by Megg Jensen
“Winning implies losing.” Alyna looked around. “It appears the orcs are still fighting. The battle rages on.”
“It’s only a matter of time.” Nemia’s lips pursed.
Good. Alyna knew her words were getting to the child. And really, that’s what Nemia was. Despite all her bluster, she was an untried child, playing at war games. She knew nothing of what she was doing. Whether she realized it or not, she was a puppet of Azlinar’s, and Alyna couldn’t wait to open her eyes to the truth.
“And once it’s over and all the orcs are dead?” Alyna said. “At least all the healthy orcs. You’ll be left with an army of undead. If you think the other orc cities will stand for this—”
“They will follow me! They will fear me, and they,” Nemia glared at Dalgron, “will bend the knee.”
“No,” Alyna said. “They will come to fight, and they will be infected by the virus that has mutated so many orcs into, well, whatever Azlinar has created. You will single-handedly cause the destruction of orckind as you know it. No one will remember you as a great queen. You will be the orc who decimated her own kind.”
“Don’t listen to them,” Azlinar said from under his heavy cowl.
Alyna could barely see his face. Just the tip of his hooked nose and one tusk sticking out to the side, deformed.
Nemia looked up at Azlinar, her eyes clouded and intense. Then she turned back to Alyna and Dalgron. “Kill him, but keep her alive.”
“What?” Alyna screamed.
The guards next to Dalgron ran him through before she could do anything to stop them. He sputtered blood from his lips, then collapsed to the ground with a thud.
“How—how dare you?” Alyna screeched.
Nemia mounted her horse as if she were preparing for an afternoon jaunt in the forest. “You will stay alive to eat your words. You will see what we have planned, and you will come to me one day, begging for forgiveness.”
“I’d rather die,” Alyna said through gritted teeth.
“Not today.” Nemia turned to her guards. “Keep an eye on her. Make sure she sees everything that happens. And for Drothu’s sake, don’t let her kill herself. And you,” she pointed to another guard, “get her horned horse and take it away. I may want it for myself later.” She kicked her horse and took off, galloping toward the edge of the encampment. Azlinar followed.
“No!” Alyna yelled again. “Not Syra. Run, girl, get far away from here!”
Syra’s eyes widened as two guards closed in on her. She bent her head down, pointing her horn at them. Before the orcs could react, she gored one right through the gut. She lifted her head, shook her strong neck, and flung his dying body at the other guard.
“Leave!” Alyna shouted. “We will find each other again!” Two guards grabbed her biceps, holding her, keeping her from running to Syra.
With a curt nod, Syra took off running, stabbing anyone who got in her way. She broke through the battle, then stopped at the edge and turned around. She let out a magnificent whinny, and her horn lit up. Then she ran off, just as Alyna had begged.
Alyna’s stomach roiled as she turned back to the still-raging battle. Orcs fell all around her so quickly she couldn’t even tell which side they were on. Maybe they didn’t know either. Was Nemia’s army so out of control that they were taking down their own orcs? Alyna could only hope. Perhaps Azlinar didn’t have as much control over them as he made it seem.
Alyna knew there was no point in struggling against the tight grips of her captors. Once more, she would have to rely on her wits. She wouldn’t just stand there and watch. She wouldn’t allow Dalgron and Vron to have died in vain. She had come to Agitar to help them fight—and against an evil greater than these orcs. This was only a distraction. She knew the real battle was against the being behind the xarlug, the being who was still now plotting against them far underground.
Alyna tried turning around. She wanted to see Azlinar. Really look at him. “Let me go!” she yelled at her captors. “I want to turn around.”
“The queen said you are to watch the battle, and watch it you will,” one of the guards said. He held his free hand over his eyes.
“It’s too bright out here for you, isn’t it?” Alyna said, trying to conjure up a mote of sympathy in her tone. “After all those years underground, I bet it’s hard for you to see.”
“Shut up. He’s fine,” the other guard said. “Another word and I’ll gut you.”
