Chapter 13
Wodred
In the cold light of morning, seeing the devastation wrought by Grazrath on my clan lands makes my heart ache.
Plumes of smoke rise from the wreckage of many homes, the burnt-out skeletons of cottages that have existed for generations.
Then there are the walking corpses. The bodies of fallen clanmates who fought the imps and tried to defend our homeland, only to die under cursed claws and rise as mindless monsters.
I, along with Gunag, spent the night putting down many whom I called friends in life.
The funeral pyres burn as the sun rises, turning the fallen to harmless ash.
This was a place of peace, of plenty. A place untouched by violence or war.
My last refuge away from the life of brutality I have had to live.
No longer. I can only be grateful that my family is all safe and intact.
Largely that is thanks to Melelea. If she had not stepped in last night, little Kiva would have been lost. As it is, the orclings are traumatized and fearful but at least they are whole and hale.
Sawa, pregnant as she is, has taken the clan’s orclings to the woods to the south of the village, to hide in the hunting blinds, in case Grazrath returns with his army of the damned.
Kirigard has stayed to ply healing among our clan members, his healing as a full-blooded elf being stronger than all of our other healers combined.
All told, our losses are not as great as they could have been, but it was still too steep for me.
I will never forgive Grazrath for bringing violence into the lives of the orclings of my clan.
I have fought my whole life for peace, so that my people would not have to live a life of war, only for my life’s work to be threatened by the greed of a demon.
I am tired. Oh, so very tired. But there is no time to rest. Grazrath is in Orik. He must be stopped before more lives are lost.
Turning to Gunag as we finish lighting the last pyre, I say, “We should find Lady Melelea and see if she has had any luck tracking the beast.”
Gunag nods grimly, none of his usual bluster apparent on his features. “I saw her with your brother-in-law. Dame Zera is there guarding them both. We also need to send a falcon to Ilustan. Rognar must be informed of this newest attack and that Grazrath has reached Orik.”
I grunt in agreement and we move to the baker’s shop, one of the only buildings that did not burn in the night.
Kirigard has set up his triage there, healing burns and claw marks on the wounded.
Entering the space, I find that Melelea is in the thick of the survivors, applying poultices and helping with the injured.
It is easy to forget that Melelea, though also a seer and illusion-wielder, is a wisewoman with a great knowledge of herbs and medicine.
She looks magnificent, moving efficiently through the space and helping Kirigard, still wearing my cloak.
I send a silent thanks to the Father God that I was able to free her from the burning building last night in time and that she was not further injured.
I don’t know that I could have continued if I had lost her. Not again.
Melelea looks toward the door, as if drawn to my gaze and locks eyes with me. Murmuring something low and sweet to the wounded orcress she is treating, she stands up and makes her way over to me.
“The undead?” she asks, worry in her eyes.
“Taken care of,” I respond. “We are ready to move after Grazrath. There is no time to lose.”
Melelea nods wearily. None of us slept much last night before the attack came. Though my instinct is to protect the trolless and insist she take some rest, I know that is out of the question for now.
“The javelin is in the back rooms,” Melelea says. “I should be able to scry there, away from distractions.”
I nod. “Do you need me?”
Melelea bites her bottom lip, her gold-capped tusks glinting in the low light of the bakery. “Yes, I think so. I may need you to pull me back and break the connection if Grazrath notices me searching for him again.”
“I will do my best,” I vow solemnly.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Gunag says. “I need to send the falcon.”
“Go,” I say. “We’ll be here when you’re done.”
We make our way to the back room as Gunag leaves, and I catch Dame Zera’s eye and signal her to follow us with a jerk of my head. When the three of us are in the back kitchens of the bakery, Zera asks, “Are we tracking the demon?”
Melelea nods and grabs the javelin from one of the worktables. “I’m going to use his blood to push past the block between us. No matter how far away he’s teleported, I’ll be able to find him . . . and ascertain his true plans.”
“How do we break the connection if it gets dangerous?” I ask.
