“Thank you all for saving me, for staying with me. I wish there were more I could give you back—” Zetros covers my lips.
“Do not say your goodbyes,measma, because I’m not. I have survived the unimaginable in this life. I haven’t lived thousands of years to give up now, to finally find and lose you. We will survive this, I know it. Just have faith.”
“Faith,” I murmur. “I don’t believe in anything.”
“Then believe in yourself, like we all do,” he says as we hear it.
“They are coming,” Nero hisses.
I get to my feet, not wanting to die on my knees. Looking down, I hold out my hand to Zetros. He takes it, and we move to the bone gate. “Today is as good a day to die as any,” I joke.
“Leave the jokes to me, Goldie,” Bracken replies as orcs file before us. They open the gates and jerk us out. There are no words, no laughter, as we are marched before the orc king. His face is unreadable as he sits with his legs thrown over the throne’s arms and watches us be pushed to our knees before him.
Our lives are held in his hands.
I refuse to die on my knees, that much is true, so I get to my feet. The orc behind me snarls and kicks my knees out, forcing me back down. Snarls ripple around me from my angry monsters, but they don’t move, not right now. Gritting my teeth, I get back to my feet, despite knowing I’ll probably be kicked again. The orc king watches it happen and holds his hand up when the orc behind me lifts his leg, prepared to kick me again. I don’t flinch, but I brace myself.
“Leave her,” he murmurs, watching me contemplatively. “You are a brave little thing, and you are right—I taste the magic on you. I felt it when you took one of your men.” He licks his lips, and my cheeks flame. “We all did. The pure strength of it…” He shakes his head. “It’s not something I have felt in a very long time. It gave me an idea. It gave me hope.”
“Hope?” I ask, refusing to be silent when discussing our fates.
“Yes, human, hope—hope that the one who can finally bring back the magic has arrived. So, human, you and your people will be free to go through our pass with my escort if we make a deal. I heard you are good at those.”
I blink. “A deal for what?”
His chin is high, but his eyes are hard, leaving no room for argument. “To bring back the magic, of course.”
ChapterEighteen
Honestly, when an orc king offers you your freedom and life in exchange for bringing back magic to the Dead Lands, what else can you do but agree?
I bluff my way through it and stare into his eyes, promising that I can and will. I don’t know if he doesn’t trust me or just wants to see it, but he climbs to his feet and stops before me. “I know you will because I will go with you, and if you cannot or you break our deal, I will kill you all myself.” With that promise hanging in the air, he turns away. Two orcs instantly scurry forward, holding two massive axes. The king fastens them to his back, the leather straps bulging across his huge chest. He adds knives and a whip at his hip before turning to me.
“There is no time to waste. The longer we tarry, the more our world crumbles. So come, little human. Let us bring back the magic.” He holds out his green hand, and I exchange looks with the others before putting my hand in his, letting him lead us through the city and mountain.
He doesn’t say goodbye to anyone, just trusts in his people, which is strange for a king. The King of the Gilded Lands would never do such a thing, but then again, the orc is clearly a warrior, one I should fear, but I can only worry about one thing at a time.
I’ll figure out the whole ‘don’t know how to bring back the magic’ thing later. At least for now, we’re alive.
The pass out of the mountain is simply that—a pass from the jagged black rock leading up and out. We break out into the constant darkness I’ve grown used to in the Dead Lands. It seems colder here, and I shiver, but I refuse to show weakness in front of the orc king, so I hasten my steps, trying to keep up with him, but it’s no use. Eventually, he turns back to me, watching me curiously, even if he’s slightly annoyed.
“Human legs,” I mutter, having already dealt with the annoyance from my monsters before they understood.
He blinks before nodding and slowing down. The others stick close, really close, almost surrounding me and keeping me away from him. Grim hands me food, and Nero gets me water. Nero also offers to let me ride him again, but for some reason, I feel the need to walk, to be on my own two feet around the king, as if it’s a weakness to accept the help.
The mountains on either side of us suddenly disappear, and I get my first good look at the land on the other side. We are still high up, the cracked black rock road before us leading down and into another forest. The forest itself stretches on as far as I can see, with some structures poking through the trees, but the one that has me gawking is the palace.
It stands on a shining, black mountain in the distance with a thin rock bridge leading to it, and its black spires actually pierce the dark sky. From here, it’s intimidating and so beautiful. I see why the king built it. Amongst all this destruction, it almost seems whole from here, safe, and trapped in time—which can’t be right.
It’s also far away, definitely a few days’ journey. My feet ache at the thought, but I don’t moan or complain as we set out on the trail to the forest. Once at the edge, the orc looks down at me. Despite the fact that I know he hates me and why, he seems almost unsure.
“This will be a hard journey,” he cautions, then he seems to harden before my eyes, throwing me a disgusted look. “Do not slow us down.”
I flip him off when he turns his back and moves into the forest. Despite his size, he’s silent on his feet, the bastard, whereas I make a lot of noise. I can’t help it. Stupid human body.
The trek through the forest is tense. Zetros and the orc king don’t speak to each other, despite knowing one another, and it’s clear my monsters don’t trust him. There’s a divide, and I try to cross it. “So what’s your name?” I ask casually. “We’ve never formally introduced ourselves.”
The orc turns, snarling at me, and my eyes widen. Zetros slides before me, barking something back in a thick language before turning to me. “Names have power here, Cora,” he murmurs. “He thought it was an insult.”
