by Megg Jensen
The buck's eyes met Maysant's. Its mouth dropped open, and a weak baa fell from its lips.
The poor thing was in pain. Why would any human do this to an elderly buck? Maysant grabbed an arrow, nocked it, and let it fly to the buck's heart. It went limp, its eyes closing.
The man stopped and turned around. One eye drooped, as well as the side of his mouth. A small, glistening river of drool dripped from his lips.
Maysant stumbled backward, but it was too late. He had already seen her.
He let the buck fall to the ground. His massive bulk broke branches as he stalked toward her.
Maysant trembled with fear. She'd never spoken directly with a human before. Her mother had allowed her to live in the Tingale Forest under one condition: she must stay away from both humans and orcs. So far she'd been successful. Both races seemed to prefer the comfort of their cities. Few traversed the deep forest, and those who did were so clumsy that Maysant had always been able to hide in the trees before they stumbled upon her.
The man mumbled something Maysant couldn't understand. She spoke both human and orc. This man's speech was incomprehensible.
Her heart pounded wildly, fear spreading through her body. She could take her bow and shoot him, but he hadn't proven himself a danger to her. She could take no life except for food or in self-defense. Her heart told her to stay her hand while her head screamed at her to defend herself.
But from what?
A man who was clearly in distress of some kind? She'd seen humans on her home continent of Gailwyn. Humans who had their wits about them. This man had problems. Until she knew what they were, Maysant wouldn't hurt him.
She scrambled to a nearby tree, leaping onto the first branch. He shuffled closer, his long legs carrying him farther than her short ones. Maysant climbed up three more branches, sure she was out of his reach.
The man stopped under the tree and looked up at her with curious eyes.
"Ghrol."
Now that he was closer, she could make out the word. Ghrol. He said it over and over again. What did it mean? She searched her memory, trying to think of a human word that came close.
"Ghrol." The man tapped himself on the chest.
"Ghrol?" Maysant said in the human tongue. "Is that your name?"
Ghrol nodded, a smile curling up at the corner of his mouth.
"Maysant." Her hand fluttered over her chest.
"Msent," Ghrol said.
"Yes, Maysant." She wasn't sure what else to say to him. Though he didn't seem aggressive, she still wasn't sure what his intentions were.
"Ghrol eat." He pointed back toward the dead deer. "Msent eat?"
Maysant swallowed. She was hungry, and she had been hunting the deer for her dinner. Her mouth watered as she thought of venison cooked over a fire. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to eat with Ghrol if he was willing to share.
Maysant shimmied down the tree. She smiled up at Ghrol, who stood a head taller than she. Her mother would never know if she ate one meal with a human. What could it hurt? "Thank you, Ghrol."
Ghrol smiled, motioning her to follow him back to the deer.
Maysant ran behind him, struggling to keep up with his long strides. She slipped her bow into the sheath on her back as her heartbeat went back to normal. This man didn't mean her any harm. He appeared to be alone, possibly shunned by his own people for his strangeness.
That was something Maysant understood. She, too, didn't fit in back home in Gailwyn. She was small for an elf. Most were imposingly tall and graceful. Maysant was short and clumsy. It was only when she had a bow in her hands that she seemed to show some measure of grace.
When they arrived at the clearing where Ghrol had left the deer, Maysant gathered an armful of twigs and set about making a cooking fire.
Ghrol leaned over and with one crank of his hand ripped a leg clean off the deer's trunk. Blood spurted out in all directions, spraying Maysant's clothes.
"Oh!" She stood up, her hands flailing. Her first instinct was to wipe it off, but her fingers, too, were covered in sticky blood. "Ghrol, no!"
Ghrol looked at her, confused, then sank his teeth into the deer's bloody haunch.
Maysant recoiled. Humans ate their meat cooked. Raw meat wreaked havoc on the bowels. Everyone knew that! "Put that down!" she ordered.
Ghrol took another bite, chewing with his mouth open.
