by Megg Jensen
"Good." Frensia clapped their hands together. "We leave for the desert today, then. I'm pleased you are familiar with its perils."
"Excuse me?" Tace asked. "Brax just said everyone who goes there dies."
Frensia's eyes narrowed as they looked at each of the others in turn. "If we do not go, we will not find the second relic. It is hidden there, in the Fifth Sanctum."
"The Fifth Sanctum?" Tace asked.
Ademar felt a pit deep in his stomach. He knew about the Fifth Sanctum from his studies. And one thing was for sure: even if they survived the trip through the desert, they would never survive the Fifth Sanctum.
Chapter 24
Tace looked to Frensia for an answer, but the umgar, as usual, was not particularly forthcoming. She couldn't believe what the being was asking them to do. Travel into the Ciera Desert and find something called the Fifth Sanctum? She didn't know what that was, but she could tell by the look on Ademar's face that he did—and he wasn't happy about it. At all.
Tace had traveled into unknown territory before—to the north, where she'd happened upon the Staff of Jokan and Raseri's mother. She'd also been forced into a confrontation with her mentor that ended in him taking his own life. And now Frensia wanted her to do the same thing again? Travel to an unknown place with no idea of what might await them?
"We can't do this." Ademar stood, glaring down at Frensia. "The Fifth Sanctum isn't for us. It is for the human god."
"Oh?" Frensia cocked an eyebrow. "You mean the god you stopped worshipping many years ago? The one you barely believed in? Don't try to fool me, but certainly do not fool yourself, Ademar. You don't believe in Solnar any more than Tace does."
Ademar opened his mouth, then closed it, as if he thought better of fighting with Frensia.
"I don't care who believes in what supernatural being," Brax interjected. "We cannot survive a journey into the desert. It's a simple fact."
Frensia rolled their eyes. "Humans are so self-defeating." They turned to Tace. "Come now, tell me the orcs have a more adventurous spirit."
Tace glanced at Ademar and Brax. Their pale human bodies were so soft. She squared her shoulders. "I will do what needs to be done. But if Ademar and Brax say the desert is near impossible to traverse, I insist on a plan first. I won't head into the desert without knowing how we're going to survive."
"That is fair. Now, will you males agree to journey with us, or will you head back to your home in Soleth? We are not far away, as you know," Frensia said. "It would only be a few days' walk to cross over your borders."
"My home is in Agitar," Ademar said. "And I don't plan to go back there until I know how I can help the orcs."
Brax looked down at his boots. He kicked a rock, then sighed. "I owe the orcs a debt for the way my people treated them. It wasn't necessary for us to invade after Hugh's death. I will go with you."
"Very well then! Let us begin our journey." Frensia held the book firmly in one hand. "Get your packs."
"No." Tace set a hand on Frensia's shoulder. She was surprised by the coolness of the umgar's skin. The forest canopy kept them from experiencing the bulk of the heat of the southern part of the continent, but Tace's skin felt moist and disgusting. "We need a plan first."
"I have a plan. If you'll follow me…"
Frensia took off into the forest, tromping through it as if on a pleasant stroll in a flowery meadow.
Tace scratched Raseri's chin. "It's too bad your mother isn't here to fly us over the desert." She grabbed her pack off the ground.
"If anyone knows how to do this, it's an umgar," Ademar said. "Frensia has been in the Library of Filamir for years. It's possible they know something that will help us."
Brax hefted his pack onto his shoulder. "Do either of you find it difficult to refer to Frensia as they instead of he or she?"
"No," Tace and Ademar said in unison.
Tace wanted to like Brax. He was a warrior. He was strong. He was brave. But sometimes he was such a clod. "Let's go."
Tace pushed through the tree limbs, following the path Frensia had taken. She didn't want to lose the umgar, though she had a feeling Frensia only pushed as hard as they knew the others could keep up. Frensia had chosen to come with them, not to ditch them in the forest and run off with the book. Still, Tace kept an eye on Frensia's silver skin flashing through the greenery.
