by Megg Jensen
She'd willingly given herself to Vron once, and she'd seen how deeply it affected him. He’d whispered things in her ear she’d never been told. They were genuine. Honest and filled with longing. But he was a warrior. The last thing he needed was to be distracted by a beast of the forest. Alyna wouldn't do that to him, so in the middle of the night she left him blanketed by the bliss of their union.
Maybe she'd felt it for him too.
But she could never live among the orcs, just as she could never live among the humans.
She was a creature of the forest, and in the forest she would stay.
"Are you ready?" Vron asked. He stood on the other side of the cottage, his massive arms folded across his chest. He had dressed for the day already.
Alyna dried her hands on the towel hanging on a hook by the washbasin. She squinted at the mirror, making sure she appeared human. It wouldn't do to have moss on her fingernails. She patted her hair, ensuring her horns were hidden beneath the red curls.
"No one here would judge you for your horns," Vron said.
Alyna cocked her head as she smiled at Vron. "If I am to have your general take my warning seriously, I need to appear human."
"The orcs respect all living creatures." Vron frowned. "Don't think we will respect you more if we think you're human."
Alyna sighed. "The intelligence I offer should come from a human, don't you think?"
Vron's shoulders relaxed. "Fine, but I still think you should be yourself. It is the honorable thing to do."
The last thing Alyna wanted was to argue with Vron, but she said firmly, "I will handle this my way."
"And I respect you for that." Vron opened the door, holding out an arm.
Alyna smiled. She knew Vron was an orc of his word. She swept through the doorway, touching him lightly on the arm as she passed.
A smile winked at the corner of his lips. Alyna silently cursed herself. She didn't want to lead him on, but there were moments she found him nearly irresistible.
Alyna walked through Agitar next to Vron, keeping up with his long stride. Living in the forest had forced her to be swift to avoid predators. She regulated her breathing, concentrating on her stride, thinking only of what lay ahead in this city filled with orcs.
Vron turned several corners until she was thoroughly confused. The forest and its rolling landscape made far more sense to her than this town of wood and iron. Vron told her the last time she'd visited that it was neatly laid out in a grid. Alyna found the flow of nature made far more sense.
"It's not far now." Vron looked down at her. "Should I slow down?"
"Of course not," Alyna said between puffs of breath. The air felt dirty. Her lungs strained, wishing for the pure oxygen produced by the trees in her grove. "I'm fine."
Vron's pace relented.
"I said I'm fine," Alyna repeated.
"I know you did. Maybe I'm tired." Vron looked down, his eyes so wide and innocent she couldn't tell if he was fibbing.
Alyna huffed but slowed her pace, too. Her hips thanked her for it. Riding Syra had been an uncomfortable necessity. Perhaps she was sorer than she realized.
As they walked, he told her of the princess’ death and the king’s abdication. Alyna was shocked and dismayed by the news. The last thing the orcs needed was a distraction from the humans. After a few more turns past a market and a medical building, taken at a leisurely pace, Vron came to a stop in front of the entrance to the garrison. Wider than five times Vron's girth and rising ten steps, it loomed high over Alyna. Each step rose to Alyna’s knee, which would be awkward to climb with her hooves jammed into the accursed boots.
Vron leaned over and said, "I won't offer to carry you."
"I wouldn't ask you to," Alyna responded. "Not ever."
Vron's laughter rolled over them, dispelling Alyna's anxiety over the staircase. She lifted one hoof, slammed it on the hard stone of the first stair, and pulled herself up. Repeating this nine more times, she stood triumphantly at the top of the staircase.
Vron climbed the steps in mere moments, then stood next to her, his hand on the heavy iron door. "I'll ask once more—”
"I'm ready," Alyna said, smiling. And she was. The general of Agitar needed to know what was coming for him from the South. If she averted the war before it began, perhaps her dreams of destruction would cease.
The door creaked as Vron pushed it wide open. He gestured for Alyna to step inside. She hesitated only for a moment before squaring her shoulders and taking the first step. Vron followed.