Maysant wrapped her arms around her stomach. This was disgusting, not at all what she'd had in mind when she'd agreed to share with him.
"Msent?" Ghrol held out the mutilated leg to her.
Maysant shook her head. Her appetite was gone. Utterly destroyed. This was not how you honored a life you had taken. This was desecration.
Ghrol dropped the leg, his eyes widening, his pupils turning a strange red. Eyebrows furrowed, Ghrol stood and took two steps toward Maysant.
She trembled. Maysant's mother had warned her never to trust a human. She had thought her old-fashioned and overprotective. It seemed her mother had been right after all.
Ghrol reached toward her, massive fingers curling as he swiped.
Maysant jumped to the side, grateful she made such a small target for the brute. Unfortunately, she landed badly, falling gracelessly onto the hard ground.
Ghrol's lips parted, revealing large square teeth. The drool flowed again, dripping onto his chest.
Maysant wanted to scream, but her throat was too dry. Instead, the sound echoed in her mind as she closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. She hoped he killed her quickly, unlike what he'd done to the deer.
As she held her breath, Maysant felt a strange whoosh of air over her head.
She opened her eyes again. Ghrol was no longer in front of her. Instead, he was behind her, screaming.
Maysant scrambled to her feet, grabbing the bow out of its sheath. She nocked an arrow and let it fly toward the large, black panther in Ghrol's hands. The arrow hit true, landing in the panther's heart.
It took one last stuttering breath, then went limp in Ghrol's grasp.
He turned toward Maysant, holding the panther toward her. "Msent eat?"
Her legs shaking, Maysant smiled stupidly. "Yes, Ghrol and Maysant eat."
She sat on a fallen log, wondering what she'd gotten herself into.
Chapter 27
Damor smirked as his palanquin crossed the border into orc territory. Brax had kept up his end of the bargain, leading an effective strike on the ground. But if Damor hadn't eliminated the orcs' mage, they might have been decimated. He wondered if they knew how lucky they were to have him. Probably not, the ungrateful wretches.
"Stop! I need to speak with the mage!" Queen Lissa's voice drifted to Damor. The orcs carefully set the palanquin down. Since the orcs' defeat, his two slaves had been more compliant. Maybe they finally realized there was no escape.
The curtains to his palanquin fell open as the queen climbed in. She sat facing him, her blond curls cascading over her shoulders and down her body until they rested gently on the pillows underneath her.
Damor, expecting a smile from his queen, was surprised to see a pout and furrowed brow instead. "What is it, my queen?"
"I brought you along on this campaign, Damor, because you promised you could help me win against the orcs. Instead, you hid in here like a frightened baby bunny. It's pathetic."
"But, my queen, we did win."
"Thanks to Brax!" She folded her arms, propping her ample breasts up on them.
Damor struggled to keep his eyes on her face. "I was working from the shadow world. I found a mage in the orc's army and destroyed her, making way for our victory today. Didn't Brax tell you?"
The queen bit her cherry lower lip. "No. So you did do something to help?"
"Of course. I live only to serve you." Damor bent at the waist, bowing to her. She was the only person he would ever lower himself to.
"Good. I expect more from you, though. Something flashy. Something people can appreciate. You know”—she leaned in closer, allowing
him a peek down her dress—"many of our people distrust you. They think you should be left behind, at best, burned at worst."
"I will do my best, my queen." Damor closed his eyes, resisting another glance. She was his queen, and he would never have her. Not in that way.
"Thank you." She sat up again, adjusting the top of her dress as if she'd realized she'd shown him more than she meant to. "Now, have you seen ahead? Do you know what waits for us in the great city of Agitar?"
Damor dipped his head. "I have spent some time casting a net toward Agitar. The city is in chaos. The king has abdicated his throne. Orcs are gathering to fight, but there is something I know that they do not."
The queen raised one eyebrow. "And what is that?"
"Someone has already taken the throne in secret."
The queen's lips formed another pout. "How dare they? I want to enslave the orcs for what they did to my father."
