Read an Excerpt
One
Three nights of hard travel had cooled Dar’s rage. Considered dispassionately, her prospects looked grim. One woman and five orcs, she thought, deep in enemy territory. I promised to get them home, and I don’t know the way. Nevertheless, Dar didn’t regret convincing the orcs to desert. The human king had betrayed them all. The orc regiments had been slaughtered, and the women who served them had perished also. Not even Twea had been spared. Whenever Dar recalled the look on the slain girl’s face, her grief returned.
It was late afternoon and Dar was awake, though the orcs still dozed. Sitting upright within a small circle, they resembled idols and seemed as placid. Dar envied the ease with which they slept, while she—despite her exhaustion—napped only fitfully. Dar studied their faces, which no longer seemed bestial or alien. Kovok-mah had saved her life and sheltered her when she was an outcast. Duth-tok, Lama-tok, and Varz-hak were virtual strangers. Kovok-mah’s cousin, Zna-yat, had tried to kill her twice.
Gazing at the massive orcs, Dar was still amazed that she was their leader. Yet she had chosen the escape route. It had been her decision to travel at night, “when washavokis cannot see.” Female orcs, who were always called “mother,” had authority among the urkzimmuthi. As long as Dar’s companions regarded her as a mother, she possessed authority also. That was why she led, even if she stumbled in the dark.
Dar and the orcs were still in the hills, though far from the site of the ambush and battle. The steep, wooded slopes made walking difficult, but the rugged terrain provided safety. So far they had encountered no one, for the hills were barren except for tangled trees whose low branches hindered every step. The journey had already taken a toll on Dar. Her legs, arms, and face were crisscrossed with scratches, her bare feet were sore, and her empty belly ached. Her fatigue made the journey seem more daunting, especially considering how ill prepared she was. Their destination, the Urkheit Mountains, lay to the north, but that was all she knew. The orcs were just as ignorant of the way.
Dar’s sole consolation was that her branded forehead brought no bounty in King Feistav’s realm. That won’t help me if I’m caught with orcs. Avoiding capture would be difficult. They were surrounded by enemies, so their hope lay in stealth; yet orcs had no aptitude for subterfuge. They were perplexed even by simple stratagems, and Dar had difficulty persuading them to avoid the roadway. If Kovok-mah hadn’t followed her, the others might never have. Yet while Kovok-mah supported her decisions, Dar doubted he truly understood them.
Unable to sleep, Dar decided to scout the route ahead. She ascended the slope until she emerged from the trees to stand on a cliff at the hill’s summit. The hilltop proved to be the last high ground, giving Dar an unobstructed view of the rolling plain ahead. Haze obscured the more distant features, and Dar saw no trace of the Urkheit Mountains.
The land appeared well populated—a quilt of fields, orchards, and wood lots, all demarcated by dark green hedgerows. A nearby rise was crowned by a low wall that encircled a small village. Dar spotted other dwellings scattered among the fields and orchards and grew apprehensive as she imagined all the hostile eyes the countryside contained. She was trying to plot a safe route through it when Kovok-mah emerged from the trees. “Why did you leave?” he asked in Orcish.
“To study way,” replied Dar in the same tongue. Speaking it had become second nature. She gazed at Kovok-mah and read his expression. “Hai, there’ll be many washavokis.”
“Then there’ll be much fighting.”
“Thwa,” said Dar. “There are too many to fight. We must pass unnoticed.”
“So we travel by night?”
“More than that,” said Dar. “You must not look like urkzimmuthi.”
Kovok-mah curled his lips into a grin. “Have you magic? How will you change us?”
“You’ll change yourselves,” said Dar. “Leave your iron clothes behind and speak softly or not at all. I’ve brought cloaks I took from dead washavoki soldiers. From now on, you must wear them.”
Kovok-mah looked puzzled. “We’ll still be urkzimmuthi.”
“In darkness, washavokis may not think so,” said Dar. She could tell Kovok-mah was struggling to grasp her idea. “Washavokis don’t expect to find urkzimmuthi in their land. They may not understand what they see.”
Kovok-mah pondered Dar’s words a while before he spoke. “After battle, I said I’d heed your wisdom. I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Will others heed it also?”
“They’ll follow my example.”
“Cloaks smell of washavokis,” said Dar. “I fear Zna-yat will object.”
“Hai, I think he will.”
“Still, he must wear one.”
“He swore to follow me, so I can make him do it if that’s your desire.”
“It is,” said Dar, fearing that if her ploy failed and the orcs were attacked, they would sorely miss their armor. She slumped down on a rock, realizing her plan gambled with their lives.
Kovok-mah sensed Dar’s turmoil and laid his hand on her shoulder, surprising her with the delicacy of his touch. “I’m pleased you guide us.”
Dar sighed. “I’m not used to leading.”
“It’s natural for mothers to guide sons.”
Perhaps among orcs, thought Dar. “Still, it’s new to me. I worry about making mistakes.”
“When you feel uncertain, remember Muth la guides you.”
“Does she?” asked Dar. “I foresaw big battle and Little Bird’s death, but I couldn’t prevent either. What good are such visions?”
“I’m not fit to answer.”
“Muth la is new to me, but not to you,” said Dar. “What can you tell me of her ways?”
“She may be preparing you.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know,” said Kovok-mah. “But I think you will when time comes.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“When I have doubts, I follow my chest,” said Kovok-mah. “That’s why I’ll wear washavoki cloak.”
“Because of Muth la?”
“Thwa. Because of you. I feel safe with you.”
Dar stared up at Kovok-mah, who looked so formidable, and wondered at his words. Insincerity was alien to his thinking. As incredible as it sounded, he was speaking the truth: She made him feel secure. The idea that a woman could do that ran counter to everything Dar had ever been taught. It made her smile, partly because it was so ludicrous and partly because it was so pleasing.
