Freelance Heroics (20 page)

He examined the wall of containers. They had no labels or writing he could find, though several of them didn’t have lids. He searched for one he could peek inside safely.

“Are they inside the city yet?”

Mazik almost jumped out of his boots. If the way the Blue Boar tensed up was any indication, he wasn’t alone.

A deep growl. “They are. The humans are fighting well today. Our warriors are still collecting.”

“Good, good,” said the first voice. There was a gentle swish, like jewelry being stirred in a box. “Keep me updated.”

Mazik frowned. The second voice was the deep, resonant bass of an adult orck—and one of the ruling class, he suspected. But the other was different.
A child? It’s . . . well, not high, exactly. It’s probably as deep as my voice. It’s just nothing compared to the other orcks I’ve heard. Maybe that’s how their children sound?

He searched for a gap he could look through. He found one at waist height to his right. He kneeled down until he could peer through.

A human male stood near the back of the tent, rooting through a small box of what sounded like jewelry. On the other side of the tent was a big orck with red feathers around her arms and legs. The human’s back was to Mazik, and—

Wait—a human?

Mazik gaped. He had never heard of an orck, outside of the exiles, so much as
talking
to a human, save as a prelude to violence. Yet here one was, not only alive in an orck camp, but free and, from the looks of it, giving
orders
.

Well
, thought Mazik.
That’s probably not good.

“We may have a problem,” said Raedren.

Several minutes had passed, probably. Gavi was keyed up for action, which had made the time pass both quickly and slowly. Now her adrenaline spiked.

She looked to where Raedren was pointing, at the jail. She squinted, but couldn’t make anything out. “I can’t see anything from here. What’s going on?”

The glow in Raedren’s eyes intensified. “Maybe nothing big,” he said finally, “but I think the hostages may have seen us. They’ve started moving more, and I think they’re gathering at the back of the building.”

Gavi swore. If the hostages made too much noise, the guard might realize something was up. She didn’t know how the guard being an orck impacted that—would it make it less likely to care what the humans were doing? Or would it be more sensitive to changes? Either way, she would have preferred the hostages remain unaware of their presence until they were ready to act. It looked like that wasn’t an option anymore.

“I can sneak up there and tell them to act natural.” Gavi unfolded her legs and shifted back into a crouch. “What do you think?”

Raedren scratched his beard. “Sure, I guess. I can watch your back from here. Has Maz said anything?”

“No.” Gavi could still hear the faint hum of their connection, but Mazik hadn’t said anything to her since he and the Blue Boar had entered the camp.

“Do you want to switch to a call between us, in case I see anything? Or I can just shout out, if it’s important enough.”

Gavi tapped her necklace as she thought. “Can you say most of the call spell, and then just complete it real quick if anything happens? If I hear a new call incoming, I’ll assume something’s up.”

“That works.”

Gavi patted her pockets. She wished she had brought the scarf or hood she used while sneaking around Houk, but they were back at her parents’ house. She was glad her hair wasn’t as light as her father’s, as she shoved her ponytail into the back of her jacket. She gripped her sword, making sure it wouldn’t rattle.

“Good luck,” said Raedren.

“Thanks.”

Gavi slipped over the hillock and crept forward as fast as she dared. As she drew closer, she could clearly see the hostages, and could tell that they had indeed clustered at the back of the jail.

Keeping one hand on her sword, Gavi gestured at them with the other, trying to tell them to stand back and stay quiet. Some seemed to realize what she wanted, but others were too agitated. She crossed the gap between the last tree and the clearing the cabin had been built on, and sidled up to the back wall.

“Everyone, I need you to act natural,” she whispered, her voice as quiet and calm as she could make it. She held a finger to her lips, forestalling anyone from replying. “Help is coming. Please act as if nothing is going on.”

A matronly old woman with a wide jaw and a dirt-smeared apron nodded tersely. She gathered up the two children—
they took children, too
, thought Gavi, and her stomach tightened—and pulled them onto her lap. She was sitting near the doorway. The children were each maybe six or seven years old. In other circumstances they might have been too old for story time in an old woman’s lap, but by the sound of it, they had been spending quite a lot of time there over the last few days.

