The Orks were not a chatty bunch. Ben had concluded from the brief interaction with the party leader, Draka—and moons ago with Gal and Skalle—that Orks were all too comfortable with silence. Ben and his friends were wandering into unknown territory without the slightest clue of what lay ahead. Nor did they know what kind of ‘test’ Draka wanted them to go through to prove themselves. It was rather fascinating how highly they respected the possession of a fang if a holder were permitted to bypass the coming test. It was clear that they were a proud people and did not hold a grudge against one who must have bested one of their own—rather they respected and held them in high esteem. Whatever test was planned for the group, it would probably be exceptionally trying.
They continued to travel well into the night, and the sun had long since disappeared behind the crumbling architecture. As they rode, Ben wondered where the borders for Ney actually lay, and if this city was part of their land or merely acted as a gate between the wastes and their hidden kingdom. Mandi slouched forward against her horse’s thick neck, snoring loudly. She’d traveled all her life, knowing how to sleep whenever and wherever she could find it. Ever the soldier on high alert, Darius fought to keep his reddened eyes open. It was obvious he was weary of the Orks and this unfamiliar territory. As for Ben, he yawned and occasionally nodded off, only to wake a moment later as he felt his body jolt upright to avoid falling from the horse. His headache was finally gone, his eye healed from the overuse. His powers were much like muscles that grew stronger the further they were set against their limits. Like sore muscles, they needed time to recover, or else damage would follow. Without sufficient rest, his abilities would be limited going into whatever trial the Orks had waiting.
There was a sound of turbulent water crashing in the distance that grew louder as they continued forward. The buildings stretched higher into the sky, groves and vines filling the space between buildings. Many of the smaller buildings hadn’t fared as well as their titanic counterparts and were little more than dilapidated shacks failing to resist the inevitable decay of time. The road—stone like those left behind from the Old Days seen in the Penteric Alliance and Ænæria—was hardly visible among the lichen and tendrils of roots and vines creeping out from the earth.
Maybe the Enochians hadn’t reclaimed this city from the Orks because nature had already done it for them.
Without a word, the Orks dismounted in unison as if for a choreographed performance. The warhorses walked onward into the denser sylvan layer of the city. Ben couldn’t help but notice the horses were heading toward the same direction as the constant sound of rushing water eroding the otherwise silent ambiance. Despite his modest elevation, Ben saw no river nor body of water ahead that could have been the culprit of the sound. A sense of foreboding overcame him as he considered what lay ahead in the rest of the eerie, dead city.
Another group of Orks was already there, gathered beneath a tall building with shattered windows and long, thin branches creeping out from inside, raising their finger-like appendages to the sky. Then Ben had the sickening realization that they weren’t all Orks. They all had piercings, but more than half were missing the bald heads and skull tattoos. He recognized some of these people. The woman with the pierced lips, the boy with the ear and nose rings, and the man with half an ear. The wastelanders from the forest. And there were so many of them.
Darius noticed this, too. “What are they doing here?” he nearly shouted at Draka.
The lead Ork turned to him and bared her teeth. Ben noticed that they were not sharpened like Gal’s had been, rather they were normal like Skalle’s. She did not answer his question, and instead, she approached the other group of Orks. After a brief deliberation with their apparent leader, Draka returned to Ben and his friends.
“Dismount,” she ordered.
Mandi groaned as she recovered from her deep slumber and wiped a bit of drool from the corner of her mouth. “Are we here?” she asked drowsily.
“Yes. And so are the wastelanders,” Darius said with a snarl. He pointed to the other group. “Why are they here, Draka?”
More like how are they here? Ben thought.
“Dismount,” the Ork repeated. Ben knew she wouldn’t want to ask again. He took the lead and there was a muddy squish as he planted his boots on the ground. Mandi followed, and, begrudgingly, so did Darius.
“They are outsiders seeking refuge. They, too, will be tested.”
Darius threw his hands into the air. “Like blazes they are! They’re wastelanders—they don’t seek refuge!”
