by Megg Jensen
"I don't understand," he admitted. Something about Melethiel made him comfortable. He felt he could tell her anything, and she wouldn't judge him.
Melethiel's silver hair continued to sparkle in the sunlight streaming through the window. Her eyes, the color of cornflowers, danced in merriment. "Most do not understand the library until they have experienced it," she said. "I have great confidence you will know its secrets, if you only give it time."
A knock at the door stopped him from asking another question.
"We are done," Melethiel said. "You may enter."
The door opened, revealing the guide. Tace, with a scowl on her face, and Ademar stood behind her.
"I'm to take you to your chambers," the guide said.
"Goodbye, Brax," said Melethiel.
"Will I see you again?" Brax asked before he could think about whether it was the right thing to do. He knew elves had the power to set a glamour over themselves, muddying the mind. But somehow, this was different. He felt fully in control over his emotions.
"Perhaps." Melethiel motioned toward the door with long, slim fingers. "Go now, seeker. I hope you find what you came here for."
Brax stumbled out of the doorway. Before he could turn around for one last look at Melethiel, the guide closed the door. "Follow me."
The three walked in silence behind the guide. Brax snuck another look at Tace. Her lip was curled, her eyes narrowed. Her questioning must not have gone as easily as his. Still, they hadn't denied her entry. Ademar looked as calm as always.
"When do we start?" Brax asked Tace. He was still annoyed with her for not bothering to tell him she spoke his language. He'd spent weeks since they killed the xarlug struggling to understand the orc language.
"As soon as they allow," Tace answered, her tone curt.
"Tace." Ademar put a hand on her forearm.
She shrugged him off. "Don't."
"What did they ask you?" Ademar pressed.
She muttered a long string of words in the orc tongue, then glared at Brax before turning forward again. Brax had managed to understand only one word: "mother." Why would they ask about her parents? Either his orcish was worse than he thought, or her session with the inquisitor had been even stranger than his.
"Excuse me," Ademar said, tapping their guide on the shoulder. "When will we be allowed to begin our research?"
"As soon as you like. You have already been assigned a keeper, Frensia. Shall we skip settling in your chambers and head to the heart of the library?"
"Yes," the three said in unison.
Brax was relieved to know the other two were as eager as he was to get on with their research. The sooner they learned about Drothu and the xarlug and what might lie ahead, the sooner he could go home to Soleth. His duty would be done—he would have made up for what his people had done to the orcs. Then again, did he even want to go home?
The guide turned left down another corridor, which ended in an expansive room with soaring ceilings. Bookcases stood everywhere. They were freestanding, against the walls—they even formed the bases of the spiral staircases. There wasn't a surface left without a bookcase to cover it.
"I've never seen so many books," Brax said. "I didn't even know…"
Ademar turned to him with a smile. "These are the books simply for pleasure reading. The real tomes, the ones with the answers we seek, are kept under guard. Our keeper will be the only one to access them."
"Where is this Frensia?" Tace asked, tapping her foot impatiently.
"I am here."
The voice was languid, blanketing Brax in complete calm. He turned toward it, and saw a tall, thin being with gray skin and huge black eyes staring at him from the other side of a table. Frensia's head was bald, though Brax couldn't tell if it had ever sported hair, and whatever race this being was, Brax wasn't familiar with it.
Ademar bowed to Frensia. "I'm Ademar. This is Tace and Brax. We are mere seekers. Will you help us?"
Brax bowed quickly, too, thinking that if Ademar did it, he should as well. But Tace just crossed her arms over her chest and eyed Frensia suspiciously.
Frensia motioned to the stack of books on the table. "I have already gathered the books we need to find the knowledge you seek."
"How do you know what we need?" Tace asked, anger practically writhing in her words.
Frensia's gaze settled on Tace. "Your interview, in particular, was of interest. I think I know what you are seeking."
Tace stepped back into Ademar. "I thought those interviews were private?"
"They will remain between you, me, and your inquisitor, unless you choose to fill your companions in." Frensia pulled the first book off the stack. "Now, do any of you know how to read ancient Wru?"
