by Megg Jensen
Holding her grief inside, Tace moved backward, pulling the hood of her cloak over her hair as tears burned at the corners of her eyes. She wouldn't cry here. Not in front of everyone.
In a blind anger, Tace raced back to the old orc's home hidden deep inside the dark alley. She flung the door open, stepped inside, and closed it firmly behind her. Its inhabitant met her in the hall.
"It has already been set in motion, my dear," the older orc said, taking Tace's hand and guiding her deeper into the home, back to where Ademar still sat at the table. "You need to get out of Agitar."
"I don't understand any of this," Ademar said. "I know I'm not one of you, but I have no home to return to. I was adopted into the priesthood after my parents died in an accident. If I can be of service, I will assist you."
Tace nodded, barely able to think. Her family was gone. Her father and brother so many years ago, and now her mother. She was utterly alone.
Chapter 15
Ademar pulled the cloak over his head, hiding his shock of sandy hair.
"No one will know you're not an orc if you keep your head bent." Kindara straightened the hood around his face. "You're tall for a human, but only average for an orc. Not too many will be looking up into your face."
Tace reached her hands behind his head, hanging a rope necklace around his neck. "And this will keep curious orcs away."
Ademar wrinkled his nose at the dead, shriveled vole suspended like a medallion. "Tell me again what this is for."
"It's to signal you are afflicted with the rot. All orcs fear it, and they will give you a wide berth as we pass through the common areas." Kindara patted his shoulder. "We'll hide you in plain sight."
"And what about me?" Tace asked. "Someone killed my mother. They'll look for me, too."
"The Consecrated are after you for your failure with Hugh. It’s likely your mother was in the wrong place at the wrong time." Kindara reached into her wardrobe, pulling out a billowing white sheath. "Pull this over your head and body. You will be Ademar's nurse."
Ademar watched as the white linen covered Tace, hiding her face. He glanced at Kindara from inside his hood, hoping she was right. They both needed to get out of the city as soon as possible.
Danger wasn't something he'd ever craved, but Ademar also had no love for his homeland. His family was dead. Hugh was gone. There was nothing left for him but his religion, and even that had waned in his daily life. Hugh had been the greatest leader of the Order of the Sun, and yet Ademar had seen him ignore the daily prayers in favor of wandering the streets of Agitar. At first, Ademar had questioned Hugh, but Hugh had urged him to be quiet. To listen to the orcs. To listen to the rhythm of the city. Slowly, Ademar had come to realize there was an entire world outside of his religion, and it was one he wanted to explore.
Now he should have felt apprehension, fear even. Yet Ademar couldn't hold back the excitement bubbling deep in his chest. He would see more of the world, explore it, and learn about it.
Kindara snapped two fingers in front of his face. "Wake up, human! It's time to go. We must secure safe passage before nightfall."
Kindara opened her door, then turned back and whispered. "The two of you head toward the Underbelly. I will meet you there."
Tace grabbed Kindara's arm. "Wait, you're not going with us?"
"No. I don't want to attract any more attention than necessary. You do know the way?" Kindara asked.
"I do, but..." Tace’s words trailed off.
Though Ademar couldn't see her face, he saw the nervous tremble of her fingers as she let go of Kindara.
"We'll be fine," Ademar said.
Tace's head snapped up, and he didn't need to lift her veil to know she was glaring at him. It was clear she wasn’t thrilled with their predicament.
"If you're ready, we should go," Ademar said.
"Follow me, human," she growled.
"Don't call me that again." Ademar drew himself up to full height, forgetting for a moment he was supposed to be sick. He stood at a height equal to Tace's. He'd never been frightened of an orc before. He wouldn't let her push him around. "You'll put us both in danger if anyone thinks I'm not an orc."
Tace's balled her hands into fists. "Fine. Orc. Follow me." She stomped through Kindara's doorway.
Ademar glanced back once again at Kindara, who, surprisingly, had a smile on her face.