"An elf."
"An elf?" Queen Lissa asked, incredulous. "I thought they spent all of their time avoiding Doros, except to visit the Library of Filamir. They think they're above us."
"I do not know, but one has taken the throne and the orc queen."
"No!" The queen punched the pillows. "I wanted to take the orc queen for myself. I've never been with an orc before. I have always wondered what they do with those tusks..."
"My queen," Damor said, feeling like he was losing his grip on the conversation, "we must act quickly. If we can storm the throne before the orcs retaliate, we may have a chance."
"And tell me," Lissa said, "is there an elf army coming?"
Damor hesitated. He had tried to see across the Orianna Sea, but his vision hadn't been strong enough. His magic was still depleted from sending Sally to kill the other mage. He'd regained much of his strength, but not all of it.
"Damor?" the queen asked, impatient.
"No. They are not coming. This appears to be the work of one rogue elf." The lie slipped easily off his tongue, though this was the first time he'd ever lied to his beloved queen. He felt strange, almost ashamed. Still, it was best she believed he knew all. If she was disappointed with him, she might send him home in disgrace.
Damor was more useful to his queen here. Once she took the orc throne, she would need his counsel and protection. The army was her muscle, yes, but he was the shield protecting her from all harm.
"Good. Then our next step will be to subdue the orc clans, march on Agitar, and teach them a very harsh lesson." Queen Lissa rubbed her hands together with glee. "My father preached tolerance toward the orcs, but look where that got him. I will not be so gullible. I will avenge him."
Without another word, the queen climbed out of the palanquin, leaving Damor in the darkness again. He rested his eyes, grateful she had taken the light with her. His headaches were frequent lately, and the light triggered them more quickly than anything else. He couldn't cast spells while wracked with pain.
Damor cast his mind out to the west again, toward the land where the elves lived. He'd met a few in his lifetime. As a young man, he had studied in the Library of Filamir. It was a haven for intellectuals of all sorts, where they could mingle without fear of judgment. Humans, elves, and orcs, among many other lesser races, could speak on matters of the mind. Arms weren't allowed in the library. They were collected at the door and returned upon leaving.
Damor spent a year at the there as an apprentice mage in residence. There he had attempted arcane spell casting. He had succeeded eventually, though he only informed others of his failures. He had to keep the true scope of his powers hidden from jealous mages. His small size had left him open to teasing from the others. He had vowed one day to show them all exactly how powerful he was.
That day was coming. He would rule beside his queen as the most powerful mage on the continent of Doros. Everyone would know his name. They would fear him. They would lust after his knowledge.
The queen's victory would be as much his as hers, though he would never say so in her presence. He knew better than to let her know how high his ambitions soared. She preferred to believe everything was her idea, her success. He would never take that away from her.
Damor sighed as he let his mind return to the palanquin. Again, he was unable to cross the Orianna Sea to spy on the elves. It was almost as if they had blocked him... but that wasn't possible. It would take an entire army of mages to cover the Orianna with a spell strong enough to stop him.
No, he needed to wait, to build up his strength again.
The palanquin jerked as the orcs picked it up and began walking again. Damor chuckled to himself. It would be a thing of beauty to march around Agitar with his two sweet slaves bending to his will in front of their own kind.
As he laughed, Damor summoned clouds. They rolled over the sun, casting a huge shadow across the army. Damor opened the curtains on his palanquin a bit, enjoying the fresh air. He wasn't at his strongest, but a small spell like that allowed him some time to enjoy the outdoors like everyone else.
And it was important they all know Damor was just like them. Not a freak they wanted to get rid of, but a trusted ally in the war they all so desperately wanted to win.
Chapter 28
Brax settled into his saddle, the trot lulling him into the first peaceful moment he'd had since leaving Soleth. Except he couldn't fully relax. Ghrol had been missing for days. His brother had fled during the damned mage's storm. Ghrol had always been afraid of thunder and lightning, ever since he was a little boy.
