by Megg Jensen
He didn’t flinch.
“Would you like to go to the surface, Vron? I’ve decided to set you free.” Nemia wanted to see how he would react.
He still didn’t move.
“Slam his head into the wall,” she ordered her deaf bodyguard.
Azlinar translated with his hands.
The bodyguard stalked over to Vron, grabbed his head with his massive hands, and slammed Vron’s face into the wall. Blood poured from Vron’s broken nose.
But still, he didn’t react.
“Good,” said Nemia. “I’m satisfied he has finally succumbed to the illness. We will emerge from underground tomorrow with our army. We will finally restore sanity to the orcs of Agitar. With Azlinar’s herbs, we can protect those who are well. We will rebuild the city to its former glory. And if they oppose us, we have the power to turn all of their infected orcs to our side.”
“All hail the queen,” Azlinar said, smiling.
Excitement spread through her as she traversed the tunnels back to her personal residence in the castle. Soon she would show everyone how worthy she was of their worship. She would be their greatest savior. She might even someday be remembered as the deity who had brought the orcs of Agitar back from the brink of extinction.
Chapter 43
Ademar woke from a night of fitful dreams. Today they would face their challenges.
He’d once studied the Fifth Sanctum, yet still he knew nothing of what was to come—because no one had ever survived to tell the tale. All knowledge was speculation—and so far, all of the speculation had been wrong.
They had spent two full days in silence in their chambers. They were told to prepare for the challenges, but not how or why. Only at mealtimes were they allowed to see each other, and even then, they barely spoke. They were too lost in their thoughts. Especially Tace, who had stopped talking completely once she found out Ademar had nothing of value to offer in preparation.
He dressed slowly, a feeling of dread in his stomach like a sinking stone. It was the same every waking moment. At any time the boy might arrive to tell Ademar it was his turn to take the challenge. He would survive, or die trying. He had a lot of reasons to live, more than he’d ever had before, but he knew reasons alone wouldn’t save him. He would have to earn his life from that moment on. Every breath, every thought, every choice would turn him down another path.
“Only one leads to life,” said a voice.
He whipped his head around, looking for the source of the voice. The intruder had spied on his very thoughts. It gave him an even sicker feeling in his gut.
“Your time has come,” the voice said. It wasn’t the boy; this voice was female, high-pitched, but light, as if she couldn’t take in enough air to speak a whole sentence. Shivers skittered down his spine.
“What am I to do?”
“Disrobe,” the voice said matter-of-factly.
“I will not!” Ademar reached for his tunic that lay on his bed, but found his feet frozen in place.
“Disrobe!” the voice commanded.
Ademar tried once again to lift his feet, but they were stuck to the floor. Grumbling under his breath, he untied the string on his breeches and dropped them to the floor.
“Disrobe!” the voice screeched.
Ademar’s hands flew to cover his ears, and as he did, his undergarment fell to his ankles. A cold breeze swept over his private parts, as if something, or someone, was moving past him.
“Disobey again, and I will eject you from the Fifth Sanctum into oblivion.” The voice was disconcertingly sweet once more.
Feeling more vulnerable than ever before, Ademar covered himself in front.
“Come.”
A strange, pulsing vortex appeared in his chamber. He blinked furiously as the shimmering light.
“Come,” the voice repeated, less gently.
Ademar tried lifting his feet again, and was surprised to find they were no longer stuck to the floor. With the cold stone floor under his toes, he stepped toward the strange light.
“Enter. Begin your trials.”
He swallowed hard, thinking of everything he had waiting for him if he survived. Tace. Knowledge that would help them stop the infection spreading through the orcs of Agitar. More understanding of what the orcs were facing from their vengeful god Drothu. A full life.
Steeling his fists at his sides, Ademar closed his eyes and stepped into the vortex.
A strange liquid surrounded him, filling every crevice of his body, like it was sucking him in. He couldn’t breathe, but it was almost as if he didn’t need to. Something was keeping him alive. That same something guided his body forward. He fell onto his knees on a soft surface.
