[Queen of Orcs 03] - Royal Destiny (37 page)

Sevren didn’t follow the foothills in case someone tracked him as a deserter. Instead, he took a southwest route until he reached the river. It was a small and shallow waterway, and winter had reduced its flow. When Sevren urged Skymere into it, the water seldom reached the horse’s knees. He rode upstream a distance in order to leave no trail. Then he crossed to the other side and rode a greater distance before crossing back. Satisfied that he had thrown off any possible pursuers, he followed the river into the mountains, looking for Dar and the orcs.

Sevren found a faint trace of footprints along the riverbank as the sun neared the horizon. Noting approvingly that Dar had taken care to obscure the tracks, he urged his steed onward. It was near dusk when he spotted a single line of marchers. Aware that his weapons and leather armor gave him the appearance of a common soldier, he called out, “Muth Mauk! Ma nav Sevren!” The marchers slowed and Sevren caught up with them.

Yev-yat had told Dar that the urkzimmuthi never used the Old Road in winter, even when it was the only route to Taiben. Dar had spent the afternoon learning why. The way was more a path than a road. In good weather, it was probably narrow and difficult. Covered with snow, it was hidden and treacherous. What appeared to be solid ground sometimes proved to be snow-covered ice. Zna-yat had fallen through five times. Caution slowed their progress, and Dar feared the journey would take more than five days. Yet, despite her sense of urgency, Sevren’s appearance gave her a welcome chance to slacken the pace for a spell. He dismounted when he reached the line of marchers and let Skymere trail behind the column. Ever since the horse had borne Dar to the Yat clan hall, he had lost his fear of orcs. Then Sevren hurried his pace until he reached Dar.

“Tava, Sevren.”

“Tava, Muth Mauk. Ma fwilak ther sav.”
Greetings, Great Mother. I pleased you see.

“What news have you from Taiben?” asked Dar in Orcish.

Sevren attempted to respond in the same tongue. “Girtaz son new great washavoki. Kol no go yet. Many washavokis came.”

Dar switched to the human tongue. “When do you think they’ll march?”

“When I left, more units were still arriving,” said Sevren, relieved to express himself more easily. “I think Kol won’t make a move until all his troops assemble. Nobody is certain when that will be. A day or two, at least.”

“What about the pass? Any word of it?”

“I didn’t hear a thing.”

“Even if Lama-tok and Ven-goth got through, the Tok clan wouldn’t have sealed it yet,” said Dar, more to herself than Sevren. “Have you learned anything else?”

“Aye, something useful. All the soldiers will carry their own rations. Each was issued two days’ worth. I saw no supply wagons, which means Kol plans to feed his men with plunder.”

“Two days’ rations will be enough to get them to the Yat clan hall.”

“An army moves slowly. I suspect hunger will spur the men by the time they attack.”

“The road may hinder their assault,” said Dar, “but not our hall.”

“Aye. ’Tis na fortress,” said Sevren. “Kol’s na preparing for a siege.”

“He has no need,” said Dar, thinking of the hall’s lightly built doors and numerous windows. “How many men will Kol have?”

“When I left, troops overflowed the garrison. I’d say there were nine regiments on foot, and more coming. Nearly two thousand men.”

Sevren’s talk of logistics and tactics made the imminent attack seem more concrete.
How many sons remain to protect the hall? Do they have weapons? Armor?
As Dar thought these matters over, she feared any defense would be futile. “The pass must be sealed at all costs,” she said, unconsciously picking up the pace.

“I brought Queen Girta boots and winter riding garments,” said Sevren. “That way, she can ride Skymere when she’s able.”

“And what of you?”

“I’ll walk with the rest.”

“You’ve done enough. There’s no reason to stay.”

“Remember how I spoke of leaving home with only a sword to earn my way?”

“I remember.”

