by Megg Jensen
Damor shifted as the palanquin came to a halt. He rolled to the side, nearly falling out.
"The army has called for a break on its march," Gashta called. Or maybe it was Nishta. Didn't matter. They were both getting sent back to the slavers as soon as he could secure new attendants.
Their incompetence only bolstered his confidence as he thought about the journey ahead. Soleth would take Agitar, and it would be done by his magic. Pride puffed in his chest as the curtain was suddenly flung to the side.
Damor cowered under one arm, his eyes sensitive to the light.
"I need to talk to you, old man." Eldir, the new head priest of the Order of the Sun, stood outside, his bulk doing little to block the blinding sunlight.
Damor detested the man, so full of his ridiculous religion. His view of magic was so narrow. Eldir could never begin to understand what Damor knew about the world, much less manipulate it as Damor could.
"If you want to speak to me, do so with respect. I am the queen's closest advisor." Damor sneered.
"And I am the head priest now the queen's father is dead. I have the queen's ear. My influence is unmatched," Eldir said.
"No one is above me. I serve out of choice, not out of obligation." Damor crossed his arms over his chest, wishing he was strong enough to stand. This man took far too much pleasure in his new station.
"It appears neither of us is willing to budge." Eldir's smirk turned into a genuine smile. "Good. Then let us speak plainly. I have information that may help in the campaign against Agitar."
Damor couldn't help but perk up. Though he lacked physical strength, he had found superior knowledge gave him the upper hand in any confrontation. "Tell me."
Eldir waggled a finger in the air. "Ah, now let's not get ahead of ourselves. You and I need to come to an understanding first."
Damor held his annoyance behind pursed lips. He'd had a terrible relationship with Hugh. But Hugh had spent most of his life away from home. Damor had used that time to get close to the queen. He had her ear. Since her father's death, Lissa had been more withdrawn than normal, not taking counsel from Damor. She seemed to prefer the words of the head of the army instead.
Still, Damor would prove himself useful. Irreplaceable, even. He had to pretend to like this new head priest. It would be revolting, but not the worst alliance he'd ever suffered.
"Go on," he said.
"If I share this information with you, I expect you to aid us in the upcoming battle," Eldir said.
"Of course," Damor said impatiently. If he'd expected otherwise, he would have kept his nose out of it to start.
"But you have to follow my orders. I don't want you causing any trouble with your magic."
"And, tell me," Damor said, "who is leading this battle? Your band of weakling priests or the army? Because if anyone should be coming to me with this information, it would be Commander Brax."
Eldir's nostrils flared. "I work in conjunction with the commander."
"Since when?" Damor couldn't help himself. He had to needle the man.
"Since now." Eldir crossed his arms over his chest.
"Then go back to him, and tell him to see me himself." Damor pulled the curtain closed. Eldir had irritated him, and he was tired.
Damor settled into his pillows, preparing to nap. The march with the army had been hard, and if he were to perform magic for the queen, he would need his strength. He blinked a couple times, allowing his eyes to adjust to the soothing darkness once again.
“Why, you little prick." Two hands reached in, grabbing Damor's collar and pulling his head out into the open again.
Damor struggled against the fabric. He coughed, his body wracked with spasms as he fought for more air.
"Listen to me, you little pissant." Eldir leaned in, his lips on Damor's ears. "I'm not Hugh. I travel on my own path to enlightenment. Peace is all well and good, but I'd rather get the job done. There's a reason I'm now head priest, and it's not because I spend more time in prayer. We have a war to fight. You will cooperate, or you'll die. Choose."
Damor's eyes bugged out as he fought, uselessly, against the man's strong grip. As his vision began to go black, Eldir released him. Damor flopped against the pillows, gasping for each breath.
Inwardly, he cursed the priest. He also cursed his own affliction, which rendered him no stronger than a baby. It angered him, feeding the black hole deep in his soul.
He hated this priest. He would kill him.
