The Dreaming Hunt (17 page)

Kodo looked visibly startled. As well he should. Such acts would be open provocations to local nature-aligned forces on both continents and undoubtedly cause unrest in both places.

“Is this a problem?”

“No, Your Majesty. Uhh, so shall it be.” The order obviously had taken Kodo by surprise. However, the captain's duty was not to ask but merely to obey.

So. Tarses had shown himself, had he? For surely, the only way any rumor of him had reached this room was because he willed it so. She sometimes wondered if Constantine hadn't engineered Tarses's escape. Apparently, there had been an uprising of monster races, and a group of orcs had overrun the prison and released all the prisoners.

Her father had long had the means to fix Tarses's problem and remove the elemental magics from within him, if someone could but catch up with the fugitive general and bring him in. On one hand, she greatly wished for him to be fixed. Her father's plan had long been to install her in Pan Orda as its queen with Tarses as her consort to help keep order on the sprawling and fractious continent. It was a plan she greatly favored. An itch to get out from under Maximillian's thumb tormented her. And personally, she was quite fond of Tarses.

But on the other hand, she feared for his safety if he emerged from hiding. He posed a real and dangerous threat to Maximillian's throne, and her father would never tolerate that, no matter how fond of his falcon he might be.

What were the odds that Laernan should retrieve a prophecy that spoke of a falcon and, moments later, word of General Tarses's whereabouts should surface? A chill whisked down her spine. This was
exactly
why she despised soothsayers and portents.

A chamberlain stepped forward, and Maximillian looked at him expectantly. “Commander Thanon has arrived and awaits your pleasure as ordered, Your Resplendent Majesty.”

“Send him in.”

Endellian observed the young officer, a paxan who'd distinguished himself by leading his own regiment of elite shock troops in battle. He did not look old enough to have amassed the chestful of blazons from military campaigns and medals for valor that left no doubt as to the nature of the man wearing them. Thanon made a crisp bow and rose with athletic fluidity when her father gestured him up. The mark around the closed third eye in the middle of Thanon's forehead was Grand Marshal Korovo's. He was commander in chief of all of Maximillian's military forces.

“I have a mission for you, Commander Thanon,” her father announced. “I need you to lead your regiment to Haelos with all due haste. I shall arrange for a portal to drop you near Dupree. Captain Kodo, here, sails in the morning in the Black Ship
Victorious
. He will bring you the bulk of your equipment and supplies.”

“It is my honor to serve Your Resplendent Majesty.”

She was surprised at the officer's brevity. Most who came before her father felt obliged to bury her sire in great, horrible soliloquies of praise that were made all the more obsequious by being patently insincere.

Maximillian smiled a little. Perhaps he was reminded of another talented military officer from long ago. Had Tarses ever been this intense and focused? She thought back. Yes. Yes, he had.

“Your primary task shall be to help the Haelan legion restore order and bring quiet to the colony. Additionally, I need you to be my eyes and ears. Learn the new lay of the land.”

“So shall it be, Your Majesty.”

Interesting. Her father felt a need for more players on the game board in Haelos. Did he have reason to believe that events were accelerating on that problematic continent?

Her speculations were interrupted when Maximillian told her briskly, “Summon my councilors. We must discuss this business of who shall rule Haelos. It is imperative that the new governor get control of the situation quickly.”

She rose to her feet. “Of course, Father. Right away.”

*   *   *

“Ready?” Aurelius murmured over his shoulder. “They'll come any minute now. Yon Boki battle leader has his forces nearly whipped into a killing frenzy. They'll go quiet just before they charge so they can hear the order and go together.”

Will stepped up beside the guildmaster to have a look. He did not recognize any of the Boki warriors shouting and waving their clubs. He muttered to his grandfather, “Does it not strike you as odd that they are spending so much time posturing? That is entirely unlike the Boki tactics I saw in the Forest of Thorns.”

“Mayhap they act differently when defending their home,” Aurelius replied distractedly.