She picked up her speed, gaining on Frensia until she was behind the umgar.
"I promise I have a plan. A good plan," Frensia said. "But the longer we tarry, the harder it will be to accomplish."
"Understood," Tace said. "Sometimes I act before letting anyone know my reasons. I can respect that. Besides, how can I learn to trust you if I don't let you take the lead occasionally?"
"Perhaps you should give the same courtesy to the humans," Frensia said.
Tace stopped and looked back at the two men who'd given up everything to follow her on what might be a fool's mission. Frensia was right. She wasn't giving either of them enough credit. She treated Brax as if he were an afterthought. And Ademar… he'd become so important to her. While she let herself give in to him physically, she'd kept him at arm's length emotionally.
After her childhood, she had so little trust left in her. The Consecrated killed her father for his lack of belief in Drothu. Her brother left their home, and Tace had grown up with a mother who hid in their home all day long, only leaving in the evenings to ply a trade she wouldn't share with her daughter. So Tace had grown up mostly on her own, sneaking out during the day to buy edibles while her mother slept off the night's work. Tace had no one to rely on other than herself. That's what had led her to the assassin's guild; she had seen it as an opportunity to make up for her family's mistakes.
But, she saw now, it had also allowed her to use her emotional distance to an advantage. She cared for no one, so she had no qualms about killing someone else's loved one.
She'd begun to make some progress after meeting Ademar. But then Vron had announced he was her long-lost brother, and her world had shattered again. How long had he known she existed? How many years had he avoided her and their mother, even as they all lived in the same city? More lies. More reasons not to trust anyone.
Still, she knew there was no better path than forward, and only for that reason was she was willing to give Frensia the benefit of the doubt. She would trust the umgar to lead them to the next relic—and with it, hopefully she would find more information about how to stop whatever attack might be coming next.
Ademar came up next to her. "Are you okay? It's too soon for a break."
"Yes." Tace shook her head, forcing herself out of her thoughts. "One of my boots came untied. It's good. Let's keep moving. Frensia's not far ahead."
Brax passed them. "I'll be second this time. You two take the back for once."
Tace bowed, signaling for Ademar to follow Brax. "Humans first."
Ademar took Tace's hand in his and pulled her to him. "Let's do this together, Tace. No one has to come before anyone else."
Though they were talking about the order in which they walked, Tace knew he meant something much deeper than that. Ademar had never given her a moment to doubt him. Maybe she should try to trust him. Maybe he would be different from the orcs who had disappointed her in the past.
"Okay." Tace smiled, wondering if her grin looked as bizarre as Frensia's. She didn't smile as often as those goofy humans did. Her lips felt strange, straining to the sides, her tusks glinting in the bright morning light.
"You're gorgeous, do you know that?" Ademar said with a smile. "I can't believe how lucky I am." And without another word, he turned and followed Brax, leaving Tace standing there dumbfounded.
"I hope Frensia knows what they're talking about," Tace muttered under her breath. At the same time, she felt a strange warm sensation spread over her upper chest, neck, and cheeks. A blush. On an orc. It was embarrassing. It also felt damn good.
The trees slowly thinned out, becoming skinnier and farther apart t
he closer they walked to the desert. Sand mingled with the sparse, dry grass until eventually it completely gave way to a sea of tiny brown grains stretching out as far as Tace could see.
Tace swallowed a lump in her throat. The desert looked as impassable as Brax and Ademar said. She wiped the back of her hand over her forehead, her skin dripping with sweat. She missed the cool climate of her northern home. This place was unbearable.
Frensia held up a hand, presumably asking all of them for quiet. The umgar put a strange bone whistle to their mouth. Lips pursed around the mouthpiece, Frensia blew a gentle tone into the otherwise quiet landscape, and their fingers moved across the open holes.
"Do you think this is some good luck ditty?" Tace asked Ademar. "Something to ensure safe passage for us across the sands?"