“I don’t think so,” Alyna answered. “Not unless you want to go against direct orders from your queen. She said to hold me and let me watch the battle. She said I am to live. If you kill me, I doubt you’ll live much longer.”
“She’s right,” the first guard replied, still shielding his eyes from the bright midday sun.
“Then why don’t we move under the shade of that tree?” Alyna suggested, pointing to the north. “You’ll be able to see better.”
“It’s not the worst idea,” the first orc said. “My eyes are killing me. I have no idea why anyone would live aboveground when the sun wants to blind them.”
Alyna kept her mouth shut. She thrived aboveground. The trees, the clouds, the grass, and even the sun were her lifeline. Underground she’d wanted to shrivel up and die. She probably would have if Vron hadn’t nursed her back to health.
“Fine, but don’t try anything funny,” the second guard said.
The guards walked over to the shade of the tree, gripping Alyna tightly with every step. She didn’t try to run. Not yet. There was something she needed to see first, something that had struck her when she’d first come up to Nemia and Azlinar. Under the tree, she’d be at the right angle to see her enemies, as well as the battle they so desperately wanted her to witness.
With a small turn of her head, Alyna was able to see Nemia and Azlinar’s horses just on the edges of the battle. Nemia’s horse cast a great shadow on the ground, and her body atop it was outlined in gray on the prairie grass. But as for Azlinar… his horse cast a long shadow, but there was no shadow of the orc atop the horse.
It was as if he wasn’t even really there.
Chapter 59
Ademar wept over Tace’s limp body.
She was gone.
Utterly and completely dead.
He’d checked for a heartbeat on her neck, her wrists, and even the dip at her ankles.
Nothing.
Raseri clung to her body, as if she could bring her beloved back to life.
“Why did she do this?” Ademar asked Frensia, knowing they wouldn’t have an answer that could satisfy him.
“Tell me about your test,” Frensia said instead.
“Now?” Ademar looked at them, his vision blurry with tears.
“Yes, now.”
“I’m not so sure I’m supposed to share the details.” Besides, thinking about it made him sick.
“Did anyone tell you not to?” Frensia asked pointedly.
Ademar thought back. “No, I suppose not. But it’s… personal.”
“I understand.” Frensia walked over, placed a cold hand under Ademar’s elbow, and urged him to stand.
Ademar looked down at Tace as he rose on shaky legs. There was nothing more he could do for her. He had no magical healing powers to bring her back. It was over.
Slowly, he walked to the other side of the room with Frensia. But when the umgar made a step toward the door, Ademar refused to move. He would stand away from Tace, but he wouldn’t leave her body. Not yet.
“My test involved Tace, of course,” Ademar said, his dry lips cracking with every word. “Without getting into too much detail, I… I had to let her be herself, no matter the consequences. Once I fully sacrificed myself for her, I passed the test.”
He couldn’t bear to tell Frensia it was his own death that had ended the test. At the moment, he wished that had been the real outcome. Not this. Not Tace’s demise.
“And are you still doing now what the test expected of you? Are you letting Tace be herself?” Frensia asked th
e question that was already in the back of Ademar’s mind.
Tace had done what was needed, no matter the cost to herself. Just as she’d always done, time and time again. Her suicide was no different. She’d heard what the emissary of the Fifth Sanctum had said, and she’d acted upon it. It was her responsibility to unite the two sides of the living and the dead, so she had done the only thing she could.
“It’s not fair,” Ademar said, knowing full well he sounded like a petulant child. “I wasn’t ready.”
“It’s not about you,” Frensia said, shaking their head. “Humans, always so focused on themselves. This is about something much bigger.”
“I know that, but I’m allowed to have feelings about this. That’s something the umgar don’t understand.” He tried not to be angry with Frensia. The two of them were different as could be, but Ademar wouldn’t hide his feelings just to placate the emotionless umgar.
