A Legacy of Blood

by Megg Jensen

  And yet, Ambrielle had insisted they help. Anyone with half a brain could see she had an ulterior motive.

  An orc waved Ylantri over to a tent. She knew enough orcish to speak and understand their tongue. Elves lived long enough to learn more than was necessary. It gave them yet another advantage over those with shorter lives.

  Ylantri bowed her head toward the orc, then pulled a veil over her nose and mouth as she entered.

  The smell of sick permeated the tent. A single orc lay on a cot inside. A rasping sound escaped his wet lips, followed by a gurgle.

  Ylantri sponged the orc's forehead. "What's your name?"

  "Orseth," he answered.

  "Can you tell me how you're feeling?"

  "Like death. Tell me, am I going to die?"

  "I don't know." Ylantri wanted to tell him that, yes, he was on death's door, awaiting the grim reaper's beckoning fingers. But until death truly embraced a soul, there was always a chance life might win out.

  He coughed, his body doubling over from the intensity. Whatever was inside him, his body wanted it out desperately. The disease wanted out, too, needing another host to feed on. It needed to spread, just as a young man feels the need to spread his seed. It was biology, pure and simple.

  Ylantri closed her eyes in the dark tent. She rested her hand on the orc's chest, feeling it rise and lower spastically. He would be dead soon. There was little she could do.

  "Do you want to suffer?" she asked.

  "No," he replied without hesitation.

  The orcs were a strong people; his reaction didn't surprise her.

  "Do you want me to help you?" Ylantri lifted the mask, letting him see her true face.

  He gasped, lifting a shaking hand toward her face. Though the tent was dark, with only a flickering candle to illuminate them, it was clear that he knew he was looking into the visage of death itself.

  "I don't want to suffer anymore," he said. "Do it. I am ready for an honorable death. Tonight I will meet Drothu."

  Ylantri leaned down and her lips hovering just above his. Their breaths mingled.

  And then, with one sharp inhalation, she took his life, sucking his very soul through his mouth.

  As she pulled back, she rested his head gently on the cot. His soul swam inside her, fighting at first, then coming to rest with the others, somewhere deep inside. Ylantri couldn't pinpoint their exact location. They were absorbed into her, became part of her. That was the way of the Shadari. She was a protector of souls.

  Of course, the other elves didn't see it that way. They didn't understand her kind. They called the Shadari soul eaters. Death bringers. The Shadari were feared. Reviled.

  Ylantri smiled for only a moment, then let her glamour fall over her body again. She straightened her tunic and headed out of the tent.

  "I'm so sorry, there was nothing I could do." She patted the arm of the orc who stood guard outside.

  Instead of breaking down into tears, as most elves would do, he stood ramrod straight. "It is for the best. He was already on Drothu's door. His death was honorable."

  Ylantri knew Orseth's soul would never reach Drothu. He would never find rest with his god. Instead, he would join the Shadari, living forever as part of their collective.

  She stood back, observing the orc camp. The sounds of the sick were all around her. She would save those whom she could, but those who were on the brink of death, she would lead to a safer place… one where the disease would never touch them again.

  Chapter 36

  Kazrack surveyed the orc encampment from his royal tent. A small number of the orcs had left days ago, heading for other orc cities, trying to escape the disease running rampant through the remains of the city. Those who stayed behind were either ill or kind enough to care for their sick.

  He found the orcs puzzling. They prized an honorable death, preferably in battle. Did they consider a fight against a disease unworthy? He had suspected they would all stay and fight for their brethren, yet he was wrong.

  Kazrack knew he needed to understand the orcs if he ever hoped to truly rule them. The hulking beasts were like children to him. They needed the guidance his advanced age could give them. He was considered young among elves, but he was older than most of the orcs he would eventually rule. Someday, he would even rule over the grandchildren of today's youngest orcs.

