by S. M. Boyce
CHAPTER 3
Victoria quirked an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips as she eyed the ogre in front of her. “You want me to do what now?”
“Tackle me,” Edgar said, gesturing for her to come closer.
They stood on a makeshift Berserk field not far from the safehouse in one of the farthest and least-known tunnels Fairhaven had to offer. Even revolutionaries needed to let off steam, and Victoria had been running around the jagged field for the last hour with Edgar and three of his brothers.
Apparently Bertha’s whole family was huge.
Victoria set one hand on her hip and chuckled as she tried to understand just what Edgar wanted from her. “But why do you want to wrestle me? I’ve seen you on the Berserk field. You’re a beast.”
“I am, and most would be crushed beneath me.” The other ogres rolled their eyes and shouted at him to shut up, but he hushed them with a wave of his hand and pointed at Victoria. “You, however, are different. With your new Rhazdon Artifact, I doubt I’ll be able to so much as touch you.”
He nodded toward the bear figurine on her abdomen beneath her blouse and she stiffened, but her powers were no secret among the ever-growing population of the safehouse. Given everything she had inadvertently crushed—from windowsills to pots and pans—there was no keeping a secret this big.
And surprisingly, no one cared.
There were no riots. No angry expressions. No fear. After everything she had endured, everything she had sacrificed for Fairhaven, they trusted her completely.
These were her people, the only ones who truly loved her as she was.
She hung her head in mock defeat and waved him forward. “Fine. Show me what you’ve got, Edgar.”
A mischievous grin spread across his face, and he shook out his hands to prepare himself. His eyes narrowed on her shoulders, just as they did when he picked a mark to tackle in practice.
Any other time, Victoria might have gulped with nerves. Any sane human would have been terrified of the four-hundred-pound ogre about to barrel toward her.
But Victoria wasn’t quite human anymore.
She took a short step back and tilted her shoulders as she prepared to intercept him. She had watched Edgar tackle at least a hundred people, and he almost always favored his right side. Since he was one of the largest ogres on the field, that usually didn’t matter—anyone in his way ended up on their back, seeing stars.
Not today.
He charged, the rocky ground shaking beneath him as he raced toward her.
Victoria held her position, lazily watching him approach. As predicted he leaned to the right, preparing to hook her arm and throw her over his head.
Nope.
She grinned and pivoted at the last second, looping her thin arm around his waist and hoisting him over her head as if he weighed nothing. He yelled as he sailed over her and hit the ground with a thud. The impact shook rocks loose from the ceiling, and a few shattered against the cave floor.
The three other ogres on the Berserk field hooted, shouting at him in the ogre language Victoria still needed to learn. She didn’t know what they were saying, but her best guess was something along the lines of, “That skinny chick just whupped your ass!”
Edgar, however, said nothing.
For a second he didn’t move, and Victoria was worried she had hurt him. She leaned forward, trying to get a glimpse of his face. “Edgar? You okay, buddy?”
With a sudden intake of air, Edgar burst out laughing and rolled onto his back. He held his sides as tears poured down his face. He tried to speak, but just laughed harder.
A trickle of relief relaxed her shoulders, and she laughed along with him. The other three ogres joined in, and soon there was a queue of ogres waiting to be flipped over her head like rag dolls.
She wiped a happy tear from her eye and shook her head. Freaking ogres, man. They were weird as hell.
CHAPTER 4
Armed with a bag of pot pies and the stubbornness of a mule, Victoria headed to Fyrn’s to help him with his research. Styx sat on her shoulder, greedy little eyes fixed on the bag in her hand. If she didn’t watch him, he would eat all her food.
As she meandered through the underground tunnels, she bit into one of the small pies and wondered if books could solve her Luak problem, or if she would just end up bickering with her mentor before heading home.
With him, it was always a tossup. Regardless, she plodded along the less-used tunnels, wondering when the “castle guard,” as Luak had referred to the mercenaries, would take over this section of the Fairhaven underground as well.
Plain and simple, time was running out. She would have to face Luak soon, and she couldn’t wait to skewer the bastard.
***
Audrey pressed her back against an alley wall, sticking to the shadows as a pair of elves in black uniforms passed the exit onto the street. They muttered something beneath their breath, gazes focused on each other.
If they were supposed to be patrolling the streets, they were too busy gossiping to do a decent job of it.
Time to infiltrate the enemy.
Are you sure this is wise? the koi asked gently.
Audrey scanned the alley for a reflective surface in which to see the ghost that accompanied her Atlantean Artifact, but none were available.
Fine. She would just talk to herself like a crazy person.