Will frowned. The Boki in the Forest of Thorns had been serious, focused, and organized. Yes, there'd been some shouting and club waving, but nothing remotely resembling this. Frankly, the display he witnessed now looked more like a grand show than actual combat. As if they intentionally tried to engage the attention of as many Haelan forces as they could …

The Boki were fully clever enough to pull off a distraction tactic.

“Are you sure this is their main battle force?” he asked his grandfather.

Aurelius's full attention swung to him. “Explain yourself.”

“This is
nothing
like how they acted when led by their thanes and thorns. And where are the thanes and thorns? They should have a dozen of them at the front of their line, and I see
not one
experienced battle leader.” He added forcefully, “This is a trick.”

“We must follow our orders,” Aurelius snapped.

“Let me challenge the leader to single combat and get this fight started,” Will declared.

“Absolutely not. You are my only living heir. I will not allow you to risk your life like that.”

“They killed my father. Your adopted
son
. And my mother.”

Aurelius whipped around to face him, golden eyes blazing hotter than the sun. “I
know,
” he growled. “You are fated to great deeds, but not this night. You must trust me. Let them stay over there out of reach.”

A voice from Will's other side said cheerfully, “I can make them come over here.”

Will turned sharply. A slender young man dressed in a random assortment of ragged clothing grinned at him mischievously. “Who are you?”

“Travesty, if you please. Wandrakin minstrel and master of the jest.”

“How will you bring yon orcs to me?”

“Easy.” The wandrakin cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted across the field, “Hey, you big, green lump of rat turd! Yeah, you! The one with the big red club and a face so ugly your mother wouldn't suckle you. No wonder you're so scrawny.”

The orc standing at the head of force of greenskins roared, and his face twisted in rage.

“You're so stupid a sheep can outsmart you!” Travesty shouted. Hoots and catcalls up and down the Dupree line seemed to lend the wandrakin energy. Literally. It was just on the edge of his vision, but Will thought the wandrakin was actually channeling the words in an almost magical way. Twisting them into something weapon-like, imbuing them with intent. With emotional power.

The wandrakin shouted, “Stars, even a moss-covered rock can outsmart you, and it would be a less disgusting wad of green slime than you!”

The lead orc roared, and the rest of the horde picked up on the howl of fury. Will gripped his staff more tightly as the Boki yanked a short, curved dagger out of his crude belt. He thought to kill the Haelan legion with that little toothpick? Will swished his staff experimentally, testing its range. As long as he could keep his foes beyond the arc of his staff, Will would control any fight he engaged in.

The lead orc brandished his dagger in his fist, shoving it high in the air. And then the creature plunged the blade into his own ear with a scream of rage and agony.

Will lurched in shock. “Why did he do that?” he exclaimed.

“The wandrakin taunts him,” Aurelius answered grimly. “The orc puts out his own eardrums rather than let young Travesty lure him into an unreasoning battle rage from which he cannot escape. Which,” he added grimly under his breath, “lends credence to your assertion that this group is under orders to distract the legion and keep it here, not to engage the governess's troops in bloody battle.”

Will swiveled to face his grandfather. “Taunts are real?”

“Observe and learn,” Aurelius muttered, nodding at the young wandrakin, who was still shouting invective at the Boki battle leader in a steady stream. The words twisted and writhed through the air, growing in power as they traveled toward their target. It was akin to watching magic, but the source of the power was markedly different. Language itself seemed to be the point of origin.

“Your troops are without balls. Your wife is a wart-covered goblin. And your children are idiots!” On and on the insults went, growing ever more outrageous. Will had never seen nor heard the like. He would laugh his head off if that strange power didn't vibrate through every syllable.

The orc shifted the wicked dagger into his off hand.

“Quickly,” Aurelius urged the wandrakin. “He's about to put out his other eardrum.”

For a moment, desperation crossed young Travesty's face. “He's resisting powerfully. I need something personal to him. Something that causes him pain. A failure of some kind. That would push him over the edge.”

Will knew just the thing. He leaned down and muttered quickly in the wandrakin's ear.

