by Megg Jensen
Tace whirled around, surprised to find Nemia. "What are you doing here? I told you to go. It's not safe."
"I want to be with you," Nemia insisted. "I can—”
"You can't do anything. You're a child. Now, go." Tace gave Nemia a push, then turned her back on the young orc. Nemia would be in too much danger. She had to know her life was more important than Tace's. She was the true princess. Her life needed to be protected at all costs, and if the only way Tace could get her to leave was to shun her, she would do it.
A sob and the pounding of feet told Tace what she needed to know. Nemia was gone. She would be safe. That was all that mattered.
Alyna jumped on the back of her unicorn and took off in a fast gallop toward the xarlug. The unicorn stabbed a tentacle with its glowing horn. The xarlug screamed, waving its tentacle in the air. It slammed down on the ground, creating another tremor.
"Go, Ademar. Take care of Pesha and Raseri.” Tace uncoiled the little dragon from her shoulders, placing her on Ademar’s shoulders.
"Be careful. I know how you are," he said, resting a hand on her cheek.
"I'm me. Deal with it." Tace glared at him.
"I love the way you are." Then Ademar climbed on Pesha, taking off into the sky with a burst of air under her flapping wings.
Love. It was a word Tace didn't want to hear, much less consider. None of it mattered unless they could defeat the xarlug.
The male orc came closer. "On my word, we charge. I want you to stay behind me."
"That's ridiculous. I won't do any such thing. We will fight side-by-side."
He looked at her with weary eyes. She could have sworn they radiated concern. As if he knew her and cared for her well-being, though she was a stranger. Foolish orc. He was soft, not hardened like a good orc should be. He should gratefully accept her help instead of treating her as if she was fragile.
"Fine. Have it your way." Then he took off in a run.
Tace ran after him, keeping pace. It wasn't hard considering the weight of the weapons he carried. She easily passed him, getting closer to the xarlug with each footfall.
Ahead, Syra continued to stab the xarlug with her horn. Alyna sat up straight on Syra's back, waving her arms in the air. Vines burst from the ground, winding around the xarlug's tentacles. It strained against the vines, breaking their hold only to have them renew their attack.
Pesha flew in circles above the xarlug, breathing fire at it. But the fire seemed to have no effect on the xarlug's pink skin. Instead, it laughed, swiping at Pesha with one tentacle. She darted in the air, Ademar holding on tight. His mouth was constantly moving, presumably shouting about the location of the xarlug's attacks, helping to keep her safe.
Tace pushed herself, running faster until the tip of a tentacle was within reach. She reached out, stabbing it with her dagger. The xarlug didn't flinch.
Anger welled up in her chest. There was nothing she could. She had been so foolish to think she could help. She was an assassin, not a warrior. This battle would be won without her help. Everything Nemia had said about Tace being the one to save Agitar wasn't real. How could it be? All she had were her daggers and this staff.
The staff.
Tace looked at it again. If only she had paid attention to the Exor as a child, perhaps she would know more about the staff's powers. Once she'd held it out toward the xarlug and it had done something. Tace thrust the staff in front of her again, pointing it at the xarlug.
Nothing.
She bent her elbow, then straightened it hard.
Nothing.
"Why doesn't it work now?" she screamed. "Do something!"
You must channel it properly, a voice said.
"Who was that?" Tace spun around. The orc warrior had gone another direction. She was alone, except for the nearby tentacle.
Concentrate. Trust in yourself to use the staff's power. You are worthy.
Tace thought of when she'd been on Pesha's back and used the staff to save Alyna. She hadn't just thrust it at the xarlug, she'd wondered deep in her soul if it really had power.
"I call on the power of the Staff of Jokan," Tace said, infusing her words with all the faith she could muster. "Save us."
Tace closed her eyes, took a deep breath and thrust the staff out toward the xarlug. Heat pulsed in the shaft, warming her hand. Tace opened her eyes, watching in wonder as a light emanated from the staff. It traveled on a wave to the xarlug, then expanded, swallowing the xarlug whole. Then the light snapped back into the staff, knocking Tace to the ground.
She sat up, her head pounding with intense pain.
"Are you okay?" The male orc was back at her side, clearly upset she'd been hurt.
"I'm fine." Tace pushed him back. "I just fell."
"No, the gem in your staff captured the xarlug." He pointed to the glowing sapphire, which now contained the body of the xarlug. It swam in the depths of the gem, slamming its body against the edges over and over again. "How did you do that?"
Tace ran a finger over the sapphire, agitating the trapped xarlug even more. "I don't know. It just happened. I asked the staff to save us, and it did."
"What sort of staff is this?" he asked.
"It's the Staff of Jokan," Tace said quietly, wondering if he would know its significance.
By the wide-eyed expression on his face, he did.
Alyna and Syra rode up next to them. The unicorn bent over, resting its horn on Tace's forehead. Her body instantly felt much better, the pain in her head gone.
"Thank you." Tace patted the unicorn on the muzzle.
"Where did it go?" Alyna asked. "Are the two of you okay?"
The orc pointed toward the gem. Alyna gasped, a hand resting on her chest. "I know better than to ask how. This is clearly a magical relic. What impresses me more is that you can wield it."
"I don't know if I did anything special. It was the staff's power, not mine," Tace insisted.
"Then you know very little about how magic works," Alyna said. "You'll have to be taught."
Ademar and Pesha landed not far away. He ran to Tace's side, holding out a hand. She grabbed it, letting him pull her to her feet. Raseri leapt from Ademar’s shoulders to Tace’s.
"The beast is gone. Now it is time to rebuild our city," the male orc said.