Ademar opened his eyes. He was surprised to find that he was dressed in a dark, one-piece uniform. A whack across the back of his head forced him to his feet. He turned around, ready to face his attacker.
It was Tace.
She was dressed similarly, but with a black hood pulled high over her head. Her eyes, swirling red with bloodlust, focused squarely on him.
“Are you prepared to meet Drothu?” she asked in a voice he’d heard out of her only once—when he’d walked in on her attempt to assassinate Hugh.
“Tace, it’s me. Ademar. I don’t know if this is part of your challenge, but we can fight this together.” He held out a hand toward her.
“As custom dictates, we don’t know each other. What we are about to do will only be judged in the eyes of Drothu. No mercy.” She tilted her head to the side, and there was no sign of recognition in her posture. “We were ordered not to give names. It’s clever of you to try to distract me with yours. And how you know mine is a mystery. Still, I won’t let it affect what I need to do here today.”
She truly did not know who he was, and it appeared there would be no way to get through to her. This was his challenge? To fight the orc?
Ademar dropped his hands to his sides. “I won’t fight you.”
A smile slithered across Tace’s face. “I know the game you play, stranger. But I won’t fall for it.”
She lunged at him, her sword ripping the sleeve of his shirt as Ademar dodged to the side.
She’d taught him about fighting. He knew her every move. Ademar took a step back, then kicked hard, knocking the sword from her hands. Before she could reach for the daggers she always had concealed at her waist, Ademar grabbed her, spun her around, and locked her back against his chest.
“If you so much as try to touch me sexually, I will grab your tongue and rip it out of your mouth,” she spat.
“I don’t want to fight you or touch you inappropriately. I want you to stop.”
Tace struggled against him, but he held tight until his muscles ached. She had always matched him in strength, and he wouldn’t last long—but if she didn’t know his name, then maybe she didn’t know that about him either. She’d try something different before trying to outlast him.
As if she read his mind, Tace stomped on his booted foot hard enough to cause him to see stars. He let go, staggering backward.
Before he could recover, she came at him with daggers drawn. Calculated slashes left his shirt in ribbons, his blood dripping from burning wounds.
“Tace, don’t do this,” he begged. He knew the truth: she was the superior fighter. She always had been. Every time they’d fought, she’d pulled her punches, and she never let him forget it.
“One of us must die,” Tace said. “Assassins leave no victims. Only one of us will be initiated in the guild.” She smiled again, hurting his heart. How he loved that smile when it was wry, but now it was something much more dangerous. It was a side of her he’d only glimpsed, and never quite believed was real. “And I can promise you,” she added, “it will be me.”
As she lunged at him again, Ademar gave up. He would not fight her.
He closed his eyes, spread his arms wide, and let her daggers penetrate the sides of his chest, puncturing his lungs. He fell to his knees, then onto his side, blood spu
rting out of his wounds with every gurgled breath.
She would have her place in the guild. And that place would eventually lead her to the assignment where she would meet him.
“Tace,” he said, struggling to speak through the bubbling blood in his throat.
She knelt on the ground next to him. “Yes?”
“I love you.”
She snarled, then pulled one of her daggers over his throat, ending his life in one swift movement.
Ademar’s eyes snapped open. He sat up in his chamber, his naked body covered in sweat. His hands fumbled over his throat and up and down his sides. He was whole. He was alive.
“Do you see now who you have brought here?” the sweet voice said. “She has taken many lives. She will continue to take more. We need her to do this to complete her journey as the savior of the orcs. Can you allow that side of her to flourish in service of righteousness?”
Ademar swallowed hard. He was grateful he was still alive, but sick at what he’d seen. He had always known Tace was an assassin. He knew what she was capable of. Still, experiencing it for himself… that was different. She had no compassion, no inhibition when it came to killing. He might even admit she had relished watching him die.