  Kazrack was disappointed the human queen had fallen into a fissure created by the xarlug. He had looked forward to getting to know her. She was quite beautiful for one of them. Long blond hair, deep blue eyes, pert, pink lips. A quick glance in the mirror made him laugh. Of course he was attracted to her looks—she looked similar to him, and no elf could deny Kazrack's comeliness.

  "Kazrack!" His mother's voice called from behind his tent.

  He stood up straight and smoothed his brocade tunic. He had to prove to her that he was worthy of ruling the orcs. She could go home to Gailwyn as soon as they had sorted out this illness debacle, and he would be left in charge. After all, it was he who had come to Doros first, to help the orcs before the xarlug exploded.

  Of course, Kazrack knew it didn't look that way to his mother. The way she saw it, everything had gone wrong. The city of Agitar had been destroyed, the humans had retreated in fear, and now the orcs were fighting a disease they couldn't seem to contain. He was failing, and she felt she needed to swoop in and fix what he was unable to fix. Still, he knew she respected strength, integrity, and leadership—and he would show her he had all three.

  "Hello, Mother." Kazrack strode toward his mother, the queen, his arms out. He leaned in, grasped her shoulders, and gave her a peck on her porcelain cheek. To his relief, her skin was cool. Though the orc disease hadn't yet infected any of the elves, Kazrack still worried incessantly about catching it.

  "My son. Walk with me. We need to speak." Without waiting for him to agree, his mother sashayed toward the meadow behind the elf encampment.

  Kazrack scurried up behind his mother and fell into step with her. She walked at a brisk pace, the same way she did everything else. She wasn't one to dawdle.

  "I know you want to rule Agitar. I've known that for quite a while now. It's why I gave you my blessing to come to Doros in an attempt to unite the humans and orcs." She stopped abruptly and faced him. "You failed."

  "It wasn't my fault. The ground opened before I could properly meet with the human queen. If I'd had another day, everything would have been under control." Kazrack kept his emotions in check, holding back the blubbering tears he knew were waiting to burst free.

  His mother's eyes bored into his. "We cannot account for such delays. As rulers, we must prepare for every eventuality. If we blame others for our failures, how can we ever achieve true success?"

  He knew it was a rhetorical question. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, she was right. She was always right. He knew it. She knew it.

  "I will do better this time," he insisted. "I've come up with a plan!"

  "Oh?" His mother raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

  "Once the orcs are healed, I will call a convention. I will show them how life is in Gailwyn. I will teach them that our ways are better than theirs. I will convince them that what they need is to emulate our lifestyle." Kazrack closed his eyes. He could see the oafish orcs transformed, wearing silken elf robes and slippers. Their green bodies could be lightened with creams and tonics. They could even shave down their tusks until they were no longer visible. They could be charming, possibly even not ugly.

  His mother sighed. "You don't understand, my son. Have you been listening to anything I've said during the last few decades? The orcs don't want to be us. They want to be themselves, and there is nothing wrong with that."

  "Then where do we fit in?" Kazrack asked, confused. "Why should we worry at all about what happens on Doros if not to bring them around to our way of life?"

  His mother leaned in, her lips a breath away from his ear. "Because we need them for a bigger battle. We need them to be exactly as they are,
but loyal to us. We need them to be our axes and our spears and our swords."

  A shiver crept up Kazrack's spine. "Are we in danger?"

  "Yes, my son, we are in grave danger. That which lurks underground—Drothu, as the orcs refer to their god—has the capacity to destroy all of us."

  "But we are elves! Nothing can challenge us!" Kazrack stepped away from his mother, confused. His entire life he'd been raised to believe the elves were the pinnacle of civilization. They had conquered war, and now lived in peace. They continued to increase their lifespans. They were beautiful, the envy of all other living creatures.

  "I know what you're thinking," his mother said. "Our forebears knew another world, a world filled with strife, and yes, we overcame it. Yes, we are the most beautiful, worshipped creatures on the planet now. But Kazrack, that time is returning. The beings underground are stirring. Not just Drothu, but all the beings he once fought. We are not alone, and soon the rest of the world will know the truth. If we do not fight, if we do not work together, then we are all doomed to fail."

