“I’ll go with you,” she said. “I would know what’s happening to me.”
The orc nodded soberly. “By the time we reach Lakeshore, everything I know will be yours. Trust me when I say it will save your life.”
Catelyn waited in a storage room while Zan went to reconnoiter an escape route. Wedged in between dusty wicker baskets, she listened to a castle filled with the guttural sounds of new masters. A dull boom signaled the lowering of the outer drawbridge. Catelyn had no love for Duskovy, especially in light of recent events, but the castle itself had been a bastion of security and peace her entire life. The idea of it being under orcish control was incredibly confronting. Zan returned quickly, carrying a cheese wedge, a flagon of water and most impressively of all, a fresh cotton shift. He caught Catelyn’s embarrassed look and turned his back while she changed. She couldn’t resist stuffing her mouth full of cheese. Hard cheddar had never appealed to her, but right then she would’ve eaten the eyes from a dead crow.
“I could not find my weapons,” Zan said with a trace of bitterness. “We must leave before Tibus arrives.”
“The Kanoor?”
“I told you,” Zan chided. “This is not just a military operation. It is a migration.”
Ignoring the staggering implications of that prospect, Catelyn followed Zan down the stone stairwell. They passed several grunts on the way, but thankfully she wasn’t challenged. Zan carried an air of natural authority and moved with purpose. Despite the orcish aversion to keeping prisoners, it stood to reason that one or two human survivors would be held after the battle. The courtyard was a surprisingly ordered affair considering the recent carnage. The dead had been hauled into a grisly pile. Orcish women and children were busy establishing a circular fire pit filled with pitch black coals. Several large wooden trowels had been stacked against the stone wall. Something about them didn’t look right. Catelyn’s heart lurched and she suddenly wanted to vomit.
“They’re going to be eaten,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
Perhaps sensing her shock, Zan quickened his pace, marching straight for the inner gatehouse.
“Orc and human alike,” he said crisply. “Both are honored after falling in battle. The sooner, the better.”
The defiance in his voice was unmistakable, and now wasn’t time to challenge him over cultural matters. Catelyn focused on the muddy path to the gatehouse, flinching from the inquisitive orcs that happened to cross her path.
“Stay close now,” Zan muttered, his eyes narrowing. Catelyn followed his gaze - a platoon of ziguran was entering the castle grounds under the outer gatehouse.
“Otass,” the mage hissed. It was obviously a swear word.
“You’re my slave,” Zan said harshly, cuffing her over the head. The blow was hard enough to send her staggering. Her first instinct was to return the blow, but instinct stilled her hand. The foremost ziguran was dressed in the largest suit of armor she’d ever seen. Burnished plate studded with lethal-looking spikes, it was a fearsome piece of work. The orc inside would need to be immensely strong to cart it around. Catelyn’s anxiety reached fever pitch as the ziguran circled the pair at a trot and Zan dropped to one knee. The large orc removed his enormous helm and regarded the mage with something like affection. Catelyn had expected him to look coarse and ugly, but her prejudice was playing tricks again. This orc was lined with age but his almond-shaped eyes suggested razor-sharp guile and keen intelligence.
“Ngnish vell ngnish Kanoor,” Zan said softly, gazing up at his king with the utmost deference. “Atva Tibus.”
Catelyn froze, not knowing where to look. The leader of the Orcish Nation was right in front of her! Numb with the unreality of the moment, she dispatched her right knee to the mud. The Kanoor fired a series of questions at his mage, none of which Catelyn understood. Not only did the near-legendary figure know Zan, he bantered with his mage like the pair were sparring partners. Then again, Zan had just facilitated a seemingly impossible victory. The Kanoor glanced at Catelyn briefly, but showed only cursory interest. The exchange ended with mutual barks of laughter, prompting her to hope that Zan was in the clear. But the mage’s face was ashen as Tibus and his ziguran continued into the courtyard.
“Talk to me, Zan. What happens now?”
“We head north as planned,” the mage said in a tight voice. “Only we do it in the glory vanguard of the Orcish Nation. I’m sorry, Catelyn. I’m truly sorry.”
