by Megg Jensen
"Rocks are nature, too. I can't speak to them, but they tell me things." Alyna's smile grew. "Don't worry. We won't get lost down here. I promise. You're safe with me." She turned on one booted hoof and continued down the tunnel.
Dalgron watched her until the darkness swallowed her. Then he steeled himself and followed her deeper into the mine.
Strange noises echoed in the tunnel, sending chills down his spine. He shuddered, despite every attempt to control himself. "Alyna?" he called out.
She stopped ahead of him, then turned around, her eyes wide. "Something doesn't feel right down here."
"I know," Dalgron said. "It's the infection."
"No. It's something else. Something malevolent. What's down here other than the mines?"
So, she feels it too, Dalgron thought. "I don't know," he said. "Orcs have been mining underground for centuries. I've rarely ever been here. As a child, the elders taught us the different types of vocations we could pursue as a grown orc. I knew the mines weren't for me, and I never looked back."
"There's an entire community of orcs who lived down here, and you, the general of the orc armies, don't know anything about them? That's reckless." Alyna glared at him.
"They're miners! Most of them are deaf. Half of them are blind to daylight. We had nothing to fear from them," Dalgron said.
"I didn't mean you should fear them. They are orckind. You should have cared about them." Alyna touched the wall and closed her eyes. Her mouth turned downward. "There is something down here that hates us."
"Like the xarlug?"
"Worse," Alyna said. "Much, much worse."
"Then let's get out of here. I'll come back later with orcs from my army." Dalgron was ready to leave, but he told himself it wasn't his fear that was driving his decisions. His plan simply made the most sense. He'd send his orcs here, and he wouldn't have to step foot in the tunnels again.
"No," Alyna whispered, her words barely audible. "It knows we're here."
"It?" Dalgron asked, his voice cracking despite his best efforts to stay calm.
"I can sense the orcs underground. There are many still alive. Some are riddled with disease, but others are not." Alyna pressed her other hand into the wall.
Dalgron could have sworn he saw a faint glow emanating from the faun's hands. But, no, it must be a trick of the torchlight.
"Vron is here." Alyna faced him, her eyes wide, tears streaming down her cheeks. "But there are too many diseased orcs between us. We can't get to him on our own."
"Then I will bring my army down here," Dalgron said once again. He was determined to help, but he knew he couldn't come down here again. It would kill him. His heart was already pounding harder than ever. His throat had gone dry. Soon he would start coughing just to catch his breath. Somehow, this place was trying to kill him.
"We have to leave. Now!" Alyna pushed Dalgron, turning him toward the direction from which they'd come.
He gladly took off at a run, Alyna on his heels. "What is it?" he asked, barely able to catch his breath.
"I don't know. Keep running. If we're to survive this…"
Then there was only silence behind him.
Dalgron turned back, but Alyna was gone. "Alyna?" he called out.
There was no response. It was as if she'd disappeared. As if something had swallowed her in an instant.
With a heavy heart, Dalgron ran until he stumbled out of the entrance. The unicorn stood guard, just where they'd left her.
"Can you rebuild that wall, too?" Dalgron asked.
The unicorn cocked her head to the side, looking at him quizzically.
"I don't know where she's gone to," Dalgron said. "Alyna didn't make it out."
The unicorn—Syra, he thought her name was—took careful steps toward the entrance. She placed one hoof inside, then reared up on her back legs, whinnied, and scrambled backward.
"I know, girl," Dalgron said, patting the unicorn's mane. "I'm afraid, too."
He picked up a rock and placed it in front of the entrance. He'd keep stacking rocks until it was completely covered once more. Somehow, he knew he was safe outside the tunnel—but he was too afraid to go back to the encampment and ask for help.
Chapter 22
Brax brought up the end of their line, Frensia in front of him. The umgar's body didn't seem to mind the rigor it took to tromp through the sparse forest outside the library. It—or, rather, they—it was still a strange thing for Brax to say, much less think, about a singular living being—acted as if they were at home among the trees. Then again, maybe they were. Brax knew nothing about umgars. He wasn't even sure he'd known of their existence before meeting Frensia in the Library of Filamir.
