A Legacy of Blood

by Megg Jensen

  One simple, mindless nod was all he got from her. But it was enough. They both knew where to go while the army was fighting. Vron only hoped he wouldn’t have to engage anyone until he could get out of Nemia’s sight.

  “Keep to my side,” Alyna whispered, her eyes vacant, staring directly ahead.

  The two moved together into the camp, their crude cudgels waving in the air. The orcs of Agitar attacked, with Vron holding back from his usual battle fury. He fought them off, one by one, only knocking them to the ground or hurting them in ways from which they would quickly recover. Alyna snarled at anyone who got in her way, biting her teeth at them as if she were rabid, and with her wild and unkempt red hair making her appear even more feral, the orcs stayed clear of her.

  All around them, orcs battled, fighting off Nemia’s army. Vron chanced a glance over his shoulder. Nemia and Azlinar were headed straight for the center of the camp, their infected orcs surrounding them, killing anyone in their way. Vron’s heart thumped in his chest. He needed to get to Dalgron before Azlinar could do what Vron suspected he’d come to do.

  “No one’s watching us,” Vron said to Alyna. He straightened up. “Let’s get to Dalgron.”

  They held their hands up in the air to any orc who came near them. They looked battle-worn enough to have fought on either side.

  “Stop!” a voice called from their left.

  Vron turned. It was Nishta. “Take us to Dalgron, quick!”

  She tilted her head to the side. “You are the leader of the army who is currently attacking our camp. Why should I?”

  “Nishta,” Vron said. “You know me. I would never hurt Dalgron. I need to speak with him. I want to tell him Nemia’s plans. I must warn him.”

  “I think it’s too late for that.” Nishta glanced to the west, where Nemia and Azlinar were high above everyone else on their draft horses. Azlinar’s hands were moving in a strange dance.

  “He’s casting a spell that will make all of the infected orcs here heed their orders. He has to be stopped. Please, take us to Dalgron,” Alyna said, her voice clear and commanding.

  “No,” Nishta said. “I don’t trust you. Either of you.”

  Frustration bloomed in Vron’s chest. “How can I convince you?”

  “You can’t.” Nishta raised her sword. “I am sworn to protect the general above all else.”

  “Don’t do this,” Vron begged her. “We used to be one. You know my heart.”

  Nishta’s snarl turned into a frown. “I did know your heart once. I knew it well enough to believe you’d come after me. That you would find a way to help rescue my sister and me from slavery to that evil human mage. I also believed that when I came back, I would at least be able to speak with you in private. But I wasn’t. You were too busy to see me.”

  “Don’t blame Alyna,” Vron said, uncomfortable with the direction this was heading.

  “I don’t blame her.” Nishta’s eyes flickered to Alyna. “I accept that you moved on while I was gone. I would have done the same. I do not find a faun threatening. Not even one who also shares a piece of your heart. All I wanted was a moment of your time. An acknowledgment that I had returned.”

  “I am sorry, Nishta. I’ve been so busy. Like now, I really must speak with Dalgron before it’s too late.” Vron was growing more frustrated by the moment. “Please, let us through.”

  “How do I know this isn’t a trick?”

  “You know me.”

  “I knew you.”

  “Then let me go,” Alyna said. “We are running out of time.”

  Nishta looked at Alyna, then turned her eyes to Vron. “No. You will not pass this point without killing me.”

  “Don’t make me do this.” Vron didn’t want to fight her. He only wanted to get to Dalgron.

  “You owe me this, Vron. Acknowledge my return.” Nishta’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Damn it, of course I’m acknowledging your return! I’m speaking to you. I’m begging for your help!” Vron dropped his cudgel on the ground at her feet. “I won’t fight you. Just let me pass.”

  “I waited for you. I knew you’d find a way to get to Gashta and me. Together, the three of us would fight our way out of the human city and back to Agitar. I thought about it every day. Every night. I believed in you, and you failed me.” Nishta lifted her sword and pointed it at his chest. “How can I possibly believe you now, after you led the enemy here?”