On the nights it stormed, Brax would descend into Ghrol's cellar under his cottage and comfort his brother until the storm passed. Now his brother was out there, somewhere, lost and alone. There was nothing Brax could do about it unless he left the army. Even if he managed to find Ghrol, he could never return home. Queen Lissa would have his head for desertion.
So with a heavy heart, he remained in her service, hoping against all hope his brother would reappear soon.
Brax scanned the edge of the forest, looking for any sign of his brother's presence. So far, nothing indicated Ghrol was out there. The scouts hadn't reported anything unusual either, though, of course, they were primarily watching for orc reinforcements.
After the massacre, the orc watchtower had released seven ravens with messages tied to their ankles, all flying in different directions before Brax's troops could dispose of them. Now twenty of Brax’s soldiers controlled the watchtower. Unfortunately, they had lost the advantage of surprise. The orcs would know what happened at the pass, and next time Brax felt the humans wouldn't be so lucky.
And luck it was. If the orcs hadn't been so overconfident, marching right into their trap, the humans would have been slaughtered. Instead, Brax's plan had worked perfectly.
No thanks to Damor.
The mage had promised to show his strength at the battle, but instead he'd hidden in his palanquin behind his orc guards. Brax didn't like the mage at all. In fact, he wondered if Damor's frailty was an act. Maybe the man was working with the damned orcs. If that was true, maybe that's why they'd won so easily at the pass.
Orcs were notoriously strong fighters, but those they'd faced at the pass fought like untrained children. Either they'd had the wrong impression of orcs all along, or someone was trying to trick them. Perhaps they were marching into a trap themselves.
Brax's gaze turned back to Damor's palanquin. The orcs carrying it strode next to the queen's guard. Damor was Lissa's beloved pet, trailing her everywhere she went. Brax couldn't understand why she kept the mage around. He promised much and delivered nothing.
"Sir?" Jedd asked as he pulled his horse alongside Brax's.
"Yes?" Brax immediately withdrew from his own thoughts.
"We are approaching an orc town. It's beyond that ridge." Jedd pointed to the west.
Brax squinted into the sun setting over the grassy plateau. It was hard to believe that just beyond was another set of enemies.
"We camp here." Brax pulled on the reins. "Send a messenger to the queen."
"Yes, sir!" Jedd turned his horse around, waving someone to attend him. He spoke to the young girl, who took off, riding like the wind toward the queen.
Brax dismounted, his feet hitting the ground hard. He'd survived one battle, and already he was exhausted, tired of a war he wasn't sure he believed in. Tomorrow he'd be back at it again, fighting for his queen to take a throne that wasn't hers. Doing exactly the opposite of what her father would have wanted.
Brax had spoken with Hugh only once. He'd been a deeply spiritual man, loving all living beings—orcs included. Hugh and Brax had seen the same deep-seated anger in their fellow humans. Both strove for a better world. That was why Hugh left to live in Agitar. He believed in learning more about the orcs, hoping to prove to his fellow humans there was nothing to fear.
Hugh had died for his cause. Now Brax was avenging his death. It made him sick. How could the queen have grown up with such a great man and yet become such a warmonger?
With the entire army, Brax pitched camp. Jedd reminded him to move inward, letting the other soldiers form a ring around the queen. Brax's own tent stood guard at the edge of the inner circle. It was similar to the formation they'd used while attacking the orcs. Circles seemed to serve them well.
Cook fires were started, then doused as soon as the day's final meal was prepared. They weren't far from the orc town of Gunder, but still, they didn't need to announce their exact location in the dark. One more night's sleep and they'd be at it again. Back to the fighting. The death.
Brax swallowed hard. He had little stomach for aggression. Still, he loved his people. No one else was prepared to lead them. Jedd was smart, but he was young. After the war, perhaps he could take over from Brax.
Assuming anyone survived.
Brax tucked into his bedroll, but he remained awake long after the others in nearby tents had begun their snoring.
