by Megg Jensen
"There is more," she said. "Tell me about the Wrus."
Vron swallowed hard. That was where the children's story ended. When an orc was initiated into adulthood, they were told the remainder of the story. It was a truth that was hard to reconcile, but when they'd spent their whole life believing in the beauty of Drothu, they eventually learned to accept it.
Vron took a deep breath. "Drothu was the last leader of the Wrus, a race we only know of through stories handed down from generation to generation. He descended into The Nether with the others like him, but he continued to observe our behavior. Drothu was not pleased. Too many still feared the pain of death and the uncertainty of what lay beyond. So Drothu burrowed into the ground under Agitar, taking up residence. Drothu promised one day he would return, at a time when other gods threatened his lands. He would take control of all living beings, scorching them with fire, returning them all to dust."
"What about the catalyst?" Alyna asked him pointedly. "What will cause the god to return?"
"When the god is summoned with the ancient words, the great war commences." Vron glared at her. "But no orc knows those words!”
Alyna's eyes were finally dry, and they'd taken on the fire he'd come to love over the years. "What if it wasn't an orc?"
"I don't understand. This is our religion. None other's."
Alyna smashed her fist into the soft chair arm. "Does your god exist?"
"Of course!" It was a foolish question.
"Then he exists for all, even if they don't believe in him. Correct?" Alyna asked.
Vron paused. He hadn't considered that before. Drothu belonged to the orcs. The humans worshiped their own god. As far as he knew, the elves worshiped only themselves. His god was a story, it gave orc lives meaning. But to consider Drothu as something that existed for all—he didn't have the answer.
"Does Drothu exist under our feet?" Alyna asked pointedly. "Is it possible something has happened to stir him from his slumber? Could he be awakening now?"
Vron knew the end would come someday, but he never once considered he'd be alive for it. What if Alyna was right?
"How did Hugh die?" Alyna asked, her voice soft.
"He was murdered. Someone probably got sick of his presence."
"Why?"
Vron had no response. He wasn't there when it happened.
"What if Hugh did this? It all began after his death."
"He wouldn't have done that. He was a religious man. He didn't believe in war."
"Perhaps."
Vron stood, his chair skidding backward. "What are you saying? That a human woke Drothu and started the end of times?"
"It's what Kazrack believes. It's why he's here. There have been signs in Gailwyn. Things he couldn't ignore. He thinks if all three of our races unite, we may have a chance at stopping Drothu." Alyna grabbed Vron's hands, pulling him toward her.
He knelt on one knee next to her chair. "If this is true, then you're asking the orcs to rise up against Drothu. To fight against the thing we hold most sacred."
"If that thing is about to kill you and every other orc in Doros, would you fight, or would you let it happen?" Alyna asked. "To humans and elves, Drothu isn't a real god. He is an orc religious construct. Is it possible you've been worshipping a flesh-and-blood creature who's been waiting for a chance to kill you all this time?"
Vron squeezed Alyna's hand. "You're asking every orc to reject their most deeply held beliefs."
"I'm asking the orcs to be open-minded enough to fight, if it should come to that." Alyna cupped Vron's chin with her hand. "That is why Kazrack holds your people under his spell. He needs the humans to come and join with him, to convince you to fight Drothu."
"The humans know?" Vron asked.
"No," Alyna said. "You don't have to worry about being the last to know. But they will find out soon enough. Kazrack plans to ask their queen to unite with him to fight against Drothu."
"And what of the orcs?" Vron knew his people wouldn't be easily convinced. They abhorred the elves as much as they did humans. Listening to Kazrack, much less joining with him in a fight against their own god, would be difficult.
"We have to make them understand."
Vron bowed his head. "You really believe Kazrack?"
"I do."
"Then I will stand beside you when the time comes to tell the orcs." Vron stood, turning his back to Alyna. He knew it would be nearly impossible to convince his fellow orcs of this truth. But he would have to try. If it meant the difference between life and death, not just of himself, but of his entire civilization, he had no choice.
