A Legacy of Blood

by Megg Jensen

  "Hey!" Brax pointed at Ademar. "He stole a book."

  "Borrowed," Ademar said.

  "Gah!" Tace paced the room. She'd offered to lead this expedition in the hope that she could learn more about the old orc religions and discover something about the tattoo that had appeared on her wrist—in addition to helping the orcs stop whatever was targeting them from underground. Now these humans were screwing it up for her. She'd been stupid to trust them!

  "Calm yourself," Frensia said.

  Tace stopped her pacing in front of Frensia. "Excuse me?"

  "Calm yourself," Frensia repeated, as if Tace didn't hear them the first time.

  "I will not calm down. Never in the history of being told to calm down has anyone ever calmed down!" Without realizing what she was doing, Tace smacked Frensia over the head with the book.

  They all stood in shocked silence. Especially Tace. She immediately regretted hitting the umgar.

  "I'm sorry," she said.

  "Are you feeling calmer now?" Frensia asked.

  Tace nodded. She had to admit she did.

  "Good.” Frensia turned to Brax. "You must leave. You violated our rules."

  "What about Melethiel?" Brax asked.

  "Oh, don't act like you're concerned about her," Tace said.

  Brax raised an eyebrow. "But I am. Any gentleman would be."

  Tace kept her sigh to herself. If Brax were truly a gentleman, perhaps he could have lasted more than a week without jumping the first willing female he met.

  Frensia shrugged. "Melethiel will be sent home to her family in disgrace. It is the penalty for consorting with visitors to the library. We must all leave.”

  "We?" Tace asked, confused.

  "Yes." Frensia slipped their hand inside their cloak and pulled out another tome. "It appears I have stolen a book, too. It is the companion to the one Ademar took. Like Melethiel, I will be disgraced and sent home to my family."

  "I don't understand," Tace said. "Why would you steal a book?"

  Frensia turned to her, their eyes dark and penetrating. "I found something I cannot explain. Something that requires further research. Something that can only be explained by this." Frensia reached out, took Tace's hand, and turned her arm over, revealing the tattoo on Tace's wrist.

  "How did you know about that?" Tace demanded. She'd kept the tattoo wrapped up tightly until only moments ago, when she'd shown it to Ademar. No one could have seen it.

  "I could sense it," Frensia said simply.

  Tace rubbed her forehead. Decisions had to be made, and she couldn't do it with so much confusion.

  "If you are leaving, I am, too," Frensia said.

  "Why?" Tace asked.

  "My thirst for knowledge led me to the library. I knew one day it would lead me away. As the bird guides a lost fisher to land, you, Tace, are leading me to my destination. May I join your party? I think I know where you should go next to find the answers you seek." Frensia looked almost anxious about what Tace would say.

  Tace glanced at Ademar. He nodded once, a smile on his face. She didn't even bother checking with Brax; he was probably already too busy planning his next sexual conquest. "I would like that very much, Frensia. How soon can we leave?"

  "We must leave now," Frensia said. "Before the guards come to escort Brax away."

  A knock sounded at the door. Tace’s hands instinctively formed into fists.

  "Who is it?" Brax asked.

  "Melethiel," came the reply.

  Brax opened the door.

  The elf held an awkward assortment of weapons. "I brought your weapons so you could leave with them. I doubt they would have given them back to you before throwing you out."

  “Knowing the consequences, why did you admit what happened between us?” Brax asked. “I don’t understand.”

  She smiled shyly. “One day, I will explain to you, but for now, I cannot.”

  Tace could care less about their romantic entanglement. She took her daggers and sheathed them on her hips. Despite having had her weapons confiscated, she still wore their sheaths out of habit. "Do you know a way we can sneak out without being caught?"

  "All of you?" Melethiel asked, her eyes settling on Frensia.

  "Yes, all of us," Frensia answered. "Well, not you."

  "Of course not," Melethiel said. "I have to face the consequences of my actions."

  "Are you sure you won't come with us?" Brax asked—a little too eagerly, in Tace's opinion.

  Melethiel rested her hand on his arm. "I appreciate the sentiment, but no. I cannot. Now follow me. I will show you a secret way out."