“Was that really Tace?” he asked. “Was this her challenge, too?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
“Tace’s challenge is not for you to know, as yours is not for her to know. But I will tell you, she has yet to face her trial. Hope she passes as you did.”
“And if she doesn’t? If she is a savior, surely you will let her pass,” he said.
But no one answered. The voice had gone.
Chapter 44
Brax paced his room. He’d been awake for hours now. Or at least he thought it had been hours. It was hard to tell since they’d given him a chamber with no windows. It might as well have been a prison. He didn’t know when, or if, they’d ever let him out. And when they did? He shuddered thinking about the challenge that lay ahead. He had no idea what it was. If it involved using his brawn, he’d pass. He prided himself on maintaining a strong body. But if it involved using his wits… well, he had to admit his mind wasn’t as sharp as his sword. He wasn’t dumb, but he wasn’t the village genius either.
Right now, it was the wait that was killing him. He wanted to face whatever they chose to put in front of him right now, before he went insane thinking about what it could be.
“Tace!”
The voice came from the other side of one wall of his room. It sounded like Ademar’s voice, but… wrong somehow. Like Ademar was afraid of her.
“Ademar? Where are you?”
He heard his friend call out again, followed by an unpleasant gurgling noise.
“No, no, no.” What was that damn orc doing to Ademar? Brax wasn’t better friends with the human than the orc, but damn it, he wouldn’t let them fight each other.
He turned toward the door. His heart pounding, he steeled himself, then threw his weight against it. It groaned, but didn’t budge.
He hit it again, then again and again, until his shoulder throbbed. Finally, he threw his hip into it.
The lock busted, and the door flew open.
Brax ran into the hall, unsure where he was going. Ademar had quieted after that gurgling noise, but Brax could still hear another voice—someone speaking quietly in the orc tongue. It had to be Tace. She was the only orc there, as far as he knew.
Brax moved down the hall in the direction of the voice, his heart pounding. Ademar had been hurt. Was it part of the challenge? Nothing made sense in this strange place.
He was beginning to regret coming here at all. He should have gone home with the other humans. He should have left the others after the Library of Filamir. Nothing was worth this nonsense. Certainly not some misplaced sense of honor to help the orcs. Why had he ever thought this was a good idea in the first place? He should have been scouring the forests for his brother, Ghrol, not living this fool’s adventure. As soon as he got out of the Fifth Sanctum, he was going home. Forget all of this adventuring. It was too much.
“Help!” called a strangled voice.
Brax had no doubt this time. It was Ademar.
“I’m coming!” He ran down the hall, turning corners, letting only the strangled sounds guide him.
His mouth went dry as he continued. He was out of breath, but he wouldn’t stop, not knowing Ademar lay injured somewhere close. Ademar would come to his aid just as doggedly if Brax were the one hurt. Ademar was that kind of man. Brax would be too, this one last time. And then he would go home.
He turned another corner and skidded to a halt. Ademar lay on the floor, his throat slit, blood pouring forth.
Brax dropped to his knees beside his friend. He pressed his hand over Ademar’s throat, the sticky blood squishing under his fingers. “Who did this to you?”
“Tace,” Ademar whispered.
“Tace did this?” Brax wanted to be sure Ademar wasn’t just calling out for the orc.
“Yes,” Ademar answered.
Anger surged in Brax’s chest. She was as foul as he’d suspected from the first day he’d laid eyes on her.
Unfortunately, he’d come to that realization too late. Ademar had been fooled into falling for the orc. Sleeping with her. Protecting her. And she had repaid him with a slit throat. Clearly her assassin days were not behind her.
“I’ll kill her. I’ll avenge you,” Brax assured Ademar.
“Thank you,” Ademar managed to get out with one final gurgle. Then his eyes looked upward and went blank. His chest was still.
Brax rested his palm over Ademar’s eyes and gently pulled his eyelids down. As he stood, a fire burned in his belly. He would kill the orc. He would avenge his friend. Then he would get out of this forsaken place.