“Understanding and experiencing are two different things, Ademar. I have read many, many books on the topic. The umgar strive to understand what they do not experience. It is part of our core being. That is why they often employ my kind at the Library of Filamir.”
Frensia cleared their throat. Had Ademar not known better, he would have thought Frensia was embarrassed for straying off topic. It was the closest they had come to an emotional outburst since meeting.
“You must accept what Tace has done,” Frensia said.
“I don’t have any other choice, do I?” Ademar replied. “All I can do now is take her body back to her homeland for a proper burial.”
“Perhaps Tace can do something useful from the other side,” Frensia suggested.
Ademar wanted to yell at the umgar. Maybe Tace could do something from the other side. It was possible, he supposed. But whatever she did, it wouldn’t involve coming back to life. Ademar would never hold her again, not in the way he wanted. He could only cradle her lifeless body.
The small boy appeared before him, materializing out of nowhere. “You can return to Agitar now,” he said.
“You’ll let me leave?” Ademar was surprised, but he quickly recovered. “I’m taking Tace’s body with me,” he said firmly. “Frensia, can you call your giant serpent again, to take us across the desert?”
“That is unnecessary,” the child said. “You have passed the test. You may use the portals.”
“Truly?” Frensia said. Their forehead wrinkled, almost as if they were raising their eyebrows in surprise, not that umgar had eyebrows. “You would let us use the portals? I have read about them. They are a thing of myth. Are you saying they are real?”
“Calm yourself, umgar,” the boy said. “Yes, the portals are real. They are only accessible to those the Fifth Sanctum chooses. Ademar has passed the test. He will be given a token with three charges, which he may use to go anywhere he desires. And you may go as well, if it pleases him.”
Ademar looked at the two. Obviously, they understood something he didn’t. “You have a portal that can take me directly to Agitar?”
“Yes,” the child said. “Anywhere you wish to go, the portal will get you there.”
“How does it work?” Ademar asked, uneasy. He wasn’t a fan of magic, even though it had surrounded him of late.
“Your mind cannot grasp it,” the boy answered. “You must trust it will do as you command. Hold the token in your palm, think of your destination, then travel. That is all.”
Ademar doubted that was all there was to it. So far, nothing involving magic had been that simple. Still, if it meant he didn’t need to spend weeks on the road with Tace’s corpse…
“Okay. Show me.” He turned to Frensia. “I assume you want to come with me? Would you rather remain here?”
“I should stay here,” Frensia said, “but I want to travel in the portal. I can always find my way back to the Sanctum later. If you’ll take me as a companion, I will go with you.”
“Then let’s do this.” Ademar gulped as he looked at Tace’s body across the room. “She needs to go home.”
“Very well. Follow me.” The boy floated across the room, its body flickering in and out of reality, as if it were a ghost.
Ademar crossed the room and gingerly lifted Tace’s body into his arms. Raseri held on tightly. The little dragon didn’t want to let Tace go—a sentiment Ademar understood all too well.
He kissed Tace’s cheek lightly. “I’m taking you home.”
Ademar followed the child and Frensia through the halls of the Fifth Sanctum. Despite paying close attention, he never could keep his bearings here. It was as if the halls were rearranging to keep him confused. Not that it mattered. He had no plans to ever return to this place. It had taken away the only living being he loved. Though he knew it had been Tace’s choice, it was the events here that had led her to it. She had been encouraged to take her own life.
The boy stopped in front of a door that looked like every other door in this forsaken place. “Inside is a table with the token sitting on it. Take it in your hand, think of your destination, and it will take you there.”
Ademar didn’t know what, if anything, he should say to the boy upon parting, so he simply nodded.
Frensia opened the door. Beyond the threshold was a small, unremarkable antechamber. Stone walls, stone floor. No windows, but in the center of the room stood a small wooden table with a pebble atop.
Taking a deep breath, Ademar stepped inside. Frensia followed. After the umgar closed the door behind them, he shifted Tace’s body in his arms, then grasped the token with his fingers.