  They followed Melethiel down the hallway as calmly as if they were headed to dinner together. Tace wished they could move faster, but they had to maintain a nonchalant pace so as not to alert anyone else. Raseri chewed on her tail, obviously sharing Tace's agitation.

  Melethiel led them to the top of a spiral staircase, then stepped to one side. "Go down this staircase. At the bottom, you will find an unlocked door that leads to a waste tunnel. Follow the tunnel—you will come out under the southern wall of the library. I wish you well. All of you."

  As she ran down the stairs, eager to leave the library, Tace wondered where Frensia would lead them once they escaped.

  Chapter 17

  Maysant disembarked her mother's ship. She was thrilled to be back on land. She preferred solid ground to the continuous ebb and flow of water—and she couldn't wait to take her bow and arrow into the nearest forest.

  Ghrol lumbered behind her, Benin in his arms.

  Maysant patted Benin on the arm. "Word is the humans have left Agitar. You have no one to fear here. You too, Ghrol. I'll protect you both from those who have hurt you."

  Though she didn't know the gentle giant's story, Maysant had to believe no one out there loved him. Why else would he have been wandering the forest alone and scared? If Ghrol had a home, he didn't seem eager to get back to it. No, these two human men were now her responsibility. She would care for them to the best of her ability.

  Benin peered out from under the blanket he kept wrapped around his body. "Thank you, Maysant."

  Her chest puffed up with pride, Maysant strode over to her mother. "When will the supplies for the orcs arrive from Gailwyn?"

  Her mother had promised to look after the orcs following their tragedy, and Maysant couldn't wait to get to work helping. She'd assist in rebuilding, in caring for their ill, anything to make herself useful. If she was going to be a leader of the elven empire someday, she needed to start proving to everyone she could hack it.

  "The supplies will arrive soon enough, my dear." Her mother maintained her stride, not even glancing at her daughter.

  Maysant steeled her fists at her sides, trying not to show her frustration in any other way. She would remain calm, mature. She would show her mother she was worthy of her admiration. She was willing to do whatever it took to prove herself.

  Her mother stopped suddenly and spun around, her eyes boring into Maysant's. "But there is one thing you must know," she said. "I have decided to take Benin as a counselor."

  Maysant clasped her hands together, holding back an excited clap. She wouldn't act like a child in front of her mother. Instead she smiled, holding her head high. "I knew Benin would be an asset to the elven empire. I'm pleased you were able to see what I saw in him."

  Her mother blinked, looked at Benin, then back at Maysant. "I do not need Ghrol. Get back on the boat and take him with you." She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Forgetting her self-control, Maysant stomped. "What? No! I brought them—we all stay together. Benin will never agree to this!"

  The queen pointed a long, graceful finger over Maysant's shoulder.

  Maysant slowly turned her head, dreading what she would see. It was already happening. Two elven servants were lifting Benin from Ghrol's arms. They placed him on a litter.

  Maysant ran to him, her heart pounding. "Benin, you don't have to do this. Don't let her control you. I promise,
if you stay with me, I'll treat you better."

  But Benin's eyes had changed, their kindness replaced with an empty stare. "You're but a child. Play with your toys. I serve your mother now."

  "What?" Maysant blinked back tears and bit her lip. "I don't understand. I thought we were friends."

  "Friends?" A cruel laugh spilled from Benin's thin lips. "Go back to the boat, Maysant. You have no idea what the world is really about."

  As the servants carried Benin's litter toward the queen, Maysant's tears fell, unbidden, soaking her cheeks. Anger boiled in her stomach and bile rose in her throat. She bent over and vomited on the grass.

  She'd done everything right. She'd proven herself to Benin and her mother. And instead of recognizing her, they'd formed an alliance and pushed her to the side. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

  "Msent?" A heavy hand fell on her shoulder.

  Maysant looked up at Ghrol through a blurry curtain of tears.

  "Msent blegghh." He pointed to her blanket of sick on the grass.

