Chaos Awakens (Dragons of the Nether Book 1)

by Megg Jensen

  "What is it?" Ademar asked.

  "Raseri dug her claws into my shoulder." Tace tapped the little dragon's nose. "That hurt!"

  Raseri jumped from Tace's shoulder and into the air. She circled Tace, then flew to the symbol. With a sputtering choke in the back of her throat, Raseri let loose a small stream of flame toward the symbol. She traced it from the top of the curl down to the bottom of the staff and over the mound. Raseri flew back to Tace's shoulder, settling comfortably and winding her tail around Tace's neck.

  The symbol remained on fire, but as the flames slowly flickered out, an orange glow remained.

  "Whoa, incredible," Nemia said, her voice no more than a whisper.

  Tace reached out for the symbol, her fingers shaking.

  "Don't, it's probably still scorching hot," Ademar said.

  Ignoring his advice, Tace rested a finger on the symbol, tracing the same path Raseri had followed when setting it aflame. The heat didn't appear to bother her.

  When Tace finished tracing the symbol, she took a step back.

  Then a deafening grinding filled the cave. Nemia put her free hand over one ear, trying to drown out the noise.

  The wall began to move, rolling down into the floor of the cave. A few moments later, it had disappeared, swallowed into the ground, only a thin line showing where it had once stood.

  "Before we go in, we should think about what might lie ahead." Ademar held out Tace's torch to her.

  She grabbed it, her hand shaking. "I don't have to think about anything." She stepped into the darkness.

  Nemia gaped. "She's so brave. She didn't hesitate." Nemia pointed at Tace's torch growing smaller with every step away from them.

  "She's amazing," Ademar said. "Now let's see where this takes us. Come on." He nudged Nemia into the cavern, swallowing his own trepidation while he feigned bravery for the young orc.

  Chapter 46

  Tace's heart leaped around her chest so painfully she had to force herself to take steady, even breaths to calm it. Raseri coiled around her neck, her sharp scales digging into Tace's skin. Raseri was a comfort. Safety. Something Tace hadn't allowed anyone to provide. She'd always taken care of herself.

  But now, in this place, perhaps she could admit she needed more.

  Her torch thrust forward, Tace continued deeper into the cave.

  The light bounced off something ahead, momentarily blinding her.

  A golden figure rested on a platform. She could see it clearly now. A plump orc statue sat crossed legged on a pedestal. Its arms were bent at the elbow, hands outstretched with palms facing upward. It almost looked as if it were about to catch something, or someone, falling from the sky.

  Tace glanced upward, seeing nothing more than the cave ceiling.

  "Who is that?" Ademar asked, coming up behind her.

  Tace jumped, not realizing he and Nemia had caught up with her. "I don't know," she whispered, somehow feeling she should keep her voice low in the statue's presence.

  "I think I know." Nemia moved toward the statue in slow, metered steps.

  "Who?" Tace asked, wishing she'd paid more attention to her lessons as a child.

  Nemia stopped, then turned back to Tace and Ademar. "This isn't some random cave. This is a burial cave. And that's not a statue."

  Tace examined the figure more closely. "If it's not a statue, what is it?"

  "I think that's the body of Jokan." Nemia held out a hand, her fingers hovering at the edge of the statue. "They say if you touch it, he will return to life and grant you great powers."

  "A myth," Ademar interjected. "I've heard this one before. Hugh was studying it. I was to accompany him on an interview with an orc who knew more details about this story. But then Hugh died.”

  "Why don't I know anything about this?" Tace asked, feeling ashamed.

  "Did you read the Exor every day?" Nemia asked. "Didn't your parents encourage you to study the holy texts?"

  Tace shook her head. Her mother, as a non-believer, had only taught Tace the basics, enough to fool anyone who might question them. And Tace, who had tried so hard to make up for her parents' heresy, hadn't taken the time to read the Exor either. She was a failure to Drothu in so many ways. "So what do we do now? Touch the damn thing and see if this old guy comes back to life?"

  "Don't ask me!" Ademar held his hands up in the air. "I'm not an orc. I have a feeling I shouldn't be touching anything here."

