“Wait!” cried Dar. “Shouldn’t you wear your armor?”
“We’ll run much faster without it.”
“Hai,” replied Dar. “That seems wise.” She watched them depart with a heavy heart. When the door closed, she noticed Kovok-mah standing beside her.
He bowed. “Muth Mauk, Togu-mah is dead.”
Thirty-nine
There was no time to grieve. Soldiers might arrive any moment, and Dar had to organize a hasty retreat. She told the orcs to don their armor, fashion a stretcher to carry Girta, and procure food from the garrison’s kitchen. A few reed shelters remained from the summer campaign, and she sent some orcs to search for more in the abandoned barracks. As they left, Sevren approached Dar. “What can I do?” he asked. “I want to help.”
“Are you sure? This could end up like the Vale of Pines.”
“The new king’s army will be Othar’s army in truth. I will na serve such an evil cause.”
“Then I’d be glad for your aid,” said Dar. “Girta needs boots and warm clothes. And I must know what’s going on in Taiben.”
“I’ll do my best. If you’re na headed for the pass, how can I find your trail?”
“The Old Road goes west along the base of the foothills, then follows a river into the mountains. On horseback, you should catch up easily.”
“Then I’ll see you as soon as I can,” said Sevren, “with clothes and news. Leave quickly. Karm’s grace on you, Dar.”
“Fasak Muth la vashak tha, Sevren.” May Muth la bless you, Sevren.
Sevren left. Lama-tok and Ven-goth were already gone. The orcs were strapping reed shelters and packs onto their backs when Zna-yat approached Dar. He held her golden pendant. “Muth Mauk, should I pack this heavy thing?”
Dar eyed the necklace with distaste, for she felt it symbolized the pointlessness of her mission. She was about to tell him to leave it behind when she thought of the plundering soldiers. “Hai,” she said. “Washavokis treasure yellow iron. It would please them greatly to have it.”
Zna-yat grinned. “Then it’ll please me greatly to carry it away.”
As Zna-yat stowed the necklace in his pack, news arrived that the serving women had been slain. To Dar, it was a foretaste of Kol’s savagery and another tragedy to add to a growing list. Her instincts warned her that something foul and malign had been loosed. At the moment, she could only flee it, but Dar understood flight wouldn’t bring safety. I must confront this evil. That’s why Muth la preserved my life.
General Kol entered the prince’s apartments. The boy sat on his bed, still dressed in his nightclothes. Tears streaked his face, as the prince shuddered from the effort of suppressing sobs. As Kol gazed at the grief-stricken boy, he briefly saw himself as a lad. Then he hardened his heart and put on a mask of compassion. When the prince looked up, he saw a face possessing the perfect mixture of grief and sympathy.
“Your Majesty,” said Kol. “Such a terrible day.” He walked over to the bedside and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What strength I have is yours.”
“Why?” asked the prince in a quavering voice. “Why did they kill my mother?”
“Because it’s their nature to kill. She was good, and they don’t understand goodness. To them, it’s weakness.”
The prince began to shake.
“It’s not unmanly to cry,” said Kol, his voice gentle and sad. He watched the boy sob, all the while rubbing his shoulder. When he thought the prince had cried long enough, he spoke. “There’s something you can do for your mother.”
The prince ceased sobbing and straightened. “What?”
“It will be hard, but she deserves this,” said Kol. “A sword’s steel is soft until it’s tempered. So you must face this trial to become a man. And have no doubt; this day will make you one.”
“What must I do?” asked young Kregant, sounding timid.
“Visit your mother’s chamber and view the orcs’ handiwork. It won’t be easy, but I’ll be there. You owe this to her memory.”
“Why?”
“So you will know your enemy. That knowledge will sustain you when doubt arises. It will allow you to do what’s necessary.”
The prince looked dubious, but Kol knew that he would come. He wants ^ much to be a man. Kol snapped his fingers, and servants appeared. “Dress His Majesty.”
Though servants attired the prince in black and gold, it was General Kol who strapped on his sword. Then he led the boy through the palace to Girta’s apartments. Queen’s Men barred the hallway, but
admitted the prince and his general. Even before they reached the queen’s doorway, a bloody tableau was visible. The two men Kol had murdered lay in the corridor, their wounds gruesomely enhanced. They appeared to have been slain in a ferocious struggle. Nor were they alone. A severed arm lay on the floor. Nearby was a hacked and headless torso.
Kol pretended to be oblivious of the boy’s trembling as he marched him toward the bloody scene. He wanted the prince to receive its full effect. The two skirted the corpses and entered the apartment. Inside lay Nagtha-yat and Magtha-jan. The poison arrows that had taken their lives had been pulled out and replaced by wounds that spoke of a more gallant assault. The men who had manned the other observation post lay near them. Slaughtered for silence and dramatic effect, they added to the carnage.
The prince scarcely noticed them. His eyes were drawn to the two women who lay nearby. One was his mother’s lady’s maid, her head nearly severed. She still clung to a woman who wore the queen’s nightgown and favorite dressing robe as if attempting to shield her. The prince saw his mother’s golden hair. It was soaked with blood. The face below the tresses was smashed beyond recognition. He felt that he should run and embrace the body, but he retched instead.
“This is how orcs repay goodness,” said General Kol, his voice choked with outrage. “This is how they honor treaties.” He took the prince’s hand. “Come from this awful place, wiser about your foe. Your mother will be interred with solemn splendor. Those men who fell here will receive full honors. Songs and tales will recount their bravery. We’ll burn the orcs like garbage.”
Kol led the prince to another room with a wide window that overlooked the city. In the storm, Taiben seemed a phantom realm. Kol had a servant bring the boy a goblet of hot spiced wine, sweetened with honey. He watched the prince drink and waited for color to return to his face. When it did, Kol spoke. “The orcs are fleeing in that storm, thinking they’ll be safe in their warm halls. War’s hard in the winter. The weather’s harsh, and the roads are slippery. But it’ll be even harder on the orcs. When we drive them from their halls, they’ll have no refuge. They can’t eat snow, nor dwell in it.”
The prince’s eyes widened. “War?”
“Aye, Your Majesty. Were not the orcs’ deeds war? Would you have them go unpunished?”
“Never!”
“Your mother spoke of your ancestor, Theodric Goblin Slayer. She said he was your age when he guided men to a nest of orcs. They slew them all—bulls, sows, and whelps—and helped bring peace to a ravaged land. Theodric’s blood flows in your veins. I sense his courage in you.”
Kol suddenly knelt before the prince. “Soon you’ll be my king, and all the realm will kneel as I do now. When they do, think how Theodric would repay your mother’s death. All true men share your grief and anger. Say the word, and they’ll fight for you. Call for war! We’ll ride together and rid the realm of orcs.”
“And their queen, too?”
“Aye, Your Majesty. She’ll burn for her treachery.”
The first troops reached Taiben by early afternoon. Kol ordered them to march into the palace courtyard, where they stood in ranks to be addressed by the newly crowned Kregant III. The child king’s voice was swallowed by the storm, and the soldiers didn’t know they were going to war until officers told them and ordered them to cheer. Having been promised brandy, the men cheered loudly. Then they marched to the empty garrison outside the city.