  Vron felt Alyna’s hand on his forearm. He shrugged it off. He knew how to deal with Nishta. She was a strong orc, never needy. She had spent years thinking he would lead the battle to liberate her. And instead, he’d stayed in Agitar, doing nothing. He was partly to blame for her problems.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. And he meant it from the depths of his soul.

  “I’m sorry, too.” Nishta thrust the sword into his chest.

  A strange gurgle popped in Vron’s throat. His vision swam. Staggering, he dropped to his knees. Something roared in his ear, a guttural anger he’d never before heard.

  “That was the last thing you’ll ever do!” Alyna screamed. She swung her cudgel at Nishta’s head, hitting her so hard her neck snapped at an unnatural angle.

  Vron could barely see as Alyna bludgeoned Nishta until the orc no longer moved.

  Alyna fell to her knees at his side and wrapped her arms around him. “I won’t let you die. Not like this.” She kissed his lips, lingering for a moment, as if she thought her kiss might save him.

  “I failed Nishta,” Vron choked out.

  “No. She was ill. She took her anger out on you. She can’t hurt you, or anyone else, ever again.”

  “You must get to Dalgron,” Vron sputtered, his lips wet. He tasted blood in his mouth, coming up in spurts from his throat. “You must tell him what they have planned.”

  “I won’t leave you here to die alone.” Tears streamed down Alyna’s beautiful cheeks.

  Vron lifted a hand and wiped her tears with his thumb. “I would be glad to have you be the last thing I see before I die, but you must go to Dalgron. Don’t let my death stop you from doing what you set out to do.”

  “I love you. I’m sorry…”

  “Shhh, don’t. No regrets. I only took what you were willing to give, and it was always enough.” Vron choked on the last word. He gasped for another breath, but it wouldn’t come.

  Alyna gently rested his head on the ground. He felt her fumbling with his hand, tying something around his forefinger. But he was too weak to lift his head to see what it was. His eyes closed, and he was at peace.

  Chapter 52

  Alyna wouldn’t allow herself to look at Vron’s body or Nishta’s bloodied and bashed head. She turned away, squared her shoulders, and raced toward Dalgron’s tent. It wasn’t long before she spied the general, a scowl on his face as he barked orders at his soldiers.

  Alyna called out his name.

  Dalgron started, then stared at her, his eyes wide. “You’re alive!”

  “I am, but Vron died, courtesy of one of your orcs.” Alyna swallowed the bitter bile in the back of her throat.

  “I don’t understand.” Dalgron hurried to her side. “Why would anyone do that? They all know Vron. He’s one of us.”

  “We came in with the army. We led it, in fact. We had no other choice. Nemia was holding us captive.” Alyna steeled herself. Grief over Vron would have to wait. “There is more, but what you need to know right now is that she is about to turn all of your sick orcs into her evil minions. Your orcs must stop her. They have to destroy Azlinar.” Alyna pointed to the hooded figure on the horse next to Nemia.

  Dalgron ordered the nearest soldiers to disengage with Nemia’s horde and instead focus on Azlinar. The tide of the battle turned toward the center of the camp as Dalgron’s orcs slashed and hacked their way to the two evil orcs on the draft horses.

  Dalgron motioned Alyna away from the fray. “I’m thrilled you’re alive. Come, I have something to show you.”

  Alyna wanted to go back fo
r Vron’s body, but the time for that was later, when they cleaned up after the fight. “Shouldn’t we advance with the others?” she asked.

  “I’ve sent my best fighters,” Dalgron said. “Well, the ones who aren’t sick. It’s been awful here. Luckily, not all is lost.”

  Alyna followed Dalgron around the back of his tent into a small, fenced-in area. Standing still in the middle was Syra, looking as majestic as ever, her horn glinting in the sun.

  A lump formed in Alyna’s throat. “You’ve kept her prisoner? In a pen? Syra should be free to roam as she pleases.”

  Dalgron crossed his arms over his chest. “That unicorn of yours was free to leave. This is where she settled after I thought you died. Apparently, she knew better than I did that you were coming back.”

  Tears gathered at the corners of Alyna’s eyes, her emotions getting the better of her. She reached out a shaky hand.

