The Sleeping King (71 page)

But when her magics were completely drained she staggered, exhausted, toward the brush from whence she'd come. She'd only taken a step or two beyond the clearing, though, when a big, meaty—and very green—hand clasped her upper arm. The same orc who'd tried to lead them past this place before.

“Come. Willcobb.”

Startled, she stared up at him. He was going to take her to Will and the others? She nodded her understanding and followed as he veered toward the north end of the battlefield. A great cry went up from behind her. “Kidnapping … White Heart in trouble … green whoresons abuse the colors!…”

She only caught snippets of it, but it was enough to tell that Anton's men took umbrage with a Boki escorting her off the field like this. She would have turned to reassure them, but the Boki was dragging her forward so quickly she could barely keep her feet.

Nonetheless, someone caught up with her, because all of a sudden something swung past her from behind and slammed into the orc beside her. He staggered, but the blow did not draw blood. The orc released her arm and whirled to face his attacker. Raina did the same.

It appeared to be some sort of barbarian. He looked human, but his face was covered in complicated whorls of red-brown paint. “It's all right,” she tried. “I go with him voluntarily.”

But the barbarian either did not hear her or did not understand her. His attention rested solely upon the orc before him. The two combatants rushed each other and Raina stumbled back momentarily from the fury of their fight. She stepped forward and tried again. “It's all right—” It did no good.

The two fighters disengaged only when, frustrated, she physically stepped between them. It was a foolhardy maneuver, but she was lucky. Both men had enough control of their weapons to check their blows mid-swing and not decapitate her.

She shouted, “Stop!”

The Boki frowned at her for a moment and then sighed. “Bal-tha-zar?” he asked reluctantly.

Huh?
“Uhh, yes. Sure,” she tried. “No killing.”

He nodded in disappointment. “No kill. Bal-tha-zar.”

She turned to the barbarian. “No killing,” she repeated forcefully. She pointed at her tabard and then at his weapon and then shook her head in the negative. The barbarian frowned and pointed at the Boki, then drew a finger across his neck.

“No!” she exclaimed. “For lack of any better demonstration, she reached out and tucked her arm into the Boki's elbow as if he were a dance partner about to escort her onto the floor. The barbarian's eyes bulged. She waved him away with her free hand and then turned and commenced dragging the Boki off the field with her.

She glanced back over her shoulder once, and the barbarian still stood there, staring at her in shock. Yup, she could hear the rumors now. The White Heart healer was dating a Boki.

The Boki glanced down at her in definite humor. “Bal-tha-zar. Cray. Zee.”

What else could she do? She nodded in the affirmative and kept on walking.

When they cleared the battlefield her orc escort shook off her hand and took off running. Wherever he was going, he wanted to get there in a big hurry. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, dragged at her.

The Boki stopped twice to wait impatiently for her to catch up with him, but there was no help for it. Draining her magical energy like that had drained her physically, too. And she had not a drop of magic left to cast into herself and mayhap give herself more strength to run faster.

The third time she caught up with him, she gasped before he took off running again, “How much further?”

“Soon.”

She sincerely hoped “soon” in Boki terms meant a matter of minutes. Because that was just about all she had left.

And that was when the fighting broke out on their right.

The Boki jolted and put on a burst of speed that demonstrated just how much he'd been slowing down for her. Cursing under her breath, she followed, ducking out of sight behind a cluster of oak saplings. The Boki stopped and she did the same, panting.

He gestured at the direction the sound of fighting was coming from and then pointed at her tabard. “You go … Bal. Tha. Zar?”

She laughed without humor and held up her hands, which were definitely not glowing in the deep gloom of night. “No magic. All gone.”

“Ahh. Go qui-uhht.”

Stars willing, “quiet” also meant “slow.”

For a big creature the Boki moved with shocking stealth. She did her best to mimic his silent passage through the wood but wondered at the value of doing so, attired as she was in white that stood out like a beacon in the night. They had to circle wide twice more around skirmishing. Luck favored them, though, and they moved away from the fighting until it was only a distant murmur behind them.