  "We came here for you, Tace." Nemia grabbed Tace's hand. "You and Ademar are the two from my visions. If all of this real, if it's connected, perhaps you can be the one to awaken Jokan."

  Tace tried not to roll her eyes. Instinct told her this was all a farce. That she was wasting her time in the Frozen Wastelands when she should be at home fighting against the elves who had taken over Agitar. Despite everything that had happened, she still couldn't convince herself to believe in any of it. All Tace knew was her daggers and poisons. She knew the certainty of death. To suggest she could bring this statue to life with a touch was ridiculous. Though she believed in Drothu and the afterlife he offered, her parents' skepticism ran through her blood, too.

  "Nemia, I doubt touching this statue will do anything. I don't want you to be disappointed if nothing happens." Tace rested a hand on the young orc's head.

  "Try it. Please." Nemia begged, her eyes wide. "If I'm wrong, we've lost nothing."

  Taking a deep breath, Tace reached out with a tentative hand, touching the statue of Jokan.

  Nothing happened. Tace turned to Ademar and Nemia with a shrug. "Sorry."

  Ademar's eyes widened, and Nemia's jaw dropped as a loud thud boomed behind Tace.

  She spun around, shocked to see a staff, like the one in the symbol from the stone, resting in Jokan's golden outstretched arms.

  "It fell from the ceiling," Nemia said, pointing up.

  "Take it," Ademar urged.

  Tace's hands trembled. She had looked at the ceiling when she'd first arrived. There had been nothing there. It was too much. All of it. "I can't," she whispered.

  "Yes, you can." Ademar's voice was soft, but strong. Just like him.

  It wasn't enough to know he believed in her. Fear stood in her way, mocking her, as it had her whole life. The only reason she'd become an assassin was her fear of not going to The Nether in the afterlife, even if she didn't fully believe in it. Fear forced her hand during an assassination. Fear whispered in her ear, telling her killing someone was the right thing. Fear forced her to leave Agitar.

  Now she was afraid to touch the jewel-encrusted staff. It was worth more than anything she'd ever laid eyes on. The staff was made for someone far greater than she.

  Tace bit her lower lip, then snatched the staff before she could second-guess herself further. The shaft was warm in her palm, despite being housed in a cave in the Frozen Wastelands.

  The hook at the top of the staff began to glow, the sapphire at its center sending out a burst of light. The beam landed on the back of the cave, burning a hole in the rock.

  Raseri jumped off Tace's shoulder, flying hard for the crack in the stone. Tace reached out for the dragon with her free hand, but was too late. Raseri had disappeared into the darkness.

  "I'm going after her," Tace said as she turned back to Ademar and Nemia. But behind them stood four orcs, all armed with swords and maces.

  "Behind me, now!" Tace yelled. Ademar and Nemia bolted behind Tace's outstretched arms. Raseri would have to take care of herself for the time being. "Who are you?" she demanded of the orcs standing in the shadows.

  The orc in front let loose a low chuckle. "You know who we are. We've been hunting you, Tace. We know what you did, or, maybe I should say, what you didn't do."

  Sweat beaded on Tace's forehead. The Consecrated. She thought they'd lost them, but perhaps they were smarter than she'd given them credit for.

  Another orc stepped out of the shadows, a grimace on his face.

  Hordain. The leader of the assassins guild.

  "You sh
ould have told me the truth, Tace." He gripped a sword in his hand. "You were supposed to assassinate Hugh. Instead, you let him kill himself."

  Hordain was one of the few orcs Tace had trusted. He'd always been honest with her. Confusion set in. She'd thought the Consecrated were after her. Not the assassins guild. Which was it?

  "You can't be allowed to go home. It's time for you to meet Drothu." Hordain raised his sword into an attack position. The orc next to him swung his flail at his side, a bloodthirsty grin on his face.

  "In the name of Drothu, we consecrate your soul. We leave it to him to decide your fate." The orc with the flail growled deep in the back of his throat after uttering the curse of the Consecrated.

  Tace knew that phrase, but she never thought Hordain would be one of the deadly enforcers. "Not this day," she responded with a snarl. Tace tossed the staff back into Jokan's arms. She pulled her daggers from her belt, ready to fight.