“I was just a lad, with a boy’s understanding of the world. I thought I’d protect the weak. Right wrongs.” Sevren shook his head over his naïveté. “I quickly learned the nature of my patrons and my trade. But this time is different.”

“Because it’s hopeless?”

“Na hopeless. Do na say that.”

“If the pass isn’t sealed, what chance will we have?”

“What chance did you have when you last faced the mage? Worthy causes need na be lost ones. I want to fight for you. I need to.”

“Then you may. And thanks,” said Dar. She smiled somewhat sadly. “I keep sending you away, then thanking you for remaining.”

“Aye, that’s the pattern to our dance.”

Dar lapsed into silence, and Sevren fell in step behind her. It grew dark. Since Zna-yat led the column, that wasn’t a problem, and Dar intended to keep marching a while longer. Yet when the river turned a bend, she suddenly shouted, “Gat!”
Stop!

Zna-yat halted immediately, asking in Orcish, “What is it, Muth Mauk?”

“Someone’s coming.”

Zna-yat said nothing. He simply moved behind Dar. As he did so, Dar saw by his expression that he was unable to see what she did. She gazed at the figure limping on the snow-choked pathway. In the dim light, she could see only a vague outline. It appeared to be a son. Dar began walking toward him, leaving the others behind.

The son stopped walking, and as Dar approached him, his form grew more distinct. He was unclothed. His pale skin bore dark marks. Dar drew closer and saw the marks were bloody wounds.
That’s why he was limping.
The son’s translucency made him hard to recognize. Snowflakes remained visible as they drifted through his body, and his features intermingled with the landscape behind them. Dar knew him only when they stood a few paces apart. “Lama-tok?”

“Tava, Dargu.”

Dar wasn’t completely surprised, but that didn’t lessen her shock and grief.

Lama-tok seemed aware of Dar’s feelings, and he regarded her with affection and concern. Then he smiled slightly. “Dargu, I was wolf. I slew all those washavokis.”

“But they also slew you.”

“My life flowed out before I reached your hall. But I nearly made it.”

“And Ven-goth?”

“Washavokis were hidden inside pass, waiting with arrows. His last thoughts were of Fre-pah. He’d like her to know that.”

“I’m sorry you and he died.”

“Know we’re embraced by Muth la. There’s joy in this.” Lama-tok began to grow fainter. “And know this, Dargu: It isn’t always unwise to die.”

With those words, Lama-tok faded entirely, leaving Dar staring into the empty dark.

Forty-one

Dar composed herself before returning to the waiting orcs, who stood quiet and expectant. “Lama-tok and Ven-goth didn’t survive their journey,” she said, making the sign of the Tree. “Tok clan sons haven’t learned they must seal pass. Now only I can tell them. We must make haste.”

Zna-yat resumed marching immediately, as did the other orcs, but Dar stood still and waited for Nir-yat to reach her. When she did, the two let the others pass so they might walk rearmost in the column. There, Dar related her vision.

“So Muth la sent you warning,” said Nir-yat after Dar finished.

“Hai. Pass won’t be sealed in time. Washavoki soldiers will get through it.”

“Couldn’t you send Auk-goth ahead?” asked Nir-yat. “He’s swift and hearty.”

“I think he’ll arrive too late.”

“Shouldn’t he try?”

“This is what worries me,” said Dar. “Tok clan sons would obey my command, but such obedience has shortcomings. If situation changes, wisest course might change also.”

“And they won’t have your wisdom to guide them.”

“Hai. I feel I must be there, Nir. It’s important.”

Nir gazed at her sister awhile before she spoke in a quiet, sorrowful voice. “You say that because of Lama-tok’s final words.”

“Last great mother died so I might be here. I may be called to make sacrifice also.”

Nir-yat grasped Dar’s hand. “Sister, I have no counsel to offer, only love.”

Dar smiled. “That’s what I need most.”

Sevren understood what Dar had said, but he remained baffled. After trailing behind Zna-yat awhile, he spoke to him. “Zna-yat, how Muth Mauk learn?” he asked in Orcish. “When we speak, she not learn pass.”