  Syra jumped easily over the makeshift fence, proving it had always been her choice to remain with Dalgron, and nuzzled Alyna’s hand.

  “I missed you,” Alyna said through her tears. Losing Vron. Finding Syra. The sound of clashing swords ringing in her ears. Escaping Nemia’s hellhole in the mines. Alyna was strong, but she allowed herself a moment to feel everything she’d been pushing aside.

  After her third deep breath, she rested a hand on Syra’s back. “What do you say? Should we join them in battle?”

  Syra bent a knee, just as she always did when she wanted Alyna to mount her. Alyna leapt onto the unicorn’s back. She felt alive for the first time since she’d gotten lost in the mines. With Syra underneath her, she felt more than alive—she felt invincible.

  “Give me a sword,” she ordered Dalgron.

  “Absolutely not. You’ve been through too much. You need to rest. Stay with me. We’ll command the battle together.”

  “Give me a damn sword. I can rest when I’m dead!” Alyna thrust her arm out.

  A reluctant, but smiling, Dalgron placed the grip in her hand. “You’d better return to me alive,” he said. “After all this, I expect nothing less.”

  “I will be back. I swear it.” Alyna patted Syra on the head. “Let’s get them, girl.”

  Syra’s hooves pounded the ground and her horn stood proudly erect as she raced into the battle.

  Alyna swiped right and left with her sword and kicked the infected orcs with her feet as they pushed through the fighting, trying desperately to get closer to Azlinar. She needed to stop him, to do whatever it took to make sure the camp’s sick didn’t turn into the vacant slaves Azlinar had created. She did it for the orcs. She did it, particularly, for Vron.

  He’d nursed her back to health in their cell for days, taking less for himself just to make sure she recovered. And she had slowly regained her strength. The two of them exercised together, using each other as resistance. They also made love countless times, taking shelter in each other’s arms as they tried to block out the horror of what Nemia was doing with the infected orcs. Together, they survived.

  Now he was gone, taken so suddenly by another orc who was a victim of evil. Killing her was the last thing Alyna had wanted to do, but at that moment, she had known nothing else would stop Nishta. The woman had been corrupted by the human mage, just as all the sick orcs of Agitar were about to be corrupted by Azlinar.

  Alyna wouldn’t allow it. If she could save even one of them, it would be worth every sacrifice she could make.

  And she was making a sacrifice, just by joining this fight. She’d come to the orcs to warn them about the impending human invasion—not to kill. But evil had no natural form, it didn’t discriminate, and neither would Alyna. She would strike down any evil in her path, starting with Nishta and ending, well… she didn’t know. She hoped it would end with the death of Azlinar and perhaps the capture of Nemia.

  Orcs rushed around her like a maelstrom, moving in every direction, lashing out at their enemies, pushing ever closer to Nemia and Azlinar. Above them, the sky rumbled. Alyna was surprised to see that dark clouds had moved in. Rain began to fall in torrential sheets, making the fight even more difficult. Hands were slippery, as was the ground. Syra struggled to keep purchase. They slid, ramming into orcs, but still pressing on toward Azlinar and Nemia.

  Lightning struck, lighting up the sky and setting a tent on fire. The entire camp was erupting into chaos as the rain became heavier, obscuring her vision. It was harder now to tell who was an infected minion of Nemia’s and who was one of Dalgron’s soldiers. Alyna knew none of them personally. She couldn’t tell by their clothes or their faces.

  “Keep going, Syra,” she said into the unicorn’s ear. “We have to stop them.”

  Syra pushed forward.

  Alyna wished that Tace were here with her dragon, so she could fly in and save the day. If that were the case, Nemia would have already been defeated. But no, Tace was off at the Library of Filamir. Alyna cursed herself for supporting Tace’s quest. The assassin should have remained here with her orcs. But how could any of them have known it would come to this?

  An evil chortle rang out, louder than the thunder, more concerning than the lightning. Azlinar. His hands dropped to his sides, and a hideous grin was painted on his face as he nodded to Nemia. She returned his smile.

  “No,” Alyna said aloud.