"No, Vron," Alyna said. "You think this is over? It is only the beginning. We must leave Agitar behind. There's far more lurking down there. The xarlug was only the genesis."
"Can someone tell me what's happening?" Tace asked. She had the orc's name now, Vron, and somehow she thought she should know it. There would be time for that later, though.
"There is much to tell you, and much you may not believe." Alyna wrapped an arm around Tace's shoulder. "But considering you're able to wield relics of power, we will need your help. You are special, Tace."
Special. That word that felt like a hairshirt on bare skin. She didn't want to believe it, but the xarlug stared at her with its one eye from inside the sapphire, and she couldn’t deny it. She was no longer a simple assassin.
Tace clasped the staff with both hands, feeling the warmth of its power. She'd sent many lives to Drothu over the last few years. Now, he would receive a special message directly from Tace.
"Die," she whispered at the ensnared xarlug, her lips barely touching the gem.
The xarlug's eye closed and its lifeless body floated to the top of the gem. As Tace lowered the staff to the ground, she noticed a glowing tattoo on the inside of her wrist. It was the first symbol on the stone they’d found in the forest. The symbol of Jokan. Somehow, it was now part of her forever.
Epilogue
Nemia choked down tears. Tace had rejected her. Sent her away. Just like her parents had done. No one wanted her.
She stumbled through the broken castle, avoiding the fissures. There was only one place she could think to go. Her old room. The room kept for the princess. Now that Sabniss was dead, it belonged to Nemia again.
She stepped gently over the bod
ies of those who had died during the earthquake. There were too many to count. So many faces she recognized. But Nemia couldn't shed a tear for any of them. They had remained silent when her mother discarded her for Sabniss. Even when Sabniss proved to be dull and empty-headed, they still pretended Nemia had always been a servant.
No more. Sabniss was dead. Nemia's parents were missing, presumed dead by all the orcs she'd spoken to so far.
Nemia stepped into her childhood bedroom. The ruffled canopy above the bed was askew, but the room itself was still in good shape.
"My princess, you have returned. I was waiting for you." An orc, hunched over from age, crept out from the shadows. Azlinar.
"I thought you had gone away," Nemia said. After she'd killed Sabniss, Azlinar was nowhere to be found. Nemia had suffered alone immeasurably, when she could have used the counsel of the one orc who believed in her.
"I would never leave you of my own accord, princess. Never. I was out on an errand of great import. When I returned, you were gone. But I never doubted you. I knew you would be back to claim your rightful place on the throne." He moved closer to her, slowly, as if he were waiting for a command to stop.
Nemia let him come close. She let him take her hand in his gnarled grasp. She let the dark power he'd introduced her to wrap around them like a foul mist. She'd only been able to shake it when she'd found Tace and Ademar. They had helped her see differently. But now they had tossed her aside, too. Just like her parents.
Nemia began to sob. Her shoulders heaved with the heavy weight of everything that had befallen her. Even more, she was devastated to admit she had been wrong. She thought Tace and Ademar would help her be a good person, that they could take away the stain of the murder she'd committed.
Instead, they'd taken comfort in one another and discarded her the moment they arrived in Agitar.
No one wanted her.
She was useless.
"My princess." Azlinar slipped a hand under Nemia's chin, forcing her to look up at him. "I know someone who can help you."
"Who?" she asked between sniffles.
"You must trust me. Can you do that?"
Nemia nodded.
"Then close your eyes. I will show you who you must speak to. He can help you."
Nemia did as Azlinar bade. She sank to the floor as the vision Azlinar shared with her took form. In the background, the sea battered the shore. She had seen this place once as a child. It was the port at the far western end of Doros. Orc ships dotted the harbor, their curved bows carved from wood and embedded with spikes, standing in stark contrast to the tall ship standing in the midst of them.
The golden crest on the sail told her it was an elven ship. There was a chain of them in the distance, all headed toward the port.
Azlinar squeezed Nemia's hand, and the vision moved in closer. A smaller boat tacked toward the shore. A grizzled captain was at the helm. On the bow stood a young female elf, though young was a relative word. Elves looked young for hundreds of years. Next to her stood a hulking male human, whose expression was simple.
In his arms was a bundle of blankets.
No, it was something more. Within the folds, Nemia could see a man shriveled beyond recognition. His skin puckered, as if it were healing from recent burns. But it was his eyes that beckoned to Nemia. It was as if he could see directly into her soul, despite being so far away.
"He will help you. You must seek out the dark mage," Azlinar whispered into Nemia's ear.
"The dark mage." Nemia shuddered at the ominous tone in Azlinar's voice. Still, everyone else had rejected her. Maybe this mage was the only one who would accept her for who she was.
"Bring him to me, Azlinar," she begged. "I've traveled so far in recent weeks. I need to rest."
Nemia let go of Azlinar's hand and crawled into her bed. It had been years since she had slept in it, but she remembered the softness so well. As she closed her eyes, the only thing she could see was the dark mage looking directly at her.
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Acknowledgments
Thanks again to my amazing editing team: Lisa Bigelow and Joelle Sisto. Without you, this book would be a mess!
Once again, my cover guys have hit it out of the park. Michael Gauss drew the amazing artwork and Steven Novak added the text and border. They’re able to take my ugly drawings and my vague ideas and turn them into something beautiful.
Stefanie Verish did the same with the map of Doros. I sent her a drawing that looked like it came from a kindergartener. I’m so glad she always understands what I need.
My family can’t go without mention. My husband, daughter, and son support me in this writing career. I couldn’t ask for more. Love all of you!