Alyna blinked a few times, adjusting to the low light inside the barracks. Orcs milled about, axes, maces, and all other manner of melee weapons harnessed to their waists. Maps were spread upon tables, held down at the corners with rocks. One orc stood out from them all.
He was shorter than the rest, only a head taller than Alyna, with skin so dark blue it almost appeared onyx in the dim light. What he lacked in stature he made up for in bulk. He studied a roll of parchment spread out before him.
Vron rested his fingertips on the small of her back, guiding her toward the impressive orc. "Excuse me, General Dalgron. Someone has arrived in Agitar with information for you.”
The indigo orc didn't look up at them. Instead, he pushed a small, carved orc on top of the Barrier Mountains on his map. "Yes, the red-headed human woman who spent the night with you. Clearly, her information is very important, if she could put off sharing it until the morning."
Alyna ignored his barb. "The South is rising against you."
Dalgron knocked over the wooden orc, glaring at Alyna. "Am I to be surprised by this? Their precious priest, Hugh, died here. Of course, they're coming to avenge him. Unfortunately, we have greater problems on our hands."
"I know the other orc clans may be coming for Agitar after the political upheaval, but you cannot ignore the threat from the humans either,” Alyna said.
"And why should I trust a human?" General Dalgron looked her up and down, disdain in his eyes. "Either you betray your own, or you lie to me. I don't like either option. Orcs appreciate honor above all. You have no honor."
Alyna reached up for her cloak, unfastening the brooch holding it together. The wool fell to the floor. Then she untied the front of her gown, pulling it off until it, too, lay on the floor. Her hair cascaded over her breasts, hiding them from the orcs who were paying attention now. Her lower half was covered with a light down. The entire room had gone silent.
Alyna reached over, yanking her boots off so she stood solidly on her hooves. She ignored Vron's self-righteous smile. So he'd been right about the disguise. At least she wasn't foolish enough to continue the charade.
"Will you believe a faun?" Alyna asked.
"You have a bit of moss on your shoulder," Vron said.
Alyna reached back, slapping Vron's hand away without taking her eyes from Dalgron's.
"Who gave you this intelligence?" Dalgron asked.
"The crows came to me in the forest, whispering what they had seen," Alyna said.
"How many humans are gathered for war?"
"Thousands," Alyna said.
Dalgron slammed a fist on the table. All of the carved pieces clattered on the map. "Damn them. And damn the king for his impotence. And damn the princess for dying. If we weren't at war here, we could easily repel the humans at the Barrier Mountains. But now we have to worry about warring orc factions trying to take our throne." He sank down into the carved chair behind him, his head in his hands.
"General Dalgron," Alyna said, "I know this news is disturbing, but now you know, you can fight back. You can repel them before they do any damage to Agitar."
Dalgron slowly looked up at Alyna. "We don't have enough loyal orcs to properly defend the crown and the Barrier Mountains. This is about to get very ugly."
Chapter 14
Tace sat at the table, her hands wrapped around the warm mug filled with spiced tea. After the old orc had saved her from her assailant, she'd left Tace alone in the dark, windowless dwelling. Tace enjoy
ed the solitude and quiet. It reminded her of the assassins guild, the only place she ever felt safe.
Even at home with her mother, Tace was always alert. Danger lurked everywhere. And although she would welcome death when it was her time, Tace knew she had much more value alive than dead. Alive, she could make up the great debt her family had incurred. She could right the wrongs of her parents.
The door to the hovel opened with a slight click. Tace lifted the mug to her lips, pretending to drink, but ready to throw the warm liquid in case the new arrival was an interloper. The old orc walked in, a smile on her face.
But Tace couldn't stop staring at the man behind her.
The priest's acolyte. The only other person who'd witnessed Hugh's suicide. The only other person who knew about Tace's grave disgrace.
Slowly she lowered the mug to the table.
"I see you two recognize each other," the old orc said. "Good, good. The older I get, the less accurate my visions are. I am tickled I got it right."
"And if you hadn't?" the man asked.