Chapter 42
Maysant peered down through the trees. Ghrol helped Benin sit up near the fire. Together, the two partook of porridge to break their fast. Maysant was happy they were getting along, but she worried about their food supplies. She'd brought enough to feed herself for the time she had planned to spend alone in the forest. Now there were two more mouths to feed. Soon the porridge would be gone. She and Ghrol continued to hunt, but the weather was turning cooler with the shorter days. The berries they collected would freeze on the branch. Food would be scarce.
It would also mean it was time for Maysant to go home. She'd promised her mother she'd meet at the Library of Filamir before the start of winter.
But what would become of Ghrol and Benin? Neither could survive on his own. She wasn't sure they could survive together without her to guide the way. Ghrol was simple. Benin wasn't able of body. They had no food of their own. She needed hers to complete her journey to the library.
Maysant climbed down from the tree. She crept quietly through the undergrowth to the clearing with the small fire. Though the human army had pulled out a couple of days ago, she'd been afraid to build a large fire for fear of attracting unwanted attention.
Both Maysant and Benin were both relieved at the army's departure. Ghrol had shown some agitation, though. However, Maysant had no idea what, or who, he wanted. He repeated, "Bder," but Maysant had been unable to decipher the mystery word. Maysant thought he'd cried himself to sleep, yet this morning he appeared to be in good spirits.
"Good morning, Maysant," Benin said, his voice unusually pleasant.
"Hello, Benin." Maysant waved at Benin. Then she leaned over, giving Ghrol a tiny peck on the cheek. The large man smiled back at her. "I have something I need to discuss with the two of you."
Ghrol looked at her curiously. Benin only glanced at her as he shoveled another bite of porridge between his thin lips.
"I don't want to leave either of you, but I promised my mother I'd meet her at the Library of Filamir. If I don't show up, you can guarantee the entire elf army will be scouring Doros." It wasn't an exaggeration, either. Her mother often overreacted to the silliest things.
Benin raised an eyebrow. "Your mother has that much power in the elven empire?"
Maysant bit her lip. She hadn't told anyone. Well, Ghrol and Benin were the only people she'd spoken to since coming on this trip. She hadn't had a chance to hide her parentage from anyone. She'd promised her mother never to tell. It was part of their bargain.
"Who are you?" Benin asked.
"No one." Maysant laughed nervously.
"I can't believe that," Benin said. "You obviously have money to outfit yourself properly for this indulgent trip into the forest. Yet your hands are soft as a newborn's."
Maysant sat on her hands. This man was more observant than she'd realized.
Benin cocked his head to the side. "You're part of the elven royal family, aren't you?"
"No," Maysant answered quickly. She was surprised how easy it had been to lie.
"You're the princess. I thought I recognized you." Benin reached out one frail hand toward her. "I've seen your portrait hanging in the Library of Filamir."
"You've been to the library?" Maysant's eyes were wide. Only the privileged were allowed there. "Who are you?"
"A few days ago, I was someone. Now I am but a ghost." Benin dropped his spoon into his em
pty bowl. "You can go back to your life. Me, I am dead to them." His voice took on a menacing tone.
"You could try—”
"NO!" Benin's eyes raged with anger. "They will pay for what they have done to me. After everything I did to help them, guide them, and they treated me like offal."
"I'm a good listener, if you want to tell me what happened." Maysant was glad he was no longer questioning her. She wasn't sure how long she could keep up her lies. She was smart, but not quick of tongue.
"I was the queen's advisor," Benin said. "I gave her counsel on everything, using the vast knowledge I gained in my younger years studying at the library. I knew more about the other races than all humans combined. My knowledge couldn't be surpassed. I showed her how to defeat the orcs at the pass. I gave her the strategy to move in on the orcs at Gunder. I gave her everything."
Maysant was on the edge of her log, curious how he fell from grace.
"When my tent caught on fire, I believed it was deliberately set. By whom, I cannot say. I only know someone wanted me gone." Benin's voice cracked. "My queen would never let me go. She once loved me as I loved her."
