49. Dryston
Chapter 49
Dryston
T here was no time for fear as the demons flew to Nemus, staying over the orc lands and hoping that Lord Killgan still viewed them as friends. Onora rode on her gryphon beside Dryston, her keen eyes scouting the ground below. They flew for hours and as dawn broke, lighting up the lands, it was a grim scene.
Dark and death–marked land stretched for miles, the void a dizzying view from above, the veins of black soot spidering out across the plains, finally stopping a town over from Orc Haven. They arrived outside the merchant city by midmorning, the warriors setting up tents to camp in as Onora, Dryston, and several others braced themselves to enter its walls, uncertain what waited there for them.
Deserted streets, papers drifting on the wind, abandoned buildings. The Tipsy Tavern fared little better. The usually vibrant building was cold and dark. They walked up, entering to see it empty, the quiet an eerie omen. The back door creaked, and out came Jorah, a hefty axe in his hand, a fierce look on his face that fell away when he saw who it was.
“By Yeolah’s grace,” he muttered, striding forward.
Quickly after him came Aife, shock coming over her features as they hugged and greeted them all.
“What’s happened here?” Dryston asked.
“Bad things, Drys,” Jorah said. “It’s been a dark time since you were taken.”
“There have been more attacks, killing people in one fell swoop,” Aife said. “Hunters pushed in and attacked a farming community, then the black soot appeared and the few who escaped were too terrified to speak of what they saw.”
“They opened another portal,” Onora muttered.
“Where is everyone in Orc Haven?” Dryston asked.
Aife shook her head. “Not many travelers so people have closed up shop. Some are going to Yeolent. Lord Killgan has been gathering warriors to attack the humans.”
“We need to talk to Lord Killgan. If he plans to retaliate he doesn’t know what he’s up against,” Dryston said.
“There’s only one more portal left to open,” Avenay said.
“What’s this talk of portals?” Jorah asked.
“Come with us to Yeolent and we will explain on the way,” Dryston said.
Yeolent was mostly how he remembered it. Sprawling plains, the first hint of spring evident in the bright green grass poking up through bits of snow. Smoke drifted up from chimneys, and tents spanned out for miles making an encampment. They were stopped by two big, burly orc warriors as they approached.
“What business do you have?” the first asked, looking over the odd arrangement of people in their party. They’d left most of their men outside Orc Haven, bent on traveling lighter and not coming with a show of force.
“I’m Lord Dryston, of the Shadow Realm. Tell Lord Killgan I seek an audience and hope to aid him.”
The first gestured to a younger orc and sent the message with him. They stood patiently in silence as the orcs stared them down, unmoving, unwillingly to chat, when, finally, the young male returned and they were escorted through the tents and campfires to a large hall at the end. The giant double doors were opened by the guards, ushering them in.
Warmth hit them as they entered, orcs milling about and making room for them. In the middle was a large table with well-outfitted warriors standing around, and at the head, Lord Killgan poring over a map. He looked up, meeting Dryston’s gaze with a grim smile, beckoning them closer, shaking his hand as he came near.
“I did not know the state of our alliance,” Killgan said, “but I have to admit seeing your face gives me relief.”
“Did you receive any of my ravens?” Dryston asked.
Killgan shook his head. “No, but that’s not to say someone didn’t. Too much has happened since we last spoke, and I’ve been roaming the plains, trying to protect my people.”
“What’s your plan here, with all these warriors?”
“We have to strike the humans. They’ve been encroaching on our land more and more, and the last attack was devastating. Those were the largest farmlands and right before winter properly set in, destroying the main stores of grain and food. We plan to strike their stores and take it, then head for the Hunter’s Guild. They seem to be at the helm of this.” Killgan dipped his head to Onora. “What of this one?”
“I’m no longer a Hunter,” she said.
Killgan nodded. “I figured as much, when I saw your face plastered on wanted posters. Well enough, you’re not the only one.”
She frowned and he continued. “There’s a band of humans we’ve given sanctuary to. They defected from the Hunter’s Guild. They’re led by someone named Jackson. They’ve been undermining the Hunters for months now. It’s the only thing that’s kept them from fully taking over.”
“Where are they?” Onora asked eagerly.
“Up north somewhere. I haven’t heard from them in a while. Truthfully, I’m not sure if they are still alive.”
Onora’s face paled and Dryston grabbed her hand, squeezing.
“We have information about these attacks,” Dryston said. “Avenay, can you explain?”
Avenay stepped forward, pulling out her map, then explained it all to him. Killgan’s eyes grew wide with each word she spoke, and more orcs gathered around the table, listening, muttering what sounded like prayers in their native tongue.
“Where is the last portal?” Killgan asked.
“It’s outside Venatu. There’s an ancient temple there that was built over that spot.”
“They will kill many of their own people if they open that portal,” Killgan said. “Monsters come out, devouring and destroying, burning everything around them in a fire as cold as ice.”
Dryston shivered, remembering the horrifying creatures they’d seen in Evolis.
“We plan on invading the area and stopping it,” Dryston said, hating the words even as he spoke them. He’d wanted to leave the humans alone for the rest of time, let the feud between Venatu and The Darkened City die off to nothing more than a vague memory. But they couldn’t let this happen, they couldn’t let this evil be unleashed on the world.
They stayed that night in Lord Killgan’s encampment. Onora cuddled next to him under the fur covers, pressing her face to his chest, but sleep found neither of them.
“Do you think Jackson is alive?” she whispered.
He stroked her hair. “I do. I think he’s been smart enough to survive up to now, I’m sure he’s still out there, protecting others.”
“He’s always been good at that.”
“We’ll find him,” Dryston said. “After all this is over, we’ll find him and everyone else with him.”
Onora gave him a long look, as if she wanted to tell him something but could only convey it in her eyes, something deep and sad and final. He hated the look—he wanted to wipe it away and ease her fears, but he was battling his own.
“Promise me, when this is all over, you will find him,” she said softly.
“We both will,” he said.
“Promise me,” she insisted.
“I promise.”
He started to question where this talk was coming from, but she kissed him fiercely, the passion wiping away any thoughts of the next day or the future, pulling him into the now. For in that moment, he just wanted her. To be close to her. To hold her for as long as he was still able to.