Dalgron sat in his tent, frustrated. Hilthe had returned without Ylantri, insisting that the elf was on the brink of death after treating one of his orcs. This was the last thing he needed. Those damn elves had promised to help, and if they couldn’t, he feared the orcs were doomed. He couldn’t fight the infection with his sword, and the orcs had no healers of renown. The elves were their only chance.
Well, them, and this dead human’s supposed body. He had seen Alyna healthy and well with his own eyes, but he wouldn’t be a true believer until he’d seen more. Still, he’d been willing to try anything.
Now, he didn’t know what to do.
“Please, let me go into the tents of other sick orcs. Let me try to help them,” Hilthe pleaded with him.
Dalgron rested his head in his hands. The old human’s shrill voice only grated on him further. He would honestly prefer for the elf healer to make the decisions. She was far more capable of knowing what was appropriate in such matters. Dalgron was a warrior, not a healer. He wasn’t prepared for this. And yet, in the absence of the king, he was the only one left to lead the orcs of Agitar.
“You will fall ill, too,” Dalgron said with a sigh. “I would be sending you to your death. If even the greatest of the elven healers succumbs, what chance do you stand against it?”
Hilthe held up her bony wrist. A thin braid of hair was wound around her sallow, freckled skin. “Hugh will protect me.”
Two figures burst into Dalgron’s tent unannounced. “No, he won’t.” As the flap fell closed behind them, Dalgron saw that they were the elf prince and the healer.
“You’re better!” Dalgron said to Ylantri, surprised. He turned to Hilthe. “I thought you said she fell gravely ill.”
“I thought so, too.” Hilthe rushed to the elf’s side. “What cured you? Was it one of Hugh’s relics?”
“No, I’m afraid not.” Ylantri frowned. “Did you tell Dalgron what I told you before I passed out?”
Hilthe grimaced. “I thought you were delusional. You didn’t mean it. Did you?”
“What are you talking about?” Dalgron asked.
“I told Hilthe she needed to burn Hugh’s body.” Ylantri crossed her arms over her chest. “It is imperative we get rid of it immediately. When a body begins to decay, it is susceptible to carrying disease of its own. I believe Hugh’s body will only make the conditions here worse.”
Dalgron felt sick to his stomach. Had he really given the command to open them up to greater illness? He’d trusted Alyna and Hilthe’s assessment of Hugh’s relics. The faun wouldn’t do anything to put them in danger. Though, he supposed, she wasn’t perfect.
“Excuse me, may I say something?”
Dalgron tried not to roll his eyes as he turned toward the elf prince. Kazrack had already tried stealing the throne of Agitar once, using magic to lull the orcs into acquiescence. It angered Dalgron then, and it made him positively furious now. The only reason he’d even tolerated the prince’s presence was because Queen Ambrielle promised to help with the illness. Otherwise he’d happily ban Kazrack from the encampment.
“Yes, of course. We would be delighted to hear your opinion,” Dalgron said, hoping the sarcasm wasn’t too evident.
Kazrack straightened his tunic and squared his shoulders. “We should burn Hugh’s body. If what Ylantri says is true—and I put all of my trust in her skilled opinion—then we should dispose of it immediately.”
“No!” Hilthe yelled, stamping her boot on the ground. “I will not allow Hugh’s body to be desecrated by fire. Humans bury the bodies of their dead—we don’t burn them to ash. It’s unheard of. If you don’t want us here, then let me take him home where he can be accorded proper funeral rights.”
“You cannot leave,” Ylantri said. “The barrier must remain. If it comes down, we won’t be able to put it back up again. It takes too much magic, and my mages are still recovering.” She looked to Dalgron, her sparkling eyes wide. “Please, General, please heed my warnings. We cannot do this. The body must burn.”
“You asked us to help you,” Kazrack reminded him. “So take our counsel.”
Dalgron might have been willing to listen to the healer. She, at least, seemed to be true to her word. But every time Kazrack opened his mouth, Dalgron wanted to throttle him. He knew great leaders should do the right thing while ignoring emotions, but when it came to the elf prince… Dalgron just couldn’t resist putting up a fight. Not after what Kazrack had done to the orcs.
“Please, if you don’t want us here, let me leave as I came,” Hilthe said again. “I’m sure you can convince your orcs to stay put until the barrier is back.”
“I highly doubt that,” Ylantri said. She set her eyes on Dalgron. “Your orcs are growing more restless by the day. Those who are well want out. If you lift the barrier, there will be a rush to leave. Some will take the infection with them as carriers. I have seen it before. It will spread across all of the orcs of Doros. You will lose the majority of your race.”
Dalgron felt sick. He owed the human woman nothing. And he had no particular fondness for elves, either. The only thing he cared about was the safety of the orcs. Not just his in Agitar, but the thousands spread across the northern region of their continent.
And Ylantri was right. The orcs were restless. He’d seen it with his own eyes. The furtive glances at the barrier from those who were well. They wanted out. He wanted out, too.
