to go! Run! Hide!”

  Cicero whipped around to face the jann, sword materializing in his hand in an instant. “What’s going on?”

  “Anton. He and his men are attacking in force. They’ve got the c
amp nearly surrounded.”

  “I must go,” Balthazar announced. “Duty calls.” He took off running toward the loudest fighting.

  Cicero swore under his breath and Will heartily echoed the sentiment. “Which way, Eben?” the kindari asked quickly.

  “It’s chaos out there, and none of the Boki will stop to give me directions.”

  Will was dizzy and weak, yet he must do something. But what? He steadied himself against the nearest tree trunk while he tried desperately to get his bearings. He didn’t even bother asking Bloodroot for help. The whoreson had completely abandoned him.

  He noticed the tree trunk beneath his hand was warm to the touch and vibrating slightly. What the— He lifted his palm away just before a green female creature stepped out of the tree directly in front of him. He jumped about a foot straight up in the air.

  “This way,” she ordered in a low, worried tone. She moved off quickly toward the blackest part of the forest. Will and the others looked at one another. Eben and Cicero shrugged while the girls scowled. What better option did they have? At least the dryads seemed to have a vested interest in protecting Will as long as he held Bloodroot’s spirit.

  The party took off running to keep up with the swift-moving dryad. She led them through a hideous thicket and waited impatiently for them while they crashed clumsily through the brambles and tangled vines. Finally, the party disentangled itself and could proceed onward.

  The sounds of battle were distant here. Muted. As Will’s recent bout of death caught up with him and he paused, exhausted, to catch his breath the dryad drew close to speak to him.

  “Listen, Will Cobb, to what I say. Normally, I would be more … circumspect … about this, but time is short and this is important.”

  Since when was any dryad direct about anything? Startled, he straightened from his bent-over, panting posture. “I’m listening.”

  The other members of the party drew near as well, and as a testament to just how urgent the dryad’s message was, she spared not even a glance for Cicero or Eben. “Your quest is urgent, Will Cobb. The Green Court needs you to succeed, but we are bound by the Accord not to interfere in the affairs of humans nor to restrict your freedom of choice. Thus, I cannot offer you direct help. Even my speaking to you may be a violation…”—distress entered her voice—“… but so be it. If I am destroyed, it will be for a worthy cause.”