by Cindy Dees
It was a hard thing, knowing that a goal you held dear was more important than the lives of dozens of your friends and neighbors—or of hundreds of soldiers, who’d done nothing wrong but follow orders. It sat ill within Will. But what choice did he have? Since the moment his father had revealed the existence of the Sleeping King, Will’s path had been set. He could not stop until he found the king or died permanently in the attempt.
He jolted when a whispered word floated out of the darkness behind him. “Willcobb.”
Stunned, he half-turned on his belly to look over his shoulder. Thar’Ok and a half-dozen Boki warriors loomed in the shadows behind him.
“What—” Will stared.
The orc shaman waved him urgently to silence, then gestured for all the members of the party to come to him. With varying degrees of trepidation and suspicion, Will and the others complied. Thar’Ok drew them several dozen yards away from the main body of the battle.
“Willcobb. Now be time.”
Will stared at Thar’Ok. “I beg your pardon?”
“Go now. Wake king.”
“But I don’t know where to go—”
Thar’Ok cut him off. “We show. Come now.”
“But Raina—our healer—”
“She Balthazar,” the orc intoned in disgust. “We bring. You go.”
Will looked to the others questioningly. His inclination was to trust the Boki. Stars knew, Thar’Ok didn’t have to come out here and expose himself to danger from Anton’s men like this. The others in the party hesitated, but eventually they all nodded. Sha’Li was last to join in.
Will answered for all of them, “All right. We go. Lead on.”
The orcs turned and melted into the night with Will and his companions close on their heels.
* * *
Something touched Raina’s foot. She jumped and looked behind her to see a badly mangled arm attached to a bloody shoulder that led to an even bloodier face with desperate human eyes looking out of it.
“Please, White Heart. Save Hyland’s men.”
Oh, stars. The rest of them. With alacrity Raina reached down and threw healing into the man to stanch the worst of his bleeding and stabilize him enough not to die.
“You knew him?” she asked hoarsely as the man gasped in pain beneath her hands.
“I am … was…”—a groaned curse—“… his sergeant at arms. He told me to stay back and the others to stay with me, but I couldn’t let him die alone. I led the men to ’im. And now they’s all dead.”
“Where? Show me?” Raina asked urgently. Of a sudden it was incredibly important to find Leland’s men and save as many of them as she could. The sergeant crawled over to a corpse a few feet away. “There be Donal,” he pointed out.
She hit the young man with the same healing that had failed on Sir Leland, but this time her target blinked his eyes open almost instantly. She choked back a sob. Six more times she used life magic, and all six times it worked. Why, oh why, couldn’t it have worked on Sir Leland? On the remaining men, she threw enough healing into them to fix the worst of their injuries and see them safely off the field.
The last one sat up with a jerk, raising his sword to swing at the hamstrings of a nearby Boki.
“Stand down!” the sergeant barked to the fellow. “Lower your weapon!”
Raina frowned up at the soldier, startled.
The sergeant shrugged. “Sir Leland saw to it we knew the rule.”
“What rule?”
He frowned that she did not seem to know the tenets of her own order, but nonetheless explained. “Tradition holds that if the White Heart heals a man and he departs peacefully from the battle, his opponents will let him withdraw unharmed. But if my men reengage in the fight, we be fair game to die again. Not to mention we risk the displeasure of the White Heart, who do not take kindly to spending their precious magic saving a man’s life only to have him throw it away again.”
Ahh. A good rule. She could see the sense of it.
“May I just say how good it is to see my mistress’s tabard abroad again. You wear it well, young lady.”
She shook her head, unable to speak past the sudden lump in her throat.
Hyland’s men all rested their weapons on top of their heads. She assumed that was some sort of signal to the Boki that they intended to withdraw from the fight without engaging any further. The men started to move toward the south end of the battlefield, and Raina stood up with the idea of leaving with them.
