Alyna wouldn’t allow herself to look at Vron’s body or Nishta’s bloodied and bashed head. She turned away, squared her shoulders, and raced toward Dalgron’s tent. It wasn’t long before she spied the general, a scowl on his face as he barked orders at his soldiers.
Alyna called out his name.
Dalgron started, then stared at her, his eyes wide. “You’re alive!”
“I am, but Vron died, courtesy of one of your orcs.” Alyna swallowed the bitter bile in the back of her throat.
“I don’t understand.” Dalgron hurried to her side. “Why would anyone do that? They all know Vron. He’s one of us.”
“We came in with the army. We led it, in fact. We had no other choice. Nemia was holding us captive.” Alyna steeled herself. Grief over Vron would have to wait. “There is more, but what you need to know right now is that she is about to turn all of your sick orcs into her evil minions. Your orcs must stop her. They have to destroy Azlinar.” Alyna pointed to the hooded figure on the horse next to Nemia.
Dalgron ordered the nearest soldiers to disengage with Nemia’s horde and instead focus on Azlinar. The tide of the battle turned toward the center of the camp as Dalgron’s orcs slashed and hacked their way to the two evil orcs on the draft horses.
Dalgron motioned Alyna away from the fray. “I’m thrilled you’re alive. Come, I have something to show you.”
Alyna wanted to go back for Vron’s body, but the time for that was later, when they cleaned up after the fight. “Shouldn’t we advance with the others?” she asked.
“I’ve sent my best fighters,” Dalgron said. “Well, the ones who aren’t sick. It’s been awful here. Luckily, not all is lost.”
Alyna followed Dalgron around the back of his tent into a small, fenced-in area. Standing still in the middle was Syra, looking as majestic as ever, her horn glinting in the sun.
A lump formed in Alyna’s throat. “You’ve kept her prisoner? In a pen? Syra should be free to roam as she pleases.”
Dalgron crossed his arms over his chest. “That unicorn of yours was free to leave. This is where she settled after I thought you died. Apparently, she knew better than I did that you were coming back.”
Tears gathered at the corners of Alyna’s eyes, her emotions getting the better of her. She reached out a shaky hand.
Syra jumped easily over the makeshift fence, proving it had always been her choice to remain with Dalgron, and nuzzled Alyna’s hand.
“I missed you,” Alyna said through her tears. Losing Vron. Finding Syra. The sound of clashing swords ringing in her ears. Escaping Nemia’s hellhole in the mines. Alyna was strong, but she allowed herself a moment to feel everything she’d been pushing aside.
After her third deep breath, she rested a hand on Syra’s back. “What do you say? Should we join them in battle?”
Syra bent a knee, just as she always did when she wanted Alyna to mount her. Alyna leapt onto the unicorn’s back. She felt alive for the first time since she’d gotten lost in the mines. With Syra underneath her, she felt more than alive—she felt invincible.
“Give me a sword,” she ordered Dalgron.
“Absolutely not. You’ve been through too much. You need to rest. Stay with me. We’ll command the battle together.”
“Give me a damn sword. I can rest when I’m dead!” Alyna thrust her arm out.
A reluctant, but smiling, Dalgron placed the grip in her hand. “You’d better return to me alive,” he said. “After all this, I expect nothing less.”
“I will be back. I swear it.” Alyna patted Syra on the head. “Let’s get them, girl.”
Syra’s hooves pounded the ground and her horn stood proudly erect as she raced into the battle.
Alyna swiped right and left with her sword and kicked the infected orcs with her feet as they pushed through the fighting, trying desperately to get closer to Azlinar. She needed to stop him, to do whatever it took to make sure the camp’s sick didn’t turn into the vacant slaves Azlinar had created. She did it for the orcs. She did it, particularly, for Vron.
He’d nursed her back to health in their cell for days, taking less for himself just to make sure she recovered. And she had slowly regained her strength. The two of them exercised together, using each other as resistance. They also made love countless times, taking shelter in each other’s arms as they tried to block out the horror of what Nemia was doing with the infected orcs. Together, they survived.
Now he was gone, taken so suddenly by another orc who was a victim of evil. Killing her was the last thing Alyna had wanted to do, but at that moment, she had known nothing else would stop Nishta. The woman had been corrupted by the human mage, just as all the sick orcs of Agitar were about to be corrupted by Azlinar.
Alyna wouldn’t allow it. If she could save even one of them, it would be worth every sacrifice she could make.
And she was making a sacrifice, just by joining this fight. She’d come to the orcs to warn them about the impending human invasion—not to kill. But evil had no natural form, it didn’t discriminate, and neither would Alyna. She would strike down any evil in her path, starting with Nishta and ending, well… she didn’t know. She hoped it would end with the death of Azlinar and perhaps the capture of Nemia.
Orcs rushed around her like a maelstrom, moving in every direction, lashing out at their enemies, pushing ever closer to Nemia and Azlinar. Above them, the sky rumbled. Alyna was surprised to see that dark clouds had moved in. Rain began to fall in torrential sheets, making the fight even more difficult. Hands were slippery, as was the ground. Syra struggled to keep purchase. They slid, ramming into orcs, but still pressing on toward Azlinar and Nemia.
Lightning struck, lighting up the sky and setting a tent on fire. The entire camp was erupting into chaos as the rain became heavier, obscuring her vision. It was harder now to tell who was an infected minion of Nemia’s and who was one of Dalgron’s soldiers. Alyna knew none of them personally. She couldn’t tell by their clothes or their faces.
“Keep going, Syra,” she said into the unicorn’s ear. “We have to stop them.”
Syra pushed forward.
Alyna wished that Tace were here with her dragon, so she could fly in and save the day. If that were the case, Nemia would have already been defeated. But no, Tace was off at the Library of Filamir. Alyna cursed herself for supporting Tace’s quest. The assassin should have remained here with her orcs. But how could any of them have known it would come to this?
An evil chortle rang out, louder than the thunder, more concerning than the lightning. Azlinar. His hands dropped to his sides, and a hideous grin was painted on his face as he nodded to Nemia. She returned his smile.
“No,” Alyna said aloud.
Nemia and Azlinar turned their horses toward the battle. Nemia’s eyes swept the fighting masses—and settled on Alyna. The orc’s smile turned to a frown, but only for a moment. A chill ran down Alyna’s spine. Sick orcs began to emerge from their tents, wild-eyed and slack-jawed.
“She did it,” Alyna said. “She now controls the infected here, too.” A pit formed in her stomach, taking all of her hope and swallowing it whole.
“Turn around, Syra. Take me back to Dalgron!”
Syra didn’t need any more urging. She quickly turned her back on Nemia and Azlinar.
Alyna took one final glance back at them. Nemia was following her with questioning eyes. She’s wondering where Vron is. Well, Alyna hoped she’d never find his body. She had done all she could to protect him by winding the strand of Hugh’s hair around his finger. She hoped it was enough to save him from whatever evil magic was spreading across the ruins of Agitar.
They pulled up to Dalgron’s tent, exhausted and panting. “It is done,” Alyna told the general. “We must retreat.”
“I can’t leave my orcs here like this,” Dalgron said. “The elves are here. They will join the fight. They promised.”
A whistle swept through the storm-ravaged plains. Both Alyna and Dalgron trained their eyes to the northwest. In the distance, they could see a parade headed away from the encampment. Above it flew the elven flag.