[Queen of Orcs 01] - King's Property

by Morgan Howell

  One night after another trying day, Dar was roused from sleep by an orc sentry. “Muth velavash,” he called from outside Kovok-mah’s shelter.

  “Hai?”

  “There is washavoki that calls for Dargu. It will not go away.”

  “Who is this washavoki?” asked Dar.

  “I do not know. It wears red and blue.”

  Sevren, thought Dar. “I will see this washavoki.” She left the shelter and followed the sentry. Though a gibbous moon shone brightly, Dar could see no sign of Sevren. The sentry led Dar toward a thicket of weeds that lay just outside Muth la’s Embrace. When Dar approached the thicket, Sevren rose from it and softly called her name.

  “Sevren, what are you doing here?”

  “Keep your voice down,” he answered. He waved for her to join him before sinking into his hiding place. Dar found Sevren and squatted next to him. “What’s this about?” she asked.

  He handed her a loaf of bread. It felt hard and stale, but it was intact. “For you and Twea,” he said. “The king’s finest.”

  “How’d you get this?”

  “Be careful,” said Sevren. “You’ll be flogged if you’re caught with it.”

  Dar guessed the answer to her question. “You stole this from the king!”

  “You deserve it more than he does.”

  “But you could be flogged for taking it!”

  “’Twould be my least penalty for tonight’s offenses,” said Sevren. “All were worth the risk. I had to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “I know you and Twea are hungry. I was worried.”

  “We’re all hungry.”

  “Other things worry me, too. Something’s amiss.”

  “What?” asked Dar.

  “We’re being led into a trap. It’s obvious. Each town is dangled as bait, then destroyed just before we reach it. Tomorrow, we’ll do another forced march into the Vale of Pines. ’Tis the perfect spot for an ambush.”

  “Have you told the king?”

  “He has generals to do that, and they’re more clever than a guardsman. They know what’s going on. They’re doing this with open eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve na idea, except the mage is involved. The Queen’s Man has a part, too. They’ve been thick together.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “For two reasons. Warn your protectors…”

  “You mean the orcs?”

  “Yes, the orcs. They’ll lead any attack. Warn them they’re going into a trap. And you should know that if the orcs are slain, the soldiers will abandon you. They care only for their own skins. Move clear of the baggage train when the attack begins. I swear by Karm I’ll find you.”

  “You frighten me,” said Dar.

  “There’s na helping that. I want you safe. Twea, too.”

  “You’ve risked your life to tell me this, haven’t you?”

  “I’ve risked my life many times, but seldom for so good a reason.” Sevren peered over the weeds and looked about. “The way’s clear,” he said. “I should go.”

  “Wait! I have something for you.”

  “What?”

  “Something you may want,” Dar said. “I just discovered it.” Then she kissed him.

  Dar returned to Kovok-mah’s shelter and shook him awake.

  “Atham?” he asked in a sleepy voice. What?

  Dar replied in Orcish in case Twea overheard. “I’ve learned of great danger.”

  “What is it?”

  “Tomorrow, if you fight, there’ll be…” Dar couldn’t think of the Orcish word for “trap.” Neither could she think of words for “trick,” “deceit,” or “double-cross.” A moment’s reflection made her realize that the orcs lacked terms for every form of deception she could imagine, and she lacked the words to describe the threat. “…there’ll be much danger.”

  “There’s always danger,” said Kovok-mah.

  “But urkzimmuthi will die and washavoki soldiers won’t.”

  “This often happens.”

  “Thwa, thwa, thwa,” said Dar. “Tomorrow will be different.”

  “Each battle is different.”

  “Washavokis will hide like cat to jump on mouse,” said Dar, trying to describe an ambush.

  “That has happened before. I’ve seen it in other battles.”

  “But washavokis have spoken words without meaning. Urkzimmuthi will die for no reason,” said Dar.

  “Words spoken by washavokis often make little sense. Yet I know they want us to kill. Our queen has promised we would. If we die, that is reason.”