  Tace leaped at the orc to the far right, stabbing him in the neck and raking her dagger across his throat before he could fight back. His sword clattered to the floor. She kicked it back to Ademar. "Don't let me down, human."

  Ademar pushed Nemia behind Jokan, then took off in a run toward another orc. They fought, steel against steel, sparks flying in the dark cave.

  The orc with the flail grinned at Tace, his muscles rippling with each revolution of the spiked ball at the end of its chain. He moved toward her, swinging the ball through the air. Tace ducked, narrowly avoiding a direct hit. Her daggers were no match for his weapon at this range. She needed to get closer.

  Tace balanced on her toes, feinting at him, then pulling back. She moved from one side to the other.

  "Keep dancing, pretty orc. Come a little closer." He lunged at her, swinging his flail. One of the spikes nicked her shoulder, drawing blood.

  Ignoring the pain, Tace squatted, jumping toward him like a poisonous frog and slashing at the back of his knees with her daggers.

  He stumbled, then laughed. "You'll have to do better." He lifted his arm, ready to swing his flail again, but before he could draw his elbow back, the flail fell to the ground. His eyes bugged out of his head as his cheeks swelled. Hands scratching at his throat, the orc fell to his knees as he took a final breath. He fell face-first onto the dirt, dead.

  "Still keeping poison in your dagger sheaths, I see." Hordain ambled closer to Tace.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ademar was holding his own against the orc with the sword.

  "Always," Tace said to Hordain, attempting to keep her breath steady. She didn't want him to know she was nearly out of breath.

  "You were a good assassin. You carried out the work for Drothu well. You brought death to many deserving orcs." Hordain rested the tip of his sword on the ground, leaning on the hilt. "But your failure has tarnished the assassins guild."

  "How did you know?" Tace asked, truly curious. No one but she and Ademar had been in the room when Hugh took his own life.

  "Do you really think I would let such a young, untried orc do such a big job on her own?" Hordain stroked his beard. "I sent two other orcs to shadow you. One was watching through the window. He told me what happened later that night. I prayed to Drothu for you, Tace. You know I loved you like a daughter. How could I reconcile that with what you did?"

  Tace took a step back. Hordain was a great fighter. She knew his best moves. She also knew she had little to counter them, especially with her daggers.

  "I had to come after you. You see, Tace, when I take someone into the assassins guild, I take responsibility for them. Your life is mine."

  "But the Consecrated?" Tace tried not to spit out the word. "You're an assassin first. How can you let their radical ideas influence you?"

  "Radical?" Hordain laughed. "You never did understand Drothu, did you, child? We honor death. We worship death. The Consecrated aren't radicals. They are the true path to Drothu."

  Tace swallowed hard as she took another small step away from Hordain. She hadn't known the orc as well as she'd always believed. She didn't want to kill him, but if it was the only way to save her own life, she would.

  Tace sheathed her daggers quickly, then reaching behind her back, she grabbed the staff from Jokan's hands again. She held it in front of her, feeling the warmth of the staff pulsing in her hands.

  Hordain laughed. "You cannot hurt me with a wooden stick."

  Hordain leaped toward Tace, brandishing his sword high. He brought it down on the staff, hard. Her arms vibrated as the staff held strong. His sword clanged to the ground.

  Hordain fell to his knees, his eyes filled with wonder. "I can see it now. It is the Staff of Jokan. The first sign. The world is coming apart at the seams. What have you unleashed?"

  Tace wanted to respond. She was desperate to confide her unworthiness, but she didn't understand any of it well enough to plead with him. She revered Hordain. Respected his judgment. He had been steadfast in his love for Drothu.

  Hordain grabbed his sword, slamming the pommel onto the dirt. Grasping it with both hands, he threw himself upon the blade. Blood spurted from his chest as his body sank toward the ground, the sword exiting out his back. He had committed suicide, the one thing that would stop him from entering The Nether.

  Ademar was at Tace's side as she reached out toward her old mentor's body. "They're all dead. We're safe now."

  Tace looked at him, laughing mirthlessly, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Don't you understand? None of us are safe anymore."