Draka was unimpressed by Darius’s fit. She straightened her back, and Ben realized that he hadn’t stood next to her before. He’d either always been in the sun-carriage or she atop her horse. She was nearly as tall as Ben. Much taller than Darius and far more frightening. “Garad found them on his patrol, in wheeled horses like your own. As I trusted your words, he trusted theirs. My place is not to challenge Garad’s decisions.”
“Darius, there’s nothing we can do about it,” Mandi said. “If there’s trouble from it later then we’ll figure it out.”
A puff of air snorted through Darius’s nose that easily could have been smoke from how fiery his sleep-deprived temper was.
Draka and her group of Orks led the group to Garad’s Orks and the wastelanders. When half-eared Kirk saw them, he let loose a barrage of curses and insults. Another wastelander silenced him with a rough backhand. The first thing Ben noticed about him was that he was missing his fourth and fifth fingers on that hand, his left. The man’s face was weather-beaten, red and scarred. A long, nasty-looking gash stretched from his right brow to the bottom of his unshaven lip. He still had his eye, but the light had faded from it. Like Ben, he could only see from his left eye. Interestingly, he only wore one piercing on his face. It was a small bronze ring with small blue gems on the top of his right ear. Having one piercing alone, Ben would have thought this man to be one of the lowest-ranked members of the tribe. He was shocked to see the very same man approach Draka and another Ork.
The wastelander leader—Larz, if Ben recalled his name correctly—spoke. “My people and I grow impatient. We wish for access to your land for the sake of safety. Surely you know the dangers brewing in the east. My people are sick and hungry, yet we haven’t the faintest clue for why you’ve brought us here.”
“You are here for your test,” the other Ork said.
Larz grunted. “And what is this test, Garad?”
Not only had Larz spoken far more eloquently than Ben would have expected from a wastelander, but he maintained his composure quite well. He had always thought of them as little more than thieves and murderers.
“Your test will be to reach the Mouth of Ney,” Garad responded. It didn’t seem he cared to comment about the safety of Larz and his people.
Draka looked at Ben and his friends. “Pay attention, for you shall share the challenge.”
Larz’s face contorted at the statement. “They attacked my people! Crippled some of them so badly that they may never walk right again.”
Before Ben could stop him, Darius lashed out. “We were defending ourselves, you blazing bandit!” He aggressively moved toward Larz, fists nearly raised. Mandi grabbed him from behind to stop him.
“I’m starting to think you’re the one who’ll get us killed, not Ben,” Mandi said to him. “Calm down and listen.”
Ben rested his hand on Darius’s shoulder and nodded in agreement with Mandi’s words. “She’s right, man. Let it go.”
“But he’s lying to them.”
“Honestly, I don’t think they care one way or the other,” Ben said. “We’re all here to be tested. I think they only care about our results."
Draka hummed in agreement. It was a strange sound coming from the gruff woman. Probably the least frightening sound she’d made since they’d met.
“What the freezing hells is the Mouth of Ney?” another of the wastelanders demanded. He was a large man with missing teeth and a face covered in
scars. “Quit speakin’ to us in code and just tell us what we need to pass through!”
Garad growled, disapproving of the wastelander’s outburst. Larz scowled at his insubordinate tribesman.
Another Ork stepped forward and explained the test. Like most of the other Orks, his torso was only covered by a tanned poncho, so despite being old and kyphotic, Ben could still see his muscular stature. In addition to the tattoos on his face, he wore a necklace bearing countless fangs. “You will face the Cursed Grove of Tatanka,” the old Ork said.
“C-curse?” A wastelander yelled, a disturbed stutter in his voice.
The Ork gestured behind him. “It is the name of the forest growing within the fallen city. Survive and follow the call to the Mouth of Ney.”
“Survive?” another wastelander asked.
The old man pointed to the fangs on around his neck. “Ferals prowl through the Cursed Grove at night.”
Ben heard a few of the wastelanders mutter whispers of concern. Larz tried to quiet them. “Once our weapons are returned, I’m sure my people can handle whatever is lurking in that forest.”
The old Ork hissed. “Outsiders shall bring nothing into the Cursed Grove!”