Tace pushed ahead quickly. Ademar shuffled, trying to keep up while looking sufficiently weak. The smell of the rotten vole helped. He wanted to lose the contents of his stomach every time he breathed in.
As they entered the market, orcs stepped away, giving them a wide path through the crowds. Tace had slowed, her pace steady, as she led the way. Ademar kept his head down, focusing on the heels of her boots as they kicked up the linen hem with each step.
Though he was desperate to know how many orcs surrounded them, he could only guess based on the sounds they made as they walked. A dozen every few steps. How many more were there, moments from discovering his true identity?
Sweat pooled on Ademar's brow, dripped slowly down his cheek, and dropped onto his shoes. It was hot, yes. He was also more nervous than he'd ever been in his life.
This was worse than the first day he and Hugh had entered orc land. He'd never seen an orc until they'd arrived at the pass in the Barrier Mountains. There, Hugh had convinced the orcs they meant no harm. He stood with his palms out, empty. He allowed the orcs to search him for weapons. Ademar followed suit.
Their large hands had roamed over his body, patting him down, as they searched for nonexistent weapons. Matthew, their guard, declared his only sword, and Hilthe, their cook, showed off the produce she'd brought. Once the orcs were satisfied the humans were on a peaceful mission, they stepped aside, allowing them to pass into the orc realm.
Ademar had been in awe at the time. Now he knew enough about the strength of orcs to be afraid for both Tace and himself. Ademar was in good physical condition. Hugh had insisted they both stay strong and exercise every day. He said the strength of the body was just as important as the strength of the soul.
Tace arced to the right. Ademar followed her, careful not to lose sight of her boots. If she got too far ahead, he'd have to raise his head to look for her, running the risk of someone seeing his true nature.
"Hey!" an orc yelled out. "Don't bring the sick through the market. You'll infect us all!"
Ademar felt a thwack on his shoulder. A head of cabbage dropped to the ground at his feet.
"Get out of here!" another orc screamed.
Wetness seeped through the hood as a tomato fell to the ground.
Tace reached back for Ademar's hand. He grasped the wool robe, being sure to hide his human skin, and let her lead him more quickly through the angry crowd as vegetables pelted his body.
After a while the shouts subsided, and the assaults grew less frequent. Tace guided him into a dark alley.
"Let's stop for a moment and catch our breath," she said, her voice slightly muffled through the veil. "You can look up. We're alone."
Ademar rubbed his stiff neck and looked at the female who had led him through what could have been an unmitigated disaster. "Thank you, Tace."
"I had to," she said. "Don't act like we're suddenly friends. It's your fault we're stuck doing this."
"Mine?" Ademar protested. "How is any of this my fault?"
"Hugh was your friend," she snarled. "If he hadn't done what he did, I wouldn't be in this mess."
"You think this is any easier for me?" Ademar asked. "If I go home, I have to live a lie. I can't tell anyone what I know."
"So go home. Live in solitude. Isn't that what you priests are supposed to do anyway?"
Ademar was about to fling back a retort, but she was right. Many of the priests in Soleth spent their time in quiet prayer. He could go home, take a vow of silence, and never speak to anyone of the events he'd witnessed.
"Well?" Tace asked, impatient for an answer to what he'd thought was a rhetori
cal question.
"I don't want to go back." Ademar couldn't believe he'd said it aloud. "I like it here."
A strange strangled sound came from under the veil. Then Tace burst into laughter, surprising him. Tace's laughter was smooth and deep, like water bubbling in a roaring river.
"What's wrong with that?" he asked.
Tace shook her head, the veil bouncing about her body as she moved. "Humans are a strange race. You're practically powerless here. You'll always be treated as an outsider. You won't ever find an acceptable mate."
"I've taken a vow of purity," Ademar said.
Tace leaned in closer. He could imagine her violet eyes burning into his brown ones. "You've never...?"
"No." He wasn't ashamed. He'd committed to the life Hugh asked of him. Though now he knew Hugh hadn't stuck to that particular vow, if Hilthe could be believed.