His thoughts strayed to Melethiel, and he felt a blush spread across his cheeks. Maybe Tace was right about his sexual appetite. All those years he'd denied himself the pleasure of a woman's company just so he could protect his brother Ghrol, who lived under his house in Soleth. And now that Ghrol was gone, Brax couldn't seem to keep his breeches laced. First it was Nella, a camp follower from his army. Now Melethiel. Perhaps he was taking advantage of the situation in any way he could.
"We're going to make camp here tonight," Tace announced. She dropped her pack on the ground and sank onto a fallen log.
"We could go farther," Frensia said. "I am not tired."
"Well, I am," Tace said. "And this is where we're stopping for the night."
Without a word, Ademar began gathering a few dry twigs and leaves for a fire.
"Very well, then." Frensia sank to the ground gracefully, their silver skin nearly sparkling in the rays of the setting sun. "We will have some time to talk before sleeping. Tell us about your tattoo, Tace."
Brax had noticed Tace's tattoo, but he had chosen to say nothing about it. Tattoos weren't uncommon among humans. Usually, they held some significance, and more often than not, the stories behind them were very personal. Brax would no more question her tattoo than he would her sexual dalliances with Ademar. Not his business.
But apparently, Frensia didn't see things that way.
Tace narrowed her eyes. Brax knew that expression all too well. She was preparing to fight back. Poor Frensia was about to get the brunt of Tace's anger.
Then Tace surprised him by pulling up her sleeve. She turned her arm over and held out her wrist for all of them to see.
The strange symbol, an upside-down half moon bisected by a straight line with a curl at the top, almost appeared to glow. Brax was sure it was an effect of the flickering light from Ademar's nascent fire. Tattoos didn't glow. They faded.
"I got this when I killed the xarlug with the Staff of Jokan. It just… appeared." Tace glared at the three of them in turn, daring any of them to dispute her story.
"Tell us what it symbolizes," Frensia urged.
"The symbol is an ancient representation of lost relics." Tace sighed. "At least that's what an orc named Kindara told me. Unfortunately, she was killed by one of the Consecrated."
Even though she was speaking in the human tongue, a gesture that wasn't lost on Brax, he didn't understand much of what she was saying. Ancient relics? He had no knowledge of orc lore. And the Consecrated? They were a mystery to him.
His feelings must have been plain on his face, because Frensia patted his arm and said, "I think Brax is confused." They gave him an awkward smile. "The orcs are an old race, Brax, steeped in mythology. And some believe their stories more unflinchingly than others. Those orcs call themselves the Consecrated, and to them, their religion is pure. Anything less is anathema to them. At the other end of the spectrum are the Defiants, who reject much, though not all, of orc lore."
"Most orcs are in the middle somewhere," Tace said.
"Where do you fall?" Brax asked Tace.
She sighed. "I don't know."
Ademar wrapped an arm around Tace's shoulders. She stiffened, as if she were about to shrug him off, then she relaxed into him for a moment before standing. She paced around their camp, her arms crossed over her chest.
"Frensia, just tell us what you're thinking," she said.
Brax was glad she'd said it. He felt the same way. Frensia knew more than they were willing to admit.
Frensia held out a hand, their impossibly long fingers wiggling. "Give me your book, Ademar."
Ademar grabbed his pack, pulled out the book he'd taken, and handed it to Frensia.
Frensia opened the book and turned to the centerpiece: an illustration of five symbols.
* * *
* * *
"That's the symbol on Tace's wrist," Brax said. He leaned over and tapped the book. As he did, a shock stung his fingertip. He jerked his hand back, the tip of his pointer finger smoldering.
"I would advise against touching the symbols of power," Frensia said.
"You could have mentioned that earlier." Brax blew on his finger, trying to lessen the burn.
"You could have kept your hands to yourself," Frensia said.