  In the darkness within the shelter, Dar couldn’t see Kovok-mah’s face, only the faint green glint of his eyes. They pierced the gloom better than hers. “Dargu, don’t be sad,” he said in a gentle voice.

  “Why don’t you understand? You must understand! Who leads urkzimmuthi fighters?”

  “Queen’s Man and his tolums.”

  “Thwa,” said Dar. “Which son leads fighters?”

  “There is no such son.”

  “Some sons have capes,” said Dar. “Are they not leaders?”

  “They’re not like washavoki tolums that tell us what to do,” said Kovok-mah. “Cape is sign of wisdom. Sons choose to listen.”

  “You’re wise. Sons will listen to you.”

  “What should I say? Fighting is dangerous? Washavokis are cruel? This is common wisdom.”

  “Tomorrow will be different,” said Dar. “Many sons will die.”

  “You’ve seen little fighting. Many often die.”

  As Dar pondered how she might make Kovok-mah understand how the orcs would be betrayed, she recalled how Murdant Teeg had compared them to hunting dogs. “They’re strong and tough,” he had said, “but they lack guile. It’s guile that wins battles.” How can creatures unable to lie comprehend treachery? She envisioned Kovok-mah and the others marching to their annihilation, and she couldn’t see how to prevent them.

  Thirty-seven

  The next day’s forced march seemed to Dar like listening to a long, sad tale that she already knew. She must endure the telling, though she couldn’t change the ending. As the day progressed, her dread grew. Dar’s one consolation was that Twea was oblivious of the danger ahead. She had been delighted by Sevren’s bread. She, Dar, and Kovok-mah had eaten some in the morning, and the girl behaved as if it were a feast. The unexpected nourishment had perked up Twea’s spirits and, for a while, livened her steps. Yet Twea’s energy was quickly spent. By afternoon, Dar carried her. She seemed a light burden compared to her worries.

  The army marched over grasslands, not bothering to pause at the empty farms along the way. The soldiers were spurred on by news of a great prize—not a town, but the goods from the emptied towns. Scouts had reported that a small force of the enemy escorted many heavily laden wagons. These slowed their escort’s flight, which was headed for the Vale of Pines.

  As the march continued westward, the rolling land began to rise. Soon, dark green hills came into view. The Vale of Pines wound through them. For a while, the army headed in its direction. Then, before the enemy was sighted, King Kregant’s forces halted. The orcs and their baggage train remained in place while the foot soldiers and cavalry regrouped into two forces. These took separate routes to the hills around the valley. The king and his guards followed one of them.

  As the human forces moved out, the Queen’s Man rode alongside the orc column and halted midpoint. All the orcs turned to face him. General Tarkum rose up in his saddle and shouted in Orcish, “Hear words your Great Mother spoke to me!”

  The orcs grew still and silent. Dar listened with them.

  “Great Mother wants sons to aid Great Washavoki. There are evil ones ahead. They must die. That is her wisdom. Soldiers go to hills to protect you. Your path is different. Tolums will show way. Obey them. Soon, Great Mother will hear of your deeds and be pleased.”

  The Queen’s Man finished his speech by making the sign of the tree. To Da
r, it was the crowning duplicity. Though she was enraged, the orcs remained placid and watched without a murmur as the general rode off to join his retreating sovereign.

  The orcs resumed advancing only after the human troops neared their destinations, which were the far sides of the hills that flanked the vale. By then, even Dar could see the plan. The laden wagons were King Feistav’s bait to lure King Kregant’s starving army into the valley. Feistav’s forces were hidden on the tree-covered hilltops. When the invaders took the bait, Feistav’s men would attack them on two sides from high ground. King Kregant’s strategy took the same ploy to the next level. The orcs were his bait to lure his opponents from their ambush. After King Feistav’s troops left the hills, Kregant’s men would occupy them. From there, they would watch the orcs kill as many of their attackers as they could. When the orcs were vanquished, Kregant’s men would charge and finish the work the orcs had begun. Feistav would lose, the orcs would lose, but Kregant would win.