“Muth Mauk has visions,” replied Zna-yat.

“What this word ‘visions’?”

“Muth la speaks to her. She has done this before. Sometimes Muth Mauk sees what will happen.”

Dar’s a seer?
thought Sevren. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. “What does Muth la say her?”

“I don’t know,” replied Zna-yat. “Muth la speaks to mothers, not sons. Her counsels are not for us.”

Sevren fell behind Zna-yat again, for it was easier walking in the orc’s footsteps. He trudged along, pondering Dar’s gift with a sense of awe. He walked a long way before Zna-yat spoke again. “Sev-ron?”

“Hai.”

“Washavoki great mother spent last night in my shelter. She chewed leaf, so she waked not.”

“Hai,” replied Sevren.

“Tonight she will not chew leaf. If you say yes, I will ask my sister if washavoki can sleep with you. I think she will like that better.”

Sevren got the gist of what Zna-yat had said and understood why he was making the request.
He thinks Queen Girta stinks.
He wondered what Girta would think of the arrangement.
She might prefer me to an orc.
“If mothers say is good, is good me.”

“Shashav, Sev-ron.”

Sometime around midnight, Dar called a halt when the march reached another bend in the river. There was an area of level ground sufficiently large enough to set up a camp. Trees and tangled brush grew upon it, but Nir-yat set sons to clearing the brush away. Sevren was surprised when she took charge. She did so with more competence and authority than any murdant Sevren had ever met. As he tended to Skymere, Nir-yat had other sons gather firewood. Soon there was a fire. Sons placed water-filled kettles on the blaze, marked Muth la’s Embrace, and erected shelters within the sacred circle.

While all this was going on, Dar quietly sat on a fallen log. She looked so tired and melancholy, Sevren wondered if her vision had drained her. His heart went out to Dar, and he became aware that his feeling wasn’t unique. All the orcs appeared as moved as he was; he could tell by their faces. At that moment, Dar seemed too weary to notice.

When the water in the pots boiled, porridge was made and herb water brewed. Dar rose to say that food was Muth la’s gift, but Nir-yat served it. After Dar ate, she disappeared into Kovok-mah’s shelter. Sevren was experiencing a twinge of jealousy when Nir-yat approached him. “Sev-ron,” she said in Orcish, “we have few shelters. I think it best that you and other washavoki be together. Will you tell her this? I do not speak your tongue.”

Sevren bowed politely and replied in Orcish, “Hai, Mother.” He walked over to where Girta was sitting. Noticing that she had changed into the clothes he had brought her, he bowed and asked, “Your Majesty, do your boots and garments fit?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“If you feel up to it, my horse is yours to ride tomorrow.”

“I’d be pleased to ride. You are gracious, sir.”

Then Sevren summoned his nerve and spoke his message. “The orcs are short of shelters, Your Majesty. They’ve asked us to share one.”

Girta looked askance. “You mean sleep with you?”

“Orcs treat mothers with utmost respect. They expect me to also, and I will.”

“But the appearance of it!”

“Last night, you slept with an orc. Perhaps you’d prefer to do so again.”

“No,” said Girta quickly. “I’m confident in your propriety, and there are no courtiers’ tongues to set wagging.” She smiled slightly. “Besides, I’m deceased.”

“I know. I attended your funeral.”

“Was it tasteful?”

“Haste spoiled its solemnity. Kol was anxious to be off fighting.”

“Did you see my son?”

“Only from a distance. He looked heartbroken.”

Girta let out a sob, then stifled another. “The cruelty of that man! To think I trusted him.”

Sevren, recalling how Girta had distrusted his advice, chose not to reply. He rose instead. “I assume Your Majesty will retire soon, so I’ll cut some fir boughs for our shelter’s floor. Because orcs sleep sitting up, they never think of bedding.”