NOVEL NEXT Chapter Four | Book 3
Moktar stood between two orcs who were both taller than he was. Moktar was not a small orc by any stretch. He and Urzan stood at least six and a half feet tall and about that big around.
In fact, orcs in this world are strikingly similar to the classic orcs that have pervaded Earth's literature for decades. Green skin, check. Tusks? Check. Heavily muscled and live in packs? Yep. They wear armor, but not much of it. Orc skin seemed to be as thick and strong as Mira's boiled leather chestpiece.
A circle of orcs surrounded Moktar and the two orcs who were loudly screaming in Orcish. Mira stood next to me. I crossed my arms and tried to figure out what these guys were yelling about.
One of the taller orcs pushed Moktar's shoulder while he ranted about something in his guttural language. Moktar didn't take kindly to that and shoved back with both hands. He might have been a little shorter, but he was much bulkier. Shouting Orc ended up on his ass. Moktar whipped out a sword that would be a two-hander for a human, but he held it like it was a rapier. Moktar swung the sword down and put the tip between Shouty Orc's eyes.
The others calmed down and waited for Moktar's next move, probably anticipating blood. Moktar pressed the tip of the blade into the other orc's forehead, and that must have made an impression because he held his hands up and uttered something in orcish.
Moktar put away his sword and glanced around at the other orcs. His eyes fell on me and Mira.
"Lord Commander! Warrior woman Mira!" Moktar greeted us.
"That was quite the display. Is everything okay? It looked like you were about to have an orc brawl."
"No orc brawl! Just orc fight!"
I shook my head, turned to Mira, and quietly said, "Why am I here?"
Mira's eyes tightened as she asked Moktar, "Tell Varix why the orcs are worked up and mad."
"The darkness returns! Morthisal power still alive!"
A few of the other orcs grunted and made peculiar motions with their fingers, which I believe might have been their version of forking evil. Others bellowed words, and one even pulled his weapon and threw it on the ground.
It took all I had not to gasp. Morthisal's power? He was long dead, well, he was me. Sort of. I inhabited his body, but any power he'd had was suppressed by the Heart of Shadows amulet that was always tucked under my shirt.
"That's not possible," I assured Moktar, then raised my voice for the rest to hear. "Morthisal is dead. His fortress is in ruins. His armies are scattered. He has no power anymore. No power over this world, the lands around us, or you. He's gone."
The orcs muttered to each other. One of them raised his voice. Another answered him loudly. They went back to pushing and shoving again, which quickly devolved into a half dozen throwing hands.
I put my thumb and finger in my mouth, sucked in air through my nose, and blew out hard. The 'wolf whistle' that came out was shockingly loud. So much so, the orcs immediately stopped arguing and, as a force, turned to me.
"Okay. Can someone tell me what's spooked you all? What makes you think the dark lord is coming back?"
Moktar puffed up his chest. "Sounds! Noises! Smells! Like old days!"
"Sorry. Can you explain?"
"Not far that way!" Moktar pointed to the west. "Smell of dead! Rising dead! Smell of necromancy! Sound of living bones!"
Mira and I looked at each other, then back at Moktar. Living bones?
"I'm sorry. What?" I asked.
"He's saying there might be a necromancer nearby, but that doesn't sound right. Morthisal was probably the last, and he was the worst. There's been no hint of necromancy in almost a year." Mira filled me in.
My stomach dropped. I turned to Mira with what I hoped looked like casual concern rather than the growing panic I felt.
"How can we be sure necromancy was eliminated?" I asked.
Mira's expression hardened. "The clerics and forgepriests worked for months after Morthisal's defeat. They scoured every corner of the realm. They blessed graveyards. They consecrated battlefields. They hunted down every last trace of dark magic."
"But you're certain?"
"The forgepriests were thorough." Mira looked down and quietly said, like a prayer, "May the forge eternal guide their hammer strikes," She added. They found nothing. No lingering magic. No hidden necromancers. Nothing."
Mira leaned in and whispered, "The orcs are spooked. Probably saw some animals digging around out here."
"Hmm."
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Moktar's eyes were on us as Mira and I talked.
The orcish chatter started up again. Low grumbles turned into louder complaints. One orc gestured wildly toward the west. Another shook his head and pointed south. Within moments, they were shoving each other again.
"Stupid orcs! Listen to Moktar!" Moktar bellowed at his companions.
His words only made things worse. Two orcs grabbed each other by the shoulders and started wrestling. A third joined in. Soon, half the group was tangled up in a green-skinned brawl.
The new commotion drew even more attention from across the work camp. Human guards wandered over to see what the fuss was about. Workers dropped their tools and gathered around the growing crowd. More orcs emerged from tents and joined the circle.
"What's all this about?" one of the human guards asked.
"Orcs think they smell necromancy," Mira explained.
The guard's face went pale. "Necromancy? But that's impossible. Morthisal's been dead for over a year."