"Forget Brax's lack of self-control." Tace scooted closer to the book. "Tell us about these symbols.”
Frensia flipped the book's pages from back to the front. Their fingers didn't get burnt like Brax's had. "The first chapter covers the symbol on your wrist. It includes a long treatise on the history of the Staff." Frensia looked up at Tace. "It appears you were indeed very lucky to find it. It says here the Staff was carefully hidden in Doros, but there are no clues as to where."
Ademar nudged Tace. "It wasn't entirely luck…"
"That's true," Tace said. "Someone led us there, though it wasn't a direct route. We were following hunches, not a map. Perhaps it wasn't pure luck, but a combination of meeting the right people at the right time and listening to intuition."
"Sounds like a fair amount of magic to me." Frensia tapped a long finger on their chin.
"I think magic had something to do with it," Tace said, "though it's not a topic I'm familiar with. I have a different skill set than an elusive mage."
"Magic is only familiar to those who wield it, and even then they often don't understand the true depths of their power." Frensia flipped to the book's second chapter, which began with an illustration of the second symbol. "Now this symbol is intriguing."
"Kindara told me a little about that one," Tace said. "It's supposed to symbolize the sunrise and sunset living together in harmony."
"What else did she tell you?" Frensia asked.
Tace shrugged. "That's about it."
"I know something about it. It signifies the coming together of two beings who are opposites. Darkness and light. But I think this book will tell us more. Permit me to read it while the rest of you sleep for the night." Frensia leaned against a log and propped the book up in their hands.
"But the sun is almost down. And we'll have to extinguish the fire soon, too." Brax pointed at the thick canopy above them.
"Perhaps it isn't possible for human eyes to read in these conditions, but I am umgar. My eyes adjust to whatever light is available." Frensia flashed that ridiculous smile again. "I also require very little sleep. I will wake Tace when the time has come for my body to rejuvenate itself."
As the others settled in, Brax walked into the forest to relieve himself. He thought back to Melethiel at the library and to Nella, who had left him for their homeland of Soleth. He knew plenty about two opposite beings coming together, but he assumed that wasn't what Frensia meant.
Whatever he'd gotten himself into, it was far deeper than he'd ever waded. This was no simple military campaign. This was beyond anything he could conceive of. Still, it was better than going back home to a life he barely recognized anymore. He'd always wanted adventure. And now, with this unlikely group, he'd found it.
Chapter 23
Ademar woke with a start from a deep, dreamless sleep. He looked around, his eyes adjusting quickly to the starlight filtering through the canopy above. Off to his right, Brax snored, and across their small camp, Frensia sat propped against a log, their eyes closed, the book resting in their lap. An alert Tace stood guard just beyond Frensia, Raseri perched on her shoulder.
Ademar stood and shook the sleep out of his legs. He carefully stepped around Brax and Frensia, making his way over to Tace. Raseri hissed at him, but Ademar refused to back up. One day he'd win over that dragon, though he had no idea when or how.
"How long have you been up?" he asked Tace.
"Long enough. It must be nearly morning." She pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders. "I can feel the morning chill settling in. I'm glad the sun will be up soon to warm us."
"Did Frensia tell you anything before they went to sleep?" Ademar looked over at the umgar. He'd known another many years ago during his time in the Library of Filamir. That one was as enigmatic as Frensia.
Tace shook her head. "No, Frensia woke me, said they'd discovered something fascinating, but wouldn't tell me what it was. Said they were going to sleep, and would tell us all more at sunrise."
Ademar rested his hand on Tace's back. "Are you okay? I know you don't like talking about the strange things that have been happening to you."
Tace's shoulders dropped. Raseri took off, probably to find some breakfast, her wings shining in the breaking sunlight. "I think it's time I stop pretending to be strong all the time. I have to be open to looking at what's happening without screaming at everyone. There is so much I don't know, and I want to understand all of it."
"We're getting there. It takes time."
