by Megg Jensen
Brax's mouth watered. He hadn't seen fruit since they'd left Soleth.
The queen noticed his longing stare. Holding one between two fingers, she popped it between his lips. Brax bit into the taut grape, the cool juice exploding in his mouth.
"Thank you," he said.
"Remember the taste. We are fighting for our very way of life today, Brax. We stand to lose everything we hold dear. We cannot let the orcs think they own us. We must teach them a lesson, and we must do so swiftly and with force. I'm counting on you to deliver victory directly into my hands today. Can you do that for me?"
Brax nodded, dazzled by the queen. Perhaps she had her own magic, used to enchant anyone in her presence.
"We will ride within the hour," he promised her.
Back outside, Brax surveyed the army, dread again growing in his stomach. This was it. The day would end either in victory or in death. He had only one idea. It was risky, but Brax feared it was his only choice.
Chapter 22
"They're coming! The humans are advancing!" Reggin yelled to Anthea.
The young orc looked up, a smile on her face. Finally. It was time for battle. Vron might have fled, but Anthea would meet the puny humans head on. She would destroy them. Etiquette allowed survivors to retreat, but Anthea felt the bloodlust pumping through her veins.
Today would be a massacre. Anthea's Massacre. It would go down in orc lore as their bloodiest defeat of humankind ever.
She smacked her chest with her fist, her adrenaline reaching new heights. Today would be her greatest glory. By this time tomorrow, General Dalgron would be rewarding her with a promotion.
"Orcs! To the pass!" Anthea grabbed her longsword and took off running toward the lookout tower that guarded the pass. Flinging the door to the tower open, she pounded up the steps while the rest of the orc army swarmed the entrance to the pass. They would be ready on the ground while she surveyed the human army.
"Where is Captain Vron?" one of the two orcs manning the tower asked.
"Vron is a deserter." Anthea purposely left off his rank. As far as she was concerned, he'd lost all claim to it when he chose the faun and the human child over his own troops. "You report to me now. Tell me, how close are the humans?"
"See for yourself." The orc stepped back, allowing Anthea to look out the open windows. Her stomach swam at the heights. Taking a deep breath, Anthea pushed herself toward the ledge. She would not be afraid. Not this day.
The forest spread on both sides of the pass, quiet. The trees stood still as a gentle breeze shook the leaves. In the pass, which was wide enough to carry three orc supply carts abreast, the human army advanced, less than a quarter size of the original estimates.
Once again, Anthea smiled. This would be child's play.
"Thank you, back to your stations," she told the sentries. "You've done a good job. I will make sure you are rewarded after our victory."
Anthea hurried down the spiral stone staircase, eager to reach the front line and engage the fragile humans in mortal combat.
"Come! Let us meet them in battle!" Anthea called to her fellow orcs.
"Wait," a voice rang out in the crowd.
She scanned the faces, her eyes landing on Brienne, a childhood friend.
"We should wait for them to come to us," Brienne said.
"No," Anthea argued. "I am in command here. You will follow my orders. We will head them off before they get close enough to sully our border with their filthy blood."
Anthea waved her sword and took off running. She grinned as she heard the stomp of orcs following. She knew they would listen to her. They were as excited as she was.
After all, orcs revered nothing more than sending a soul to their death. War was the ultimate in religious cleansing. Not only would the humans’ souls be freed, but Anthea's would be given greater glory when her time came to meet Drothu.
Anthea stormed past the border of orc land into the pass. It was neutral territory. The mountain was its own entity, a living organism, which the orcs respected greatly. It sheltered them from the rest of the continent. In return, the orcs would protect it from anyone who dared defile it.
Screaming, with spittle escaping her lips, Anthea raised her sword. Sunlight glinted off of it, anointing her with the power of battle. Today would be her first victory. The orcs behind caught up, standing next to her. Beating their chests and waving their weapons, they made a frightening display of strength.
The humans stopped their march.
They were afraid. Anthea could almost smell the urine soiling their pants.