The sergeant spoke to her gently. “Your work is not done, White Heart. Many more wounded and dying lay upon the field. Until your healing is spent, you must stay.”
Raina looked around in dismay at the carnage. Of course. Heal everyone you see, regardless of race or affiliation.…
He continued, and she could almost hear Leland’s voice saying, Heal without prejudice, green and pink, flesh and fur, alike. The Boki are living creatures and as deserving of your skill as me and my men.
As the sergeant limped away with his men she took a deep breath, turned, and reached for the dead orc lying at her feet, minus the entire right side of his head. She laid her hands upon him and blasted him with a life spell. The Boki did much as Leland’s men had done. He blinked awake, face now intact, looked confused, spied her tabard, and comprehension lit his black eyes.
He nodded and grunted something in orcish that sounded like an expression of gratitude. He climbed to his feet and held a hand down to her. Startled, she took it. The orc hoisted her to her feet and then some, nearly sending her flying with his strength. Another grunt that sounded apologetic and then the fellow put his sword on his head and jogged off the field. Stunned, she watched him go. And then she turned to the next corpse, another Boki.
She worked her way in an expanding circle around the field, doing her best to conserve her energy and give each man just enough magic to save his life. How many humanoids and orcs she healed she had no idea. She decided then and there never to keep count of such things. How long she stayed upon the field she also had no idea.
But when her magics were completely drained she staggered, exhausted, toward the brush from whence she’d come. She’d only taken a step or two beyond the clearing, though, when a big, meaty—and very green—hand clasped her upper arm. The same orc who’d tried to lead them past this place before.
“Come. Willcobb.”
Startled, she stared up at him. He was going to take her to Will and the others? She nodded her understanding and followed as he veered toward the north end of the battlefield. A great cry went up from behind her. “Kidnapping … White Heart in trouble … green whoresons abuse the colors!…”
She only caught snippets of it, but it was enough to tell that Anton’s men took umbrage with a Boki escorting her off the field like this. She would have turned to reassure them, but the Boki was dragging her forward so quickly she could barely keep her feet.
Nonetheless, someone caught up with her, because all of a sudden something swung past her from behind and slammed into the orc beside her. He staggered, but the blow did not draw blood. The orc released her arm and whirled to face his attacker. Raina did the same.
It appeared to be some sort of barbarian. He looked human, but his face was covered in complicated whorls of red-brown paint. “It’s all right,” she tried. “I go with him voluntarily.”
But the barbarian either did not hear her or did not understand her. His attention rested solely upon the orc before him. The two combatants rushed each other and Raina stumbled back momentarily from the fury of their fight. She stepped forward and tried again. “It’s all right—” It did no good.
The two fighters disengaged only when, frustrated, she physically stepped between them. It was a foolhardy maneuver, but she was lucky. Both men had enough control of their weapons to check their blows mid-swing and not decapitate her.
She shouted, “Stop!”
The Boki frowned at her for a moment and then sighed. “Bal-tha-zar?” he asked reluctantly.
>
Huh? “Uhh, yes. Sure,” she tried. “No killing.”
He nodded in disappointment. “No kill. Bal-tha-zar.”
She turned to the barbarian. “No killing,” she repeated forcefully. She pointed at her tabard and then at his weapon and then shook her head in the negative. The barbarian frowned and pointed at the Boki, then drew a finger across his neck.
“No!” she exclaimed. “For lack of any better demonstration, she reached out and tucked her arm into the Boki’s elbow as if he were a dance partner about to escort her onto the floor. The barbarian’s eyes bulged. She waved him away with her free hand and then turned and commenced dragging the Boki off the field with her.
She glanced back over her shoulder once, and the barbarian still stood there, staring at her in shock. Yup, she could hear the rumors now. The White Heart healer was dating a Boki.
The Boki glanced down at her in definite humor. “Bal-tha-zar. Cray. Zee.”
What else could she do? She nodded in the affirmative and kept on walking.