  "Then why not tell the orcs?" Kazrack's eyes lit up. He was formulating a plan, one that would cement his right to rule.

  "They are like children," his mother said softly. "They must be guided, but allowed to be themselves at the same time. It requires a mother's touch. I am your mother, Kazrack—and in many ways, I am the mother of all elves, as their sitting queen. I can be a mother to the orcs, too." She rested a hand on his shoulder. "Can you see why it would be best for me to rule the orcs instead of you? At least for now?"

  Kazrack didn't see at all. For the first time in his life, he dared to stand up to his mother, his queen. "Doesn't it take a father to lead children, too?" His father had long been dead; Kazrack barely remembered the elf.

  The queen smiled, her teeth shining in the afternoon sunlight. "Of course, but you have yet to become a father, Kazrack. Nor do you remember your own well enough to retain the lessons he might have taught you. You must give yourself time. Remember," she laughed, "we will be here for a very long time. One day you will look back on this as a minor crisis, and you will be glad for the guidance I gave you. Now, my healers have a plan to stop this infection from spreading. They will erect a shield to keep anyone else from getting sick. Trust me. Trust them. We have everyone's best interests at heart."

  Kazrack had to admit, her arguments made sense. Yet at the same time, something niggled at the back of his mind. Something was off. He looked at his mother, who stood slightly shorter than he. Nothing seemed amiss. Still, his senses told him, for the first time, that perhaps he ought to be careful what he said to his beloved mother and queen.

  Chapter 37

  Nishta trudged through the prairie grass, her arms aching and her shoulders sore. She’d carried the top half of this dead, useless human for days now, solely because her general commanded it. It reminded her of being forced to carry that evil mage, Damor, in his palanquin all over Doros. Being a soldier wasn’t slavery—it was the life Nishta chose—but she was so, so tired of humans.

  “Sister,” Gashta called out behind her.

  Nishta craned her neck. Her sister’s arms were wrapped around the dead man’s legs.

  “Can we break for a few minutes, please?” Gashta blew a puff of air out the side of her mouth, trying to push her hair out of her face. Her leather hair tie had come undone again, and her hair fell in long brown waves.

  “Yes. Let’s lower him on three.” Nisha counted it out, and together they rested the dead man’s body on the ground—though to be honest she would have been okay with just dropping him. It’s not like it would hurt him; he was already dead.

  The linen that covered his body shifted slightly to the side, exposing a hand. Gashta bent down and re-covered it. Gashta seemed to care for him in some capacity. Nishta didn’t understand it.

  Nishta looked around them. The prairie seemed to stretch forever, but Nishta knew they were almost home. She could feel it in her bones. Agitar wasn’t far away. They would be home soon. Maybe even by the end of the day. They’d arrive with the body, and then… she didn’t know.

  “You should rest, too,” Gashta said. She had taken a seat next to the body and pulled out her water skin.

  Nishta was about to respond when she realized her sister was speaking to the elf and the human woman. She steeled her jaw as the two sat next to Gashta, and the three of them began laughing like old friends.

  Nishta scanned the horizon, pretending as if she was keeping watch for danger. In reality, she just couldn’t stand to see her sister getting friendly with the human and the elf. How could she? After all those years they’d spent as prisoners of humans? And elves weren’t any better. They had devious reasons for everything they did. Their so-called beauty was only a distraction. Gashta should know better.

  “Nishta, sit with us,” Hilthe said, beckoning to her with a wrinkled hand. She held up a water skin. Gashta smiled, as did the elf, with her bright, white teeth.

  “Someone needs to keep a watch out for enemies.” Nishta turned her back on them. She wouldn’t join their little tea party.

  “We’re close to Agitar,” Gashta said. “No one will bother us here. Besides, we are two orcs, a human, and an elf. No matter who came upon us, one of us could talk to them rationally. There is nothing to fear, sister.”

