“But—” Maria stalled for time, “You are obviously no dummy. If the Widow wants something so badly she’s willing to pay you a fortune for it, then whatever it is she wants must be even more valuable.”
The Orc lowered his sword, but not by much. All it would take was one thrust, and Maria would be skewered. He narrowed his eyes as if in deep thought, or as if he didn’t trust what Maria was saying.
All around them the fighting continued. The Rogue Dragon roared, sending shivers through Maria’s body. She may have been buying time, but no matter what, her time was going to run out. That dragon sounded hungry; not just for destruction, but for death.
“What is it you have? A music box? That does not seem very valuable to me,” the Orc said.
“Value, my friend, is subjective. Do you like gold?”
“Of course I like gold. What kind of stupid question is that?” He narrowed his eyes more. “Why? Are you going to offer me some?”
“Perhaps,” Maria said. The strength was already flowing through her. Hell, if I can talk my way out of fighting a giant Orc, maybe I can do the same to the dragon. Put down the sword and never fight again. Yeah, right. The sword was apart of her now. What did Hunter say? That it belonged to some famous dragon slayer? Well, life is one big circle, isn’t it? What goes around comes around. Maria would slay the dragon with her sword, not for enjoyment, but because it was her duty.
“ ‘Perhaps’?” the Orc repeated, grimacing. “There shall be no ‘perhaps’es when one’s life is on the line. Are you as stupid as you are puny, witch?”
“I am only making a point. You love gold because of all those who covet it. If no one wanted gold, it would be perceived as worthless. Trust me. I come from a far away land where everyone covets paper money.”
“No,” the Orc said. “Paper? How could your kind be so dumb?”
“It’s a question I ask myself almost everyday,” Maria replied. “But we’re not all dumb, especially those who spend every waking hour with their noses in books.”
“The horror! Books? More paper!” Urlik said.
“Anyway, paper controls us, just as gold controls you. Now the music box I have is neither gold nor paper. It is something worth much more.”
She expected the Orc to tell her to keep going, but he kept quiet instead.
“It is a key, of sorts.”
“A key?” The Orc laughed. “A key versus a king’s ransom, a hundred times my weight in gold? Hmm, let me think.”
Maria’s muscles tensed. She knew this spiel.
“I don’t think I’ll take my chances, witch. When I bring your head and that cursed music box to the Arachnids’ lair, I will leave a rich man.”
“That’s too bad,” Maria said.
“How so?”
“Because you won’t ever reach the Widow’s lair. You actually won’t even leave this town.”
The Orc’s eyes widened just as Maria sprang up, her sword at the ready. She attacked the Orc with a flurry of hits, driving him back against the wall. Her flesh glowed blue and illuminated the dark alleyway. Time had been bought, and with it, her energy replenished.
The Orc fended her off for as long as he could, but Maria was like a woman possessed. She took a hit to the face by the Orc’s massive forearm, which was covered in a steel gauntlet, and tasted her own blood.
That had done it.
With a spin, she brought the blade around to her left and drove backward with all of her might. The sword pierced the Orc’s armor as he cried out, his voice muted by the roar of the dragon nearby—another reminder that Maria had no time to dilly-dally.
She pulled the blade free with a wet squelch and a steel-on-steel screech, spinning back around to look the Orc in the eyes.
They were fogged over, the eyes of a dead man—or Orc. He dropped his sword, and Maria kicked it down the alleyway with so much force, sparks flicked off the cobblestones as metal dragged across rock.
“Congratulations,” the Orc said, coughing, dark blood trickling down from the corner of his mouth. “It is not often a magic user bests an Orc such as me—a female magic user, at that.”
“May you die honorably,” Maria said. “Perhaps I shall see you in the next life.”
A dying croak escaped the Orc’s throat, the ever-famous death rattle, and Maria turned her back on him.
His large, bloody hands seized Maria around the neck and he pulled her to him. His dark blood dampened the back of her shirt, and she smelled his foul breath, gagging.
“No, it will not be that easy, witch. If I cannot cut your head off, I will pull it free from your body instead!” The Orc growled.
Flailing her arms and legs, Maria was lifted from the ground, her neck cracking. Soon, her vision went dark, dotted with pinpricks of white light, like looking at stars on a clear night in the countryside. She beat at him, hearing the sounds of her fists on his armor, then not hearing anything besides the rush of blood to her head. She was in so much pain she could not even draw on any magic.
“Hey, asshole!” someone said through the haze of anguish and despair. It was a familiar voice.
Another one answered. “Yeah, we’re talking to you, you douchebag!”
Claire? Tabby? But that’s impossible…
Suddenly, the pressure around her neck let up. Her vision flooded back in a tsunami wave of relief. She gasped for breath, hardly noticing the pain in her knees as she hit the ground. But Maria didn’t have time to enjoy her newfound freedom.
There was an Orc to kill.
“Yeah, we’ve got a surprise for you!”
That is definitely Claire’s voice. Maybe I’m hearing her through the portals, like two plastic cups connected by string. No, that’s crazy. It can’t—
She looked up, and sure enough, Tabby and Claire stood on the roof of the building opposite her, illuminated by the