Damor sat up, taking deep gulps of air. He reached out with one hand, his fingers bent. Focusing all of his magic in his mind, Damor squeezed.
Eldir coughed, his hands reaching up toward his neck to stop the attack. But he could not.
"You may think you can control me by brute force, but I can just as easily do the same to you. And worse. Much, much worse. I will work with you, but only for the benefit of the queen." Damor squeezed harder. Eldir fell to his knees.
The two female orcs stood nearby, watching them with curiosity. Idiot orcs. They would be easy to defeat once the Soleth army reached the North.
"Do you understand?" Damor asked Eldir, who nodded empathically in response.
Damor relaxed his hands and rested them in his lap.
Eldir stood, rubbing his neck. "So we are evenly matched."
"Believe that if it brings you comfort," Damor said. "I want the information you say you have. Give it to me now, and I will decide what, if anything, I want to do about it."
“Fine," Eldir said grudgingly. "This morning I spoke with Hugh's former assistant, Ademar. He is in the North still."
"He's not on his way home?" Damor asked. "Isn't he worried about retaliation?"
"He's under orders to stay there," Eldir said. "He'll pass information to us about the orcs while we journey north. He's told me the orc princess died yesterday."
"One less ugly orc in this land. Doesn't sound like a tragedy to me." Damor's eyes flickered over to Nishta and Gashta. If they'd heard, they showed no emotion.
"The king declared himself impotent," Eldir said.
Damor's eyebrows rose.
"He's opened the throne up to any orc faction who can capture it."
“Now, that's interesting," Damor said. "The orcs are fighting amongst themselves for the throne. Sounds like a perfect time for our army to descend on them."
"That was our thought, as well," Eldir said. "Brax thinks if we can surprise them while they're in chaos, we may have a chance at defeating all of them, perhaps even taking Agitar for our own. But we must work together—all of us. Brute force, magic, and prayer alike."
Damor considered Eldir's words. The priest might be right, but Damor would never tell him so. Of course, they'd succeed in their campaign now. Damor had no doubt. "I will assist the army in their quest. But from now on, I want them to send one of their own to me. No more errand boys."
Eldir's eyes narrowed, but he let the insult pass. "Have it your way. I will tell Brax," Eldir said over his shoulder as he walked away.
Damor sank back into his pillows. He'd put up a good front, but he was exhausted. He needed to recover his strength. He'd win this war for the queen, with the army behind him. She'd have to recognize his worth then. She would officially declare him her advisor. The last mage advisor had died many years ago.
Damor would never forget that day. He had only been four years old when he'd killed the man.
Chapter 12
Brax wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve as he sweltered in the hot tent. Life on the road was as dirty as it was hot. He'd lose more men to dysentery than battle.
While Queen Lissa was the strongest woman Brax had ever known, she didn't understand the intricacies of war. Striking right away might have seemed like the right thing to do, but Brax knew they would have been much better off had they waited and planned.
Instead, he had to strategize on the road.
Brax examined his map, concentrating on the Barrier Mountains. For centuries, the mountains had kept huma
ns and orcs apart. It had forced them to live in a begrudging peace.
Now that peace had been torn asunder by the death of one man.
A breeze flitted through the tent as Jedd strode in, and the map threatened to flutter off the table. Brax reached for it, smoothing its curled corners. Jedd pulled four small rocks from his pocket, juggled them, then tossed them, one at a time, onto the corners of the map.
Jedd would have a made a wonderful circus performer. Whether he'd be any good commanding their soldiers in the battle ahead was another question altogether.
Brax often wished he really was a simple farmer as he drifted off to sleep at night. He imagined sowing hardy crops. He imagined a wife in his bed and children in his heart. Sadly, none of those could be his. Not while Ghrol lived.