  Dar wondered why the orcs couldn’t envision this when she saw it so clearly. They’ve been in battles before, she thought. Surely they’ve seen ambushes. Then she finally grasped the depth of the orcs’ loyalty. They’re honoring their queen’s promise, knowing it will cost their lives. Dar saw that the orcs’ error was in thinking the Queen’s Man was as honorable as their queen. Dar marveled how a ruler could inspire such devotion and how men could so treacherously abuse it.

  Yet for all her thinking, Dar saw no way to change anything. Sevren was right. Only kings and queens can change the world. All I can do is keep Twea and myself alive. That, alone, would be difficult enough.

  The sun was low by the time the orc column marched into the Vale of Pines, and the valley’s grassy floor was shadowed. A meandering stream ran through it, broad but shallow from lack of rain. The hills on either side were steep, but not too steep for a charging horse or a running man to descend. Their upper slopes were covered with pines and other evergreens. In the failing light, they looked nearly black. Dar scanned them fearfully, looking for hostile faces. She saw none.

  Lacking cavalry, some mounted officers rode ahead to serve as scouts. Soon after they returned, the orcs and all who followed them halted. From her position in the midst of the baggage train, Dar could see little, and no one about her seemed to know what was going on, beyond that the march had stopped. Soldiers and women milled about the wagons, uncertain what to do or what would happen next. Dar wondered if this was the time that she and Twea should get clear of the baggage train. The tension in the air convinced her that it was. She grabbed Twea’s hand and said, “Come with me.”

  Twea followed Dar without question, and the two made their way to the edge of the mob. Dar glanced about, looking for the best avenue of escape. Farther up the valley, the orcs were unstrapping their rolled-up shelters and setting them in a pile. It was a sign that they were preparing for battle. Dar surveyed the surrounding hills. The valley had become narrower, but there was still a wide expanse of open ground to cross before she and Twea reached the slopes, which they would have to climb to hide among the trees. Dar wondered if Twea was up to the effort. Flight was desertion. If they were caught, it meant execution.

  As Dar weighed their chances, she saw Murdant Kol riding toward them, leading a group of soldiers. He was still distant, but Dar could see he was shouting orders and scanning the faces in the milling crowd. Dar guessed he was searching for someone, most likely her. She pulled Twea back. “Where are we going now?” asked Twea.

  “I have to hide you,” replied Dar.

  Dar pushed their way through the confused women and soldiers until she spied an untended wagon. She made her way over to it, and when it seemed no one was paying attention, she tossed Twea on its bed. “Hide under the cover and stay there,” said Dar. “I’ll be back when it gets dark.” She saw the frightened look on Twea’s face. “It’ll be all right. Rest while I’m gone.”

  Dar ran off, keeping her head low. Instead of fleeing Murdant Kol, she decided to move in his direction. If she could slip by him, it would buy her time while he scrutinized the rest of the baggage train. Also, she would be headed toward the orcs.

  Dar’s plan worked, and she reached the head of the baggage train without getting caught. From where she stood, she could view the orcs assuming battle positions. The shieldrons—each thirty-six orcs strong—moved into place like bricks in a wall. Soon they formed a thick line of fighters that stretched from the hills on one side of the valley to those on the other. Kovok-mah had told Dar that his shieldron would be on the right flank. Close to the hillside! A chill ran through her as she realized he would be one of the first hit in an ambush.

  Dar had a sudden urge to see Kovok-mah one more time. I could hand out the washuthahi seeds. That way, I won’t attract attention. She turned back to find Neffa and volunteer for the job. Locating Neffa in all the confusion took a long time, especially since Dar had to watch out for Kol and his men. When she found her, Neffa seemed more distracted than usual. “I’ll take out the washuthahi seeds,” said Dar.

  “The what?” asked Neffa.

  “The black seeds orcs get before battle,” said Dar.

  “Oh,” said Neffa. “Too late. It’s already been done.”

  Stymied, Dar returned to the head of the baggage column. The orcs were in position, waiting for darkness to attack. The sun had set, but there was still light in the sky. Dar thought that she should return to the wagon soon and attempt her escape with Twea.