Still, if there was any chance the dead human’s body would make the infection worse, then Dalgron had to dispose of the body. That was paramount. It was the right choice.
He cleared his throat, then looked at the three of them. “We will let Hilthe leave with the body.”
“What?” Ylantri’s response was almost a hiss. “We must burn it.”
“In the orc religion—”
“This is more important than your damn religion,” Ylantri said, interrupting him. “The body must be burned. There is no other option.”
“Allow me to finish,” Dalgron said. “In the orc religion, we bury the dead. Otherwise, how will Drothu come for our souls? If our bodies burn, the soul might also suffer damage. The humans have somewhat similar beliefs with their god. It is one of the few things we have in common, and I feel I should honor that. You will lower the barrier and then raise it as quickly as possible.”
“It cannot be done.” Ylantri turned to Kazrack. “Please, you must do something to stop this madness. If you are truly our prince, then act like it.”
“He’s not my prince,” Dalgron said before the foppish elf prince could utter a word. “This is my land. These are my orcs. You are here only by my invitation. This is my choice, and mine alone.”
“Then you doom everyone to death,” Ylantri snapped. “I will take down the barrier, but don’t expect to see me tending to your sick anymore. If you don’t heed my warnings, then I see no reason to continue helping you.” She turned on her heel and exited the tent.
Hilthe grabbed Dalgron’s arm. “Thank you. I don’t know how I can repay you.”
“You’ll need escorts to the south. I will send two orcs to get you over the pass at the Barrier Mountains. After that, you’re on your own.”
Hilthe bowed. “You will make a great king.”
Kazrack made a strangled sound in his throat. “King? Dalgron? I am to be king of this land. My mother promised!”
Dalgron turned to the elven prince. “You will never be king here, Kazrack. I will slit your throat myself first. Now, I have to make an announcement to my orcs. If you would all accompany me, I don’t want to dally any longer.”
Dalgron strode from his tent. He could hear the human woman scrambling behind him. If the elf followed, he didn’t make a noise. Let the fool do what he would. All the elves could leave.
He walked to the dais they’d erected in the center of camp as a sort of command center, and ascended the steps to the wooden platform. On the opposite end of the platform stood a post with a bell. He grabbed the scratchy rope in one hand and rang the bell three times. Then he waited as healthy orcs gathered around. He didn’t need all of them. Just enough to spread the word.
“We will be removing the barrier momentarily,” he began. “I ask—no, I beg all of you to remain in the camp. Leaving will only spread the infection. If you respect your fellow orcs, do not attempt an escape. You could spread the infection wide, which would lay waste to the orcs to the west.”
Dalgron watched the orcs’ expressions carefully. Though his address had been short, he knew he’d made the best argument he could. It was now up to them to choose their path. Any orc who believed in Drothu would side with him. Death by disease was dishonorable. And enabling a disease to spread would bring even more dishonor to the orc who recklessly carried it to others.
A cracking noise punctuated the silence. Dalgron looked up. The shimmering, golden barrier had begun to break apart. Concern rippled through the assembled orcs. Even Dalgron thought for a moment that shards of broken glass might rain down upon them. Instead, the colors crackled and snapped, then simply dissipated into the air, as if they’d never been there in the first place.
With a great sigh of relief, Dalgron asked for two brave orcs to escort Hilthe over the pass in the mountains to the south. Two orcs stepped forward, offering their services. They sped off with Hilthe to retrieve Hugh’s body. Moments later, they were walking out of the encampment without so much as a glance back.
Dalgron felt bad. He had wanted Hugh’s body to be a miracle cure—but sadly, he knew such a thing didn’t exist. Miracles were only for their god to perform, not mere mortals.
As he surveyed the encampment, he spotted a strange cloud of dust in the distance. It was to the north, east of the ruins of Agitar, swirling in the midday sun. He squinted, watching it, trying to identify what was causing it. It grew larger with each passing moment, as did his trepidation. Whatever it was, it was coming closer.
Soon all eyes had turned to watch the advancing cloud. And then, beneath it, he saw its source. Orcs, coming toward them at a fast clip.
“Reinstate the barrier!” he shouted. “Now!”
“Ylantri told you they can’t do it again so soon,” Kazrack muttered next to him.
Dalgron started. He hadn’t even realized the elf had advanced to the platform, too. “They must. They have to try!”
“That’s not how magic works. They don’t have the strength right now.” Kazrack peered into the distance. “Who do you suppose that is?”
“I don’t know,” Dalgron said. “It appears to be an army, but it’s coming from the wrong direction. Almost as if it’s coming from Agitar itself, which is only filled with the dead. Someone find Nishta. I want her to investigate this.”
Dread filled him. He regretted not listening to the elves when they told him to keep the barrier up. He had thought he was saving his orcs. Now it appeared his decision might have cost them all their lives.