She bit her lip until the skin broke. Running her tongue over the blood, she drew it into her mouth, savoring the taste. Though orcs weren't cannibals, they often tasted the blood of their enemies as they died, whether from spatter or a direct bite. It fueled their lust for war.
"Charge!" Anthea yelled.
The orcs burst forth in droves, running directly at the humans. A volley of arrows met them, but the tips bounced off the orcs' tough skin, sending the wooden shafts to the ground like fallen branches after a storm.
The first wave of orcs crashed into the humans' shields, toppling the frontline. Their small bones cracked under the weight of the orcs’ feet as they trampled the shield bearers to get to the armed warriors behind.
A trumpet sounded from the back. Anthea glanced up, looking at the young child on the horse blowing into the brass instrument. Humans brought their young to war? It was pathetic and desperate. Children should be home, tilting at straw men, learning skills. Not watching their parents die.
Humans were idiots.
Anthea hacked down the man in front of her, cleaving through his torso with one stroke. The look of surprise on his face as he split in two almost touched her. He hadn't expected to die so quickly. Poor thing.
Anthea quickly parried a thrust from another human, running her sword through the female's heart. She pulled it out quickly with a wet, sucking noise.
Just as she was thinking again how easy this battle was, a human nicked her from behind. Anthea turned, her eyes blazing with anger, as she swung her sword at the human's head. But the man ducked, avoiding her blow.
Anthea stumbled backward as he took the advantage, swinging at her with a dizzying speed she couldn't hope to match. It would take brute strength to stop his attack. Raising her sword above her head, leaving her chest vulnerable for a moment, Anthea dropped her sword on his head, cleaving his body in two like a piece of firewood, blood spraying in every direction.
Licking her lips, Anthea tasted the blood of the human she'd killed, sending a blessing with his soul. He'd died honorably. She was almost impressed with his tenacity.
A moment later, she was back in the thick of the battle, helping her fellow troops remove the human infestation from the side of the mountain. They wouldn't traverse the pass today. Not ever.
The vast majority of the bodies underfoot were human, though a few orcs had succumbed to their attackers. Their souls would go straight to The Nether, as heroes in battle. Anthea continued her fight, barely noticing her own wounds. She lunged and parried, stabbed and sliced, until every human within reach of her sword had fallen.
Wiping her brow with the back of her arm, Anthea was surprised how quickly she was tiring. Surveying the melee, she could see they'd disposed of perhaps half of the humans. Most of her orcs still stood. Confidence swelled in her chest. They would win and win easily.
Until a sound from all around rose in the air. The cries of fresh soldiers as they entered in battle. Humans leaped from the forest, surrounding the orcs on three sides.
"Pull back!" Anthea yelled to her troops.
But it was too late. In mere moments, the human invaders swelled to an uncountable number, pulling around the orcs in a circle, forcing them into a tight space where they were forced to fight back-to-back at the humans coming at them from all directions.
"Fight, orcs! Kill these filthy, treacherous humans!" Anthea screamed.
Sword
s sliced through the orc horde, wounding them before they could fight back. Arrows flew through the air, piercing their skin as they pressed against each other, with nowhere to go. They were surrounded by humans on all sides.
A blade found a new home in Anthea’s chest. Within moments, a pounding headache quickly overtook her as her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground.
Her eyes wild, she glanced at her fellow orcs, many suffering the same fate. She reached out to Reggin, her fingers fumbling at his arm.
Anthea's eyelids closed as she whispered, "Today will forever be known as Anthea's Massacre.”
Chapter 23
Tace stretched her arms overhead, cracking her back in three places.
"Four days," Ademar said with a grunt as he jumped up and down.
"Felt like a year." Tace rubbed her biceps, urging the blood to flow.
They'd spent most of the last week hiding in the back of the cart as it rolled over bumpy country roads. Only at night were they allowed out to eat a full meal. During the day they slept or kept silent under the heavy tarp as the cart barreled ever northward.
