A Legacy of Blood

by Megg Jensen

  “They never are.” The beast chortled. “Ademar let Tace win. He knew she had to live above all others. He believed in her. You did not.”

  “Give me another chance,” Brax stammered. “Erase my memory and let me try again.”

  “There is only one attempt.”

  The beast placed its paw on Brax’s chest. He could feel it on his heart, squeezing. He would be dead in moments.

  All he could think about was how he’d failed Ghrol. He should have looked for his brother. He should have known better.

  But it was too late.

  His heart exploded in his chest.

  Chapter 45

  Tace lay on her cot, her arms crossed over her chest, with Raseri curled up next to her hip. She already knew she would face with bravery whatever challenge they chose to throw at her. She feared little in this world—even if the being who ruled the Fifth Sanctum had already seen into her deepest secrets. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain. If she could receive knowledge about how to stop the infection ripping through her orcs, it would be worth all the pain. This challenge was but one more step in her quest to understand what the symbols meant, and how to use them to save her orcs.

  She laughed to herself. Not long ago, she had killed orcs indiscriminately, caring little for the person behind the death order. And after they died, Tace did her best to forget them, to avoid second-guessing herself. Now it was her hope to save as many orcs as she could. Dying in this way… it went against everything her religion taught. Dying in battle was the honorable way to meet Drothu after death. It was why she’d been an assassin with no remorse.

  A lifetime ago, her parents had strictly forbidden Tace and her brother to follow the religion of Drothu, which, in the end, was what had pushed Tace even closer to it. Her father was murdered. Her brother left home. She and her mother fled the town of Kanta. Their life was in shambles, all due to her parents’ rejection of Drothu.

  So she had done everything she could to make up for it, becoming the best assassin to ever work for the guild in Agitar. And where had that gotten her? Mired in a religious war between the Defiants and the Consecrated.

  And then the xarlug had arrived. Many believed it was a harbinger of Drothu’s return. The very god Tace had been trying to please had wreaked destruction on them. And she’d been more than happy to fight against him.

  Tace groaned. Everything she’d done, all the lives she’d taken in Drothu’s name, had been for naught. With her actions in Agitar, she’d turned her back on the orc god. She doubted there was a route back. Her family’s souls were doomed.

  So was hers.

  A light knock sounded on the door.

  She rose from the cot, walked to the door, and opened it. She expected to see a tray of food on the floor. Instead, a small human girl stood outside, dressed in rags, her hair a tangle.

  “Hello,” Tace said uneasily. She had thought no one else was in the castle besides her, Ademar, Frensia, Brax, and the odd little boy who’d greeted them.

  “One has failed and died,” the girl said. “The other passed and is alive.” She looked up at Tace with wide green eyes. “What will I say about you when the day is done?”

  “You will tell me I’ve passed, and you’ll give me the information I came here seeking.” Tace wanted to ask if Ademar had survived, but she assumed if the girl was going to give her the answer, she already would have. Besides, if Ademar had failed, Tace didn’t want to know until after she’d faced her own challenge. Knowing he was dead would compromise her ability to concentrate, and she had a feeling she’d need every ounce of focus she could muster.

  The little girl smiled, her bright white teeth a sharp contrast with her disheveled countenance. “I know you hope it is so. I must confess, I do as well. I have a great deal of information I want to share with you.” She pouted. “But I need to know you’re ready to receive it.”

  “What will you have me fight?” Tace asked. She expected she’d have to prove her strength by fighting another beast. Maybe something similar to the xarlug. She’d spent her time in the cell exercising. She wanted to be ready for the battle.

  “Oh, it’s not so simple as that.” The girl reached out a hand.

  Tace took it. She was surprised at how cold the girl’s skin felt.

  “Your dragon cannot come.”

  Tace nodded. “Raseri, stay here,” she said. It was for the best; she didn’t want the dragon to get hurt.

  Raseri’s head hung, but she didn’t follow as the girl pulled Tace out of the room and down the hall. They moved quickly, and Tace almost had to break into a run to keep up.