When they cleared the battlefield her orc escort shook off her hand and took off running. Wherever he was going, he wanted to get there in a big hurry. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, dragged at her.
The Boki stopped twice to wait impatiently for her to catch up with him, but there was no help for it. Draining her magical energy like that had drained her physically, too. And she had not a drop of magic left to cast into herself and mayhap give herself more strength to run faster.
The third time she caught up with him, she gasped before he took off running again, “How much further?”
“Soon.”
She sincerely hoped “soon” in Boki terms meant a matter of minutes. Because that was just about all she had left.
And that was when the fighting broke out on their right.
The Boki jolted and put on a burst of speed that demonstrated just how much he’d been slowing down for her. Cursing under her breath, she followed, ducking out of sight behind a cluster of oak saplings. The Boki stopped and she did the same, panting.
He gestured at the direction the sound of fighting was coming from and then pointed at her tabard. “You go … Bal. Tha. Zar?”
She laughed without humor and held up her hands, which were definitely not glowing in the deep gloom of night. “No magic. All gone.”
“Ahh. Go qui-uhht.”
Stars willing, “quiet” also meant “slow.”
For a big creature the Boki moved with shocking stealth. She did her best to mimic his silent passage through the wood but wondered at the value of doing so, attired as she was in white that stood out like a beacon in the night. They had to circle wide twice more around skirmishing. Luck favored them, though, and they moved away from the fighting until it was only a distant murmur behind them.
Who was out here, sneaking around in small, thief-like groups, and why? Did Anton know the lair of the Sleeping King was close by? Had he sent his men out looking for it? Leland had said Anton believed the Boki to be guarding a great treasure trove. Was that what his men searched for?
If so, that meant the main battle behind her had been nothing more than a ruse! Leland had died for nothing more than a distraction—
Fury erupted in her heart. The governor had murdered Sir Leland as surely as if he’d wielded the sword that killed Hyland himself. It was wrong. How were the people supposed to live under a ruler who valued life so little? She was White Heart now, her prime tenet of existence to defend life. And Anton Constantine was anathema to everything she stood for.
Her thoughts flashed back to Moto and Mag and Arv and the kindari villagers who lived on the fringes of society rather than accept the yoke of Koth. Freedom indeed. A most worthy goal. She did not know what she could do to support their fight, but she would find a way. Someday. Somehow.
They topped a ridge and her Boki guide stopped abruptly, enough so that she ran into his back. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Shhh.” The Boki clicked his tongue in a rapid pattern several times and then fell silent. He repeated the insectoid sounds once more. In a moment the clicking sound came back, but in a slightly different pattern.
Her escort moved forward confidently. Raina frowned. A sophisticated signaling system for supposedly stupid beasts. She was rapidly coming to the conclusion that these Boki had been vastly underestimated by the Empire. All her life, she’d heard nothing to contradict the idea that greenskins in general were intellectually inferior to the humanoid races. But clearly, it was not so.
They stepped into a small clearing and she spotted Thar’Ok. Or at least she thought it was Thar’Ok, the most senior of the Boki shamans.
He spoke roughly, “We wait for worst fight go by. Rest. Be some time.”
She swore under her breath and stared at the party of orcs standing silently around her. She started, though, when Thar’Ok abruptly started mumbling into thin air. The other orcs moved aside a little and the shaman knelt. What on Urth? For all the world, it looked like he was starting a field resurrection.
Sure enough, in a few minutes the body of an orc had formed at Thar’Ok’s feet and become solid. In a few more minutes the resurrected orc took a gasping breath and lurched upright.
Huh. She’d never thought to ask how greenskin races healed their dead. Could they speak with spirits as well—
—She jumped to her feet and asked Thar’Ok urgently, “Can you speak to the dead?”
The thorn blinked at her in surprise. “Big magic. But yes.”
“I need to speak to a dead pinkskin spirit. He died well. But he refused to resurrect for me. I’m completely out of magical energy. I used it all healing your warriors and mine. I must speak with this spirit. Convince him to come back.”