  Nishta sighed and tromped to her sister’s side. She sank to the ground, the prairie grass soft under her rump. She pulled her water skin from her hip and took a long drink, letting the warm water coat her sore throat. Maybe this break was a good idea. She would have to thank her sister later when the other two weren’t around.

  “So, when we arrive at Agitar, what’s the plan?” the elf asked.

  “We need to speak with, oh, what was his name?” Hilthe looked to Gashta for help.

  “General Dalgron.”

  “Thank you, Gashta.” Hilthe patted Gashta’s hand.

  Nishta tried not to recoil. The human had better not touch her like that.

  “General Dalgron will help us distribute the relics. All of the orcs will be better in no time.” Hilthe turned to Nishta. “Nishta, I’ve lived among your orcs for many years. Agitar is a second home to me. I want them to be well as much as you do. If you think I’m any different from you, then you are highly mistaken. I’m not wasting another moment.” She stood and straightened her skirt. “Come on, Maysant. Let’s lead the way back.”

  She walked on ahead, and Maysant hurried to catch up.

  Nishta stood, grabbed Hugh’s shoulders, and lifted him off the ground with a grunt. She felt shame wash over her. Hilthe was sincerely trying to help the orcs—and she probably was the only human willing to do it. The others had run south to their homeland, tails tucked between their legs. They were useless. But perhaps Hilthe was different.

  And perhaps Nishta would give her a chance, as Gashta had done.

  They walked at a faster pace than they had before. Nishta’s heart pounded, and she pressed harder with each footfall. Soon she would be back with her orcs again. That was where she felt most comfortable. After being held prisoner and forced to serve Damor, she had wanted nothing more than to stay with her orcs. She’d taken this assignment on the orders of her general, but maybe she would find a new calling, one that would allow her never to leave her orcs again.

  Her heart lifted. Everything would be good. The orcs would heal, and they could go back to rebuilding Agitar.

  Nishta felt her spirits lift as she spied the tops of the first tents in the encampment. It took everything in her not to take off in a run. She would enter proudly. She would carry the human’s body in with reverence. It was the right thing to do.

  Then she spotted the line of elves standing in a ring around the encampment. They wore strange long brown gowns and had veils over their faces.

  “What is this?” Nishta asked Maysant.

  Maysant’s hand flew to her mouth. “We need to hurry.”

  “Why?” Nishta asked, irritated.

  �
��They’re about to enclose the orcs.”

  “Enclose? I don’t understand. There are no walls. What would they enclose them with?” Nishta squinted. She saw now that the elves had raised their arms above their heads.

  “With magic. They’re probably doing it to contain the disease. And once it’s up, we can’t get in.”

  “Then run, elf! Tell them who we are and why we’ve come. They can’t keep us out. We need to get this body in the encampment!” Truth be told, Nishta was less worried about the human body and more worried about rejoining her fellow orcs. She couldn’t stand to be separated from them any longer.

  Maysant took off at a run, her long thin legs moving at a dizzying speed.

  When Maysant reached the circle, she waved her hands, pointing back toward their little group. She was clearly arguing with them—and just as clearly, it was doing no good. The other elves simply shook their heads and pointed into the encampment.

  Then another elf walked over to Maysant. Maysant turned to her, seemingly pleading their case. This other elf looked back at Nishta, Gashta, Hilthe, and Hugh.

  “Please,” Nishta said under her breath. She had to get back there before she broke down.

  The elf placed her hands on Maysant’s shoulders and gently pushed her outside the circle. She raised her arms again and shouted something in the elven language. A pulsing orange glow burst from the elves’ hands, spreading upward. It reached toward the clouds, gently curving over the encampment.

  “No!” Nishta yelled. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she watched herself getting cut off from the only thing that calmed the angry voices in her head. She needed to go home. More than anything, she needed to be surrounded by orcs again. Without them, she knew she wouldn’t be able to control the anger simmering under the surface.

  Chapter 38

  Maysant screamed at the elf who had so blatantly ignored her commands. “I am Queen Ambrielle’s daughter! You will do as I say!”