“We need intel, and I can’t stand being cooped up anymore,” she said softly to ensure no one overheard her.
Victoria would be most upset.
“That’s why I’m not going to tell her unless we find out something useful.”
But to walk with the enemy is dangerous. If Luak discovers you…
“He won’t. I won’t even see him. I’m just trying to get information from his captains and the grunts in the field. I need to know where they’re planning to look for us, and the low-level soldiers will at least have rumors to go on.”
The koi paused. I suppose so. Be careful, Master.
Audrey lost her train of thought, still not used to the title her little water spirit had given her. She wasn’t anyone’s master.
You are mine, the koi corrected.
She sighed. Fine.
With a shimmer along her skin, Audrey shifted into the form of a Light Elf. Her spine stretched, making her a good foot taller, and her facial features rearranged themselves. She hadn’t yet figured out how to change into a man—the idea made her smirk—and the koi didn’t seem to know anything about that either, but each race had unique features, and except for the witch form she was almost unrecognizable when she shifted.
Her nose sharpened to a point, and her ears poked through her silky hair. Starting at the tips of her hair, the color bled from black to blonde. Her fingers thinned. Everything about the elves was slender and elegant, and part of her wished she had been able to pick up some of the Light Elves’ magic ability. So far it didn’t make a lick of sense, though. She would figure it out in time, but until they deposed Luak she had to focus on what she could do well.
She glanced down at her familiar clothes, which were now straining on her tall form.
Hmm. She didn’t have any clothes that would work for an elf.
Push your limits, the koi suggested in its melodic voice.
“Thanks, that’s not cryptic or anything,” she muttered softly.
Change your clothes.
“I can do that?”
My previous master was able to. Try.
Audrey squeezed her eyes shut, careful to slink further into the shadows so she could experiment without being seen.
A tingling hum reverberated through her body as she imagined the black uniform the mercenaries wore on patrol, from the loose-fitting pants tucked into the military boots to the black button-down blouse embroidered with a fiery crest that could only be Luak’s coat of arms.
She wiped a bead of sweat off her brow as the pressure in her core built, but she held her focus. Within seconds the pressure release
d, and she let out a slow sigh.
She glanced down to find the black uniform exactly as she had envisioned it, except for the hems being slightly uneven and the shirt a little too large. It dwarfed her thin frame like a tent, and she frowned with disappointment.
You will perfect this ability in time, the koi said softly in her mind. For now, celebrate the success.
A small smile spread over Audrey’s lips. “Thanks.”
After a tentative peek to ensure no one was watching, the disguised Audrey swaggered into the road as if she owned it. A few castle guards passed her, but none of them gave her the time of day—except for one leering orc who seemed unable to keep his gaze off her ass.
She couldn’t linger. There weren’t many women in Luak’s mercenary army, and she could only imagine what those girls endured behind closed doors.
Scratch that. She didn’t want to imagine it.
A group of mercenaries meandered toward the castle entrance, which had been thrown open to reveal a bare tunnel. When she and Victoria had visited the castle, they had gone through a different entrance. Aside from a few sconces lighting the way, nothing adorned the walls. This entry seemed threadbare, likely meant for the people the king didn’t care about impressing—like the guards.
Two soldiers scanned every face that passed. Her heart beat faster as she neared them, and she wiped her sweaty hands on her pants to quell her nerves.
If they pulled her aside, she might not be able to convince them she belonged. She had to act like the rest of these assholes—tough, rude, and curt.
Shouldn’t be too hard. She suppressed a smile at her little joke.
A few of the mercenaries ahead of her nodded deferentially to both sentries. When one of the guards settled his gaze on her face, she mimicked the soldiers ahead of her and nodded once.
He frowned, his eyes running over her body once before he nodded back and turned his attention to the orc behind her.
Thank Christ, oh my God. She let out a slow breath, careful not to show her relief on her face.
The swarm of soldiers ambled along a dimly lit corridor wide enough for ten men to march through shoulder to shoulder. At the end of the hall two massive doors sat open with fire pits on either side, their leaping flames reaching the ceiling. Inside, more elves and orcs in black uniforms congregated around a raised platform in the middle of the room.
She squared her shoulders, hoping this little plan of hers would work. Time to gather some intel.
To escape as much scrutiny and attention as possible, Audrey pushed against the flood of bodies in order to circle back and stand behind the door. The murmur of dozens of overlapping voices filled the crowded room as she waited.
Finally, after about five minutes of anxiously scanning the passing faces and scowling at anyone who made eye contact, Audrey perked up. A massive orc pushed his way through the crowd toward the platform, his black armor shimmering in the firelight and the glow from the dozens of sconces along the room’s walls.
