by Megg Jensen
"We are waiting for a sign," Kindara said, her wrinkled hands in her lap.
Tace slammed her hands on the table. "I can't just sit like this. Get up, human!"
Ademar stood without a second thought.
"Good, he can follow orders,” Tace said to Kindara with a wink.
Ademar fought the urge to sit again out of spite.
"Come on. Let's go outside." Tace motioned to Ademar. "I want to teach you some basic swordplay. It might be useful for you to learn."
"I don't have a sword." Ademar held out his empty hands.
Tace laughed again. The dragon on her shoulder licked her face with its forked tongue. "We'll start out with branches. You would hurt yourself with a real sword." She strode out the door, leaving it open behind her.
Ademar looked at Kindara.
"Go, boy. Learn something new. If nothing else, it gives the two of you something to do. Perhaps we'll all be a little less stir crazy." Kindara stood.
Ademar exited the cottage. He found Tace breaking branches from trees and brandishing them in the air. She had discarded four before she found two branches apparently worthy of mock battle.
Tace tossed one to Ademar. "Catch!"
He reached out, startled, but managed to catch the knobby wood in both hands. He changed his grasp to his right hand, ready to spar.
"Next time, catch it with your sword hand in the first place." Tace sauntered over to him, swishing her stick in the air. The dragon seemed to mock him with its eyes.
What do I do first?" Ademar shuffled his feet back and forth, imitating the dance of swordsmen at work, kicking up a whirlwind of pine needles around his ankles.
"Hold still." Tace smacked him on the bicep with her branch. "Did that hurt?"
It smarted, but Ademar shook it off.
Tace hit him again, harder. "How about that?"
Ademar bit the inside of his lip, shaking his head.
Tace lashed her branch across his arm, this time cutting right through the fabric and drawing blood. "Fight back!" she yelled.
"But you told me to stay still," Ademar said, ignoring the sharp pain in his arm.
"Never do as your opponent says. Rule one. Now, fight. Let's see what you've got." Tace ran forward, attacking.
Ademar crossed his arms in front of his face to ward off her attack, but none came.
He peeked through his arms as he slowly lowered them. Tace was laughing, and she wasn't trying to hide her amusement.
"Are all humans so fearful? If so, that explains why they've never advanced beyond the Barrier Mountains." Tace doubled over.
Anger rose in Ademar's chest. He'd never fought before. What did she expect? How could holding a stupid branch transform him into a warrior? He leaped toward Tace, swinging his stick in the air. Just before it could land on her head, her laughing stopped and she expertly blocked him.
"Very good, human." Her lips curled into a smile. "You do have the instinct. I needed to draw it out of you." Tace pushed him back, standing with her feet apart.
Ademar mirrored her stance, his heart pounding. He'd never struck out at anyone before. Aggression wasn't a part of who he was.
At least he hadn't thought it was.
Maybe he could learn to fight. Hugh had always encouraged Ademar to be open to learning from those who were different. It appeared Tace could teach him a lot.
"Let's try again." Tace pointed the tip of her branch at him. "I suspect this time you'll put more effort into fighting back."
Tace leaped toward Ademar, and he stepped sideways. She landed just past where he'd been. She smiled, her tusks gleaming in the sunlight. This time she didn't need to praise him. Ademar knew he'd reacted properly.
They fought until the sun crossed over to the other side of the sky, only breaking for water. Sweat poured down Ademar's face, which was another strange sensation. Life as a priest hadn't prepared him for the rigors of training for battle. He was soft, but if he kept this up, his muscles would soon harden.
She taught him how to block and parry. How to attack and defend. How to watch your opponent's eyes as much as their sword. How to match their footwork in an intricate dance.
"One last battle." Tace squared her shoulders. Hours ago her dragon had slunk off, tired of the bumpy ride on her shoulders as they fought across the uneven surface of the forest floor. It had followed Kindara back into the cottage as the sun beat on them in the heat of the day. "Are you prepared?"