  “Where are we going?” Tace asked.

  “You’ll see.” The girl stopped and looked up at Tace with those wide eyes. “But you won’t like it. I don’t even want to take you there, but I have to. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Tace swallowed a lump in her throat. “I’m willing to do whatever is necessary.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that.” The little girl started forward again, tugging on Tace’s hand.

  Soon they rounded a corner into a huge hall. “Wait here,” the girl said. “It’ll start soon. I hope you don’t die.”

  “Thanks. Me, too.”

  The little girl ran to the other end of the empty hall, where she seemed to simply disappear into the shadows.

  Tace shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The hall was completely unremarkable. Plain stone walls rose to a stone ceiling. There was no furniture. No art. The room was completely empty, save Tace. She waited.

  A throat cleared behind her. Tace spun around, her fists at the ready.

  But the orc before her only smiled. Tace dropped her hands to her sides, her stomach in her throat. “Mother?”

  Her mother was dead. Tace had seen them carry the body through Agitar, her arm hanging out of the shroud. Her mother’s hand had worn the dragon ring Tace had so admired as a small child. After that, Tace had fled town.

  “It wasn’t me you saw.”

  Tace’s jaw dropped.

  “Now come on. Let’s get out of here before they kill you.” Her mother cocked her head to the side. “They will, you know. The Fifth Sanctum is only a house of tricks. It swallows us whole.”

  “I don’t understand,” Tace said. “I saw…”

  “I know what you saw, sweetie. It was a trick. I had to get out of Agitar. It was the only way.” She strode toward Tace, quickly closing the gap between them. She reached out and rested her hand on Tace’s arm. Her hand was warm, not like the touch of the little girl who’d brought her here. “I’m here with friends. We’ve come to rescue you.”

  “How is that possible?” Tace had to hold back tears. She wouldn’t let herself cry, damn it. Not after everything she’d been through.

  “We’ve been tracking you since you flew to Agitar on the back of that dragon. Spectacular, you know? I was so proud.” Her mother smiled. It was the same smile Tace had always known and loved. “Now let’s go.”

  “Wait.” Tace held back. “One of my friends is still alive. We have to find them.”

  Her mother’s eyes fell. “I’m afraid that was another trick of the Fifth Sanctum. Both of your friends are dead. They must have failed their challenges. I can’t let the same thing happen to you.”

  “Did you see their bodies?” Tace asked. “Can you take me to them?”

  Her mother looked over her shoulder. “My friends are waiting for us out there, but we don’t have much time. Whatever they have planned for you might show up at any moment.” She wrapped her arms around Tace, pulling her into a hug. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  It really hadn’t been so long, only weeks, since Tace had last seen her mother on that fateful morning of her murder—or what Tace had believed was her murder. But it seemed like an eternity ago. So much had happened since then. So much had changed.

  “Come with me, sweetie. I’ll get you to safety.” Her mother held out her hand. The silver dragon ring was wrapped aro
und her finger. If Tace had had any doubt this was her mother, that doubt now dissipated.

  But still she held back. She didn’t want to face the challenge, but without it, she wouldn’t get the information she’d come here seeking.

  “I can’t,” she said in a whisper.

  “Why ever not?”

  “If I leave, I won’t know how to stop the infection or find the other relics. The orcs of Agitar will die.” Tace steeled her fists at her sides. “I have to complete what I came here to do. You should wait outside. As soon as I have what I need, we can leave together, okay?”

  The smile disappeared from her mother’s face. “That’s not an option.”

  “It’s the only option,” Tace said. She’d never so fully defied her mother before, which only went to show how much she’d changed since she’d left Agitar with Ademar. “Wait outside, Mother.”

  “Mother?” She cackled. “Children should obey their mothers, not stomp their feet like petulant children.”

  “I’m staying. If you want to leave without me, then leave.” Tace crossed her arms over her chest, not caring if she appeared every inch a child.

