The blue troll swallowed thickly. “How ‘bout a ballpark?”
“A dozen, maybe.”
Persh’al glanced up the hill and squinted. “We’re coming up on a Border portal the Crown hasn’t squeezed to dust in her grip. It’s not one of hers.”
“How do you know that?”
“Her thugs are louder than I am, and we would’ve been stopped at the bottom of the hill.”
Cheyenne took a deep breath, watching for movement. “So, these are magicals trying to cross Earthside too.”
“Refugees? Probably, yeah. Unless the Crown has a bunch of silent-footed drow waiting to pounce on anyone who thinks it’s safe.” The troll glanced at her feet again and scowled. “Is it the shoes?”
“I’m quieter barefoot.” She paused to listen again. “That’s someone crying, or trying not to.”
“Yep. My bet’s on refugees, then. Just in case, though…”
A miniature orb of her black energy materialized in her palm, sputtering black and purple sparks. Cheyenne put her hand behind her and nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Persh’al moved a lot more silently as they crested the hill. The trees thinned out, and Ambar’ogúl’s two crescent moons spilled silver-blue light on a group of magicals huddling around a large black boulder on the hilltop. Three more climbed toward the boulder from the opposite side of the hill, whispering to each other and trying to be as silent as possible.
“Maji.” A small orc boy tugged on his mother’s sleeve.
“Quiet.”
Across the clearing, two orc women clung to each other and stared with fearful eyes at moving shadows in the dark forest around them. The younger one whimpered, and her companion wiped at the tears on her cheeks before drawing her closer.
“Maji, look. Someone else came too.” The orc boy pointed at Cheyenne and Persh’al at the edge of the woods. His mother turned slowly, saw the newcomers watching them from between the trees, and shrieked.
“Shit.” Cheyenne dissolved her energy sphere and raised her hands.
The orc men who’d brought their families to the portal out here in Grimmer turned toward the supposed threat. One of them rushed toward the mother and her young child with a shout, summoning a huge ball of green flames in both hands. The others took up the cry of alarm. The orc women screamed and huddled behind each other, and Cheyenne and Persh’al found themselves staring at a line of five orc men with magical attacks raised and at the ready.
“Whoa, whoa. Hold on.” The halfling kept her hands raised and stepped slowly from the trees.
“Cheyenne,” Persh’al whispered fiercely.
“Everything’s okay.” She said it loud enough for everyone to hear. “See? I’m not here to cause any problems.”
The orcs’ eyes widened when Cheyenne stepped fully into the moonlight, and they shifted on uncertain feet. One of them snarled at her and raised the crackling glow of his green attack even higher. “You can’t stop us!”
“Zilder, no!”
“Stay behind me!” The orc men moved closer together, blocking Cheyenne from the women and children.
Jesus. Everybody hates a drow. “I’m not trying to stop you,” Cheyenne muttered, looking each of them in the eye and nodding. “I promise.”
A skinny orc with one arm in a sling of dirty rags growled, shifting back and forth in anticipation. “Your promise means nothing to us, mór edhil.”
“Okay. That’s fair.”
“Cheyenne,” Persh’al whispered. “I’m not fighting these magicals.”
She stopped walking forward and said through clenched teeth, “Neither am I. Get over here.”
“What are you doing?” Another orc’s green-fire attack flared to twice its starting brilliance, making the others beside him blink and lean away from the blaze.
“Just trying to show you what’s going on. You don’t have to take my word for it, but a drow traveling with a troll might change your mind.” Cheyenne nodded slowly, watching the orcs scan the dark forest they couldn’t see with their bright magic flaring in their faces. “A troll… Dammit, Persh’al. Come on.”
He groaned behind her. “All right, all right. I’m coming out!”
The underbrush rustled and snapped as he stormed through the tree line and trudged up to stand beside Cheyenne, both hands raised too. She shot him a sidelong glance, and he shrugged.
The skinny orc’s attack spell sputtered out, and he leaned forward, squinting at them. “He’s blue.”
Persh’al rolled his eyes. “And you look like you couldn’t lift your own shoe.”
Another orc chuckled. His neighbor shot him a warning glance, and he shut up immediately.
“Why are you traveling with a blue troll?”
Cheyenne met the gaze of the largest orc man who’d spoken and gestured toward the black boulder behind their families. “Same reason you brought everything you could fit into a few bags to take with you.”
“You want to make the crossing?”
She nodded and slowly lowered her hands. At least they’re asking first and saving the fight for later. Hopefully never. “Yep. This blue troll and I are stepping right through that portal too.”
“She’s lying.” The orc who’d thrown his wife and child behind him snarled. “The Crown has spies everywhere. This one’s no different.”
“Ha!” Persh’al dropped his hands and gestured at the huddled magicals around the black boulder, all of them in threadbare clothes and looking haggard and worn-out. “If the Crown wanted to stop you, you wouldn’t have made it out here. And we can all admit you’re flattering yourselves with that thinking, right? You think she’ll spend the resources she has to stop a few small families and this starving wannabe?” He gestured at the skinny orc, who stared blankly at the ground and shrugged.
“She stopped my cousin,” one of the orc women added softly. “Sent guards to the portal and had everyone rounded up and carried away in chains.”
Persh’al cocked his head. “Was it at this portal?”
“No. It was in Simmara.”
“Well, see? There you go. No guards here. No Crown spies. We’re just trying to get across to the other side like everyone else here.”
“But she’s a drow.”
Cheyenne sighed as Persh’al stomped toward the line of orc