The days were cold and the nights even chillier. Still, Tace bathed every night in whatever pond or spring lay nearby, no matter how cold the water. It refreshed her mind, reducing the dull ache she felt for her murdered mother.
"The two of you whine too much." The old woman sat in a chair, comfortable and happy, as if she'd been perfectly relaxed the last few days instead of hiding with them. Kindara's hands rested in her lap, fingers intertwined. "We'll lie low in this deserted cottage until someone comes for us."
"Who is coming?" Tace asked. At first, she'd assumed Kindara was taking them to a military camp on the outskirts of Agitar. Instead, they'd traveled much farther than Tace had ever been. She had no idea what awaited them in this cold place.
"You'll see." Kindara smiled as she took a sip of her tea.
Ademar grabbed a blanket off a nearby chest, offering it to Tace. She grimaced, grabbing her own from the pile. She didn't need a male, certainly not of the human persuasion, offering her comfort of any kind.
Wrapping the blanket over her shoulders, Tace reclined on a chaise, resting her head on a soft, embroidered pillow. Ademar sat stiffly on a couch across from her. His nose wrinkled, his eyes pinched. Clearly, he was still uncomfortable. She reached for her own cup of tea on the side table and took a long sip.
The woody liquid burned her tongue and the roof of her mouth. It was the first warm thing she'd had since hiding in the cart leaving Agitar. She felt wonderful as goose bumps spread over her skin.
"Do you regret coming with us, human?" Tace asked Ademar.
He took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing as he let it out. "No, I don't. Events as of late have certainly been...unexpected. Still, I can't imagine being anywhere else."
"You don't long for your home in the South, where the sun shines half the night and the women wear skimpy clothing to stay cool?" Tace couldn't help but tease the man. She found herself intrigued by his virginity.
"No, I don't. My home never felt like a home to me. My family was heavily involved in the military. I spent my youth training for a place in it until Hugh came to our door, asking for an apprentice. I surprised my parents by jumping at the chance. They couldn't tell Hugh no, so they gave me to him. Every day since then has been an adventure. This is no different." He locked eyes with her, taking a sip of his tea.
"I'm glad to hear that," Kindara said. "What lies ahead will challenge both of you. If one of you isn't up to the challenge, you will both die."
Tace sat up. "You act as if you know the future."
"Perhaps I do," Kindara said. "Perhaps I do not."
Before Tace could utter a biting retort, a piercing cry sliced through the quiet night. "What was that?"
"Pay it no mind." Kindara waved a dismissive hand in the air.
The cry came again, tugging at Tace’s very soul. "It's in pain."
"I suggest leaving it alone," Kindara said.
"I may not know what it is, but I know it's suffering." Tace sprang from her chair, letting the blanket drop to the chaise.
She rushed out of the cottage before Kindara could utter a protest. Without looking back, she knew Ademar was hot on her heels. His boots thundered in rhythm with hers as she ran toward the keening.
While Tace was an assassin by trade, nothing, and no one, should suffer like this. Death was meant to be swift and painless.
She broke through a line of trees into a clearing. Torches blazed in a circle. Orcs huddled inside, forming their own ring—around what, Tace couldn't see.
She elbowed her way through the roaring crowd. Some laughed, others shouted encouragement. An orc strolled through the grove, a money belt around his waist, as he took bets from the orcs watching the spectacle.
Finally, Tace broke through the front line. On the ground, a small, cobalt lizard was chained to a stake. Around it were three starving cats in various stages of mange. Their teeth sparkled in the firelight as they hissed at the lizard.
One of the cats leaped toward the lizard, striking it with its paw.
The lizard cried out as its eyes rolled backward. It was the sound Tace had heard in the cottage.
"Let it go," she yelled, surprised at the tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Now, now, my dear," the orc with the money belt said. "It's okay. The lizard is but a pest. We're using it to feed our cats."
"You're torturing it." Tace pushed the bookie into the crowd. Not caring what anyone thought, she jumped into the center ring, grabbed the lizard's chain, and used her teeth to break it. The cats leaped at her, one's claws making contact with her leg.