Ademar nodded. He wasn't, really. He was exhausted and thirsty. His muscles screamed for respite. Still, if Tace wanted one more fight, he would give it to her.
Ademar swished his branch in the air, trying to ignore the searing pain in his bicep. His shoulder was close to falling out of its socket, he knew it.
Tace attacked hard, harder than she had the whole day, coming at Ademar with a fury he'd never witnessed. Her eyes turned red as the bloodlust took over.
Ademar swallowed his fear, fighting back as valiantly as he could, desperately attempting to remember all she'd taught him. Within moments, all of his training dissolved. He couldn't recall any of the moves. All he could see was the anger in Tace's eyes.
For a moment he wondered if she'd forgotten he was her ally. If he was about to die.
Ademar backed away, tripping over his own feet. He fell to the ground with a thud, hitting the back of his head on the ground.
Tace dropped on her knee next to him, her branch only a hair’s breadth from his throat. Her chest heaved as she took in deep breaths. She bit her upper lip, then closed her eyes. She sank onto the ground next to him.
"You lost," she whispered.
"I know," he said. "Did you expect me to win?"
"No. But I thought you might get one hit in." Tace nudged Ademar with her elbow.
They lay there together as darkness slowly overtook daylight. Ademar felt his breathing return to normal along with Tace's. He closed his eyes, thinking of the deep metal tub he had in Agitar. Hot water. Salt. It had soothed any pain he experienced, though he'd never been in this much pain before. Maybe it wouldn't have been enough.
Tace rolled onto her side, propping herself on one elbow. "You tried admirably today, human."
"Can you call me Ademar?" he asked. "It's better than being called ‘human’ all the time. I don't call you ‘orc.’"
"Yes, of course, Ademar." Tace smiled.
He noticed her eyes were back to their normal violet.
Maybe the two of them could find common ground. Perhaps one day he'd even call her a friend. If he was lucky, she would do the same. For now, it was enough for her to use his name.
The door to the cottage burst open. Kindara ran out, the dragon hot on her heels. The old orc's arms flailed. "The sign. I have it. The time has come!"
"Time for what?" Ademar sat up quickly, brushing off the pain in his lower back. He followed Kindara's gaze into the sky and realized he'd asked a very silly question.
Chapter 25
Tace leaped to her feet. Ademar awkwardly joined her. It was obvious how much his body ached. She almost felt bad for pushing him so hard. She'd done it only to prepare him as best she could. She had no idea when she'd have another chance to teach him. He probably didn't realize she had focused solely on self-defense. Aggressive attack strategies could come after he'd learned to stay alive.
The old orc's hair whipped around in the growing breeze. The day had been hot and dry, oppressively so. The breeze was a welcome respite from the heat, but as Kindara's eyes searched the darkening sky, Tace became more nervous. "Kindara?"
She turned to Tace. "It's coming."
"What's coming?" Ademar asked.
A storm was just that. It wasn't a sign of anything. Before Tace could question her again, Kindara ran into the forest with speed belying her years.
"We've come this far," Ademar said with a shrug and a wince as he took off after the old orc.
Tace motioned to the dragon. It spread its wings and flew to her shoulder, wrapping itself aroun
d her neck.
In only a few days time, Tace had become used to the dragon, despite worrying what its presence meant. The dragon was the symbol of the Defiants—those who stood against the religion of Drothu. Her parents had believed in the cause so fervently that Tace had become an assassin to save all of their souls. The more orcs she killed honorably, the closer her entire family got to entering The Nether upon death. Or that was the idea, before Hugh killed himself. Her heart ached, worrying they may not have made it into the afterlife. It was her fault if they hadn't.
Her chest burned with every breath as she drew up alongside Ademar. She gave him a curt nod of greeting, which he returned.
They weren't friends, just companions. In her line of work, she didn't need friends. You never knew whom you’d be called upon to kill next.
Kindara's dress flapped behind her as she sped through the forest, deftly avoiding low branches and leaping over fallen logs. She didn't look back once to see if Tace and Ademar were behind her. It was almost as if she were possessed.