11 - Tanis
It was time for Tanis to run his first patrol. Looking to accelerate his ward’s learning, Jader woke the boy early one morning and told him three rangers were at his disposal until sundown. The task was to reconnoiter Shattered Ridge. Considering the orc emergence in the west, Jader wanted intel on elvish activity deeper in the Dawn Forest. Elves and orcs, if indeed they were in league, were in the perfect position to execute a pincer movement against the woefully unprepared human settlements in the Southern Reaches. As ever, Ardennia’s first and last line of defense in the Dawn Forest were Jader’s Rangers.
Wrapped in his wolf fur, Tanis breathed deeply, savoring the sweetness of the dewy pine needles mixed with the smoldering embers of last night’s fire. No doubt about it - he’d steadily gained in confidence since the incident with the boar. Jader was as infuriatingly obtuse as ever, but at least his reason for recruiting Tanis had been revealed. The revelation of his so-called “taint” was disturbing enough, but the tale of the Tall Lady filled him with a peculiar dread. He’d never come close to seeing the legendary witch in person, but felt a strange, gnawing sense of fate when he pictured her filthy lair in Fenril Marsh. Still, there was no point in dwelling on such matters. Jader had given him an important task and his nerve was about to be tested yet again.
Adalita stirred beside Tanis, aware her “skinner” was on the move. The term generally referred to any pair who shared the same wolf skin by night. Historically, such arrangements were only temporary. The brutal hardship of life in the forest, combined with the often confronting intimacy of the pack, often conspired to prevent monogamous relationships from flourishing. As Adalita drifted back to sleep, Tanis wondered how long he’d be able to keep hold of her. She’d claimed his virginity barely a dozen nights ago and taught him much in the intervening time. Not so long ago he might’ve considered that blissful period as a watershed moment in his life. But out in the forest, tiny under a ballroom galaxy of stars and jostled by innumerable agents of life and death, his sexual awakening was simply something that made sense. After a prickly introduction, Adalita obviously saw something in Tanis that he himself was yet to discover. Continuing his training, learning to live in this grand, terrifying place, was the only way he could make sense of the fragments of his former life.
Successfully preparing himself without waking his skinner, Tanis stepped around the smoking coals and spotted his patrolmen standing against the gloomy forest. Swallowing his nerves, he marched out into the black without so much as a word to his brothers. They were hardened, “forest-broken” veterans with the utmost respect for silence. Bending his knees and sliding into the noiseless gait Jader had taught him, Tanis split a sea of bracken as he headed southeast. He knew the next man would fall in some two hundred yards behind. Hardly a city-dweller’s idea of a tight patrol, but these rangers knew each other’s position at all times and could move quickly if need be. If an animal was disturbed by the foremost patrolman, it had time and space to reach sanctuary before the next happened along. Most importantly, it was harder for enemies to gauge ranger numbers if they were spread down the line. Jader’s group was all about appearing to have more teeth than it actually did.
The stark outline of Shattered Ridge was visible in the pre-dawn murk. A conventional-enough spine save for the mid-section, which was riddled with cross-gullies and fissures. A dangerous place for those who couldn’t read terrain. For those who could, it offered a commanding view of undulating forest to the east. Tanis scooped himself some water as he stepped over a brook. From memory, he
had the remains of some trail bread in his fore-pouch. He chewed on it thankfully - he concentrated better with something in his gullet. Mindful of the ambush opportunities that babbling streams offered, Tanis crouched low and surveyed the gently swaying trees further east. It had been a lovely spring night, the kind that offered sweet, uninterrupted sleep. He wondered if Adalita was still dreaming back at the camp and promptly scolded himself for being an emotional fool. She was his skinner, nothing more. Once she’d had her fill, she might choose another man or go on hiatus. It was just how things worked.
Tanis leveled his breathing and completed his visual reconnaissance. Nothing seemed out of place amongst the trees or on the ridge itself. A routine finding, but Tanis had been feeling increasingly on-edge lately. The Orcish Nation had obviously made a blatant declaration of war, but what were the elves planning? Jader had been assiduously checking the Border village drop-box every few days, but nothing official had arrived from Lakeshore. It made perfect sense for the elves to use the Dawn Forest as a launching point for an assault on Ardennia, meaning something was bound to materialize in these very trees. The weighty, malignant sense of foreboding was enough to set the rangers’ nerves on edge, but if Tanis was completely honest with himself, there was something else. He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, but he could feel a presence on the edge of his consciousness, a shadow over his perception of the forest. Gut instinct told him he’d identified something present and real, something watching the rangers go about their business. In short, he could say with confidence that no elves lurked on Shattered Ridge. What else there might be scared him even more.