Tace turned, her eyes boring into Ademar's. "Do we have time? No one expected the xarlug, and look at the damage it did. It destroyed Agitar. The orcs are living in an encampment outside the city. We have to figure out what's coming next. That's the only way we can stop it before it happens."
"We'll do our best."
"What if our best isn't good enough? What if more orcs die?"
Ademar didn't have the answer she wanted, and he refused to speak empty words to console her. She wouldn't appreciate them anyway.
He looked up at the canopy and noticed a few flecks of amber breaking through the leaves. "Daylight is coming. We'll choose our next move soon." He leaned in to kiss Tace, still marveling at how much had changed.
As her lips met his, hungry and sure, Ademar gave in to the passion. He wrapped his arms around Tace as if she were the only thing in the world that kept him grounded.
It was far too soon when she broke off the kiss and pointed sheepishly toward the forest. She was on watch, and he was distracting her.
As he returned to his bedroll, Ademar thought back to the days when he'd only dreamed about holding someone in his arms. He'd pledged chastity while serving the human god of the sun, Solnar. Prior to Hugh's death, he had dedicated his life to serving their god—but he hadn't spent more than a moment thinking about his religious obligations since. Perhaps all of it had simply been a way to pass the time until he'd ended up here, with Tace in a forest, looking for relics of orc mythology. None of it made sense, but it felt right.
Brax snorted, then mumbled something in his sleep. He rolled over, facing Ademar, then sleepily opened his eyes. "Morning."
"Good morning. Sleep well?" Ademar asked.
Brax ran a hand through his hair. "Well enough. After weeks on the road, you'd think I'd be used to this, but I have to admit—I miss my bed at home in Soleth."
"Then why don't you go home? You don't have to be here. This isn't your battle."
Brax laughed. "It's not yours either, or have you forgotten you're just as human as I am?"
There actually were days when Ademar forgot he wasn't one of the orcs. After spending a few years living in Agitar, being with them felt so natural. So did their language. Speaking only the human tongue with Brax had been difficult. When he was with Hugh in Agitar, the two of them had used the orc tongue exclusively, even with each other. Hugh had insisted they needed to completely absorb the orc ways if they were to truly learn and understand this race who lived to the north of the humans on the Doros continent.
If Hugh could see Ademar now, he wo
uld be proud of his student. Unfortunately, Hugh was gone, and Ademar would never see his mentor again.
A burst of morning light shot through the canopy, illuminating their camp.
"Good morning, fellow companions!" Frensia sat up, immediately alert, the book in their hands as if they had never set it down. "I have information to impart before we embark on the next leg of our journey."
Ademar scooted close to Frensia. Tace left her post and sat next to him. Brax stayed in his bedroll, not nearly as perky as Frensia upon awakening.
"Last night, I read the section of the book concerning the second symbol. Tace was correct. It is a manifestation of dark and light uniting. I suspect it points directly to the humans and orcs coming together as one."
Brax laughed. "We've already got that one down, don't we, Ademar and Tace?"
Ademar blushed, and Tace shot Brax an irritated look.
"I don't think that's what Frensia means," Tace said through gritted teeth.
Frensia waved a hand in the air. "Stop your bickering. I, too, doubt it has anything to do with the carnal coupling of a human and an orc. That is such a basic act. No, this refers to something much deeper and more mystical."
"Is there another physical relic involved?" Tace asked. "Something similar to the Staff of Jokan?"
"It is very likely," Frensia answered. "Though the book does not say what that relic might be, it does allude to where we might find it. This is where the human knowledge will come in handy. Ademar, Brax, do either of you know what lies in the Ciera Desert south of here and west of your homeland?"
Brax answered before Ademar could formulate a response. "We know very little. The sands are filled with dangerous beasts who kill with one sting. There's no water. None of our horses can survive out there, which means people are forced to traverse it on foot. The last two expeditions never returned."
Ademar stirred. "The ancient texts say the desert is the seat of our god, Solnar. We are urged to worship from afar, leaving the sands to Solnar." He had often wondered about what truly lay out in the mysterious desert. But while he served his god, he had no desire to die for his god.