  As Dar pondered their chances, an unrelated thought popped into her head—All the orcs I blessed survived the battle. Up to that moment, the idea that any words she uttered had special power seemed absurd. Casualties had been light when the town had been taken, and it didn’t seem extraordinary that the orcs she had blessed were unscathed. Yet, desperate and with no other means to affect the upcoming battle, Dar suddenly became a believer in the potency of blessings. Her urge to see Kovok-mah became irresistible. Dar didn’t question the impulse; she obeyed it and ran toward the orcs.

  No one chased after Dar as she sprinted through the high grass. When she reached the orcs, she anxiously searched the ranks for Kovok-mah. When Dar finally spied him, she rushed over to where he stood. “Dargu?” he said, clearly surprised to see her.

  “Fasat Muth la luthat tha,” Dar said. May Muth la protect you.

  Dar felt she didn’t have time to explain. If these words have any power, I must bless as many as I can. She moved over to the orc on Kovok-mah’s side. “Fasat Muth la luthat tha.” Then she blessed the next orc, and the next.

  “Hey bitch!” shouted a mounted officer. “What are you doing here?” The man didn’t wait for Dar’s reply but spurred his horse as he drew his sword. Dar started to run, but the officer caught up with her in a few paces and swung his sword. The flat of his blade slapped hard against Dar’s buttocks. She gave a yelp and the man laughed. Dar darted between the ranks to evade another blow, and the officer gave chase.

  Dar ran as fast as she could, slipping between the motionless orcs to use them as obstacles for the horseman. She was well aware that a slight twist of the wrist would transform a stinging blow into a lethal one. Dar passed beyond the last of the orcs and halted at the base of a hill. Her pursuer had ridden into the open space between the orcs and the baggage train. Dar was unsure if he had abandoned the chase or was waiting for her. She decided not to find out the hard way. Instead, she dropped to her hands and knees and began crawling through the high grass on the slope.

  Dar slowly climbed the hill, staying low to the ground to keep from being seen. Partway up the hill, the ground became level for a stretch. A huge spruce rose from this natural terrace. The tree was dead and much of its bark had fallen away. The gray, bare wood gave the tree a skeletal look, the numerous branches its ribs. Dar crawled over to the tree and hid behind it. There, she tried to figure out how to get back to Twea. Dar thought if she climbed the tree, she could spot the safest route.

  The spruce’s branches were close to
gether and horizontal, making it easy to climb. Soon Dar was high above the ground with a commanding view of the valley. The campfires of the enemy were visible in the distance. She saw that the Queen’s Man’s officers had gathered behind the massed orcs. She spied a group of soldiers leaving the baggage train. They were headed in her direction. Though that discovery was disturbing, it wasn’t as unsettling as another one—the landscape was familiar. She had seen it before in her vision of the golden lights.

  Dar recalled watching the lights wink out, and the memory brought ominous forebodings. She started to climb down, but saw soldiers ascending the hill. Dar froze and waited. There were over two dozen men in all, mostly murdants. A few brought women with them; Neena was the only one she recognized. To Dar’s dismay, everyone halted beneath the tree. “This is the spot,” someone said.

  Anxious minutes passed, then Dar saw more soldiers headed in her direction. There was a horseman in front. It was getting too dark for her to make him out, but when he shouted, she recognized Kol’s voice. “Did you get her?”

  “Nay, High Murdant.”

  Kol spurred his horse up the hill. “By Karm’s holy ass! Then why are you here?”

  “We searched high and low,” said a soldier.

  “Then search again!” shouted Kol. “Find the brat and you’ll find Dar. Tear apart the wagons if you must, but get Dar! Don’t return empty-handed!”

  As Kol dismounted, soldiers scrambled down the hill, passing others ascending it. Dar heard Teeg’s voice call out: “Did they catch the weasel?”

  “No,” said Kol, startling Dar with the venom he poured into that single word.

  “There’s still time,” said Teeg, breathing heavily from climbing. He surveyed the landscape as he rested. “This is a good spot,” he said. “High enough to see and not too close. Are those their campfires?”