  Nemia and Azlinar turned their horses toward the battle. Nemia’s eyes swept the fighting masses—and settled on Alyna. The orc’s smile turned to a frown, but only for a moment. A chill ran down Alyna’s spine. Sick orcs began to emerge from their tents, wild-eyed and slack-jawed.

  “She did it,” Alyna said. “She now controls the infected here, too.” A pit formed in her stomach, taking all of her hope and swallowing it whole.

  “Turn around, Syra. Take me back to Dalgron!”

  Syra didn’t need any more urging. She quickly turned her back on Nemia and Azlinar.

  Alyna took one final glance back at them. Nemia was following her with questioning eyes. She’s wondering where Vron is. Well, Alyna hoped she’d never find his body. She had done all she could to protect him by winding the strand of Hugh’s hair around his finger. She hoped it was enough to save him from whatever evil magic was spreading across the ruins of Agitar.

  They pulled up to Dalgron’s tent, exhausted and panting. “It is done,” Alyna told the general. “We must retreat.”

  “I can’t leave my orcs here like this,” Dalgron said. “The elves are here. They will join the fight. They promised.”

  A whistle swept through the storm-ravaged plains. Both Alyna and Dalgron trained their eyes to the northwest. In the distance, they could see a parade headed away from the encampment. Above it flew the elven flag.

  Chapter 53

  Ademar sat on the cold stone floor, wondering if he’d starve to death in the empty room. He’d tested the door, but it was locked. Solid, too. His shoulder ached from slamming into the wood. He’d given up only when both shoulders were swollen and bruised. After all he’d gone through, he refused to die in the Fifth Sanctum. Not after he’d passed the test.

  He’d given up his life for Tace. For her sake. For the sake of all. They had told him it was the right choice. And yet here he was, doomed to a life of isolation in this temple of myth and legend.

  He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. His heart beat slowly in his chest as he took deep breaths in and out. He would survive this. They all would.

  Unless… maybe he was the only one who’d passed the tests.

  No. He wouldn’t let himself believe that.

  With a creak, the door opened of its own accord.

  Ademar leapt to his feet, his hands balled into fists, ready for whatever waited on the other side.

  Tace stumbled into the room, her head hung in sorrow. As she passed over the threshold, the door slammed behind her.

  “You’re alive!” Ademar raced to her side and took her in his arms. She melted into him, vulnerable. Her tear-stained face moistened his shirt. He only held her t
ighter.

  “Am I alive?” Tace looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Is this real?”

  “I think so.” Ademar leaned in and kissed her full on the lips.

  She responded with a new hunger, not born of lust, but of need. Ademar returned the kiss with the same fervor, realizing he, too, needed to feel alive. Her hands fumbled at the hem of his shirt and traveled up his bare skin. Ademar shuddered, feeling a strain in his breeches. He wanted her. Now.

  “We shouldn’t,” he said between gasps as the tips of her fingers feathered over his chest. “We don’t know who’s watching.”

  “I don’t know if I care.” Tace bit his neck as her hands traveled lower.

  Ademar couldn’t believe himself as he grabbed Tace’s shoulders and pushed her arm’s length away. His chest heaved with every breath. “I think we’ve proven we’re alive. That this is real. But now, here? No. We still haven’t seen Brax yet. They haven’t given us the information they promised. We don’t have time for this.”

  “You’re right.” Tace lowered her eyelids seductively. “And I hate you for being stronger than me. Just this once. It won’t happen again.”

  Ademar laughed. “I know it won’t.”

  “How was your test?” Tace asked, biting her lip. “Mine was… difficult. My mother…”

  Ademar placed a finger on her lips. “You don’t have to tell me.” He didn’t want her to share details, because then he’d feel compelled to reciprocate. He couldn’t tell her how he’d seen her in his test. So cruel. No feeling. The consummate killer.

  No. He’d never tell her. Tace was more than what they’d shown him, which was why he’d given up his life to her.

  “And what’s this?” He ran his finger over the dragon ring on Tace’s finger.

  Tace looked down at her hand, her eyes sad. “It was my mother’s. I guess it’s mine now. Oh, and I got another tattoo.” She thrust out her arm. The new tattoo was still red and raw, as if someone had taken a needle and ink to her.