Ademar laughed quietly. "It's not wholly unpleasant."
"I think this entire idea is madness," Brax said, not bothering to keep his voice down.
Frensia continued to play.
Tace waited as patiently as she could—which wasn't all that patiently. Finally, she'd had enough. She took a step toward the umgar, ready to insist Frensia stop and they get on their way.
The ground began to shake.
Tace pulled her daggers from her hips, remembering the way the ground had trembled before the xarlug emerged. Had another one found them? Had they traveled this far, only to die unexpectedly wrapped in the tentacles of another demon from the underground?
The sand rose, undulating in a pattern that seemed very unlike what she'd seen in Agitar. Still, Ademar leapt to her side, his sword drawn. A moment later, Brax joined them, his sword at the ready.
Frensia removed the whistle from their lips. "Hold your weapons! This is how we will travel across the sand!"
From the sand emerged a snake the likes of which Tace had never seen. It was the height of three draft horses stacked atop one another and ten times as long. Its skin was covered in slick scales that reflected the sunlight, and its long narrow mouth opened to reveal a forked tongue. Its body flowed over the sand, constantly moving as if stopping would cause it to die.
"What is that?" Tace asked, curious and more than a little frightened.
"A giant sand snake," Frensia said. "We will ride it to the entrance to the Fifth Sanctum."
"That thing will carry us across the desert?" Brax said, his eyes wide. "I don't know how I feel about this."
Tace smirked. "You can always go home." She pointed to the east. "I think Soleth is that way."
Brax glared at her, then stalked toward the snake. "I'll be fine."
"Let's mount," said Frensia. "Be sure to hold on. It moves quickly! You can grasp the scales like this!" The umgar grabbed a fistful of scales, then used their upper body strength to pull themselves, hand over hand, up the snake's body onto its back.
The snake continued moving as if nothing had changed. It didn't seem to mind being ridden.
Ademar shrugged, then climbed up behind Frensia. Tace hoisted Brax toward Ademar, who yanked his fellow human up with a strong jerk. Tace climbed up last, Raseri wrapped around her neck. She was surprised how soft the scales were; they were almost the consistency of fur.
Frensia blew the whistle again, playing the same tune as before. The snake darted toward the south, writhing over the hot desert sand toward the legendary Fifth Sanctum.
Chapter 25
Damor eyed the orc encampment from the comfort of his cushy tent. This was far better than the palanquin he'd had when he served his former queen. The elves understood comfort and luxury, and Queen Ambrielle gave him everything he wanted—as well as some things he hadn't even known to ask for. There was incense to mask the smells of the wild, a bell to call servants to his side, and an unending supply of honey wine.
"Today we will go into the orc camp and ask to speak to their leader," Queen Ambrielle said. "We must assess the situation before taking control. Unlike humans, I won't come in with my sword drawn. I hope you are amenable to doing things my way, Damor."
She used his true name when they were alone together, presumably as a reminder of the power she held over him. Damor tolerated it, though it added to his deep-seated anger.
He dipped his head in agreement. "I think your way is more subtle and will be far more effective than the ways of my former queen. I appreciate the elven aesthetic in all things." This wasn't empty flattery. He truly meant every word.
Damor also knew how clever and manipulative the queen was. She didn't want to be friends with the orcs; she wanted to conquer them. Damor appreciated her methods, but he wasn't stupid enough to think he was special. She wanted something from him—and he had to find out what it was before he unknowingly gave it to her… and became disposable.
Damor had his reasons for serving the elf queen, and they had very little to do with helping her take control of the orc lands. He wasn't sure how much she knew about the orc kingdom. There were six other orc cities, some more powerful than others. With Agitar destroyed, it was only a matter of time before a leader arose from another city. Queen Ambrielle might have plans to take control of a broken Agitar and its defeated orcs, but would she be able to stand up to an organized force from the other orc cities?
"Have you seen my daughter since yesterday?" Queen Ambrielle asked.