Melelea grabs a large bowl from a cabinet and brings it over to the pump in the corner of the kitchen to fill it with water.
“I’ll need someone to disrupt the water in the basin and another to physically pull me away if Grazrath tries to attack me again.
I’ll also use an illusory proxy this time, just in case. ”
“Do what you need to do,” I say. “But be careful. We cannot risk losing you.”
I can’t risk it, I silently add and my Mating Instinct rumbles in agreement deep in my chest.
“Yes,” Dame Zera says, oblivious to my personal yearning. “You are our only tie to the demon. If we lose you, we lose our ability to stop him before more lives are lost.”
“I’ll be careful,” Melelea assures us, before placing the basin of still water on the ground. Sitting cross-legged in front of the bowl, the trolless looks up and says, “Get ready. This will be quick.”
I exchange a look with Dame Zera and then say, “You get ready to disrupt the water. I will pull Lady Melelea back, if need be.”
The knight nods at my instruction and crouches by the bowl, while I get in position behind Melelea, my hands hovering over her shoulders in readiness.
The trolless lifts her hands to hover over the clear, still surface of the water in the bowl and begins to lightly trace in the air above the water.
The water begins to glow with a silvery light, and images rush over its surface in a blur, too quick for my eye to track.
Then Melelea whispers a word of power, and for a moment the whole scene seems to shake, and then there are duplicates of Melelea, Dame Zera, and me hovering over the bowl, a perfect illusory copy to our left.
The illusory proxy. The trolless then reaches to her side and grabs the javelin.
Without looking, she scrapes some of the dried blood from the tip of the javelin head and then sprinkles the flecks into the water.
Suddenly, the images get slower and more clear.
From behind Melelea, I can see the inside of a cave and Grazrath sitting on a pile of giant bones, nursing the wound that I gave him.
The archdemon looks angry, annoyed even.
The wound on his chest is still bleeding, thick, viscous black blood dripping down the human skin on his chest.
“He’s distracted by his wound,” she whispers. “I don’t think he’s noticed me, yet.”
“Where is he?” I ask Melelea quietly, tightly, my hands still ready to snatch her back.
“I don’t know . . .” Melelea murmurs. “The mind-tie . . . it’s trying to call me to his thoughts . . . I can see a dragon and Ilustan’s castle . . . and Adalind . . . ?”
“Don’t give in to the mind-tie,” I tell her softly. “It will just give him an opportunity to notice you. Just find his location and get out.”
Melelea murmurs again, her hands tracing a new pattern over the water.
The image rotates and shifts, first looking to the back of the cave, before finding the large, yawning mouth of the opening.
Out of the gaping mouth, we can see white-tipped peaks, but they are soon blotted out by imps rushing toward us, screeching and shrieking.
Without thinking, I yank Melela backward and Zera, reacting to my action, slaps the water, breaking the image.
Looking over Melelea, I run my eyes over her form, checking for wounds. “Are you all right? Did the imps see you?”
“I don’t know,” the trolless responds. “That was unexpected. I don’t know if that was Grazrath seeking to hide his location or if that was an unfortunate coincidence.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Dame Zera says. “I know where he is.”
“You do?” Melelea and I ask at the same time.
Zera nods. “I’ve seen those peaks many times, since I was a child. My father’s lands are in the southwest of Adrik. Those are the Whitbron Mountains, not far from here, actually. From the view from the cave, I would say that he’s on Baldric’s Peak, the highest mountain in the range.”
“Baldric’s Peak?” I ask, then realize what she is saying. “Oh, you mean Wyrminji. That’s what we call it in Orik. It makes sense. That’s where we had to fight and put down the dragon Wyrmin when he went insane. He’s probably staying in Wyrmin’s old lair.”
“Those bones he was sitting on, then . . .” Melelea begins.
“. . . were probably Wyrmin’s,” I finish. “We left the dragon’s bones in his lair to rest. It’s bad luck to move a dead dragon. But if he found the bones, he could be planning to use the magic left in them for a nefarious purpose.”