Tace backed away, pulling up to her full height. "Well, then, keep following me. We'll get to the meeting point and see what Kindara wants us to do next."
Ademar bent his head again, following Tace down the twists and turns of the dark alleys of the Underbelly. He wondered if he'd done the right thing by telling her the truth. Even without the veil, he knew she would be completely unreadable. Still, her opinion about his sex life was irrelevant. Her incredulity shouldn't have bothered him, but it did.
By the time Tace came to another stop, Ademar's shoulders were aching. He hesitated to raise his head. He could hear orcs speaking not far away.
"Come, this way." Kindara's crackled old voice called to them.
Tace grabbed Ademar's hand, without waiting for him to cover it with the hem of his cloak. He ran behind her until they came to the back of a wagon.
"Quickly. Get under the tarp. We'll hide under here until we reach our destination." Kindara urged them both into the wagon.
Ademar climbed in behind Tace, his shoulder pushing against hers in the darkness. She struggled as she pulled off the veil.
"Don’t breathe easy yet, human," she whispered, one of her tusks rubbing against his earlobe as she leaned in close. "We have no idea what’s waiting for us outside of Agitar."
Chapter 16
Nemia huddled in the dank tunnel, a hood over her head, her fingers pinching the fabric together at her throat. Occasionally an orc would pass her, but none paid her any mind. They couldn't see her birthmark. They couldn't see the pain in her eyes. They couldn't see her tear-stained cheeks.
After what she'd done, Nemia would be alone. Forever.
No one would want her ever again. Her parents disowned her at a young age. The other orcs shunned her because of her disfigurement.
She had nowhere left to go.
Azlinar had disappeared, leaving her to her own devices. He'd promised to help her master the magic. Perhaps even he was too afraid of her now.
Not that any of it mattered in the days since she’d done that terrible thing. If her dark visions were true, the world would end soon enough. All she had to do was hide in the tunnels, wait for it to happen, and hope she could survive.
If anyone could. The visions only showed her the destruction of orcs, and the return of Drothu.
Nemia closed her eyes, but the ominous images slithered about her thoughts. A giant, pulsating pink beast with eight tentacles, and a head with no eyes or nose, only a giant maw. It swept through the orc army, flattening them with little effort. Heads rolled. Weapons found the wrong target.
Death ushered the orcs to their god with unrelenting force.
Nemia sank deeper into her cloak, her trembling hands grasping the fabric at her shoulders. She stood and ran down the tunnel, hoping the pumping adrenaline would erase the visions from her mind.
Days of dark visions, starting at the moment of Sabniss's death.
She couldn't stand it anymore. She wanted them out.
Nemia paused. Reaching down, she grabbed a rock, holding it tight in her shaking fist. She stretched her arm out to the side, prepared to bash her head in until she either passed out or died, the latter being the preferable outcome.
It was considered a dishonorable death, but Nemia would meet her god either way. Drothu's judgment would wash over her, and he would find her worthy. Surely there was no battle more difficult than the battle with one's own mind.
Nemia smiled, her tusks drawing blood.
She closed her eyes. Strength pulsed in her arm as she prepared to die.
A sudden vision forced her to her knees. The rock rolled out of her limp hand, across the ground, out of reach.
"No." It came out as a whimper as the vision took over.
A female orc and a human male stood in front of the beast. The female held a set of daggers, and some sort of scaled beast coiled around her neck, its head snaking down her arm. The man stood firm behind her with abject fear on his face. The orc jumped, slashing at the beast with her daggers.
Then the vision went black.
Nemia's knees dug into the gravelly ground. Pushing away the pain, she glanced at the rock she'd released, knowing she no longer needed it. Hope swelled in her chest.
The orc could save them all.
Nemia could help. She could redeem herself and help save all the orcs.
All she had to do was find the unlikely pair.