Ready to move, Tanis raised his arm, palm open. Luther, or whoever followed behind, would relay the “all clear” message to the others. Come what may, Shattered Ridge would be scaled. The living, breathing forest was infused with pink light as the patrol worked its way up the ridge’s northern flank. Working up a sweat, Tanis removed his oilskin poncho. The breeze wheeled into a gently persistent easterly and delivered a hint of perfume. The terrain began to fall away dramatically in that direction, where a sea of cypress clutched at the morning fog with grand solemnity. Again, Tanis sensed zero danger, at least not from the purely physical plane. Every trained instinct told him the way was clear. In fact, there was very little sign of animal activity in general. And yet dread rose like a black tide with every step. The bracken beneath his feet had lost its color. He raised his arm a second time, only now his hand was balled into a fist. The patrolmen would approach with caution.
Breathing more heavily than he should be, Tanis rounded a lichen-covered boulder and was confronted with a rocky outcrop that had been turned spectacularly on its head by ancient geological forces. The processes shaping Shattered Ridge were neither elegant or benign. It was as if the very bedrock had been mangled and twisted by a vengeful God. Cob-webbed fissures and sinkholes peppered the bluff and undermined its very existence. Tanis pondered whether the ridge had been corrupted by something other than the slow march of time.
“Stay back!” he yelled, breaking away from his ranger’s training. Rangers were curious at heart and Tanis didn’t want the patrolmen anywhere near this place. Shaking with fatigue, he scaled a jagged rock face and hauled himself up to a narrow ledge. More footholds presented themselves and he was able to make his way to the top of the bluff. The steady wind was no balm against the grasping fever seeping into him. Spitting a gob of blood to the dirt, he pushed through a ring of shrubs and was confronted with the source of the area’s malaise.
A small pyramid of bones sat in the middle of a glade. Tanis felt as though he might black out at any moment as he approached it. His legs were only semi-compliant, propelling him forward in a stuttering motion. There may have been a shout several yards behind him - sound was distorted here and it was difficult to tell. He spotted Luther falling into the shrubs. The ranger’s face was impossibly gaunt, as if his very skin was choking him. Tanis’s first instinct was to backtrack and assist, but something drove him onward. Struggling to keep outright panic at bay, he returned his attention to the bone shrine. His every movement now controlled by an external force, he reached out to touch it. The bones were so fine, so delicate. The structure appeared to have been crafted from children’s fingers.
Suppressing a shiver, Tanis peeled away one of the “bricks” with a sickening click. And another. Inside he could see something fleshy. His mind had narrowed to the moment - all he could think about was accessing the pyramid. The glade was scattered with finger bones by the time he reached the “prize” inside. He pulled on crusted, stringy hair and held the object up to the dawn light. It was half a head, cleaved down the length of the skull. The exposed brain seemed chalky, as if it had ossified somehow. What little skin was left was sickly yellow in color. The eye cavity was empty, a scarred, hardened void.
Despite the poor condition of the body part, there was no mistaking its owner. With a convulsive whimper, Tanis dropped Adalita’s head and sprinted from the bone shrine. The restriction on bodily movement had been lifted. Pausing only to confirm that Luther was dead, Tanis lowered himself down the splintered rock and hared through a forest that had regained its color. Breaking that hideous pyramid had clearly dispersed the magic in the area.
“Hold,” came a voice from through the cypress.
It was Siblisy, a “young” ranger in his forties. Forsha, the last member of the patrol, let go a gob of spindleleaf and glowered at her temporary leader.
“We could feel a … pall,” Siblisy said nervously. “Luther?”
Head bowed, Tanis shook his head.