Maysant felt a lump in her throat. Benin had been a great, honorable man. Close to the queen. Maysant knew what that was like. Her own mother was the queen. She loved her trusted advisors.
"But they thought I was dead. Those military grunts left my body in the forest as if I was no one." Tears sprung from Benin's eyes.
Maysant couldn't stand it. If he hadn't been so burned, she would have hugged him with everything she had. The poor, poor man.
"If only I had someone I could serve again. Someone who appreciated my knowledge..."
"I know!" Maysant sat up eagerly. "I can introduce you to my mother! She always has an ear for good advice."
Benin shook his head. "Your mother is an ordinary elf. What use has she for someone like me?"
Maysant crept over to Benin's feet. "No," she whispered. "You were right, my mother is the queen of all elves. She could use someone like you who knows about humans and orcs."
Benin's eyes widened. "Truly? You are the princess?"
Maysant nodded, sure she had made the right choice. Benin had been nothing but kind to her and Ghrol. You could always tell one's character based on how they treated those less than themselves.
"We should all travel together to the library. We'll meet with my mother there." Maysant turned to Ghrol. "I know she could find something for you to do, too. We can all begin new lives on that day."
"Except you," Benin said. "You wanted to find something new out here in the forest. Instead, you'll be returning to your family as you left. The princess. Nothing less. Nothing more. I don't want you to be sad, Maysant."
"Oh, I won't be! I will have the two of you—my first true friends." Maysant smiled, looking at Ghrol and Benin. "One day, maybe I'll rule, and all three of us will be the most respected in the elven empire."
Benin smiled. "Oh, I wouldn't shoot so high. I am but a servant to those better than me."
"Don't sell yourself short. I know you'll be a brilliant addition to my mother's retinue! Now, I'm going to get a rabbit or two for our lunch. You two stay here."
Maysant scampered into the forest, her heart filled with joy. She had never been happy at her home. Her friends were few, and even among them, she didn't consider one a true friend. Now she had two. Though they were different and flawed, she knew deep down she was embarking on a new part of her life.
A rustle in the bushes captured her attention. Maysant drew her bow silently, nocking an arrow. A moment later, she let it fly. The rabbit died instantly from the arrowhead piercing its heart. It never made a sound. It never had a chance.
Chapter 43
Brax rode his stallion up to the gate leading into Agitar, his army at his back. He took a deep breath. He wanted to parley first, give diplomacy a chance. Instead, he was about to attack a city filled with warriors who could crush them without a second glance.
And yet, Agitar was strangely silent. There were no soldiers waiting for them. In fact, the streets were completely empty, devoid of merchants and townspeople.
Were they lying in wait, prepared to ambush the humans?
Brax's heart pounded.
"Sir?" Jedd asked behind him. "What is our first move?"
Brax leaned forward, reaching with his sword. He nudged the gates. Slowly, they swung open, creaking with the effort.
"This isn't right," Brax said to Jedd. "I understood why Gunder was empty. But this? Agitar is the hub of the orc empire. The streets should be filled with soldiers ready to stand against us. I don't like this."
Jedd nudged Brax with his elbow. "Maybe they're more afraid of us than we thought. What if all these years, we have been afraid of nothing?"
Brax scanned the streets, looking for any sign of life. It was too quiet. "No, I don't think so."
"Shh," Jedd said. "Do you hear that?"
Brax cocked his head in the direction Jedd pointed. Something, or someone, was headed toward them. A loud clomping noise grew with every passing moment.
"At the ready!" Brax shouted to his troops.
The swoosh of drawn bows and the metallic scratch of swords being drawn broke the silence. Horses nickered, their hooves scuffling up the grass.
As the rhythmic noise grew, a flag on a pole rose over the top of a cottage, waving in the air.
Brax squinted. His vision was deteriorating with age, but he could still make out the crest of Gailwyn on a yellow silk background. "What are elves doing here?" He looked to Jedd. "Get the queen. Now."
