Nemia skulked around her old bedroom in the ruins of the castle of Agitar. She’d been defeated, all of her plans for naught. Azlinar, her only ally, her only friend, was gone, reduced to a pile of ashes by a dragon.
She knew the dragons well, and she knew who controlled them. Tace. Together, they’d found the dragons hidden in the Northern Wastelands, hidden deep within a cavern. Nemia had sat on the back of the dragon, Pesha, as she’d flown from their hideout to Agitar. There, Pesha had assisted Tace in defeating the xarlug. Even the little dragon, Raseri, had been allowed to take part in the battle. But Nemia had been shooed away the moment they landed. They had discarded her like a piece of trash.
This time, they had outright attacked her—and killed her greatest friend.
Anger boiled deep inside, stoking the fires of revenge.
Nemia had planned on dealing with Tace after becoming the rightful queen of Agitar, though she hadn’t yet decided how. Azlinar had always told her to be patient, to focus on one thing at a time. She’d followed his advice, and in so doing, had nearly recaptured the orcs of Agitar.
Now he was gone, as were her chances at success.
Except…
Perhaps…
Maybe there was a way.
Nemia hopped off her bed to the floor, which was strewn with rocks and ash. She shuffled through the rubble to the window. Looking out upon those who remained in the encampment, she sighed. So many had died along with Azlinar. But others remained alive to bury the dead.
How would she convince them now that she was their true ruler? A memory niggled at her mind. After the battle with the xarlug, Azlinar had told her of a dark mage hidden among her enemies. She needed to find him. But how? And when she did, how would she know him? Azlinar hadn’t even disclosed the man’s name.
She looked out to the west, where a strange cloud was growing. Instead of descending from the sky, this cloud rose from the ground, a plume of brown dirt. It was a horde, advancing on Agitar, and her orcs wouldn’t be ready.
If only Dalgron had listened to her. If only he had surrendered. The orcs of Agitar could have stood as one against anyone. Now, the remaining orcs would be alone, they would suffer.
And Nemia would leave them to fend for themselves.
She needed her rest. She returned to her bed, yawned, and stretched her arms over her head. She thought of her mother, still chained to a wall underground. She was probably hungry and thirsty. Well, her needs could wait.
All would be dealt with in good time.