Tace, surprised at his command of the orc language, wanted the answer, too.
The old orc shrugged. "If I hadn't, I would have passed her off as my niece. I would have offered you a cup of tea as thanks and sent you on your way." She smiled, her tiny tusks barely visible at the corners of her mouth.
"And now that you have us in the same room, please tell us why." Tace sat back in the chair, her arms folded over her chest.
"Sit, sit." The old orc motioned the man toward a chair. "I'll explain as soon as we're settled. Can I get you some tea?"
He nodded.
Tace held back an eye roll. They were both acting as if this were a pleasant meeting of friends at the local tavern. The anxiety she'd managed to purge after the chase was again creeping up her spine.
The old orc set a steaming mug in front of the man. He smiled hesitantly at Tace, then took a drink. She waited for the inevitable. He would make a face, attempting to swallow instead of spitting it out. Humans couldn't handle orc tea. It was too strong for their weak palate.
Instead, he surprised her by swallowing easily and then taking another large gulp.
Tace tore her eyes from the strange man and settled them on the orc. "Talk."
The wrinkles on the orc's face deepened as she laughed. "You don't have any patience, do you, Tace?"
"How do you know my name?" Tace had purposely not exchanged names. It was safer for all of them.
"I also know his name is Ademar." The orc rested her gaze on the man, whose startled eyes confirmed her statement.
"Then we must know your name, as well," Tace said.
"Kindara. Now that we are all acquainted, let's have a serious conversation." Kindara's lips settled into a stony pout. "You are both in danger."
"Why?" Ademar asked.
Tace observed his posture. His shoulders were held back firmly, and his feet were flat on the floor. He was ready for the unexpected, just as she was. With every passing moment, this human became more intriguing.
Kindara took a deep breath, slowly letting it out before continuing. "There are a few who know of the true events of Hugh's death. The Consecrated know Tace failed and they know you, Ademar, witnessed the greatest shame your people could ever face. The Defiants would seek to force you both to speak the truth. The Consecrated will seek to rip out your throats and bury you before you can utter another word."
"But how?" Tace wiggled uncomfortably in her chair over talk of the Consecrated and the Defiants. "No one was there but the two of us. No one really knows what happened."
"There are spies everywhere. You may think you are alone, but you never are." Kindara gestured toward a rock marbled with pink and purple veins, resting on a nearby table. "You think that is but a decoration, and yet it is a scrying stone. I can use it to see across great distances, wherever its twin resides. This is only one example of the way magic can be used to spy on others."
"A rock?" Tace laughed incredulously. "You look at the rock and think you can see something happening in another place?" She bent over, her hands on her gut. "I know magic exists. I have seen it used. But this is ridiculous."
"So how do you explain the assassin coming after you in the market this morning?" Kindara asked.
"Considering some of the things I've done in my life, I'm sure there are many orcs interested in my head," Tace said. "But to assume it has something to do with Hugh's... death is quite a jump."
"There is more to this than either of you realize." Kindara sank into a plush chair, resting her hands on the arms. "I need you to listen and believe me."
"I'm willing to listen," Ademar said.
"So am I," Tace said, despite her suspicion.
"There are forces inside Agitar that have been quiet for many, many years. In fact, very few remember the old stories well enough to fear them." Kindara's voice settled into the quiet lull of a mother telling her children a bedtime story. "Long ago, our lands were ruled by beings that no longer exist. Beings that descended into a realm we now call The Nether."
"That's where your lord of death, Drothu, rules," Ademar said, his eyes wide.
Tace held up a hand. "I know these stories. All orc children are told them."
"I don't know them well," Ademar said. "Please continue."
Kindara waited for a nod from Tace before continuing. "The Wrus ruled with an iron fist, but disease and war depleted them to almost nothing. The remaining Wrus filled the walls of caves with their teachings. They also left three of their own with dire warnings to those who would come next. Then they descended to The Nether."
