Tace sat on the ground in front of a campfire, orange sparks dancing in the air, giving little light to the dark evening. The tiny dragon, Raseri, was wrapped around her neck, snoring contentedly, and Ademar was perched next to her, but at a respectful distance. No one knew about their relationship—or whatever they wanted to call it.
Since defeating the xarlug, Tace had felt… different. Not just about Ademar, but about everything. Over the last couple of years, she'd worked so hard to undo the damage her parents' religious beliefs had done to her family's chances of salvation. As a member of the assassins' guild, she had brought death to many, and each death brought her a step closer to the afterlife with Drothu. Her god relished death, and Tace was more than happy to comply with his wishes.
And now she had killed one of his minions. If the scholars were to be believed, the xarlug was one of Drothu's guardians. It had risen from the depths to wreak havoc on her city, destroying thousands of lives.
What should she have done?
Tace had used a relic of ancient power, the Staff of Jokan, to capture and kill it. Afterward, a mystical tattoo had appeared on her left wrist.
The tattoo reminded her daily of what she'd done, that there was no going back. She'd hidden it by tying a scrap of fabric around her wrist, telling anyone who asked that she had a cut, that it was healing, and that she was just being overly cautious. She'd hidden the magical staff as well, leaving it with the now-tiny dead xarlug trapped inside the gem deep within the rubble of Agitar.
Eventually, she'd have to come up with a better explanation for everything. Until then, she put it out of her mind. She would think of something. She always did. Tace was never short on ideas.
"How sure are we that this wasn't a fluke?" Vron asked. He eyed her intently, just as he'd done ever since she'd met him while battling the xarlug.
Tace ignored him. His interest annoyed her, and he kept studying her as if she were some enigma to solve.
"It wasn't," Alyna, the faun, said. "What we need is someone who knows the legends and can aid us in deciding how to proceed."
General Dalgron hefted a sword and pointed toward the encampments not far away. Their fires blazed in the darkness, though many had been doused as the people took to their tents. "We need to rebuild the city," he said. "My people cannot continue to live like this, out in the open. We are not animals. We are orcs!"
"The city isn't safe," Tace said. "Many of the buildings are unstable. You saw that during the rescue and recovery operations." The orcs had spent the last week digging through their city, only to realize their efforts might be in vain. The devastation was too great. It would take years to rebuild.
"What options do you give us?" Dalgron asked, his eyes boring into Tace's.
Tace had only recently met the general of the orc army, and she could tell he was used to intimidating others. Too bad for him. It took a lot more than intimidation to wear her down.
Tace looked to Alyna. They, too, had only known each other a short time, but Tace already respected Alyna's battle instincts, as well as her mind. She'd proven herself a formidable ally.
The faun took a deep breath before speaking. "I know you're focused on your city. I understand that. But the reason I came to Agitar in the first place has not changed. Something out there wants to destroy the orcs. I can feel its hatred simmering underground. The xarlug was only the beginning. If you, if any of us, are to survive, we must be proactive. We must do more than rebuild the city. We must focus on the survival of the entire orc race."
"Is it really so dire?" Dalgron asked. "How do we know this feeling of yours is accurate?"
"I came to Agitar because of this so-called 'feeling' you're so quick to deride," Alyna said. "Can you admit I was right? Is it possible I'm right now?" Her tone was a challenge, as if daring Dalgron to argue.
But Tace knew that fighting among themselves would solve nothing. What they needed was information, something that would steer them in the right direction. Unfortunately, they'd already exhausted all of their resources in Agitar. There was only one place remaining that could help.
"I'll lead an expedition to the Library of Filamir," she announced. The library was the sole repository of all known knowledge. It was housed in a fortress on the southwest coast of the continent of Doros, a peaceful meeting place for all races. A wealth of information was hidden in its stacks, squirreled away in books most had never heard of. If they were truly in a fight against their god, then the answers they needed might be hidden within these ancient texts.
"I'll go too," Ademar said in passable orcish.
"And I."
All eyes turned to the human who sat on the outskirts of the group. Brax had been learning the orc language, very slowly, from Ademar since the xarlug attack. "I'd like to see this Library of Filamir," he said with a nod.
Alyna stood, her hooves pressing into the damp ground. "Good. Then we shall see the three of you off in the morning. Vron? Will you join me?"
Vron walked a step behind Alyna as they headed toward their tent.