  "Yes, I threw up, Ghrol. I'm okay. Just really, really, really angry." She pointed toward her mother and Benin, whose heads were close, their lips moving furiously. They'd betrayed her. She expected such things from her mother, but not from Benin, whom she'd rescued and nursed back to life. If she hadn't helped him, he'd be nothing more than a rotting corpse in the forest, the ungrateful prick.

  She grabbed Ghrol's hand and tugged him away from the marching line of elves. She knew her mother would do as she pleased, then take credit for everything. Rage blinded Maysant as she stalked away from the procession headed into the encampment outside of Agitar. She tugged so hard on Ghrol's beefy hand that even he protested with grunts.

  She wouldn't let go. He was all she had left.

  "Maysant!"

  It was Kazrack. Her pompous, ass-kissing older brother, who would sell her out to her mother for the smallest boon.

  No, she wouldn't stop. Not for him. Not for anyone.

  "Maysant! Stop this childishness." Kazrack leapt in front of her, locking his hands on her shoulders.

  Ghrol ripped his hand from Maysant's, grabbed Kazrack by the throat, and lifted him until his toes dangled above the ground. Kazrack slapped at Ghrol. His eyes bugged out and he gasped for air.

  "It's okay, Ghrol. Set him down," Maysant said. "After what my mother did, my brother can't hurt me."

  Ghrol dropped Kazrack. He landed in a heap on the ground, gasping for air. After a few wracking coughs, he seemed to catch his breath again.

  "Don't leave, Maysant. It's suicide. The orcs hate elves. They'll kill you," he said, his voice raspy.

  "They won't kill me. I'll show them I'm not like the rest of you." Maysant glared at her brother. She'd heard what he'd done to the orcs. If they hated her, it was Kazrack's fault, not a reflection of her character. If even one orc would listen to her, she could prove to them she was there to help, not to hurt.

  "You're naive. You've always been that way. It's time for you to grow up. Stop acting like you have something to prove. It's not the elven way." Kazrack straightened his shirt and brushed off the dirt.

  "I'm not trying to prove anything, Kazrack. I'm trying to be me, and none of you will have it. I'm tired of fighting against you, of trying to show you who I am. I'm leaving. I'll find my way." Maysant turned on her heel and motioned to Ghrol.

  "You'll regret this," Kazrack yelled at her back. "We gave you every chance to live up to your birthright, but you'd rather run amok like a petulant child. Have it your way, Maysant. You won't survive. I'll see you on the other side of the gossamer curtain someday. I promise to put a good word in with Elisha. If you're lucky, our goddess will grant you eternal life with the rest of us."

  Maysant kept walking. She would leave behind Kazrack. Her mother. Benin. From now on, she would forge her own path, with Ghrol by her side.

  She looked up at the gentle man, who seemed a giant to her. He wasn't the sort of friend she'd always dreamed of having. Loyal and strong, Ghrol was better than anyone she'd imagined. "If you ever want to leave me, Ghrol," she said, "I understand."

  "Msent. Ghrol." He touched Maysant's shoulder, then his chest. "Frenz."

  Despite her sadness, Maysant smiled. "Yes, Ghrol, we are friends." She leaned in and hugged her only friend, though she was barely able to wrap her thin arms around his thick trunk. "Come on—I saw a cave entrance up ahead. Let's take shelter in there until we figure out what to do next."

  Maysant felt her heart getting lighter as she skipped toward the mouth of the dark cave. Surely nothing in there could hurt them.

  Chapter 18

  Vron sat in the darkness, his hands bound behind his back. Sickness surrounded him. The hacking coughs. The sniffling. The strange wailing coming from behind the walls of his room.

  They'd set him up in one of the miners' homes. If he could even call it that. It was a hovel, dug into an alcove within the mine. The walls were rough bitumen, black as the darkest night and cool to the touch. Only a faint torch flickered in the room. At night, or what he assumed was night, the torch would extinguish, seemingly on its own. He thought it had been four days. Maybe five. Or maybe less. He was disoriented underground, quickly losing all sense of time and place. Ever since the orc had sneezed on him, he'd felt off balance. Confused.

  And yet, the sickness hadn't touched him yet. For that he was grateful. He held on to the hope he might survive this disease that had killed so many.