Brax's brother had killed their mother. Not because the childbirth was difficult as Brax's father had told the neighbors and townsfolk, but because when she'd taken him to suckle at her breast, Ghrol ripped out her throat instead with sharp teeth. Blood spurted from her neck, and their father couldn't save her. Brax was only nine at the time.
His father had taken his grief, packed up their home, and moved himself and his boys into the forest, where he could raise them away from prying eyes.
Years later, their father succumbed to a disease of the lungs. On his deathbed, he begged Brax to leave his brother to the wild. But Brax refused. Despite everything, he loved his brother.
Brax brought Ghrol with him to the city, letting him out of his underground prison only at night. In the meantime, Brax worked his way up through the ranks of the army until he was their commander.
It also attracted women to his side. He was an eligible bachelor. He'd only indulged a female once, taking her to his bed, forgetting about his brother in the heat of passion. It was only as he was making love to her that he heard his brother grunting, becoming agitated underneath them. He raised his voice to drown out his brother's and finished as quickly as he could. Then he'd pulled her dress back up and ushered her out onto the street, doing his best to ignore the tears in her eyes.
Both men and women had tried to seduce him since, but the thought of his brother always kept the strings of his breeches knotted.
Now the army was on the move, and Brax kept Ghrol hidden in the forest. It was the best he could do on short notice.
"Commander?" Jedd's voice startled Brax.
"Sorry, I was thinking about the battle ahead of us." Brax rubbed his temples, forcing his eyes to focus on the map.
"What should our first move be? We can't march up to the mountains and demand their surrender."
Brax let out a sad chuckle. "We certainly could try, but you're right, it wouldn't make a difference. We need a strategy. Something to get us through the pass, which is heavily guarded. Right now the orcs have the advantage."
"It depends on how many of them leave their posts to fight in their civil war," Jedd said. "We also have the element of surprise."
Brax shook his head. "I wouldn't count on that. If we know what's going on in their realm, it's likely they know we're on the move, as well."
"You don't think that young acolyte told them, do you?" Jedd asked. "Eldir told him we were coming."
"No, I don't. He's barely a young man of nineteen, probably scared out of his wits now that his master's gone and left him alone with all those orcs. But don't be so cocky. We must plan as if the orcs know as much as we do."
"Perhaps you should speak to the mage." Jedd's face lost all joviality. His lips stretched thin and pressed together. 'Eldir said he would like to speak with you."
"I like mages about as much as I like priests." Brax had no patience for either. Both flaunted their magic, claiming they used it only for good. Brax only trusted the weapons in his hand and the strategies of war. Magic was too volatile.
"It might serve us to have the man on our side. He serves the queen well enough. Why wouldn't he help us?"
Jedd's questions exposed his naïveté. The mage would help because he wanted to show the queen how strong he was. Brax had stayed as far as possible from him for years, not interested in his magic.
But maybe Jedd was right. Perhaps the time had come to speak to the mage. After all, this was a time of war. They needed all the help they could get. Not to mention the queen had brought the old man along, though as lapdog or sorcerer Brax couldn't say.
He stood, resting his hands on the table. "Fine. I'll go to him now." He would have preferred to have the mage brought to him, but the man couldn't walk, and his palanquin wouldn't fit inside Brax's tent. Clenching his fists at his sides, Brax stalked out of the tent and into the bright daylight. He took the sun shining on them as a good omen. Though humans didn't worship the sun itself, it was their earthly representation of Solnar. If the sun smiled on them, so did good fortune. Brax didn't want to think about the North, where the sun barely showed itself. They would have to fight their battle on the grounds of the orcs' god of death.
Walking through the groups of soldiers, Brax returned the greetings of warriors as they prepared to leave for the long part of their daily trek. After the midday meal, they walked the prairie until nightfall. Quick dinners were prepared and eaten. Then they slept only to start again the next day.
Brax spied the red fabric of the mage's palanquin, standing out amongst the cream tents of the warriors. The two giant green orcs milling around also made his location obvious. They were the only two orcs in the group of thousands, and no matter where they were, the twins stood out.