  Chapter 47

  Alyna held onto Vron's arm as the ground under her feet stopped shaking. Agitar was falling apart all around them.

  "It's too late," he yelled in her ear, the sound of houses falling into piles of rubble drowning out his voice.

  "It's never too late," Alyna yelled back. "I'll fight until I've taken my last breath."

  Alyna reached down, resting a hand on Sally's head. The girl had wound herself around Alyna's legs, her arms trembling and tears streaming down her cheeks. Alyna's breeches were soaked where Sally buried her face in them.

  Alyna pried the little girl's arms from her legs, then squatted down in front of her. "You have to go back with your people now. They're here. They will take care of you while Vron and I fight."

  Sally vehemently shook her head. "I want to stay with you."

  "I have to fight, Sally. I must use everything I have to aid those around us in this battle. You must understand."

  "Will I ever see you again?" Sally's lower lip trembled.

  Alyna's heart broke into a million pieces. In the short time they'd been together, she had come to love the child, just as Sally loved her. "I won't make a promise I can't keep, but I swear on all of nature that if there is a way, I will find you once again." She kissed Sally's head and gave the girl a light push toward an orc waiting on his draft horse.

  The orc reached down, grabbing Sally's arm and hoisting her in front of him. Before Sally could plead with Alyna again, the orc took off at a gallop toward the human camp outside Agitar's gates.

  Alyna held her breath as the horse nimbly darted through the chaotic throng of orcs as they ran from their homes and leaped over cracks in the earth. Alyna could only hope the land was more stable on the prairie outside of the city gates. Sally would be safe there. She had to be.

  When the horse was out of sight, Alyna turned to Vron. "We didn't have time to tell anyone why Kazrack took the throne."

  "They won't listen now. Kazrack's spell has been broken. They're angry. Look at them," Vron said.

  Alyna's eyes fell on the furious orcs, waving weapons in the air and screaming curses toward the castle. "They blame Kazrack for the earthquake."

  Vron's eyes were cast downward. "They will blame him for everything. They will do everything in their power to take him down, kill the humans, and reclaim Agitar."

  "When instead we should all be fighting together." Alyna shoved a lock of red hair behind her ear. "Is there any way to get them to listen?"

 
; A loud laugh broke out behind her. Alyna spun as Dalgron and his friend Crotus came up behind them. "I doubt even the two of us together could convince those soldiers to listen to us now."

  "You're the general of the orc army," Alyna said. She pointed at Crotus, "and you led the villagers from Gunder. Surely, you must hold some sway."

  "Look at their bloodlust," Dalgron said. "It is what we orcs are known for. It is not easily quenched. They will not listen to reason."

  "In the meantime, we have to stand back and watch them waste their time on the human army while we have a greater threat below us?" Alyna crossed her arms over her chest. Anger pumped through her veins.

  "If only you had had time to tell everyone, not just us." Crotus’s eyes were sad. The old orc had lost his wife and now his orcs. Alyna worried he was about to give up completely. She needed all of the allies she could muster, if any of them were to survive this day.

  "We are on our way to the castle," Dalgron said. "Come with us. We will talk with Kazrack. Perhaps we can lead by example with our united front."

  Alyna and Vron fell into step behind Dalgron and Crotus. All around them, orcs raged at each other, condemning the elf for subduing them with his magic. They blamed the earthquakes on him, convincing each other that Kazrack was to blame.

  It took all of Alyna's willpower not to plead with them, to explain that Kazrack wasn't their enemy. But she knew her words would fall on deaf ears. It would take something far greater than the word of a faun to change their angry minds.

  And in a way, she couldn't blame them. Instead of trying to work with the orcs, Kazrack tricked his way into the city by keeping them silent with his magic. It was cruel. No wonder the orcs hated him. It was doubtful they'd believe anything good about Kazrack now.

  "Humans outside our gates and an elf on our throne? Blood will be shed today," an orc growled as they hurried past.

  Alyna's stomach turned. If they couldn't unite everyone against the greater threat, no one would survive. "Hurry," she urged Dalgron.

  "Faun, I am walking as fast as these old legs can carry me. Years of battle will do that to an orc." Dalgron shot her a withering look.