“The wastes we won’t!” Larz objected. He pointed his three-fingered hand at Sierra, who stood next to Ben, still muzzled. That didn’t stop her from growling and baring her fangs at the wastelander. “They can tear us apart with that beast of theirs!”
“It shall remain with us,” Draka said. “We know how to deal with such beasts.”
Ben tensed. “What does that mean?” They wouldn’t dare hurt her…
“Ney is full of beasts from the wastes. We offer them refuge for they are the true owners of the land. It may stay with us unharmed and will be reunited with you should you pass your test.”
Ben looked at Sierra for approval. She let out a soft woof. I don’t care what Mimir says. You’re alive, and you’re learning. The wolf grew to better understand Ben every day and was developing a personality all her own.
Kirk was the next to object. “Is that what you have in the forest, wild beasts that’ll hunt us? This ain’t a test; you’re just feeding us to your pets! How’re we to survive with not but the clothes on our backs?”
“All belongings stay,” Draka said. “Clothing, too.”
Ben felt his cheeks turn warm. I’d think this was a joke, but I don’t exactly think the Orks are the laughing type.
As it turned out, the Orks weren’t joking, but they weren’t making them run through the forest naked either. All of their belongings were turned over to the Orks with the promise that they could have everything they wanted upon the end of the test. They even made Ben remove his eyepatch. Everyone was given identical sets of clothing: loose ponchos, wool and linen trousers, and flat wooden sandals. The outfits weren’t exactly comfortable, but they were loose and revealing enough that nobody could hide any weapons on them. He could see how malnourished the wastelanders were now. Their bellies and ribs were exposed and looked more like skeletons than those tattooed on the Orks. No wonder these people resorted to thievery and violence. They were starving. At least they still had each other or else the isolation of the wastelands would have likely driven them all insane.
To Ben’s surprise, Mandi was nearly as skinny as the wastelanders. She normally had as much skin as possible covered in clothing, and she now looked exceptionally ill at ease. Ben knew she was self-conscious about her scar and consequently her entire appearance. He knew it would be best not to stare or mention anything, but he desperately wanted to tell her that she looked wonderful if only to boost her morale. Sadly, he knew this wasn’t the time or place. She wouldn’t take it the right way either. It would probably come off as flirtatious, or she may even lash out and call him a liar. The truth was, Ben didn’t know how he felt about Mandi. They’d spent so much time together these past few moons. It was hard not to develop feelings for someone after that. But he still missed Arynn, and until he knew what happened to her, he simply couldn’t move on. I don’t even know how to feel proper attraction anymore. It all seems so petty after everything I’ve seen. It only serves as a foolish distraction. He also felt he didn’t deserve to be with anyone. He was a Nephilim after all. The only one. It seemed as if fate had destined him to be alone.
“What do you think is in that part of the city?” Darius asked. “The part he called the Cursed Grove.”
Ben turned to his right so he could see Darius in his limited field of view. “I have no idea. There’s too much going on for me to hear anything specific. I can’t smell anything abnormal either.”
“Don’t strain yourself,” Mandi said. “I don’t want you having another one of those migraines.”
“I’ll be fine. My migraine is gone, and I’ve gone long enough without using my powers that I should have stored enough energy up to take on whatever they throw at us.” He didn’t want to share the truth with them, that he doubted he would be much use at all. At least without severe consequences.
“We’ve faced worse odds. Besides, once we’re no longer being watched, Hüginn can give us an overview of what he sees.”
Mandi shushed Darius. “That’s cheating,” she said with a devious grin. “They can’t know about that.”
Ben scratched the back of his head. It would be cheating, and normally Ben would object, but the Orks didn’t know, and it could help them survive and succeed on their mission. A necessary dishonesty. And they’ll never find out.
The old Ork stood between two statues carved of stone, crudely resembling horned beasts with flames roaring from their backs. A path poured away from the statues into the deepness of the wooded city. Ben realized they marked the entrance to the area known as the Cursed Grove. The old Ork musically chanted something in his native tongue. When he finished his ritual, he shouted, “Queni hetip am enex zakonev pi heti zaqiix!”