  “You will pay for your choices.”

  Tace’s mother bent forward. A great tearing sound echoed in the room as her skin ripped in two.

  Tace jumped backward. The challenge. Her mother had been the challenge the entire time.

  Her mother’s body fell to the floor like a discarded piece of clothing. A great horned beast stood in her place, black wings protruding from its back.

  “You made the right choice,” it hissed. “But it will leave you marked forever. This is a day you can no longer turn away from. The path only goes toward the final fight. If you take one step off of it, you will perish.”

  The beast reached one claw toward Tace.

  She stood still, facing her challenge. Part of her screamed inside, urging her to kill it. But another part of her advocated patience.

  Its hand wrapped around Tace’s wrist and yanked her close. Putrid breath spilled from its cracked red lips. A small, forked tongue snaked from its mouth and dragged its rough surface from her chin up over her face.

  Tace didn’t resist. She’d been forced to defy her beautiful mother, but everything in her said she needed to let this… thing… do whatever it wanted to her.

  Her arm began to ache where the first tattoo had appeared. The beast dragged its claw over Tace’s skin, just above the first tattoo, and drew what she knew would be the second.

  The beast released her, and through tears of pain, Tace looked down at her arm. Blood dripped from the new marking. It was a rune, two half moons with a wavy line between them, just as Kindara had shown her in the forest weeks ago.

  But she saw something else, something puzzling. Her mother’s dragon ring was now on her left index finger. Tace gazed at the dragon’s body, wrapped three times around her finger, the head near her knuckle and the tail at the base of her finger. She touched it, then gently tugged, but the ring didn’t budge.

  There was no denying it. Tace was on a path she had chosen, and she’d be damned if she left it now.

  Chapter 46

  Ylantri stood over another orc. This was the fourteenth time since she’d arrived at Agitar that she let another soul pass into her. A sigh escaped her lips as she exhaled with him on his final breath. It was done.

  She pulled the black veil over her face again, covering her lips and nose. Retrieving a length of linen from her pack, she carefully wrapped his body, taking care to cover anything that might spread the disease. Finally, she passed her hand over his eyes, closing the lids.

  After saying a small benediction under her breath, Ylantri emerged from the tent. “I’m sorry,” she said to the orc waiting outside. “You should take his body now, before the disease jumps to someone else. I have wrapped him in linen. Take care not to touch his skin.”

  The orc nodded. Death was a part of the everyday now.

  “Ylantri!”

  Dalgron, the orc general, stood not far away, waving to her. A small human stood next to him, her skin wrinkled and her hair sparkling silver in the sunlight. Ylantri steeled herself for another round of questions.

  Why aren’t you saving more? When will we defeat this infection?

  She had no answers. She saved those who had enough life in them to survive. The others, she took before their souls could pass elsewhere. But the orc general wouldn’t understand that. None of them would. And as for the second question? His guess was as good as hers. The infection persisted, despite their efforts to isolate the sick. She feared there was more to this infection than a simple virus. It seemed… off, somehow.

  Dalgron’s hand rested on the shoulder of the old woman, and to Ylantri’s surprise, he was smiling.

  “How may I serve?” she asked Dalgron, bowing her head briefly.

  “This is Hilthe. She has arrived with a cure for the infection,” Dalgron said, beaming.

  “Really?” Ylantri took the woman’s measure. She had no doubt that the woman fancied herself a healer—many crones did, claiming their long life meant they knew something about healing. But often, they were simply lucky. “Do tell.”

  “I am not sure if you know of my friend, Hugh,” Hilthe said. “He was the high priest of Solnar until he tragically passed here in Agitar.”

  “Yes, I have heard of this Hugh.” Ylantri had also heard that he had taken his own life rather than be assassinated. It was an intriguing concept. Instead of fighting, he gave up. Intriguing indeed.

  “Well, I’ve brought his body here. His relics seem capable of healing the infected.”

  Hilthe said this so matter-of-factly that Ylantri couldn’t help but laugh. Humans and their strange beliefs. As if such a thing were possible.