“Yup, that'll do it,” Travesty responded, nodding.

“Hurry,” Aurelius urged. “This day's victory or loss may come down to this moment. You must succeed, youngling.”

Travesty grinned impudently at Will's mentor. “Watch this.” He bellowed at the top of his lungs so every living being on the field could not fail to hear him. “The son of your greatest enemy stands here beside me, alive. You all
failed
. You could not erase the lineage of your foe. You and your entire tribe were not able to kill one lousy stripling lad.”

The orc's dagger hesitated. Travesty cursed and sweat popped out on his brow.

Will leaned forward and muttered in the wandrakin's ear urgently, “Tell him the son of the yellow dragon lives.”

Travesty screamed, pitching his voice in a timbre that even evoked soul-deep agitation in Will, “The son of the yellow dragon lives! Here he stands, you stupid lout!”

That was it.

The orc bellowed like a minotaur and charged, shocking his troops and leaving them behind for a stunned moment before they gathered themselves to follow their leader.

The result was an arrow-shaped charge by the Boki line with the enraged orc alone, well in front of the rest. Will gripped his staff tightly, took a deep breath, and charged.

But Aurelius also signaled to Syreena's battle commander just as Will leaped forward. Horns blew, sounding the charge, and a mass of Dupree regulars and militia charged in a coordinated mass toward the oncoming thane. Will was not able to break through and get to the front of the line to meet the Boki in honorable battle. Which was no doubt Aurelius's intent. Curse him.

The need to avenge his mother and father, the pent-up grief and loss, the pure, clean rage of hatred poured through Will. The wooden disk embedded over his heart burned like acid, feeding upon his fury, gorging upon it. And hate came back to Will from the disk, magnified a hundredfold. Bloodroot was the guardian of death and destruction. This battle, this moment, fed his soul like nothing else.

The tree lord's power surged through Will, almost too much for his mortal vessel to contain. His head felt as if it would split in twain. His entire body felt as if it might explode. He yelled at the top of his lungs, giving voice to it all.

The orc leader's speed and strength, along with his surprise head start, meant he crashed into the Dupree line a good dozen man-lengths in front of any of his troops. Colonial soldiers and militia swarmed the Boki, hacking ferociously at him from all directions. It was at least twenty on one.

Seconds later, the entire Boki and Dupree lines crashed into each other with a deafening explosion of sound and fury. Weapons clanged, men shouted and cried and screamed. Orders were bellowed, horns blown to direct troop movements, and the moans of the wounded and dying began to rise from the ground. Blood flew everywhere, and the smell of it filled the air. The paving stones beneath Will's feet grew slippery, running with blood in a river of death.

Where was the leader? What was the real plan out here? The orc was surrounded by a mass of soldiers hacking at him from all sides. Even the greatest Boki warrior could not withstand such a lopsided assault for long. Ty had always told Will that sufficient quantity would win out over quality every time in a fight. Now he knew what his father had meant. The orc's leather armor and then the natural armor of his own tough hide were sliced to ribbons by dozens of blades chopping into his body.

The Boki seemed oblivious to the wounds springing up all over him, caught as he was in the grip of the battle rage Travesty had provoked. Will had seen some tough Boki in his day, but never had he seen anything like this. The orc's left arm was all but severed above the elbow, his right thigh hacked in multiple places by massive gashes that would have felled a lesser creature. A dozen arrows stuck out of his hide, his nose and jaw were askew, and smaller wounds without count crisscrossed his green hide. The orc roared with every swing of his mighty axe, mowing down locals around him like stalks of wheat, ripe for the harvest. It was a terrible and beautiful sight to see.

Will's paltry staff was swept aside by the torrent of blades ebbing and flowing around the Boki. He was pushed back from the bristling mob as the orc went down under a pile of shouting attackers.

Blades continued to rise and fall madly. Great arcs of blood swung wide of the scrum as the Dupree defenders hacked their enemy to bits. The violence of the orc's end stunned Will. It even seemed to rock the Boki line itself. The green charge faltered. Broke.