Instantly, the Orks pushed Ben and the others in front of the gate, lining them up in single file. Ben and his friends were instantly separated. He was taller than most of the others but not enough to see over everyone’s heads to find Mandi and Darius. Draka and Garad approached the old man. They were followed by a procession of six Orks who lit their torches from the backs of the statues. Draka held a short recurve bow in her left hand and had a quiver of arrows resting at her side. The man walking with her carried a bowl with both hands and walked slowly as if he were afraid to spill whatever was inside. The old Ork looked at the bowl, dipped three of his fingers, and wiped them across his face. Ben saw three red horizontal lines over the man’s tattooed face. Blood. He felt a knot in his stomach and hoped it wasn’t human.
The Ork gestured for the first person to come in line. “Yupi wuk fekix. Come forward.”
Ben leaned ever so slightly out of line so he could see. The first person was a woman with a tangled mess of reddish-brown hair. Her stance was rigid, nervous. The Ork dipped his fingers in the blood and wiped them across her face. “Pec hiti jamo kohs vaoxi cua.” He stepped to the side.
The wastelander woman didn’t move forward. She looked around as if she didn’t know what to do.
“Enter Tatanka’s Curse Grove,” Draka said. She nocked an arrow, dipped it in the bowl of blood, and raised her bow toward the woman. “Run. Do not turn back.”
The woman ran, probably as fast as she could, though she stumbled and moved awkwardly in the wooden sandals. She disappeared into the labyrinth of overgrowth and ruins without looking back.
It was like this for the next seven people. Mandi was eighth, and the first not to stumble while running. Instead, she kicked off the sandals as soon as Draka had raised her bow and ran faster than any of the wastelanders. Ben was glad she went before Darius. He knew they could both handle themselves, but it was no question which of the two was better equipped at surviving alone in unknown territory. Darius had been trained with an army. Mandi had grown up running and hiding; this was her element. Once out there, she could keep a low profile and wait for Hüginn
to help reunite them.
The eleventh person was the first to truly change things. Until now, no one else had dared turn back after Draka made her threat. It was the man with missing teeth who’d spoken out against the Orks. “What if I don’t want to go through with this? None of you bothered to explain what we’re facing in there!”
Draka released the bowstring. Ben expected the arrow to land between the man’s eyes. Instead, it soared deep into the urban jungle and well past the wastelander. She couldn’t have been aiming at him. There was a disturbing scream, high-pitched and ravenous. Although the Cursed Grove was dark, there was enough light from the moon and stars to reveal something stirring. It was difficult to make out its features in any great detail, and by the time he’d managed to adjust his vision, it was gone. Whatever it was, it ran like a racing shadow deeper into the city toward Draka’s arrow.
“You will be facing the ferals,” Draka said as she nocked another arrow and dipped it in the bowl. “They are attracted to blood.” She turned the arrow toward the wastelander. “You must go or stay behind. We want no cowards in Ney. Are you a coward?”
The wastelander’s eyes were wide with fright. The color in his face faded. He slumped his shoulders and walked back toward the crowd, away from the Cursed Grove. The old man wiped another three streaks of blood over the wastelander’s face, this time vertically.
Must be a mark of shame, Ben thought.
“Next!” Draka yelled.
Two of the next wastelanders also received marks of shame and joined their tribesman. Ben couldn’t blame them. The mere sound of whatever Draka had awoken was horrifying. He worried for Mandi. His chest pounded, hoping Hüginn would give her enough of a warning before any of those creatures came near her.
He was next in line. Ben hated the unknown, and he feared it more than anything else. Whatever these ferals were, the densely wooded city was full of them. This test was about survival. The test wasn’t about quickly finding the Mouth of Ney but surviving long enough to reach it. Draka had said they would hear it ‘calling to them.’ He couldn’t believe he didn’t realize it sooner. The sound of the crashing waves. That must have been the call. All anyone had to do was realize that and run toward it.
The Heir of Ænæria Page 22