"That's what I told them."
Word spread quickly through the gathered crowd. Humans whispered to each other. Some looked worried. Others seemed skeptical.
"I heard strange sounds last night," one worker said. "Thought it was just the wind."
"What if the dark lord isn't really dead?" another voice called out.
"What if he's coming back?"
"What if his army rises again?"
The crowd grew more agitated. Voices rose. People pushed closer to hear better. The orcs kept arguing among themselves while the humans started their own heated discussions.
I put my fingers to my lips again and let out another piercing whistle. The sound cut through all the chatter like a blade.
Every head turned toward me. Orcs stopped mid-shove. Humans froze with their mouths open.
"How loud whistle!" Moktar exclaimed. "Teach loud whistle!"
"I'll teach you later," I said.
Moktar nodded at my words.
Mira addressed Moktar directly. "This is concerning. Can you take us to the place where you sensed all of this activity?"
Moktar's expression shifted from excited to serious. He nodded once, turned on his heel, and stomped toward the camp's western exit without another word.
The orcs chattered around themselves in Orchish. Their hands gestured toward Moktar as he left. A few of them looked satisfied.
"I guess we're to follow?" I asked Mira.
"You don't have to go if you don't want to, Lord Commander," she replied.
Before I could answer, several of the human guards raised their hands. Raynard, one of the most promising young guards, was among them.
"We'll act as an escort for the Lord Commander," Raynard announced.
The other guards nodded their agreement. They looked eager to prove themselves useful.
I sighed. Over the past few months, I'd learned not to argue when people insisted on treating me like actual nobility. The title still felt strange, but fighting it only made things more complicated.
"Fine," I said. "Let's go see what has the orcs so worked up."
Mira nodded at the four guards. Together, our small group set out after Moktar, who had already reached the fort's doorway and was waiting impatiently for us to catch up.
We followed the dusty road away from Everspring. Traders passed us in both directions. Wagons rolled by loaded with grain sacks and barrels. A merchant on horseback trotted past with saddlebags stuffed full of goods. We stepped aside to let a heavily loaded cart rumble through.
I cursed under my breath. Should have worn my boots of swift travel today. Instead, I'd picked my comfortable kitchen shoes. Perfect for standing behind a bar. Terrible for hiking across the countryside.
Moktar led us off the main road. We headed away from the large lavender fields that surrounded Everspring, soon losing the sweet scent that carried on the breeze.
We walked for another twenty minutes. The landscape changed as we moved further from town. Rolling hills gave way to flatter ground. Patches of wildflowers dotted the grass. A stream wound through the area. Birds called from scattered oak trees. When I had walked this way from here with Mira, Caden, and Doan, we had stuck to the main road and had rarely ventured off. This area was new to me, but Mira, the squad of soldiers, and Moktar seemed to know it and walked across the rough ground with confidence. I had to stare down and pick my way along behind them.
Then the ground started to feel different under our feet. Softer. Damper. The grass grew thicker. Moss appeared on the tree trunks. Water pooled in low spots. The air smelled of wet earth and rotting vegetation.
An odd tickling sensation began on the back of my neck.
My stomach flipped. Nausea crept up my throat. Tendrils of dread crawled up my spine. No. Not dread. Something fiendish was out there.
The Heart of Shadows against my chest warmed.
The others hadn't noticed anything wrong. They walked ahead without concern. I did my best to act normal. I was good at this. I'd spent most of my first few months on Mythralon in this body pretending everything was fine.
The lovely countryside ahead of us was giving way to swampland. Where rolling hills had been yesterday, now murky water reflected the sky. Something like moss floated on the surface. The smell of stagnant water filled the air.
Mira stopped walking and scratched her head. She and Raynard moved closer together and spoke in quiet voices.
"What's wrong?" I asked them.
Mira turned around with confusion written across her face. "The swamp land is new."
"What do you mean by new?"
"I walked this area two months ago when I left for caravan duty. A pack mule got loose, and one of the caravan masters and I pursued it. None of this was here."
Crickets chirped from the tall grass. Frogs croaked somewhere in the distance. A bird called out once, then went quiet. Something rustled through the reeds. The noise stopped suddenly, as if whatever had made it had noticed us watching.
Moktar grunted and waded into the marsh water with his sword drawn. The dark liquid came up to his ankles. He poked around with the blade, as if testing the depth.
Mira followed behind him, hand on her sword. Two of the guards stuck to my side while Raynard followed Mira.
Something swirled in the low grass ahead. The ground lightly shook.
Then it appeared. Bones with barely attached skin, sinew, and muscles swarmed up from the marsh and formed a human-sized shape. Empty sockets stared at us. Strips of flesh hung from its arms. The creature stood, the place where eyes should be, somehow locking gaze with me. It spoke in a language I did not understand.
My amulet burned against my chest. The Heart of Shadows pulsed with heat that made me want to rip it off. The magical warmth spread through my body like fire in my veins.