“Tace!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the hallways. “I know what you’ve done! Come out and fight me!”
“Prepare to meet Solnar, your ridiculous sun god,” she responded with a snicker.
Brax whipped his head around, searching for the source of her voice. But this place had a strange layout, and the acoustics were disorienting. He couldn’t be sure from which direction she had spoken.
“Come out and fight like a proper soldier!” he shouted. “Assassins are good for nothing more than sneaking around. You’re a coward!” He was hoping to anger her and tempt her out of her hiding place. Tace didn’t like to be goaded.
“You’re afraid,” she hissed. “As you should be.”
Brax turned his back to a wall and clenched his hands into fists. He didn’t have a sword, and she had her daggers. But he was a damn good fighter. He had a chance. Ademar hadn’t. Ademar was a holy man. While he’d likely trained, it was nothing compared to what Brax had gone through in order to become commander of the queen’s army.
Brax wasn’t afraid of an orc. Especially not Tace. She would pay for her arrogance.
The torches lining the hallway flickered, then went out, enveloping Brax in total darkness.
Fine. She could play that game if she wanted. She couldn’t see any better in the dark then he could. He’d stay at the ready. She might get one shot in, but after that, he would be in control.
Something rustled to his left. Brax pivoted, ready for the inevitable first blow. But it didn’t come.
“Gotcha. Don’t move,” she whispered in his ear from behind.
Before Brax could react, she’d put a dagger to his throat.
“Why are you doing this?” Brax asked, sweat beading on his brow. “Why did you kill Ademar?”
“We came here to learn secrets,” Tace whispered. “I passed my challenge and learned them. The two of you are disposable.”
Brax knew his only hope was to talk himself out of this. “Then why not let us go?” he asked. “Why kill us? I don’t know the secrets you’ve uncovered. I’m not a threat.”
“You know too much.” Tace drew the dagger lightly, piercing only the top layer of his skin. It burned, but didn�
��t bleed. Yet. “I can’t have you around anymore. You’ll spoil everything.”
Brax closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then jabbed his elbows backward, cracking her ribs. Tace stumbled, and something clattered to the floor. The dagger. She would have one more. If he could disarm her, then maybe he could escape with his life.
“That was a mistake,” she hissed. She leapt at him, her form barely visible in the dark hall.
Brax grabbed one of her arms clumsily. He fumbled for purchase, and managed to wrap his fingers around her forearm, jerking her toward him. He grabbed her hair with his other hand, and with a quick twist of his wrist, he had her down on her knees.
Tace leaned in toward his cock. “Oh, is that how you wanted it? You were jealous of Ademar?”
Despite himself, he felt the strain of desire. He’d denied himself carnal pleasures for so long. Now he took it where he could get it. But not this time. Not this way.
He yanked on her hair, pulling her head back. “Not on your life. Now let me go, and you’ll never have to see me again.”
“Only one of us leaves the Fifth Sanctum.”
“Then I guess it’s going to be me.” Brax squatted, grabbed the dagger she’d dropped on the floor, and thrust it into her chest. He twisted it until he heard the familiar gurgle from her throat.
He’d done it. Defeated her. Ended this madness.
“That was the last mistake you’ll ever make.” Tace’s eyes glowed red in the darkness.
And then the torches came back to life.
Tace’s body slumped over, then split in two. A beast emerged from the inside, as if Tace had only been a shell.
Brax staggered backward.
“You had one challenge to pass. You have failed.” The beast’s disgusting maw opened, spittle hanging from its jagged teeth.
“Challenge? This was the challenge?” Brax stumbled over his words. “I thought…”
“I know what you thought. This wasn’t real. This was our way of finding out if you’d protect Tace at all costs. You turned too easily. You showed us you couldn’t be trusted.”
“No!” Brax said. “This wasn’t fair. I wasn’t expecting—”