Tace reared back to kick the cat, but before she could send it flying, Ademar jumped in between them. "Get it out of here," he yelled to Tace.
Without hesitating, she scooped the lizard into her arms and took off running.
With a horde of orcs screaming at her, Tace used up all of the energy she'd saved over the last few days to spring into the forest before any of them could get her.
For a moment, she worried about leaving Ademar behind, but he'd told her he liked adventure. This would be his greatest yet, if he could fight his way out. It was his choice to stay behind. Besides, it was imperative he be able to defend himself among orcs if they were to continue traveling together. She couldn't spend every moment watching over him.
Tace reached the cottage. She rested against the wooden wall, her chest heaving. "You're safe now," she whispered to the lizard.
It nuzzled her with its hard-scaled jaw.
Tace let her cheek rest against it for a moment before pulling away. She'd never had an animal companion before. Some families did, but hers wasn't wealthy enough to feed any other mouths. Still, this lizard clearly was no one's pet. She wouldn't rescue it from harm only to chain it up again.
Tace bent over, placing the lizard on the ground. "Go home now." She tapped it on the head. "Go on."
The lizard looked up at her, its slitted eyes curious. It blinked once.
"You're free. Find your family." Tace's voice cracked on the last word.
The lizard took a step closer to Tace.
"Not this way." Tace pointed into the forest. "That way."
The lizard sat back on its hind legs, its front legs waggling in the air. Tace couldn't help but laugh. It looked so silly sitting like a human with its tail sticking out behind it.
"You're cute, and you know it. I suppose you'd like something to eat?" Tace reached into the pouch she kept tied around her waist, pulling out a crumbly hunk of bread. She held in her palm and offered it to the lizard. "Here you go. It's all I've got right now."
The lizard's mouth opened, and a forked tongue snatched the bread. The lizard chewed, its eyes contentedly closed.
"Now get on your way," Tace said.
The lizard dropped again to all fours. It uttered a strange growl. Then its back separated into two pieces.
"What the—?” Tace
stumbled backward. A rustling in the forest drew her gaze.
Ademar burst through the trees, his eyes wide. "What in the name of Solnar?"
Tace glanced back to her lizard, which was now flying—flying!—in front of her. "Lizards can't fly," she said, stunned.
"That's no lizard," Ademar said.
"That's a dragon," Tace whispered, stunned.
"A what?" Ademar asked.
"It's a powerful being of myth," Tace said. There was much more she could have told him, about what dragons were and what they represented to orcs. She chose not to.
"Much like..." Ademar's eyes rested on Tace's face.
She reached up, touching the two small tusks protruding from her mouth. "Like orcs," she finished for him. "To humans who keep themselves isolated in the South, we are strange creatures, aren't we?"
The dragon's cobalt wings flapped languidly, and it landed gently on Tace's shoulder. Its claws settled into the fabric of her cloak.
"Well, human," Tace said, "welcome to your fantasy world."
Chapter 24
Ademar sat at the wooden table, trying not to make eye contact with the dragon coiled around Tace's neck. The first time the dragon had paid him attention, it attempted to burn his eyebrows off with a targeted burst of flame. The damn thing had succeeded, too. At least with one eyebrow.
Of course, Tace had laughed and scratched the dragon under its chin. She would find that funny. Ademar self-consciously rubbed his temples, trying to avoid the tender skin where the eyebrow had once been.
"When are we leaving again?" he asked Kindara. They'd been at the cabin for three days now. No one had come or gone. Kindara had been oddly silent the entire time, as if she were waiting for something to happen. The orcs they'd disrupted the other night either had no interest in coming after them or weren't able to find them. Everything had been quiet. Too quiet.
Silence hung over the cottage.
"I didn't come all this way to hide in a cottage for the rest of my life." Ademar was frustrated. Since Hugh's death, he didn't know what to do with his life. Going home wasn't an attractive option, but neither was sitting on his arse in the middle of nowhere. He wondered if he'd made a grave mistake in coming here.