Jedd clicked his tongue, and his horse took off in a bolt toward the end of their caravan, where their queen rode protected, her banner flying high overhead. Brax shaded his hand from the sun as Jedd's horse arrived at the queen's side. Within moments, the queen was headed toward the front on her white stallion.
Brax turned back to the city, watching the elven flag advance. Soon a parade—he could call it nothing else—turned the corner. Orcs threw colorful flower petals from woven baskets, blanketing the ground. Two trumpeters lifted their horns to their mouths, blowing out an upbeat tune.
Brax's jaw dropped. This was not what he'd expected.
"Ah, I see they're preparing to surrender." Queen Lissa drew up next to him, her shoulders tossed back and a smile on her face.
"I wouldn't assume anything," Brax cautioned. "That's not an orc flag."
But the queen took no interest in Brax's advice. She cantered through the gates, a long white train streaming from the back of her dress. Brax followed at a careful distance. He wanted to give her space to feel as if she was in control, but also be close enough to bolt in front of her should the situation call for it.
He kept his eyes trained on the parade, waiting for the main attraction. It didn't take long before a tall, thin elf, with long hair so white it almost had a purple tint, appeared on a horse.
The queen gasped loudly.
“Oh, isn't it beautiful?" She raised up a hand, waving to the elf.
Brax groaned inside. What was she doing? Elves couldn't be trusted.
She turned to Brax. "Do you think it's a male or a female? I can never tell with elves. They all look the same to me." Waving a hand in the air, she continued, "It doesn't matter. It's beautiful regardless. Come, bring your horse next to mine, Brax."
He urged his horse forward a few steps until he was even with the queen. Her haughty smile and ramrod posture projected an image of unparalleled self-confidence.
Brax glanced at the elf again. Whatever was about to happen, it couldn't be good.
The parade split to the side, forming a way for the elf's personal retinue. His smile matched the queen's. "Hello! I am Kazrack, Prince of Gailwyn." He spoke in the human language, though heavily accented by his smooth elven tongue.
"I am Lissa, Queen of Soleth," the queen said, lowering her eyelashes seductively.
Brax wanted to be sick.
"I welcome you to Agitar!" The elf th
rew his arms out to the sides.
"Thank you," the queen said.
"I know you have come here for war," the elf said as he dismounted. He walked toward the queen.
Brax's fingers itched as he grasped the hilt of his sword.
"I have, but it appears you beat me to it." The queen reached an arm down to the elf, who took her hand and kissed the back of it.
"I think we can come to an understanding together. Would you like to join me in the throne room?"
"I would." The queen slid off her horse into the elf's open arms. She stepped back, smoothed her skirts, and looked at Brax. "Follow me."
Brax bit his lip, bristling at being treated like a common servant. Still, it was his job to protect her. His dismounted, handing the reins to Jedd. "Make sure no one starts anything while we're gone."
Jedd nodded. "I'll keep an eye on them."
Brax followed his queen and the elf through the town to the castle. He marveled at the architecture. He'd always imagined the orcs to be crude and uncultured. Their buildings told a different story.
Elaborately carved stone told tales he could only assume were of deep significance to the orcs. Scenes depicted orcs in battle, as well as common life tilling the fields. Brax wished he knew what they meant. Perhaps someday he could learn.
Today, however, he had to find out what the elf wanted with his queen. He was also desperate to know where the orcs were hiding.
Assuming they were there at all. The only orcs he'd seen were the few who'd attended the parade. There had to be more. Thousands. It was possible the human army was outnumbered, and they were walking into a trap.
Brax's senses were on high alert. He listened for anything out of the ordinary, but it was the overarching silence that disconcerted him the most.
They traversed the streets to the center of the city where the castle stood. Brax kept an eye on the guards at the base of the steps. They parted their spears, letting the elf and his guests through.
Eventually, they entered the throne room. The elf sat on the king's throne, motioning for the queen to sit in the chair next to his.