Aside from the old woman and the two children, there were three others: a pale woman in her early twenties—making her a couple of years younger than Gavi, maybe—a stout man who looked to be in his mid-thirties, and a graying older man who, if appearances could be trusted, looked like the first man’s father.

It was the father who settled down with his back to the wall Gavi was crouching beside, his solidly built frame shielding Gavi from the eyes of the guard. “What do you need us to do?”

“Nothing, right now,” said Gavi. “Just act as you normally do, and be patient. Are any of these logs loose?”

The man nodded. “This one.” He patted the bottom log between them. “As are the ones at the top, and a few on that side.” He jerked his head to the left. “We can’t move them without being heard, though.”

“That’s fine. Just sit tight and—”

“
Horvér!
”

Something struck Gavi from behind, and before she knew what was happening she had been hurled face first into the jail. The back wall shook, dumping the old man onto his stomach. The young woman gasped. The children shrieked.

Gavi’s eyes crossed as she crumpled to the ground, her back involuntarily arching. It was like her body was trying to distance itself from pain that wasn’t going away.

She heard something behind her—a grunt, maybe, and the faint sound of footsteps. She threw herself away from the jail and rolled to the side. The next swing barely missed, the heavy sword sending up a fountain of dirt and broken leaves into Gavi’s face. Gavi swiped at her eyes, then hurled herself to her feet like she was doing a pushup on hot coals. Backing away blindly, she yanked her sword free and turned to face her attacker.

The orck’s chest was heaving, its face split in a happy grin of battle lust. Its blue skin was covered with bark and leaves. Gavi wasn’t good at picking out orck genders, but she thought this one was male, since it was smaller and leaner than others she had seen. That didn’t make her feel any better. It was an orck, it was within two meters of her, and it was raising its stone blade for another strike.

“It was in the trees!” Raedren yelled as he ran over. He rattled off spell names as more and more barriers wrapped themselves around Gavi. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think to look up.”

“It’s fine.” Gavi’s eyes were locked on the orck.

The orck tensed—then swung, and Gavi jerked out of the way. The black stone weapon clipped the jail, causing another shriek from the hostages inside.

Gavi backed away madly, toward Raedren. She reached him just as the other orck, the one who had been guarding the jail, rounded the building and took up position alongside its fellow.

Gavi knew that things had just gotten bleak. Against one orck, the two of them would have had the edge. Their offense was lacking, but Raedren was powerful, and could probably keep Gavi alive until she did enough damage to kill one. Against two orcks, though . . . Even numbers against orcks wasn’t even odds.

Her hand flew to her ear. “Sorry, we got discovered!” Gavi said to the distant Mazik. “Two of ’em. We’ll do what we can. Hurry up!” Then she dropped her hand, accidentally cutting off the spell as she scrambled to raise her sword and defend.

Mazik shook his head to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, then peered through the gap again. The human had selected a ruby necklace from the jewelry box. He held it up, watching as the light from the tent’s single oil lantern was refracted inside the gem.

Mazik’s second thought was that this guy was simultaneously over- and under-dressed for camping. He wore plain beige trousers and a threadbare white tunic like any low-class working man might have, but over it was a dark purple vest and a navy jacket, whose ivory buttons glimmered in the faint light. And that wasn’t all that glimmered—his hands sported at least four rings each, his wrists were loaded with bracelets and bangles, and his neck nearly bowed under the weight of the riches hanging from it. The man unclasped the ruby necklace and added it to his collection.

Aside from his attire, the man didn’t look remarkable. He was probably older than Mazik, though not by much—in his early thirties, perhaps. He was of average height, was plumper than most people could afford to get, and had unruly hair similar to Mazik’s own, save for his was brown. He also probably needed a bath, if the sweat rings on his shirt were any indication.

A sweep of Mazik’s senses confirmed that the other man was a caster, though that didn’t help explain how he was ordering around an orck. Mazik waved the Blue Boar over and pointed to the gap in the boxes. Mazik moved out of the way and watched for the superhero’s reaction.