Who was out here, sneaking around in small, thief-like groups, and why? Did Anton know the lair of the Sleeping King was close by? Had he sent his men out looking for it? Leland had said Anton believed the Boki to be guarding a great treasure trove. Was that what his men searched for?

If so, that meant the main battle behind her had been nothing more than a ruse! Leland had died for nothing more than a distraction—

Fury erupted in her heart. The governor had murdered Sir Leland as surely as if he'd wielded the sword that killed Hyland himself. It was wrong. How were the people supposed to live under a ruler who valued life so little? She was White Heart now, her prime tenet of existence to defend life. And Anton Constantine was anathema to everything she stood for.

Her thoughts flashed back to Moto and Mag and Arv and the kindari villagers who lived on the fringes of society rather than accept the yoke of Koth.
Freedom indeed. A most worthy goal.
She did not know what she could do to support their fight, but she would find a way. Someday. Somehow.

They topped a ridge and her Boki guide stopped abruptly, enough so that she ran into his back. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Shhh.” The Boki clicked his tongue in a rapid pattern several times and then fell silent. He repeated the insectoid sounds once more. In a moment the clicking sound came back, but in a slightly different pattern.

Her escort moved forward confidently. Raina frowned. A sophisticated signaling system for supposedly stupid beasts. She was rapidly coming to the conclusion that these Boki had been vastly underestimated by the Empire. All her life, she'd heard nothing to contradict the idea that greenskins in general were intellectually inferior to the humanoid races. But clearly, it was not so.

They stepped into a small clearing and she spotted Thar'Ok. Or at least she thought it was Thar'Ok, the most senior of the Boki shamans.

He spoke roughly, “We wait for worst fight go by. Rest. Be some time.”

She swore under her breath and stared at the party of orcs standing silently around her. She started, though, when Thar'Ok abruptly started mumbling into thin air. The other orcs moved aside a little and the shaman knelt.
What on Urth?
For all the world, it looked like he was starting a field resurrection.

Sure enough, in a few minutes the body of an orc had formed at Thar'Ok's feet and become solid. In a few more minutes the resurrected orc took a gasping breath and lurched upright.

Huh.
She'd never thought to ask how greenskin races healed their dead. Could they speak with spirits as well—

—She jumped to her feet and asked Thar'Ok urgently, “Can you speak to the dead?”

The thorn blinked at her in surprise. “Big magic. But yes.”

“I need to speak to a dead pinkskin spirit. He died well. But he refused to resurrect for me. I'm completely out of magical energy. I used it all healing your warriors and mine. I
must
speak with this spirit. Convince him to come back.”

“Whoo be he?”

“Landsgrave Leland Hyland.”

“Him big figh-tuh.”

“With big honor,” Raina added. “Like you. Please. If you wish me and my friend to wake the Sleeping King, you will do this for me. We're not going anywhere for a while. You said so yourself.”

Thar'Ok frowned and reached out to poke her tabard gently. “Bal.Tha.Zar.”

She nodded and waited, holding her breath.

“I do. For Bal. Tha. Zar.”

She sagged in relief.

“Three ask. Only.” He held up three thick fingers to illustrate his meaning. She nodded impatiently, understanding. A spell to speak with a spirit only allowed the caster to ask three questions, no more. No conversation. Just the questions. And, of course, the spirit was not required to answer honestly. Although she doubted that would be an issue with Leland. He was honest to his core.

While Thar'Ok muttered to himself and commenced gathering magic, she thought frantically, preparing the questions she would have the thorn ask Leland. How to convince him to come back to this world when she knew for certain he did not wish to do so?

The orc cast the magic, and Raina looked around expectantly. Where was Leland's spirit? As a spirit caster, she ought to be able to sense its presence.

“Is he here?” she asked urgently. “Did his spirit come to you?”

“Ahh. There he be,” Thar'Ok sighed.

Raina looked around again. She didn't see him. Was Leland hiding himself from her? It would be like him. Could spirits do that?

“Ask,” the thorn grunted.