“Whoo be he?”
“Landsgrave Leland Hyland.”
“Him big figh-tuh.”
“With big honor,” Raina added. “Like you. Please. If you wish me and my friend to wake the Sleeping King, you will do this for me. We’re not going anywhere for a while. You said so yourself.”
Thar’Ok frowned and reached out to poke her tabard gently. “Bal.Tha.Zar.”
She nodded and waited, holding her breath.
“I do. For Bal. Tha. Zar.”
She sagged in relief.
“Three ask. Only.” He held up three thick fingers to illustrate his meaning. She nodded impatiently, understanding. A spell to speak with a spirit only allowed the caster to ask three questions, no more. No conversation. Just the questions. And, of course, the spirit was not required to answer honestly. Although she doubted that would be an issue with Leland. He was honest to his core.
While Thar’Ok muttered to himself and commenced gathering magic, she thought frantically, preparing the questions she would have the thorn ask Leland. How to convince him to come back to this world when she knew for certain he did not wish to do so?
The orc cast the magic, and Raina looked around expectantly. Where was Leland’s spirit? As a spirit caster, she ought to be able to sense its presence.
“Is he here?” she asked urgently. “Did his spirit come to you?”
“Ahh. There he be,” Thar’Ok sighed.
Raina looked around again. She didn’t see him. Was Leland hiding himself from her? It would be like him. Could spirits do that?
“Ask,” the thorn grunted.
Raina spoke carefully. “Sir Leland, were you ordered not to resurrect?”
Thankfully, the thorn didn’t seem to have to relay the question to the spirit, for in a moment he shook his head in the negative. Thar’Ok muttered, “He say no. Ask two.”
She took a deep breath. And now for the key question. “Does Sir Leland know where a man named Kerryl Moonrunner took his son, Kendrick, after Moonrunner kidnapped him?”
Thar’Ok frowned. “Spirit very … move much. Talk to self. Mad. Scared, maybe.”
Excellent. “And my question? Does he answer it?”
A pause. “He not know. Ask three.”
She thought fast. If Leland didn’t know before he died that Kendrick had been kidnapped, then that meant he had received no ransom demand. Either Moonrunner had killed Kendrick, in which case the youth had likely already resurrected, or the fellow still held Kendrick alive. But why? For what purpose?
She asked her third question. “Does Sir Leland understand that he must resurrect if he is to help us find his son and save Kendrick from whatever Moonrunner has planned for him?”
Thar’Ok looked off into space for a long time. Long enough that Raina began to get very nervous. If only she could see Sir Leland! “Is he still there?” she whispered. “Does he answer?”
At long last, the thorn murmured, “Aye. He unner-stan.”
She fell to her knees, emotionally emptied. She’d done her best. Now she could only hope and pray his spirit chose to make the long journey back to the land of the living.
“We go now,” Thar’Ok rumbled above her.
Would this nightmare never end? She gathered herself to rise and a rough green hand appeared before her face. Grateful, she took the thorn’s hand and let him help her up. Kindness from an orc. How much more upside down would her world turn before this was all said and done?
The cadre of orcs fanned out in front of and behind her, and they moved out cautiously into the dark.
It wasn’t long before her escort led her into another small clearing much like the last one. Except this clearing held familiar faces. Rosana rushed forward to wrap her in a sobbing embrace. Raina was too drained to respond in kind, but she did hug the gypsy back weakly. She looked up over Rosana’s shoulder and spied Eben, his eyes bleak.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, brokenhearted. “I did my best. But it wasn’t enough—”
Cicero cut her off. “We all saw what you did out there on the field. No apologies required.”
Sha’Li added pragmatically, “Weak was his spirit. Eager to die.” She added somewhat less sarcastically than usual, “In peace could he die knowing that his madness we carry on.”
“It is not madness—” Will started hotly.
“I spoke to his spirit—” Raina started at the same time.