"What do you think she's looking for?" Ademar said between breaths.
"I don't know," Tace answered. "Hopefully we'll find out before our legs give out."
Ademar smiled at her. Tace was surprised to feel her own lips curl up at the sides. She snapped her head forward, in time to duck under a branch. She pushed ahead of Ademar, not giving him a backward glance. He may want to be friends, but she didn't.
"Come! We're almost there!" Kindara's voice traveled on the wind through the trees.
Tace picked up her pace, finally catching up with the old orc.
"Where are we going?" Tace was losing patience.
"You'll see!" Kindara cackled, then with another burst of speed left Tace far behind.
Tace bit her lip, forcing herself to run faster. Clearly, it was her exhaustion from the day's training. Kindara couldn't be faster than she was. It wasn't possible.
Finally, they broke through the trees into a clearing. In the center was a large rock, standing on end, taller than Tace if she had been standing on Ademar's shoulders.
The storm raged above them, more violent now that they had lost the protection of the forest canopy. Silver clouds writhed for domination.
Tace reached out, walking toward the stone as if it were calling to her, demanding she stand before it. Everything else faded away. Kindara. Ademar. Everything except the dragon on her shoulder. Its claws dug into her.
Tace's fingertips brushed the cool gray stone.
Her body jerked, and her eyes closed. All she felt was the icy stone and the dragon on her shoulder.
Her body relaxed.
Tace sank to the ground.
There was no more pain. No more sadness.
"You will join us." A cacophony of voices screamed in her ear. "Come to us. Be one with us."
Tace tried to respond, but her lips wouldn't move.
"Find us!" the voices screamed again.
Tace wanted to ask who they were. Where were they? How could she find them? But they left as quickly as they'd come.
"Tace?" Ademar yelled in her face. "Tace!"
She reflexively punched him in the gut.
He recoiled, then laughed. "Glad you're back with us."
"Back? Was I gone?" Tace rubbed her forehead. The dragon nuzzled her neck, its wet nose tickling her skin.
"What did you see?" Kindara's face was in front of Tace, so close their noses almost touched.
Tace scooted backward, away from the old orc's inquiring eyes. "I didn't see anything." It was the truth. She'd only heard strange voices. "I must have been struck by lightning." Tace looked up at the sky. The storm was already moving on.
"You weren't struck by lightning. Besides, the storm ended as quickly as it started," Ademar said. "Something happened when you touched the stone." He reached out, his hand shaking. Then he thrust it forward, his palm landing on the rock where Tace's had been. He shrugged, pulling it back. "Nothing for me. Maybe it was some freak lightning strike."
Unsure her legs would hold, Tace remained seated, not willing to admit to her companions how shaken she was. The skies were calm, as if the storm never happened.
Ademar walked around the stone, stopping on the other side. Tace could only see one boot sticking out.
"This is interesting," Ademar said. "Come over here and take a look."
Tace rose reluctantly and was surprised to find her legs were steady. "What is it?" she asked as she made her way toward him.
Ademar pointed at the stone. Five strange runes were carved into it.
"What do they mean?" Tace asked, looking at Kindara.
"They are ancient symbols of power. Representations of ancient relics lost to us." Kindara rested a finger on the bottom rune. "This one is the staff of power. See how the staff stands in a mound?"
Tace traced the curled top around and down into a straight line. It intersected a half moon.
"And the next?" Ademar asked, his curiosity obviously piqued.
"The next is the sunrise and sunset, living together in harmony," Kindara said.
Tace's fingers traced the half moon on the top and the half moon underneath it. A curved line ran between them.
"The third is familiar to me," Tace said, reaching up toward the next rune.
A straight line separated a W and its mirror image.
"This symbolizes the conflict we all feel within ourselves." Hordain had it tattooed on his right bicep. Once, he'd explained its meaning to Tace. All assassins knew ending lives would bring them closer to salvation. Still, there was always a part of them that wondered if it was the right thing to do. He found strength in admitting his shortcomings, for he knew Drothu prized death above all other things.