Brax eyed the curtains. Knocking wasn't appropriate since there wasn't a hard surface to be found. He didn't want to call out to the mage. He couldn't even remember the mage's name.
The curtains parted before Brax could make a decision. A small veiny hand shook as it held the curtains back. "Do you seek me out, Commander?"
The mage drew out his words, sounding every inch like a snake. It sent a shiver down Brax's spine.
Brax held his ground. "Yes. I have come to speak with you about the upcoming battle."
"I spoke earlier to Eldir, the priest. He also sought my counsel."
Brax bristled. He wasn't here for counsel, bending on his knee, begging for help. He wanted to know how they could work together. Partners.
He said stiffly, "It's true we may need your assistance. I am curious, what sort of magic can you do to help our army through the pass? Once we are on the other side, we should be able to fight the orcs as Sornal intended, with our weapons and our righteousness." Brax hated invoking the god, but he knew most of his warriors worshiped. As did the queen, and maybe even her mage.
A snigger fell from the mage's thin lips. "I can create a diversion, if that is all you need."
"What sort of diversion?" Brax asked, irritated. He needed specifics if he were to strategize effectively.
A loud rumble in the distance tore Brax's attention from the mage. He looked over his shoulder, surprised to see a mighty wall of clouds blocking the sun. Lightning streaked from the sky, setting the trees outside the camp on fire.
Warriors yelled as they packed faster, panic quickly overtaking the camp.
Then a heavy rain poured forth from the clouds, dousing the fires before they could spread. The rain stopped as quickly as it had started, leaving the soldiers soaked.
Brax turned back toward the palanquin as the mage chortled.
"Do you have any other questions?" the mage asked.
Brax backed away slowly. He had never witnessed such a thing. Most magic, to him, seemed no more than a parlor trick. This mage controlled nature. "What is your name?" It was all he could think to ask.
"Damor. Never forget it. Now run before I let loose my magic again."
Brax sprinted back to his tent, which Jedd was frantically dismantling.
"Did you see that freak storm?" Jedd asked as he collapsed the center pole of the tent.
Brax looked back toward the palanquin once again. The twin orcs lifted it expertly between them, carrying Damor toward the Nor
th.
"Commander?" Jedd rested a hand on Brax's shoulder.
He started, then shook it off. "You go with the others." Brax still had to check on his brother hiding in the forest. He hoped Ghrol been far away when the lightning struck. His brother didn't like storms. Ghrol would wail in terror and become very agitated. Brax had no idea how he would react to lightning striking so close. He'd told Ghrol to follow the army closely, but not so close that anyone would see him. Ghrol seemed to understand, nodding with his fiery eyes, and so far, he'd done as Brax had bidden.
Brax ran into the tree cover. If anyone stopped him, he'd say he had to take a big dump before starting off. No one would question him, and it would likely drive them away faster. Knocking branches out of his way as he ran, Brax finally found the tree hollow he'd asked Ghrol to hide in. The tree was now split in two, charred at the edges, and Ghrol was nowhere to be seen.
Chapter 13
Alyna awoke anxious. Her sleep had been anything but relaxing. She'd dreamt of destruction and death. It wasn't just the orcs, but also the humans. The beasts died, as well. Even the plants. Nothing appeared to survive the massacre. Alyna couldn't understand the visions yet. There was something important missing.
Washing her hands in the basin in Vron's cottage, she kept her eyes from wandering. She didn't want Vron to think she'd come back for him. Well, she had, but not in the way he wanted. At least he was respectful enough to leave her alone. Others she'd bedded had not been as kind.
They'd chased after her, begging her to stay. One had followed her into the forest. He had been so aggressive, so demanding, she had no other choice than to return him to the earth. While she abhorred killing, it was a matter of self-preservation. If Alyna had not protected herself, he would have taken from her what she was unwilling to give.