The Blue Boar froze. Apparently, Mazik wasn’t just seeing things. The human was really there.

“This is beautiful,” said the man, whom Mazik had mentally dubbed Jewels. “Your warriors did a good job.”

The orck growled. The growl didn’t sound angry; it just sounded like what she did before she spoke. “Of course. The Sha-n Stone Band does not fail.”

Jewels laughed. There was a delirious edge to it, like he couldn’t believe he was getting away with what he was, in fact, getting away with. Mazik would know—he had laughed like that many times lately. “Of course you don’t! Come on, ya big hardass. Lighten up. I was giving you a compliment.”

The orck growled noncommittally.

Mazik found another gap and examined the orck. That’s when something he had noticed earlier finally penetrated his surprise.
Red feathers on her arms and legs. The leader. She was back in camp the whole time.
Mazik thought of all the times she had been seen during the attacks, but never caught.
Duplicates. Decoys. Of course. Why risk being caught when you can stay safe back at base? That’s what I’d do. Iiiiinteresting.

Mazik turned to the Blue Boar and pointed at the opposite side of the tent. He mouthed,
The orck. Leader?
He repeated it two more times, to make sure the Blue Boar understood.

The superhero bent to his peephole. He nodded.
Probably
, he mouthed.

Mazik felt a smile tug at his lips.
Lucky! I didn’t think an orck would command from the back, but this lot is just full of surprises. We might be able to end this whole thing right now. And get the full reward
, he added with a greedy grin.

Still, an orck taking orders from a human is strange.
Mazik scratched his chin. Orcks had always been uniquely incorruptible. They couldn’t be hired, tricked, blackmailed, or reasoned with, because all they wanted was to fight and kill.

Mazik supposed it wasn’t impossible. The ruling-class orcks were just as smart as humans could be, and humans had certainly tried to ally with orcks before. Apparently someone had finally found the right orck.

He looked around the rest of the tent. There were more boxes, a pile of weapons, the open flaps leading to the bonfire outside, and—
aha!

On the other side of the tent, partially obscured by the central tree trunk, was a circle of blood—a ritual array. It consisted of two circles, one inside the other, each carved into the ground. At six equidistant points around the outer circle, smaller circles had been added, and inside each of these was an item—mostly the remains of animal sacrifices, though two held a clay cup and a silver plate respectively. Inside the innermost circle was a human head, severed and buried up to the mouth. Blood pooled in the grooves that made up the two circles, and spread out in a spider web-like pattern between them.

Mazik drew the Blue Boar’s attention to the array. The costumed man examined it. He turned back and mouthed something Mazik missed.

Mazik looked at the array again. He frowned—and then his heart fell, rose, and then fell again, as he realized what the Blue Boar was trying to say. The blood was long dry. This ritual had been cast days ago. That meant their theory had been both right and wrong—there had been a ritual, but it had already been finished, and there didn’t appear to be another in the making. Which, Mazik realized as his stomach finished curdling and stayed there, meant they were too late. At least one person had already been sacrificed here.

Mazik peeked into one of the boxes they were hiding behind. It was filled with pieces of statuary and small paintings, ones he wouldn’t have been surprised to find in a museum—such as the one the orcks broke into several days ago. Another box had more jewelry.

Boxes of valuables, a ritual, a human giving orders to an orck . . .
Mazik frowned. Inwardly, he shrugged.
I guess we just need to take them both down. Then we can figure out what’s going on.

Mazik shuffled over to the Blue Boar and waved for the other man to crouch down. They lowered their heads until they were so close they were nearly kissing.

“Let’s—”

“What was that?” said Jewels. Boots scrabbled on the ground as he rose from his chair.

Mazik and the Blue Boar froze. They held still as Red Feathers tromped across the tent, the flaps rustling.

That’s when they heard it as well—an orck battle roar, coming from somewhere in the camp.

“Intruders,” growled Red Feathers.

“
Sorry, we got discovered!
” came Gavi’s voice in Mazik’s head. This time, he did jump. “
Two of ’em.
We’ll do what we can. Hurry up!
”