Ademar did as he was instructed: he thought of Agitar. He thought of the first moment he saw Tace when she was attempting to kill Hugh. Despite his horror, he’d been intrigued by her from the start. There was something in her eyes that drew him in.
“Ademar?” Frensia said.
“Yes?”
“Open your eyes.”
Not even realizing his eyes had closed, Ademar snapped his eyelids open.
They were standing in the heart of Agitar, right where his apartments with Hugh had been before the xarlug had decimated the city.
“We’re here,” he said incredulously. “I didn’t feel a thing. Did you?”
Frensia shook their head, apparently as stunned as Ademar was.
“Then let’s head for the cemetery on the northern edge of the city. We’ll bury Tace in the dirt of her homeland.”
With a heavy heart, Ademar began the trek across the broken city, Tace’s body carefully nestled in his arms.
Chapter 60
Tace had brought death upon so many as an assassin, and afterward she had always wondered what they felt at that final moment. Now she knew the truth. Emptiness. A simple absence of sensation. No pain. No longing. No love. No regret.
She was.
And she wasn’t.
She saw, but not with her eyes. Body parts were irrelevant here. Wherever she was.
Was she with Drothu? If so, there was no sign of the god she’d attempted to placate with the deaths of others.
Tace had expected a sense of relief to accompany death, or at least a sense of coming home. Instead, she found the experience to be… lacking.
Though she had no eyes to open, she dug deep within herself to make herself aware of what was around her. And then, suddenly, she could see. Misshapen forms floated around her, like clouds as a storm approached. They reached out toward her, then retracted, pulsing in their space, leaving her alone.
Using nothing but intention, Tace propelled herself forward through the mass of forms. She touched them, but felt nothing. They were like her. Empty. Alone. Adrift.
There had to be more. The girl had told her she needed to unite the two worlds. Life and death would come together through her. She had done the only thing she knew would bring her to the dead—she had slit her own throat, as she had the throats of so many others. She had entered the doorway to the afterlife. It was here that she would learn how to help the infected orcs.
But how?
There was no one to guide her in this place.
She felt a warmth drawing her closer. She propelled her essence toward the foreign feeling, so different from anything else she had encountered here. She moved through the others, trying not to feel their emptiness. Could they feel? Had they given up long ago, becoming husks of what they once were?
A chill passed over Tace as she thought of how it would feel to be trapped here for eternity. But no. She wouldn’t let herself delve into such thoughts. She still had a purpose. As long as there was a chance she could save the orcs, she would continue onward.
The warmth grew, sending waves of heat through her. She became aware of orange and yellow and red dancing before her, pulsing in stark contrast to the gray beings she’d traveled through.
Reaching out, with what she couldn’t explain, Tace felt the heat consume her. This was it. She knew, somehow, that this was what she was searching for. She pushed through the heat, letting it swallow her whole, and arrived on the other side.
What she saw there was utterly unexpected.
Dragons milled around in a cave, chains about their necks. Tace tried counting, but there were too many to keep track of. They numbered in the hundreds, maybe the thousands. Their scales reflected the light of the fires around them, and their chests heaved with the breath of life. These were not lost souls.
At the far end of the cave, a dark mass pulsed. Somehow Tace knew this was what was keeping the dragons trapped in this prison. That behind that mass was an exit. A path to freedom.
One dragon’s slitted eye blinked as it took her in. It moved toward her, unsure at first, then faster with each step. It stopped just before her essence, the tip of its snout breathing warm air.
Help us.
Another dragon joined the first, looking at her longingly.
Free us.
Other dragons joined in the pleas. Their cries for freedom were overwhelming, taking over her thoughts, not letting her concentrate on anything else.
Tace followed the first dragon, who led her toward a pulsing darkness. Fear overwhelmed her senses. She looked back at the other dragons, suspicious of their motives. Had they brought her here to destroy what little was left of her?