"They died because of famine," Tace said, continuing the story without pageantry. "The orcs came to settle here years later. Our ancestors found the caves, studied the drawings, and set them up as a warning to us not to repeat the mistakes of those who came before us. We worship Drothu, their last leader, as our god."
"And those mistakes?" Kindara asked Tace.
"Fighting amongst ourselves," Tace mumbled. That was exactly what was happening now that the princess was dead and the king had left the crown up to whoever could claim it by force. For centuries the orcs had maintained an unsteady peace. It was over now.
"What does this have to do with the groups you mentioned? The Defiants and the Consecrated?" Ademar asked.
"They are religious sects," Kindara said. "The Consecrated take religion very seriously. They believe in honorable deaths. The Defiants want to live quietly and peacefully."
"I don't understand how those two are so different from one another." Ademar looked confused.
Tace wrung her hands under the table. "You stupid human, of course you wouldn't understand." She fumed with anger, unwilling to explain to him why the two were at odds and what it really meant to the orcs.
"And what do the ancient teachings say of fighting with others?" Ademar asked, ignoring her outburst. "My people are coming here to destroy Agitar as retribution for Hugh's death."
Tace turned an angry eye to Ademar. "Maybe you should tell your people the truth—that their beloved priest killed himself. Maybe they wouldn't attack my people."
"I doubt they would believe me," Ademar admitted. "Now tell me what that would do to you. If I claimed Hugh committed suicide, wouldn't you be in trouble?"
"Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself." Tace stood, nearly knocking over the table.
"Sit down!" Kindara yelled. "Listen to me. You are in danger, and if you continue to act as if you have all the answers, you will meet Drothu sooner than you wish."
Tace fumed, but she sat once more.
"Hugh's death is only a piece of the tapestry being woven today," Kindara continued. "His death is a catalyst for chaos. It will bring the humans to us at a time when we have turned on each other. These are not coincidences. Destruction is coming."
"Why are you telling us this?" Ademar asked. "Assuming all of this is true, if Tace and I are caught up in this, there is little we can do. I'm but an apprentice
priest. Tace is a failed assassin."
"Once! I failed once." Tace glared at Ademar. "I've killed more orcs than either of you can imagine."
Ademar nervously cleared his throat as he turned back to Kindara. "What are you expecting from us?"
Despite her annoyance with the human, Tace knew Ademar had gotten to the crux of this meeting. Kindara had gone to great lengths to bring them here at the same time. This was no simple story time.
"I have been waiting for the two of you, but I didn't know who you would be or where you would come to my attention,” said Kindara.
"Waiting for us to do what?" Ademar asked.
"To lead the orcs out of the darkness. To make sure we don't meet the same fate as the Wrus before us." Kindara rested her wrinkled hands on the table, palms up, looking at them expectantly. Hopefully. "Take a hand. Let me show you your destiny."
"You can't believe any of this," Tace said. "She's nuts, and I have better things to do than listen to this. I'm going home." She stood, shaking her head. She stumbled down the dimly lit hall and exited the humble dwelling.
Ignoring the hubbub of the busy market, Tace pushed her way through the throngs toward her side of town. It wasn't far. On a normal day, she would have taken a leisurely stroll, but all she wanted today was to put as much distance between herself and the assassin as possible.
As Tace drew closer to her street, the crowds became thicker. Using her elbows, she shoved through the orcs who were no longer shopping, but instead speaking in hushed tones.
Annoyed she would have to get through yet another obstacle, Tace continued, not caring who she stepped on or elbowed on the way, until the crowd grew so thick she could no longer get through. Tace came to a halt. "What's happening over there?" she asked the male orc next to her.
"A woman was slaughtered this morning. Rumor is, she was part of the Defiants. Probably the assassins guild got her." He strained on his tiptoes, trying to see over the other orcs gathered. "They're bringing her out now."
Tace watched, sick to her stomach, as two orcs carried a stretcher between them. One arm had fallen out from under the blanket covering the dead body. Tace noticed the ring wrapped around the finger—a small dragon. The ring her father had crafted for his new bride so many years ago. The dead orc was her mother.