Chapter 17
Vron adjusted the ties on his breeches, making sure they were pulled tight. He glanced over his shoulder at Alyna, who was still asleep on the cot on the other side of the tent. She'd elected to join him on the journey down to the Barrier Mountains to stop the humans from crossing into orc land. Dalgron had given him only thirty orcs. Young ones, at that.
He knew it was on Alyna’s way home, yet a part of him hoped she wanted to spend more time with him.
Stepping out of the tent as the morning sun peaked over the treetops of the Tingale Forest, Vron made his way to the hearth to quickly break his fast before the other troops awoke. He needed these moments to think about what lay ahead.
Though he had killed many in his life, he hated killing humans. Their bodies were slim and bones easily broken, unlike orcs, who were a true challenge. When two orcs fought, knowing one would surely die, nothing else mattered in the world except their battle. It was if the mountains clashed, and only one could remain standing while the other crumbled into ruin.
In that lay honor. Killing a human was like squashing a bug. Pointless. It would do nothing to advance his skills as a warrior.
The more Vron thought about it, the more annoyed he became at General Dalgron for sending him. Someone else could have taken this assignment.
"More porridge, sir?" A young orc in clean, unblemished armor offered a full ladle with a shaking hand.
In keeping with the ridiculousness of this assignment, Vron had been given a small contingent of new recruits. These orcs had only practiced in the courtyards, too young for their first real fight.
General Dalgron felt they would make an imposing force anyway. He assumed their mere presence would repel the thousands of humans. Few humans had ever seen an orc, much less fought one.
Vron hoped their bluff would work. Even if it did come to fighting, his troops were likely to mow the humans down before they could cross the mountain pass.
Still, Vron wished he was back home in Agitar, preparing to fight in a real battle to protect the throne.
"Sir?" the orc asked again.
"Sorry. No, thank you." Vron took a final gulp of his breakfast, then cleaned the bowl in the washing basin.
The boy looked at him with wide eyes. He'd probably never seen a captain clean his own dishes.
Vron smiled, cuffed the boy's shoulder and stalked back to his tent.
Alyna stood outside the tent, her full dress replaced by an outfit of riding breeches and top. The boots were nowhere to be seen. After revealing herself to the general, she'd chosen to be seen as a faun, instead of pretending to be a human. Her traveling companion, the majestic unicorn Syra, stood next to her, enjoying a thorough brushing of its mane.
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"Good morning." Alyna smiled at Vron as he approached.
"Morning. I trust you slept well?" Vron asked.
Alyna shrugged. "As well as can be expected. I prefer to sleep under the stars, not in a tent, but I know if I'm traveling with you, I should do as everyone else does."
"If you'd prefer to sleep outside, I can set up guards—”
Alyna held up a hand. "Stop right there. First, I can take care of myself. Second, I don't want to disrupt anyone else's sleep. They have enough to worry about it. It's best they take care of themselves."
Vron had a feeling she wouldn't consent to extra guards, but it was worth asking anyway. "I understand. I hope sleeping in my tent isn't too uncomfortable for you."
"No, it's fine. I appreciate the space you have made for me." Alyna looked at her unicorn. "Syra also appreciates space away from the horses. Sometimes they see her and think she might make a good mate. Horses don't always realize touching a unicorn is forbidden."
"What would happen if one of them were to try?" Vron asked, curious. Alyna's unicorn was the only one he'd ever seen. He'd heard stories about the beasts, and always wondered if they were true.
Alyna smirked. "One touch from Syra and the horse would die a horrible, painful death."
Vron stepped back. Alyna had never mentioned the beast was poison to the touch.
She laughed, her long red hair cascading over her shoulders. Vron had to force himself to look at her eyes instead of following her hair down to the small of her back, a place he longed to touch.
"Syra could kill a horse with her horn, but only if she chooses to do so. Standing near her won't cause you any harm." Alyna giggled. "It's funny to see someone as large as you frightened of Syra."
"I'm not afraid." Vron stood up to his full height, pulling his shoulders back. "I believe in understanding any potential foe."