Tace felt Ademar's eyes on her, but she didn't turn to him. She knew he wanted everyone to know about their relationship, the same way everyone knew about Vron and Alyna. But Tace wasn't ready. It was all too new. Too confusing.
She stretched her arms above her head, then faked a yawn. "I'm headed off to bed, too." She turned to Ademar and Brax. "Meet me on the edge of camp before sunrise."
Ademar nodded, then translated for Brax, who saluted her.
Tace kept the snort to herself. Brax treated her as if she were a great military leader. Apparently Ademar hadn't told him she was one of the greatest assassins of her time.
She made her way through the orc camp to her tent. She'd been lucky enough to get one to herself, though she doubted anyone would have volunteered to share. Those who had seen how she'd captured the xarlug in the gem on the end of the Staff of Jokan, or had heard the tale, now held her in awe. Tace hadn't asked for the notoriety, hadn't wanted it, but she'd quickly learned there was a difference between how she wanted to be perceived and how others saw her.
She slipped into her tent and let the flap fall behind her. As she lay down on her bedroll and closed her eyes, Raseri slipped from her shoulders and snuggled up next to her chest. Tace was glad the tiny dragon had chosen to stay with her rather than fly back to the Frozen Wastelands with her mother, Pesha. Though Tace worried about Pesha missing her baby, she couldn't help but be grateful for Raseri's company. The dragon was her only family now.
Tomorrow Tace would leave Agitar for the second time since she was five. For fourteen years she'd lived in the orc capital city with her mother—until she'd received the assignment that had changed everything. Her guild master had tasked her with killing the human priest who was making trouble in their city. But when Tace attempted to kill him, he turned the tables on her by committing suicide. She saw it—and so did his disciple, Ademar. Since then, the two had been on the run, trying to escape those who would kill them. They'd barely survived. And then they'd returned to Agitar, only to find the xarlug rising to destroy it.
That assignment had altered her life in unimaginable ways.
A clearing throat sounded from outside the entrance to her tent.
"Not tonight, Ademar. I need to sleep." Tace enjoyed her carnal escapes with the human. And to her surprise, he had proven just as insatiable as any orc in bed.
"It's not Ademar." The voice was familiar, but Tace didn't place it immediately.
She poked her head out of her tent and was surprised to see Vron standing there. "I thought you and Alyna…" Tace didn't know what to say. She barely knew the orc and had no idea why he would be visiting her tent so late at night.
"Alyna's the one who told me to come to you." His tone was strange, but familiar in a way.
"Why?" Tace asked. "Is there more she wanted me to know about the journey I'm to undertake tomorrow?"
"No."
Tace waited. But Vron remained silent, and he was starting to irritate her. She needed her sleep.
"Well…?" she prompted.
"I'm your brother." He said the words so quickly, they all ran together.
"Brother?" Tace asked, feeling a lump in the pit in her stomach. She'd had a brother once… but he'd abandoned her and her mother. She had hoped to see him again, but her mother told her he'd died. "I don't have a brother," she said. "Not anymore."
Vron's face fell. "What did our mother tell you? That I was dead?"
Tace bit her lip.
"She did, didn't she?" Vron hung his head. "I'm so sorry. I was so young when I left home. I blamed her for our father's death. I thought if I struck out on my own, I'd carve out a better life for myself."
"I don't have a brother," Tace said again. She hid her shaking hands behind her back. "Tell Alyna I'm prepared to leave tomorrow with Ademar and Brax. We'll report back as soon as we know anything." Without another word, she pulled her head back inside the tent and closed the flap, blocking out Vron and the night.
She could hear him shuffling outside as if he was contemplating saying more, but it wasn't long before he left. The chatter of the camp crept through the night air, leaving Tace cold and isolated.
If Vron was her brother, she didn't recognize him. Her brother's face was now nothing more to her than a hazy image tucked deep inside her memories. No, he couldn't be her brother. And yet… the story fit.
Tace's brother had left the day her father's head was delivered to their house, a gift from the Consecrated. Her father had been a Defiant, going against the religion of Drothu—and he'd paid for it with his life. It was his religious debt, and that of her mother's, that Tace had spent the last two years attempting to settle.
She wondered if Vron had done anything to settle the debt on his end. Had he suffered the same way she had, fearful of what would happen should he die in the middle of the night? Had he contemplated an eternal life of suffering without access to Drothu?
She lay down, her mind roiling with questions, doubts, and fears.
But underneath it all ran a current of hope. If Vron truly was her brother, then she was no longer alone.