“Shut up!” he roared as he stepped onto the platform.
The room quickly obeyed, the murmur fading to near-silence as he waited for them to stop talking.
“We have new orders from the king,” he said, raising one hand. “Our hunt for the Rhazdon host is priority number one. Continue arresting anyone who tries to leave the city, and escort anyone who enters the city to the castle regardless of which entrance they use.”
Get to the good stuff. Audrey wasn’t feeling particularly patient, and the longer she was here the more men looked her way.
Damn, she wished she could figure out how to shift into a dude. She would blend in so much better.
“As for the host,” the orc continued, pacing on the platform with his hands behind his back, “we suspect she is in the elvish sector. Double your patrols in this area.”
Ha, idiot! She and Victoria were miles from the elvish sector. At least they had bad intel. That would buy them time.
The orc continued for another ten minutes, detailing which of the tunnels they were to expand their patrols into this week. Audrey repeated the important information silently to herself to ensure she remembered it, eager to slip out at the first opportunity.
The army was looking in the wrong part of the city, so she and Victoria were in luck…for now.
***
Deep in the tunnels underneath Fairhaven Victoria held her breath, her eyes wide as she pressed herself against a boulder. In the shadows, she and Styx were hopefully hidden from the seven Light Elves who marched down the tunnel.
A second later, four more elves stepped through the secret door that led to Fyrn’s house.
“This is bad,” she muttered to herself.
Fyrn would never have allowed Luak’s army into his house, and she hadn’t seen him on her way here. Hopefully he was back in the safehouse, but a sinking feeling in her gut warned her that wasn’t the case.
This had to be Luak’s doing, and there was no chance Fyrn had come out of this without injury. She grabbed a rock off the ground and crumbled the stone to dust in her anger.
If Luak had killed Fyrn, she would ensure every second of her enemy’s death was as painful and prolonged as possible.
Fyrn was missing, his house had been overrun, and Luak may have very well just scored a point against her in this brewing war.
***
Fyrn groaned as he lay with his face pressed against a damp stone floor.
He blinked himself awake, body sore and screaming for a healing spell, and pushed upright, leaning against a stone wall as he scanned the darkness around him.
The steady drip of water echoed in a vast space, and a thin ray of light bled through a crack in the ceiling at least thirty feet above him. It illuminated the gloomy outline of his cell, complete with the iron bars he knew would be enchanted against any charms or spells he could throw at them.
Could have thrown at them if he had his staff, anyway. Without it he had no power.
He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, disgusted with himself. He had allowed Luak to destroy his staff—the artifact and relic that had not only given him immense power throughout the years, but which had also prolonged his life for more years than any one wizard should ever have had.
Without it, he would not be long for this world.
He could repair it, but only if he escaped both the cell and whatever Luak had planned for him. And without magic or help, there was little hope of that happening.
“He finally awakens,” a familiar voice said from the darkness.
Fyrn’s jaw tensed and he stubbornly squared his shoulders to hide his pain. “Where is my staff, Luak?”
The elf emerged from the cell’s shadows, and Fyrn wondered how long he had been waiting to make the dramatic entrance.
“Oh, this?” the elf lifted the crystal that had once sat at the tip of Fyrn’s staff.
Fyrn tried not to show his relief—at least the elf hadn’t destroyed it yet. Instead, Fyrn frowned. “It’s rather cruel to destroy an old man’s walking stick.”
Luak chuckled. “I’ll get you another one if you behave.”
“And if I don’t?”
Luak lifted the crystal into the light, admiring its facets as the ray splintered through it. “I’ll keep this as a souvenir of the day I destroyed the late great Fyrn Folly.”
A flicker of hope ignited in the back of Fyrn’s mind as he realized Luak had no idea what he was holding or the power the crystal could give him when paired with the right artifact.
Thank goodness.
Fyrn feigned boredom despite his racing pulse. “Any other threats you’d like to make before we get started?”
“Just one.”
“And that is?”
“If you don’t tell me where Victoria is and how to defeat her, I will ensure you live only long enough to see me burn her alive. You will watch as I destroy what you created, and then I will destroy what’s left of you.”
“I don’t—”
“You
know exactly what I’m talking about,” Luak interrupted. “You’ve hidden your connection to her rather well, all things considered, but I know you’ve been training her. I know you’ve been guiding her, building her, refining her until she will be able to defeat me. But she won’t, because you’re going to tell me everything I need to know to kill her.”
Fyrn forced a laugh. “We can be honest here, Luak. There’s not a thing you can say or do to make me utter a word against her.”