constant patrol. When the walls of Kinamn came in sight, they were so welcome. The city appeared in ruins, its walls vacant, but every one of my advisors insisted the orcs hid within. The gates were torn open, so we thought we’d have no issues entering. We should have…”
Tarlak took the bottle of wine from Antonil, then gulped down the rest of it.
“How many orcs were inside the city?” he asked.
“At least five thousand,” Antonil said, not looking up. “They had archers hiding along the walls, and all at once they stood and fired. Hundreds of men crammed into the doorway, dying instantly. Worse were the catapults. They’d been aimed at the pathway leading into the city, and before the call to retreat had even left my lips they were let loose. Dozens of boulders landed amid us, rolling, breaking our lines like we were playthings. We expected unprepared cowards, hiding from us as we burned out their nest. I couldn’t have been more disastrously wrong.
“We retreated, of course. We outnumbered them, but with the catapults, the archers on the walls…what could we do? Several thousand rushed after, swarming us as we retreated. I tried keeping order, to set up a line of defense, but the only reason any of us lived was because of Harruq. Gods, what a sight he was. While everyone else was busy running away, he was screaming and hollering for the orcs to come get him. Even the catapults didn’t scare him. When Harruq met the first wave, those around him stood their ground lest they be overwhelmed as well. Even in the chaos we could see those blood-red swords swinging. By the time I halted our retreat and sent men to aid him he’d taken down at least thirty on his own. It was around him my men rallied, and we sent the orcs running back to their city and the safety of their walls.”
Antonil shook his head.
“After that, we limped back to Mordeina. Of my eight thousand men, only three thousand returned. We never even stepped foot on Neldar soil. And when I returned to my castle, to my wife and child, I discovered I had a new name. The Missing King, they called me. The joke is on them, of course. I’d have preferred to be gone far longer than I was. No, I’d have even stayed in the ruins of Veldaren, never to return, if I had my way.”
“You can’t talk like that,” Tarlak insisted. “These are Mordan soldiers. If they hear you wishing you could abandon your throne…”
“They’ll what?” Antonil asked. “Turn on me? They already have. The whole kingdom is watching me, waiting for me to fail. I first came with eight thousand, and now I come with thirty. I will free my home, taken by the sword, and in the rubble raise my child, my family.”
“And what of Mordan?”
The king waved dismissively.
“The angels can have it for all I care. They already rule it, anyway.”
Tarlak stood from his chair and bowed low to his friend.
“This campaign will be different,” he said. “You have me, to start with. But you are a king, and you rule lands loyal to you. If you do this to expand your kingdom, to retake what is yours, then I will be here every step of the way. But if you think this is your chance to escape everything that is happening in Mordan, a way to sidestep your responsibilities…then I fear I have far more relaxing ways to waste my time.”
Antonil swallowed, rubbed his eyes with his hands.
“Forgive me, Tar,” he said. “I don’t mean it. I do want to escape, but I could never do it. I’ve never fled my responsibilities, and I never will. That’s why I’m here. I was to protect the people of Neldar. They trusted me, and followed me across Dezrel and back again because of that trust. I will repay it. I will free their homes, their farmland, their cities and forests. I may be the Missing King, but I am still king, and will be until my last breath.”
Tarlak reached across the fire and smacked Antonil’s shoulder.
“Now that’s the man I know,” he said, grinning. “Let those orcs try to raid us again. Let them be all sneaky at night. They’ve got a nasty surprise waiting for them. No one out-tricks a mage. And when we reach Kinamn, we’ll see how well those catapults work once I’ve set them aflame.”
“You’re a good man, Tarlak,” Antonil said. “Perhaps I should have brought you with me instead of Harruq on that first campaign.”
Tarlak laughed.
“You kidding? I’d have teleported myself back to Mordeina the second those orc archers popped up on the walls. Good night, Antonil.”
He raised his empty bottle, attempted a drink from it anyway, and then left the man to his thoughts.
10
Beside her, Qurrah stirred, his mouth opening to let out a soft whimper. Tessanna leaned in close, kissed his lips until they shut. They slept not far off the road north, and in the light of the moon Tessanna let her fingers brush her lover’s face. Her lips slowly drifted their way to his forehead, where her fingertips had softly traced an arcane, invisible shape upon his skin. And then she breathed. The nightmares, the fear, the tormented memories: they all came floating out of her lover like a black mist. Deep into her lungs she inhaled them, letting them burn within her, squirming in her belly like fire beetles.
“Sleep well,” she whispered as Qurrah’s body visibly relaxed.
Every night since the angels had healed his corrupted body, banishing the undead flesh and returning him whole, he had suffered those dreams. Every night Tessanna took them, carried them within herself.
It was the stink of Velixar. The stink of Karak. It floated around him, demanding death. Tessanna’s dark eyes saw it, began to water as she bent over Qurrah’s body and braced her arms. Her thin, pale form shivered as the whispers flooded into her.
“Never,” Tessanna said through her tears. “Never again.”
Sleep was a long time coming, and when it did come, she dreamed of fire.
Qurrah was surprised by the amount of travelers they encountered on the road to Mordeina. Hoping to avoid suspicion, he kept his questions few and instead let his ears do the work. Most were traveling north, hoping to find work now that so many able-bodied men had left on Antonil’s war against the orcs.
On their fourth day they came upon an inn. Qurrah’s coin was few, but the idea of him and Tess sleeping on an actual bed was too tempting.
“Tonight we spoil ourselves,” he said, taking her hand and leading her inside.
“We’ll have nothing left when we reach Mordeina,” Tessanna pointed out.
“True,” Qurrah said. “But my brother is steward of the realm. I dare say we’ll be fine.”
The inn was crowded, and for a moment Qurrah worried there would be no room.
“There’s still a bed or two left,” a fat man on the far side of the open kitchen shouted, as if reading his mind. “Ginger, get over there and get their things.”
A young lad with bright red hair raced through the many tables, then quickly bowed before the two.
“I would prefer to carry them on my own,” Qurrah told him. “Just show us to our room.”
The kid nodded, beckoning them to follow.
The room was small, barely able to fit the bed within. At least they wouldn’t be sharing a room with any of the other travelers, Qurrah thought. He looked over the sheets and pushed against the straw as the boy watched expectantly.
“How long until dinner will be served?” he asked as Tessanna stood in the corner, looking very tired.
“Another hour,” Ginger said.
“Very well. Leave us.”
The kid nodded and shut the door. Qurrah sighed as Tessanna moved to his side.
“Lice,” the half-orc murmured. “And fleas. Such a charming locale.”
With a wave of his hand a soft cloud floated from his palm down to the bed, curling over it like mist upon a