"What about the one above it?" Ademar asked. He pointed to the triangle with a circle drawn around its three points, a dot in the center.
"That represents the soul," Kindara answered, her voice suddenly soft. "And the top rune. Do not attempt to touch it."
"Why?" Ademar asked, leaning forward to inspect it. It was a triangle with three wavy lines, one bisecting each side.
"The final rune represents Drothu. It is the most sacred of symbols. It is untouchable." Kindara's voice was little more than a whisper. "It is the sign we have been looking for."
Tace turned to the old orc, once again convinced the female was losing her mind. "It is an ancient symbol, one our people found in caves buried deep under Agitar. No one knows what it really represents."
"It is Drothu," Kindara said. "And if you don't believe me, then what spoke to you while you were passed out?"
Tace pressed her lips together. She hadn't told them she'd heard voices. She hadn't wanted to believe they were real. After all, the sounds were probably just Ademar prancing around while he worried she was dead. Nothing more.
"Tell us, Tace. Drothu spoke to you in his many-layered voices. He is the voice of all of us, wrapped into one. Tell us what he said," Kindara cajoled.
Ademar reached out for Tace's hand. "I may be an outsider. I don't understand the orc religion, but as a holy man, I do know one thing. When voices from another realm speak, I listen. If something spoke to you, you must heed its call."
Tace took a deep breath. "It said I have to find it and join it. Whatever that means."
"It means, my dear," Kindara said, "that your journey has just begun."
Chapter 26
Maysant crouched behind a bush, nocking an arrow. She'd tracked the deer most of the day, and she was hungry. Her food supplies had dwindled to nothing in the heat of summer. If she was going to stay in the forest until winter, then she would need to kill this buck, and perhaps one of his friends.
The old buck was slow, but it knew this part of the Tingale forest better than she. Maysant hoped he would lead her to another male. Perhaps they'd engage in battle, locking antlers. She could then take both.
But only if the other buck was as old as this one. She wouldn't kill a young buck, nor a doe. Without them, the deer p
opulation would fall. Maysant only wished to take those whose lives were close to ending naturally.
Maysant revered all living beings in the wild—animal and plant alike. Her goddess had populated the planet with food for her people. She gave thanks for each death. Not only for the deer, but also for the roots and tubers. They grew from the earth, nurtured by rain and the sun. They, too, felt pain at the moment of death. One day, her body, too, would feed a living organism. Until then, she would only help animals to their death if they had nothing else left to give.
A rustle off to the side caught Maysant's attention. Drawing her bow, she took a deep breath, preparing to let the arrow fly. She focused, closing one eye, waiting for the old buck to wander into view.
Another rustle. Leaves shivered as the deer took a step. Maysant could see one hoof. But that wasn't enough. She would only take the shot when she could see its chest. One arrow. One shot, so the deer wouldn't suffer.
Maysant had patience beyond her years. At 117, she was barely an adult. Her pointed elven ears twitched under hair so pale blond it almost appeared white. She waited. The deer would appear in front of her soon enough.
Something burst out of the trees from her left. Maysant lost her balance and tumbled backward, accidentally loosing her arrow.
Cursing under her breath, she sprang to her feet. Holding her bow solidly in her left hand, Maysant sprinted toward the scuffle. She hadn't seen any bears in this part of the forest, nor any great cats, but whatever had charged her deer was large. She had no interest in killing it, but if she was going to survive in this forest, she had to know what else was out there.
A crack ripped through the air. She said a little prayer the buck's neck had broken and not a weaker part of the body. Everyone needed to eat, but allowing another animal to suffer was cruel.
Maysant slipped between two fir trees, finally able to see the creature.
Except it wasn't an animal. It was a human, a very large male. He was mostly naked, other than a ripped pair of pants hanging precariously around his waist. He dragged the buck behind him, its body bumping over every fallen log.