"I don't." Brax couldn't help but laugh. He could barely read in his own language. That was for scholars, not warriors.
"No." Tace flopped on a chair opposite Frensia, as if defeated. "You'll have to help us."
Ademar rested a hand on Tace's shoulder, and for once she didn't push him away. Brax watched them, curious again about the nature of their relationship.
"Very well then," Frensia said. The helper opened the book, and they began to find the answers they'd come to the library seeking.
Chapter 10
Alyna's chest heaved as she took in a breath. It was a small breath, but enough to get some oxygen in her airways, enough to keep her alive. Bit by bit, she took in clean air and expelled the poisoned air from her lungs.
When she had left Agitar on Syra's back, Alyna had felt hardy. But by the time they reached the forest, something had taken hold of her. At first, she'd thought it was her body readjusting to the cleaner air of the forest. But in the days that followed, she had come to realize something else was wrong. Something much graver. She hesitated to think of the condition she would be in without Syra, who had used her horn to heal Alyna at least once a day. She suspected Syra's healing magic was the only thing keeping her alive.
She had given herself seven days to return to good health. Today was the eighth day, and she was still no better. So she had mounted Syra and headed north back into orc country, knowing every gentle step of Syra's was carrying her toward Vron. If she had caught an orcish virus, he would know; he would find someone to help her.
They traveled slowly, with Syra refusing to rest no matter how often Alyna urged it. Syra didn't take orders, and eventually Alyna stopped trying to give them. She just thanked Syra, repeatedly, for her unwavering friendship. Eventually she passed out on Syra's back and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
A gentle nuzzle woke her. She blinked a few times. Night had fallen, and Syra had finally stopped her trek.
"Vron?" Alyna said. At least she thought she said it. She wasn't quite sure she'd managed to part her lips.
"Stay quiet, dearie. I got something that will cure you."
Alyna tried to focus on the figure before her, but everything remained blurry no matter how hard she squinted.
"Here now, wear this hair around your finger. You'll start feeling better soon, I suspect." The person lifted Alyna's hand and tied something on her right index finger.
A cool ripple spread down Alyna's finger, up her arm, and over her chest. She gasped as it continued in waves, moving to every limb on her body. Panic fluttered in her chest. Whatever this was, it wasn't natural. If it continued, she'd freeze to death.
Her arms jerked, then her legs. She slid off Syra, but someone caught her on the way down. Her body spasmed. Her throat closed. Her eyes snapped shut.
Everything stopped. Her breathing. Her heart.
Then, in a moment of intense heat, it all began again.
Alyna relaxed into the arms of the person who held her. She opened her eyes. The world was clear again. Syra stood off to the side, her horn glowing, ready to revive Alyna.
"I'm okay, dear friend," Alyna said. She was surprised to find her voice warm and clear.
Alyna turned, looking at the person holding her—an old human woman. The woman was grinning,
her smile surrounded by a healthy frame of wrinkles.
"Thank you," Alyna said. "I have so many questions, I don't even know where to start."
"I understand. It's not every day you're on death's door and returned to life with the help of a holy relic." The woman chuckled and patted Alyna on the head, right between her horns. "It's also not every day I come upon a sick faun and a unicorn. I think this day was fortuitous for us both."
Alyna considered her next words very carefully. She'd heard of holy relics. They were mostly kept hidden by those who held them, or under careful guard at the Library of Filamir. It wasn't the kind of thing old human women carried while roaming orc lands all alone.
"Where are we?" It was the best Alyna could start with.
"We're about one day's walk south of Agitar, the orc capital. Are you familiar with it?"
Alyna nodded. She wasn't ready to confide in the woman, even though she'd ostensibly saved her life.
"You're lucky I happened upon you. I'm traveling there to offer them some relics. It's the least I can do considering the tragedies that have befallen Agitar."
Normally, Alyna would scoff at such a claim. She wasn't one to believe in such things; false relics were often peddled to unsuspecting believers for an exorbitant amount of gold. Yet this strand of hair wound around her finger had managed to halt whatever disease Alyna had contracted. And she knew true relics existed—like the staff Tace had wielded when they fought the xarlug. Now that was something Alyna could put her faith in.