  The curtain to his room parted, and a small figure stepped in. Vron squinted. He thought it was a female orc, a young one with long black hair hanging over most of her face.

  "Do you know me?" she asked.

  "No," Vron croaked. He cleared his throat. It was the first time he'd spoken in days. His lips were cracked and his throat dry. The water they brought once a day wasn't enough to keep him hydrated; it was only enough to keep him alive.

  "It is better you do not know me, then," she said. "But I know who you are. Vron, a captain in the orc army. You are a brave fighter. An honorable orc. All who know you admire you."

  Vron cared little for flattery. Perhaps it worked on other orcs, but not on him. "Let me go."

  She shook her head, her black hair still covering the majority of her face. Vron could see only one eye peering out between stringy strands of hair. "I can't do that. You have been exposed. Until I can be sure you're showing no signs of illness, you must remain here. Otherwise you could carry the infection out among others. You wouldn't want to do that, would you?"

  "Then why am I bound?" Vron struggled against the ties around his wrists. He'd tried everything he knew to break free, but all he'd succeeded in doing was chafing his skin. The blood from his original attempts had dried, cementing the ties.

  "If you were not bound, you would try to leave." Her logic grated on him. "I cannot allow that. You must remain until we are sure."

  "You are no more than a child." Vron glared at her. "Why should I listen to you?"

  She stepped closer, stopping directly in front of him. "I don't fear you, soldier. But you should fear me. You will do as I say, or you will die." She cackled. "You may die anyway if you contract the disease."

  Vron ignored her attempts to intimidate him. "And you?" he said. "Why aren't you sick?"

  "I am immune. The infection cannot hurt me."

  She tilted her head, her hair moving to the side. He recoiled at the mottled pink birthmark extending across much of her face. He'd never seen such a thing on another orc.

  "How long until you decide I'm healthy enough to leave?" he asked. He was running out of patience with this child. "And maybe I should talk to your parents. Where are they?"

  Her dark eyes narrowed. "My parents are dead. I'm trying to protect everyone from this insidious infection, and all you care about is whether I'm competent enough to make decisions. I am. Trust me, Vron, I am."

  She sighed, her shoulders slumping. An innocent child replaced the strong, angry orc. She changed so quickly, he almost won
dered if he was delirious.

  "I am truly trying to protect everyone aboveground. I lived here in the mines. I know the miners. They know me. We want to keep this infection contained, away from the population aboveground. After that beast attacked, we don't want to give them anything else to fear. Can you please believe me when I say I am only trying to help?"

  Vron, too, wanted to keep the infection contained. It was why he'd agreed to the onerous task Dalgron had given him. Seal the entrances to the mines. Keep the infection from spreading.

  "As much as I hate it," he said, "I do understand. Though I would prefer I wasn't tethered like a wild beast."

  "And I wish circumstances were different, too. You will remain like this until I'm sure you're well. It's for your own good."

  She parted the curtains and left without another word.

  Vron struggled against his bonds again, as if her visit would have made a difference. Of course, it didn't. He was weaker now than he'd been when they first brought him down. He was a fool to think he could suddenly muster the strength to break free.

  He slumped against the cool, damp wall of his room, letting his eyes close. He focused on his breathing. Inhale to a count of four. Hold for four. Release for four. It wouldn't be long before he was calm again.

  In battle, his bloodlust worked for him. It led him to victory every time. Here, he had no outlet for it, and he couldn't allow it to fester. Unexpressed bloodlust led to a burst of anger he couldn't control. And he needed every ounce of control he had.

  It wasn't long before his heart slowed to match his breathing. He felt normal again, as if he were simply relaxing in his own home after a day of combat training. Spent, but relaxed.

  Two voices whispered on the other side of the canvas curtain. Vron kept his eyes closed.

  "How is he?" a decidedly masculine voice asked.

  "Fine. He shows no sign of illness." It was the girl who'd spoken with him. "Yet."

  "When the time comes," the girl said, "I will let him go. Then he will bring everything I need back to me. You do understand how this plan works, don't you, Azlinar?"