his scream slowly fading as he fell.
One catapult out of commission, he turned to the second. Its orcs let off one last boulder, then fled. Harruq shrugged and looked for Haern. The assassin had made quick work of his own catapults. Half the orcs were dead, the other half fleeing into the Vile Wedge. Harruq trudged over and then pointed.
“The bridges weren’t for the orc soldiers,” he said. “They were for the catapults.”
“This should slow them for a few weeks,” Haern agreed. “Neither the Green Castle nor Felwood would survive long if the orcs had actual siege weaponry.”
“Let’s hope we bought them a chance, then,” Harruq said. “How’s the battle going over there?”
Haern squinted, trying to make out shapes.
“Looks like the horsemen are running rampant through their lines,” he said. “It will be over soon.”
Sure enough, tiny figures were falling down the chasm, the bodies of hundreds of orcs as they were corralled and pushed to their deaths. When the battle ended, the dead bodies followed after. Harruq and Haern cleaned their weapons and armor as best they could, then waited. Aurelia arrived soon after, riding atop Seleven.
“Enjoy the ride?” she asked as she landed.
“You’re evil,” Harruq said, accepting her offered hand and hopping onto the winged horse’s back.
“So, no?”
The half-orc rolled his eyes as Haern joined them.
“They seem to be getting along all right,” Aurelia shouted as they took flight. “Either way, our time here is done. Tarlak will be waiting for us in Kinamn.”
They swooped over the combined human forces, Aurelia waving. Sir Kull’s men saluted with their blades while the horsemen cheered.
“That’s better than our last greeting,” Harruq said.
“To Kinamn,” Aurelia said, banking Seleven southward.
“Let’s hope Tarlak’s had as much luck as us, eh?” said the half-orc.
It took three days to fly across the Hillock, and when they reached Beaver Lake they stopped again for food and rest. The Bone Hills loomed before them, tall and barren. Nestled against the southern tip of the hills would be Kinamn, capital of Omn and in the very center of the trading paths between what had been the largest and wealthiest nations, Neldar in the east and Mordan in the west.
“Kinamn will be more like Veldaren,” Aurelia said as they lay down for the night. “An expansive city, though not as large. More importantly, it’s far less defended. They have little chance of surviving against Qurrah’s army.
“Velixar’s army,” she corrected. Harruq kissed her cheek and rolled over underneath their blankets. The cold winter night dragged on, silent but for the lapping of the lake against the shore. A lone owl hooted once, then quieted.
Harruq turned about and pulled Aurelia into his arms and held her tight.
“What…” she started to ask, but he stopped her with a kiss. He pressed his forehead against hers. When she stroked his face with her fingertips, she felt tears. She needed no explanation, no excuse. After a quick glance to make sure Haern slept far away by the lake’s bank, she climbed atop her husband.
Afterward, she cuddled him, feeling her body meld with his. His rough hands encircled her waist.
“Forever,” she whispered. “You’ll have me forever.”
“I don’t deserve it,” he whispered back.
“And you never will. But since when did that matter?”
They slept until morning, the winter’s bite held at bay by their warmth.
6
“I hope Harruq and them are doing better than us,” Tarlak grumbled as he joined his companions in their meager lodgings. Lathaar looked up from his seat at the table, several cards in hand. Dieredon sat opposite him, holding cards as well. They were in their room above an inn. It was cramped, with two beds, a table, and a small chest to store their belongings. Over the past week they’d drawn straws to decide who slept on the floor. For the third night in a row Tarlak had drawn poorly, and he had begun to wonder if Dieredon was cheating.
“Cards?” the wizard asked, pointing toward Lathaar’s hand. “Since when do you gamble?”
“I gamble nothing, except perhaps my pride,” Lathaar said, scrunching his face as he looked at his hand. “Though I wonder if I have even that left. Take a look. What do you think I should discard?”
Tarlak walked over and frowned.
“That,” he said, pointing at a crudely drawn prince.
Lathaar tossed it down. Dieredon quickly matched it, then placed the remaining two cards of his own down, revealing another matching pair.
“Your loss again,” the elf said. When Lathaar scowled at Tarlak, he only grinned.
“Never said I knew how to play, either. Was just surprised that you did.”
“Have you made any progress with the king?” Dieredon asked as he gathered up the cards.
“Evidently getting an audience with King Stephen is akin to asking for a private conversation with Ashhur,” Tarlak said. “And don’t you dare correct me about that, Lathaar. I’m in no mood.”
Lathaar stood and stretched his back.
“We’ve stayed here under his majesty’s request,” he said. “And we’ve played along, all to plead our case before the throne. But instead we’ve gotten nowhere, and warned no one. It won’t be long before a number of refugees and traders arrive, bringing who knows what sort of bizarre rumors with them. If we’re to be believed, we must act first; otherwise we’ll be lumped among the madmen.”
“He’s right,” Dieredon said. “Why this delay? I come as official envoy of the elves, and even then I am turned away from the palace gates. Something is amiss.”
“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” asked Tarlak. He crossed his arms and scowled. When he realized the other two were looking at him, he raised an eyebrow.
“What? Oh. Wait. You’re both kidding right? You want me to open a portal directly to the king?”
“Can you?” asked Lathaar.
“There’s no wardings here,” the wizard said. “So hypothetically, yes.”
“Then I think it time we do so,” said Dieredon.
“We’re apt to get killed,” Tarlak insisted. “We’ll be trespassing, perhaps taken for assassins. Bigger problem is I can’t go somewhere I haven’t seen. Have either of you been to the throne room before?”
Both shook their head. Tarlak sighed.
“Get your things ready. I have an idea, but it won’t be fun. Our time is running out. Any longer, and we’ll have an army of demons and dead conveying our message a lot louder than us, but by then it’s going to be way too late.”
They ate a meal in the commons area of the tavern, deciding any deviation from their normal pattern might attract notice. A few came over to Lathaar to discuss their troubles, and the paladin listened, giving advice when he could, and providing a sympathetic ear when he could not. Tarlak amused a few people by summoning an ethereal flute that played a rather popular tune. Dieredon stayed in the corner, watching everything.
When night fell, Tarlak cast a spell of invisibility over the three of them.
“I can’t do much about the noise,” he explained once the spell took hold. “Being unseen won’t mean much if you make a cartload of noise walking around.”
“I could make it to the castle unseen without need of a spell,” Tarlak heard Dieredon say from his right.
“Yeah, but I don’t think we can say the same for our paladin friend.”
From his left, armor clinked and rattled as Lathaar shifted nervously.
“I oiled it best I could,” he said.
They headed down the stairs, trying to be quiet as possible. For Tarlak in his robes and Dieredon in his oiled leather, this was hardly difficult. Lathaar, however, felt like a gargantuan drum, an invisible metal can of noise. Part of him was glad he couldn’t see the winces his friends made as he followed after.
Tarlak had put a small rock in his pocket after casting the spell. When inside the folds of his robes, it was