Damor tapped his finger to his chin, as if he needed to think about Nemia's whereabouts. She'd left in an angry huff after his repudiation of her. He didn't blame her. Maysant didn't belong in her mother's retinue. As for where she went, Damor had no idea. He could have used his magic to locate her, but he still wasn't back to his most powerful levels. More importantly, he didn't care. Maysant was a distraction; it was best she was gone.
"I haven't seen Maysant, but I'm sure she'll be back soon. I think it was hard for her to see us join forces." Damor kept to the truth, if a censored one.
"That child. Always running off like a petulant brat. I'm about to give up on her."
"In favor of Kazrack?" Damor asked. He'd had little time to suss out the queen's true feelings for her son. Kazrack had tried taking control of the orc empire on his own and had failed miserably—though to hear him tell it, if not for the xarlug getting in his way, he would already happily be their new leader.
Queen Ambrielle snorted. "My son thinks too highly of himself. It is obvious to me that they both need more education before either can rule."
Damor smiled, doing his best to appear genuine. "Then your two children will learn from the best."
"Three."
"I'm sorry?"
"I have three children."
"I had forgotten. Tell me, where is your third child?"
Queen Ambrielle sighed. "She is off on her own journey. I suspect she may be the most intelligent of the three. Unfortunately, her intellect took her on another path. I haven't seen her in years. I can only assume she's alive because I haven't been notified otherwise."
Damor filed this information away for future use. A third royal elven child lost to the wilds of the world. He would make it a priority to find her and learn as much as he could about her. "Then I suggest we make our move today."
The queen stood. "I'm going to call for my horse. How would you like to follow?"
Damor tried to hold back his surprise. Lissa would never have asked him. She would have ordered him to do as she said, whether he liked it or not. His palanquin had been acceptable, as had his ungrateful orc slaves, but he preferred something more subdued. Something that kept eyes away from him, instead of drawing the curious.
"I think if my legs are strapped on, I can ride sitting up on a horse. I only need a guard to walk beside me and help me to mount and dismount," Damor said. "But I plan to remain on the horse at all times. No need for anyone to see the weak human mewling whilst being carried in an elf’s arms."
"It will be odd enough to see a human among elves," Queen Ambrielle said, an eyebrow raised.
Damor reached up and pulled his fingers through his stringy hair. It fell over his ears, hiding the
most obvious part of his humanity.
Queen Ambrielle chuckled. "You think that will be enough to fool them? All humans think they look like elves, but really, can you not see the difference? My people fairly glow from the inside. They are beautiful. Regal. No human could ever be mistaken for an elf."
Damor held his anger inside, coddling it as a mother would a petulant child. "Hopefully it's enough to make my presence unremarkable."
Queen Ambrielle reached into a bag she’d brought with her, rifled through it, then tossed a midnight blue cape to Damor. "Put this on. It's befitting a mage and will hide your inadequacies."
Damor pulled the cloak over his shoulders and yanked the hood over his head. It was dark, as he liked it, and yet he appeared as one of them. Not something separate. The ridiculous pink palanquin Queen Lissa had insisted he ride in had made him a source of ridicule. Here, he would blend in.
It would give him the best opportunity to complete his goals.
"Thank you," he said, surprised at how genuine he sounded. He couldn't remember the last time he'd truly been thankful for anything—not even when Nemia had saved his life. Even then, he had reconciled himself to the inevitable. Coming back from the dead wasn't a gift—it was a burden to bear. One he would not squander.
"I will send my herald out first, to assess the situation," the queen said. "The orcs will be happy to get assistance from the elven empire. In case they are not so amiable, my herald is also a trained warrior. We will know soon whether we can march into the orc camp unhindered. Once we do, my plan will go into motion. Soon, I will rule this ruined group of orcs. They will come to love me for helping them in their time of need."
Damor nodded his assent. Her goals were his… for now. As always, he would use those around him to his own benefit until they were expendable.
This elven queen was no different from the others.