Raina spoke carefully. “Sir Leland, were you ordered not to resurrect?”

Thankfully, the thorn didn't seem to have to relay the question to the spirit, for in a moment he shook his head in the negative. Thar'Ok muttered, “He say no. Ask two.”

She took a deep breath. And now for the key question. “Does Sir Leland know where a man named Kerryl Moonrunner took his son, Kendrick, after Moonrunner kidnapped him?”

Thar'Ok frowned. “Spirit very … move much. Talk to self. Mad. Scared, maybe.”

Excellent.
“And my question? Does he answer it?”

A pause. “He not know. Ask three.”

She thought fast. If Leland didn't know before he died that Kendrick had been kidnapped, then that meant he had received no ransom demand. Either Moonrunner had killed Kendrick, in which case the youth had likely already resurrected, or the fellow still held Kendrick alive. But why? For what purpose?

She asked her third question. “Does Sir Leland understand that he must resurrect if he is to help us find his son and save Kendrick from whatever Moonrunner has planned for him?”

Thar'Ok looked off into space for a long time. Long enough that Raina began to get very nervous. If only she could see Sir Leland! “Is he still there?” she whispered. “Does he answer?”

At long last, the thorn murmured, “Aye. He unner-stan.”

She fell to her knees, emotionally emptied. She'd done her best. Now she could only hope and pray his spirit chose to make the long journey back to the land of the living.

“We go now,” Thar'Ok rumbled above her.

Would this nightmare never end? She gathered herself to rise and a rough green hand appeared before her face. Grateful, she took the thorn's hand and let him help her up. Kindness from an orc. How much more upside down would her world turn before this was all said and done?

The cadre of orcs fanned out in front of and behind her, and they moved out cautiously into the dark.

It wasn't long before her escort led her into another small clearing much like the last one. Except this clearing held familiar faces. Rosana rushed forward to wrap her in a sobbing embrace. Raina was too drained to respond in kind, but she did hug the gypsy back weakly. She looked up over Rosana's shoulder and spied Eben, his eyes bleak.

“I'm so sorry,” she murmured, brokenhearted. “I did my best. But it wasn't enough—”

Cicero cut her off. “We all saw what you did out there on the field. No apologies required.”

Sha'Li added pragmatically, “Weak was his spirit. Eager to die.” She added somewhat less sarcastically than usual, “In peace could he die knowing that his madness we carry on.”

“It is not madness—” Will started hotly.

“I spoke to his spirit—” Raina started at the same time.

“Hush, both you,” Thar'Ok said forcefully. “Anton near.”

Raina started in alarm, and Will whispered, “How near?”

She breathed to him, “On our way here, we heard several groups of his men creeping around in the dark.”

Thar'Ok grunted, “We go. Hurry.”

They moved off to the north into terrain that commenced rising and falling in ever steeper slopes. A big orc warrior moved up beside her to guide her. Will startled her by falling in beside her escort and striking up a whispered conversation. “So, Ki'Rig Agar. You have helped me yet again. Am I to be in your debt forever, Boki?”

The orc grunted, “Wake king. We even. But still finish fight someday.”

Will grinned. “Deal.”

*   *   *

The pair of elves crouched side by side, dark cloaks obscuring their forms until they were part of the night, shadow without form or substance. Aurelius looked over at his old friend and wondered if Selea was experiencing the same déjà vu that he was.

“And now we are two,” he murmured.

Selea nodded slowly. “I will miss Leland if he chooses not to resurrect. He had the best heart of us all.”

“Aye,” Aurelius answered reflectively, “he did at that. Humans are possessed of a unique generosity of spirit.”

“Perhaps it comes from having to live and die so quickly.”

“Mmm,” Aurelius replied. “It would be a great tragedy if he does not live to see his dream to fruition.”

He felt, rather than saw, Selea's shrug under his black cloak. “He knew his dream was in motion. DeVir's boy has taken up the gauntlet. And Leland found the girl and put her into the perfect position to influence events in the years to come.”

“He always did have a knack for that sort of thing.”