  “It’s true,” the old woman insisted. “A single strand of his hair already healed a faun who was on the brink of death. We’ve brought his body to aid in the healing efforts. And we arrived just in time. One of your healers nearly kept us out of the barrier.”

  Ylantri pulled her veil under her chin. “Yes, I recall hearing of your insistence.”

  Hilthe harrumphed and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Ylantri had expected a different reaction—embarrassment perhaps? Yet this human appeared annoyed. Ylantri couldn’t help but warm to her.

  “Well then, I already told you why we’re here and what we need to do,” Hilthe said. “Why have you sent our emissaries away each time we’ve approached you? Why did it take me convincing Dalgron to come with me?” Hilthe glared at Ylantri. “Innocent orcs have died.”

  “And others have recovered,” Ylantri reminded the woman. “Or have your emissaries not told you, just as I told them? We are doing the very best we can. In any disease, there are always some who cannot be saved. It is a fact of life.”

  “But these relics can heal even the most dire. I have seen it with my own eyes. If you would but let me try—”

  “Fine.” Ylantri cut her off. “Come with me now. I was about to move on to the next patient. Shall I assume you’re carrying relics with you right now?”

  Hilthe’s eyes widened, but she quickly composed herself. “Yes.” She patted the bag resting on her hip.

  “Then we shall test your theory right now.” Ylantri turned to Dalgron. “Thank you.”

  “Of course,” he said. “Please, save my orcs.”

  “I shall do my best, as always.” Ylantri motioned for Hilthe to follow.

  Making her way through the camp, Ylantri kept ahead of Hilthe by no more than half a step. As they traversed the trampled prairie grass, she increased her speed ever so slightly. Ylantri needed the human to learn her place.

  She stopped short of a tent with a red X painted on it. “I am going to pull my veil over my face again. I suggest you find something to wrap over yours.”

  “I don’t need it.” Hilthe held up her wrist. A thin gray hair wound around it. “Hugh will protect me.”

  Ylantri held back an eye roll. I
f Hilthe were to eventually understand how foolish this was, she would need to think Ylantri believed her. Otherwise she’d continued to cling to her silly notions.

  “Then come.” Ylantri stepped into the tent and held the flap up for Hilthe.

  A small torch flickered inside, the smoke lazily leaving through a hole in the top of the canvas. On the ground lay an orc female, wasted away to practically nothing. She would be the next death of the day.

  “This is Floran,” Ylantri said. “She fell ill nearly a week ago. None of our remedies have helped her. I was on my way to sit with her until the end. It is not far away.”

  “May I?” Hilthe asked.

  Ylantri nodded.

  Hilthe rummaged through her pack and pulled out a single strand of hair. She knelt on the ground next to Floran. “I’ve come to cure you,” she said.

  Ylantri grimaced. Nothing like giving false hope to the dying.

  But Floran was too far gone to respond. A bubble of spittle formed at the side of her mouth.

  “I’m going to wrap this around your pinky finger. You’ll start to feel better very soon, okay?” Gently, Hilthe wound the strand about the orc’s bent finger.

  She looked up at Ylantri. “Come, see,” she said. “It won’t take long.”

  Ylantri leaned forward. She took Floran’s other hand in hers, hoping to comfort the orc. When the soul was at peace upon death, it was much easier for Ylantri to live with it inside her.

  Hilthe rocked back on her feet, waiting expectantly. Ylantri was impressed with her belief, but the woman would quickly learn how wrong she was. The desiccated parts of a dead man could never bring anyone back from the brink of death.

  A strange warmth radiated in Floran’s hand. Without letting Hilthe see her curiosity, Ylantri leaned in. She could detect a flush of color returning to Floran’s cheeks. Something was actually happening. Was it simply Floran’s reaction to hope? It had to be.

  Ylantri glanced at Hilthe, who didn’t seem to notice the change. It was subtle, and these were signals Ylantri had been trained to notice.