“I’m sorry, I need to go …”
Not caring what the others thought, he raced through the undergrowth. All that mattered now was seeing Adalita’s face, full and clean, unmolested by …
Thankfully, Jader had yet to break camp for the day. Breathing heavily, Tanis scanned faces with a ragged anxiety he’d never felt before. There, near the drying rack - he’d know that straw-colored hair anywhere. He wrapped Adalita in his arms.
“I’ll never leave you again,” he breathed in her ear, oblivious to how he sounded.
Adalita held him at arm’s length, ready to remonstrate, but seemed to recognize something in his eyes.
“You saw her, didn’t you?”
Shaking his head, the boy drew her close again, absorbing her smell, the warmth of her body.
“It was a message,” he said, noticing Jader standing nearby. “Luther’s dead.”
The veteran scowled.
“Talk, la Berne. If your answer doesn’t satisfy, I’ll kill you where you stand.”
It took Tanis a moment to realize that he had survived the bone shrine where another had died. In his own brutal way, Jader was reminding him of his taint. There was also the heavy implication that Tanis was probably a lightning rod for the dark magic he’d just experienced. Was it worth keeping him around if incidents like this would continue to happen? In a way, the morning’s horror was Jader’s worst fears realized.
“It was a message,” Tanis repeated, looking Jader squarely in the eye. “The witch is active again.”
“What did you see, Tanis?” Adalita asked.
He winced inside - he had no intention of revisiting the memory.
“She knows who we are,” he said carefully. “Individually.”
“Who ‘we’ are?” Jader asked. “Or who you are?”
The menace in his voice was unmistakable. Tanis got the distinct impression he’d be lucky to see out the day. He was about to frame a belligerent reply when Adalita blocked Jader. All Tanis’s fears regarding their relationship dissolved in that moment.
“You’ll have to go through me,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice. Tanis marveled at how cold she could be when she needed to. Their leader’s eyes glittered with disappointment.
“I see. Always protecting the outcasts, eh Lita?”
Adalita stood firm, treating Jader’s jibe like the bitter outburst it was. The head ranger chastened himse
lf. Siblisy and Forsha emerged from the trees and immediately grasped the situation.
“Tanis survived what Luther couldn’t,” Siblisy said. “If the Tall Lady is coming for us, we could use his immunity to our advantage in the coming weeks.”
“The boy could be our only hope of surviving,” Forsha added.
Tanis frowned - he certainly hadn’t looked at it that way. Then again, he hadn’t been around these rangers long enough to understand their entrenched hatred toward the mysterious, preternatural presence living in Fenril Marsh.
Jader swore and tore his gaze from Tanis for the first time.
“She’s further north than she’s ever been,” he said. “If she wanted to kill the boy, she would have. She’s playing with him. If we kill him, she might seek retribution. The smart thing to do is send him into the fucking swamp.”
Jader glared at Tanis.
“Lucky for him, I agree with Siblisy. The only way we survive the next few days is by keeping the boy alive.”
Tanis didn’t like Jader’s tone at all, but at that moment he was just glad to see Adalita alive. After decades of misery, Jader was clearly obsessed with the idea of bringing the Tall Lady down. Tanis would be used as bait - that much was clear. The Dawn Rangers’ long dance with death was reaching a climax. The fact that the Tall Lady had a clear interest in Tanis was a major cause for concern, but he didn’t feel as defenseless as he might’ve several weeks ago.
“It’s time,” he said firmly. “We can’t truly protect Ardennia’s borders until the Tall Lady is no more.”
“Agreed,” Jader said through gritted teeth. “Our first call is to Border Village for supplies.”
The mood was uneasy as the rangers broke camp and threaded their way south. Tanis stayed close to Adalita. Their relationship had stepped beyond that which most rangers were prepared to go. Their hands brushed frequently as they climbed Yijjar Bluff, contributing to a thick, feral yearning between the pair. There was something unhinged about Tanis’s thoughts. The taint he’d been exposed to earlier was probably still coursing through his veins. Intriguingly, the sensation wasn’t all bad. For starters, he felt more confident than he was used to. He was beginning to accept that he might have always been a little “different”, and that the taint he carried was actually a vital part of him. It wasn’t clear if it would see him spiraling hopelessly to his death, but there was no point in suppressing it any longer.
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