"I'd suggest leaving it on for the rest of the night," the old woman said.
"You aren't going to ask me for money?"
Alyna's surprise must have shown on her face because the woman broke into riotous laughter. "Do you take me for a charlatan? Nothing could be further from the truth." The woman bent over, her nose nearly touching Alyna's. "My name is Hilthe. I was the lover of the man who brought doom to Agitar's doorstep. Hugh took his own life. He upset the balance of the entire world. Now his relics are helping me to make amends wherever I can."
Alyna's back went stiff. "You knew Hugh?" Her mind swam with the possibilities. She looked at the strand of hair again, horror on her face. "Where did you get this hair?"
Hilthe patted the pack hanging from her shoulder. "I have all manner of relics from his body. And there are many more where these came from."
Alyna sprang to her hooves, the weariness of the disease already forgotten. "What do you mean, there are more? Where is Hugh's body?"
"It's someplace safe. You couldn't get it out of me, not even with torture. I loved that man, and I love him still." Hilthe crossed her arms over her chest.
"It's buried, isn't it?" Alyna said, wrinkling her nose at the thought of Hugh's body out there somewhere decaying while this woman removed parts of him. If the relic hadn't healed her so quickly, she would have thought the old woman insane.
Hilthe pressed her lips together and said nothing.
"Hugh's body was to be taken back to Soleth and buried," Alyna said. She'd been told as much by Ademar in the days after battling the xarlug. She'd encouraged everyone to share everything they knew. No more secrets. If they were to defeat Drothu in the upcoming war, everyone needed to know everything. The only secret she'd allowed was Vron's relation to Tace, but even that she'd insisted he reveal to Tace before the orc left for the library.
She thought back. Ademar had said their cook and guard had taken Hugh's body back to Soleth. The cook. Ademar may have mentioned something about the cook being involved with Hugh.
Alyna put a hand on Hilthe's arm. "I know who you are," she said. "I'm not going to judge you or hurt you. But if you are who I think you are, then you know Ademar. He's my friend. He told me you were returning Hugh's body to its homeland for burial."
Hilthe's shoulders sagged. "Matthew and I bought a horse and cart. We bundled Hugh's body on it, then took off toward the south. We had every intention of going home, but something spooked the horse. The cart jolted, and Matthew flew off. The horse reared back, then landed directly on Matthew's neck. Killed him instantly. I didn't know what to do. I was afraid I couldn't get through the Barrier Pass on my own. I decided to hide in the forest north of the pass, to come up with a plan. The last thing I needed was to face a bunch of angry orcs by myself."
She took a deep breath and rubbed her temples. "The days dragged on while I dithered. It was then I noticed Hugh's body didn't smell. It wasn't decaying. Instead, he appeared peaceful, as if he was simply sleeping off a long night of lovemaking. He appeared content, his lips even curled in a faint smile. It was disarming, to say the least."
Alyna could imagine. By then he should have reeked of death. All bodies eventually decayed. At least they were supposed to. For his body to remain untouched by rot wasn't just unusual, it was a thing of legend.
"I came down with a deep chest cough after spending multiple cool nights without proper covers. I felt I would catch my death. It was then I thought to pluck a strand of his hair. I wrapped it around my finger. In mere moments, I felt a strange healing sensation wash over me. I knew Hugh had helped me, even in death. It was then I vowed to bring his healing to others. Where better to start than with the orcs, whose lives he'd plunged into such chaos?"
Alyna took Hilthe's hands in hers. "Do you know what has befallen Agitar since you left?"
Hilthe shook her head.
"A great beast emerged from underground, spreading death and destruction about our land. It killed many orcs and many humans."
"Humans?" Hilthe said. "I don't understand. Not many humans live in Agitar. In fact, I thought the four of us were the only ones maintaining a permanent residence."
Alyna squeezed the old woman's hands. "Your people marched on the orcs, determined to exact revenge for Hugh's death."