“You’re right. If he has them, he will use them for his plans.
I saw Castle Ilustan in his thoughts. He is also focused on Adalind a disturbing amount.
I think his next step is to summon the archdemons and attack the capital itself to take Adalind.
Because she is Fairy-Blessed, there is an endless source of magic in her veins.
He wouldn’t need any other magic users if he got his claws on her. ”
“We will let nothing happen to the queen,” I reassure her, seeing the fear and worry on Melelea’s face as she speaks and smelling it curdling her delicate scent.
Then I realize that my hands are still on her shoulders, and I let go to give her space.
“We will find Grazrath and put him down like the dog he is before he can do any more harm.”
“The Whitbron Mountains are treacherous,” Dame Zera says. “Too steep for horses and prone to avalanches.”
“Warbeasts should still be able to handle the climb,” I say. “You can leave your horse in the village and ride up with Gunag.”
Dame Zera pulls a face before she can master her emotions.
I raise an eyebrow at her lack of discipline. “ . . . unless that is going to be a problem? You could always ride back to Ilustan and share what we know with the king and queen.”
“No, it’s not a problem,” Zera says stiffly. “I’ll handle it.”
“Handle what?” asks Gunag, entering the kitchen. He must have finished sending the falcon.
“Grazrath is holed up in Wyrminji,” I tell him. “We ride out within the hour to hunt him. Dame Zera rides with you because her horse cannot handle the mountain’s steepness.”
To his credit, Gunag doesn’t crow about his good fortune. It seems even he is learning that Zera doesn’t appreciate his arrogance.
“I’ll prepare the warbeasts, then,” Gunag says evenly.
“I’ll come with you,” Dame Zera says, standing upright. “I’ll need to move my pack from Stormfury to your warbeast.”
Melelea and I exchange a questioning look. Stormfury must be the name of her horse. Gunag simply nods. “We’ll need supplies as well. Winter cloaks, boots, and heat charms. Wyrminji is as cold as the ocean depths this time of year.”
“I’ll speak to Kirigard,” I say. “They’ll be low on supplies because of the attack, but I’m sure they can scrounge up what we need.”
“We need to hurry,” Melelea says. “Once Grazrath is done nursing his wound, he’ll be using the dragon bones to launch a full-scale attack on Ilustan. We have to stop him before it’s too late.”
“Then we don’t have a moment to lose,” I say. “Wyrminji isn’t far from these lands. You can see it in the distance from the northern watchtower. We should be able to get there by tomorrow morning if we travel through the night. Saddle up for a rough night and chew the bloodroot, Gunag.”
Gunag nods, and in a moment, he leaves the kitchen, followed by Dame Zera, leaving me and Melelea alone in the back room.
Melelea shivers, still sitting on the floor in front of the now still bowl of water. I look at her with concern. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Melelea replies, though she wraps her arms around her middle. “It’s merely . . . it’s all been happening so fast that I haven’t stopped to wonder, why? Why the mind-tie? Why is it me linked to the demon? His mind is a cold and sadistic void, so unlike my own. So why?”
“You are a sasari of power,” I remind her. “If his aim is Queen Adalind, one whom you love like a daughter, perhaps it is your power that is trying to protect her and your grandchild.”
“Perhaps,” Melelea says, shivering again. “But I do not like being in his mind. It is like being in a place where all hope is gone.”
“Hope is not gone, Melelea,” I vow to her. “This is a chance to rid our world of a great evil. I will not fail in killing him next time. I will take his head from his shoulders, and your sleep will be sweet and peaceful. You’ll never have to mind-share with him again.”
Melelea looks up, her luminous silver eyes arresting mine. “Do you give me your Oath?”
“My Oath,” I tell her seriously, feeling it in my bones, “that we will stop this demon before he can wreak his ruin, or I will die trying.”
Melelea holds my eyes for a moment longer, then nods. “Then we should go gather supplies. There’s no time to lose.”