“Look, the Crown can suck it for all I care.”
“Suck what?”
She clenched her eyes shut and shook her head. O’gúleesh talk, halfling.
“She can eat the deathflame torch, all right?” The orcs’ eyes widened, and one of the women behind them gasped. “Honestly, I’m really looking forward to the day somebody takes her down and buries her for good. Or mounts her head on a spike. Who knows?”
Two orc mothers covered their children’s ears with both hands and glared at the halfling.
“Whoever does that has my full support.”
Persh’al grimaced and rubbed the side of his shaved, orange-speckled head.
“Time to turn a new Cycle, right? Which I’m guessing all of you are trying to do on your own by packing up your lives and taking it all with you through the crossing. Good call right now if you ask me. It would also be a pretty good call to let my friend and me through so we can get where we’re trying to go. And if you keep up, we’ll help you get to the other side in one piece.”
The orc men exchanged surprised looks, and one by one, their attack spells petered out. “You’ve made the crossing?”
“Sure, once or twice.” Almost.
The skinny orc readjusted his huge bag over his shoulder and nodded, stalking across the line of his friends until he stood in front of Cheyenne. “I’ll go with you.”
“Cabrus, we don’t know a thing about her!”
Cabrus cut off the doubting orc with a flying hand gesture from chin to groin. The orc mothers covered their children’s eyes now, and Cheyenne thought, they’ve got their own middle finger over here. Not surprising.
“I know all I need to know,” Cabrus said with a grunt. “The Crown’s loyalists are too scared to talk about her the way this drow just did. The rest of us are too. I believe her, and if I have to choose between walking beside a drow through the crossing and walking alone, I’ll take my chances with the drow.” He nodded at Cheyenne, then stalked through the group of staring orcs until he joined Persh’al beside the portal boulder with a snigger. “And a blue troll, I guess.”
Persh’al snorted. “What a fantastic team.”
The refugees fell silent, apparently waiting for someone else to make the decision for them. Cheyenne stepped through the small crowd, counting three young children and an old, frail-looking orc woman who scowled at her. She stopped beside Persh’al and the skinny Cabrus, then gazed at the weary refugees and shrugged. “That was a serious offer, by the way. We can help you get across safely. All of you.”
“And what does the mór edhil want in return?” the old orc asked, pointing at Cheyenne with a gnarled green finger.
Cheyenne studied the aged magical and shook her head. “Nothing.”
The wizened orc threw her head back and cackled. “Done. Can’t go back on your word now.”
“Fegri, wait!”
“No. I’ve come this far. The rest of you can stand around like dullards trying to figure this one out, but I’m taking the leap. I’ve got a drow bodyguard. Can you believe that?” The old woman cackled again and hobbled quickly toward Cheyenne and Persh’al. “Wouldn’t mind giving this here blue troll a personal thank you, though.”
Persh’al frowned as the elder pursed her wrinkled lips and eyed him. Then he chuckled and glanced at Cheyenne. “The old one’s got a dirty mind.”
The halfling smiled at him. “At least she’s grateful.”
“All right, listen up.” Persh’al waved the unsure group of orcs closer. “We’re going through. Anyone who wants to come along is welcome, but I’ll tell you right now, we’re not turning back for anyone. Once you go through, it’s dead ahead or plain dead, got it?”
The crying orc woman whimpered again but stepped forward in her older friend’s arms.
Cheyenne leaned toward Persh’al and muttered, “Was that necessary.”
“Yeah, it was. They need to know the risks, kid.”
“Just by looking at them, I’d say they already know.”
He dipped his head and frowned. “Well, now no one can say we didn’t warn ‘em. Let’s move.”
Persh’al slapped Cabrus’ arm with the back of his hand and nodded for the skinny orc to step up to the boulder beside him. “How’s your aim with those fireballs?”
“Uh, decent.”
“Decent. We can work with that.”
Persh’al leaped onto the boulder and disappeared. Cabrus quickly followed him, and Cheyenne offered her hand to the old orc woman.
“I don’t need that.” Fegri clapped a wrinkled, gnarled hand to Cheyenne’s cheek and grinned, exposing worn-down yellow teeth between her stunted tusks. “I got more jump in me yet, mór edhil. You make sure I don’t have to use it.”
Grunting, Fegri pushed herself up onto the boulder and vanished.
Cheyenne dipped her chin at the other waiting orcs and nodded. “Time to go.”
No one moved, so she slowly turned and climbed onto the black stone. I can’t make them come with us, but I hope they do.
She took one more step toward the top of the boulder and slipped through the portal opening. The pressure of entering the in-between burned in her legs and brought an instant, pounding headache. Then she drew a long, gasping breath and staggered forward.
Persh’al and Cabrus were still coughing, trying to clear away the stark pressure of crossing from one world to the non-world between. Fegri chortled, her gnarled hands clasped in front of her as she watched the others catching their breath. “Look at that. Pays to be an old crone some days, don’t it?”
Cheyenne cleared her throat and approached her. “That didn’t bother you?”
“That little pinch? Bah. I’ve been smoking bilweed since I was a pup. Who knew I’d be grateful for the fell-damn stuff?” Fegri patted a small purse strapped to the belt at the top of her skirt and chortled again. “And I’m taking it Earthside.”
I’m gonna pretend that’s O’gúleesh tobacco and not ask