"Oh no!" Hilthe's face fell. "Hugh would never want that."
"Regardless, many died, and not due to the war the humans began. Agitar is in ruins. It's uninhabitable."
"Then Hugh's relics will certainly help them," Hilthe insisted.
Alyna wanted to believe that a single strand of hair could reverse the damage that had been done, but even holy relics had their limitations.
"Is Hugh's body safe?" she asked.
"Yes. I hid it in a cave, then I built a wall around it with rocks. I covered those rocks with as much vegetation as I could find." Hilthe smiled, looking proud of herself.
Alyna raised an eyebrow. "I mean no offense, but that's a lot of manual labor for a woman of your age."
"I take no offense, for I am not a typical woman of my age."
Alyna liked Hilthe more every moment. "Come with me to Agitar," she said. "Tell no one of your stash until we know the right moment has arrived. I'm not sure how the orcs will receive you."
"Do you know anyone in power?" Hilthe asked. "Anyone who could help us?"
Alyna smiled. "Oh yes, I know them all. Trust me, we will figure out the right use for Hugh's relics."
Chapter 11
As Ghrol carried Damor to the queen's chambers, Damor tired of being in the oaf's arms. He much preferred his palanquin with the two orc slaves. They rarely had to touch him. Now, Ghrol's huge hands fumbled over Damor's delicate body, and the drool from his mouth occasionally landed on Damor's head. It was humiliating.
But it was the only way.
Without Ghrol and Maysant, he would have perished in the forest. They had kept him alive, and good fortune had brought him here, to the elf queen herself. And he had come to realize Queen Ambrielle was far more powerful than his own Queen Lissa.
During a successful dinner discussing the situation in Agitar, he had learned how his queen had died and what had transpired after. The humans, upon losing their queen to the xarlug, had tucked their tails between their legs and run back to their home in the south of Doros. It was just as well. Damor didn't need anyone recognizing him. The only humans left in Agitar now were Ademar and Brax. But Kazrack had assured Damor that they were leaving Agitar, too.
Now all Damor needed was to convince Queen Ambrielle that she required his service. And once she felt comfortable with him, he could use her power as his own. Damor would be the most powerful mage in existence, with influence over the most powerful queen.
Ghrol shifted Damor in his arms as he knocked loudly on the door. It opened onto a richly adorned room. Golden sheaths of silk covered the walls, and inlaid gems surrounded framed paintings of the elven homeland. Two elven servants flanked the entryway.
"Welcome, Benin," Queen Ambrielle said, a grand smile on her smooth face.
Damor was tired of being called Benin, but he was stuck with it for now. It was the name he had given Maysant in the forest while he lay dying. He had known then that it was wise to give a false name, as it was possible the elves had heard his true name, whether via whispers from spies or someone from the Library of Filamir. Besides, he'd nearly crossed over death's door more than once, so it had seemed fitting he take on a new name.
Still, Damor had been his chosen alias for decades. He wasn't fully prepared to give it up.
"Set him down there." Queen Ambrielle pointed to a chaise near the window. "Eryn, draw the curtains. Benin doesn't tolerate the sun well."
Damor couldn't help but smile. Queen Lissa had never cared about his sensitivities. Queen Ambrielle was a much more considerate hostess.
"Thank you," he said, grunting as Ghrol dumped him on the chaise. He attempted to rearrange himself into a position that didn't cause quite so much pain.
"You may wait outside, Ghrol." Queen Ambrielle waved a hand in the air.
Ghrol bowed awkwardly, then stomped out of the room. The two servants followed him, closing the doors behind them.
"We can speak plainly now." Queen Ambrielle's long blond hair trailed over her shoulder in a tight braid. Her blue eyes sparkled with knowledge, and her eyebrows were comfortably relaxed. Damor had to admit, Maysant looked very much like her mother.
"Tell me," the queen said. "Why have you lied to my daughter?"
Damor was taken aback. He'd told so many lies, he couldn't even begin to guess which lie the queen was referring to. "I'm not sure what you mean."
