DREAD’S KEEP IS, WELL…DREADFUL.
Built directly into the side of the mountain, the Keep’s metal doors shine in the morning sun. At this high altitude, the wind whips through my hair and kicks up the snow around me, blowing it into the unmoving faces of the orcs guarding the door. They are dressed differently than the orcs I traveled here with. Both guards are fitted in leather lined with fur, and a gold emblem on the right side of their chest sparkles in the light. They both death grip sharp spears and clutch wooden shields in front of their immense torsos.
They look ready to spring into action should we prove to be a threat.
Once again, I reluctantly find myself thankful to have found this orc party. Especially as Bazur speaks gruffly to the two guards, who begrudgingly open the door after a few harsh words are exchanged. No way could I have commanded them in such a way. It becomes clear to me as we make our way through the door that I could’ve traveled all this way just to be turned away by them.
Entering through the metal doors, we step into a new world. One consisting of dark stone, cold metal, and the dank smell of earth. The entry is carved from the mountain itself, and polished marble floors are illuminated by sconces and torches along the entryway. More guards wearing uniforms like the ones at the door greet us, standing in two lines that bracket the walkway into what seems to be a throne room.
Stalactites hang from the ceiling above. I spy a few openings along the roof that lead me to believe there is some sort of tunnel system in here. It would make sense; King Arkain often remarked the tunnel system inside Brokenbone Mountain made it incredibly hard to infiltrate.
The orcs in my company have assembled in their own formation as we make our way forward. As expected, Bazur leads his company forward. I walk just slightly behind his left shoulder with Zarod taking point on his right. They move in step with each other, and I try my best to keep up.
Ever since we reached the front gate my traveling party has remained quiet. Even jovial Zarod didn’t have a funny comment for me this morning when we dismounted our icewolves. Bazur looks the most severe of all. His face is harder than I have ever seen it. A cold fury settles in his honey-colored eyes.
“Kae,” Zarod, whispers beside me. I turn and look over at him. He’s still facing forward, not missing a step. “I don’t want to be the one to tell you this, but whoever asked you to meet them here stood you up.”
Indeed, my lie really doesn’t seem plausible now. We are so close to my cover being blown anyways, what’s the harm in telling him?
“Well, I’m—”
A clap interrupts me. Then another, and then thunderous applause is heard from in front of us. We push into the throne room and immediately I regret my decision to come here. Despite more torches illuminating this cavernous room, this place feels dark and unholy. The throne room is lined with paintings depicting war and violence. More torches light up this cavernous room. The orcs with me form a line behind Bazur and I.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as my eyes land on a figure.
He’s an older orc, his skin not the rich green of Bazur and Zarod. His eyes are dark, beady and cruel as they take us in. There are metal caps on his tusks, making them even sharper, and he wears head-to-toe armor that gleams in the dim light. The metal radiates a power that, even just looking at it, makes my head throb.
It’s magical in some way, that is more than evident.
The crown of bones resting above his brow matches the ones of the throne he is sitting on. I try not to focus on how human the skulls look. Or how small some of them are. Bile rises in my throat. This can only be one person.
Vorgak, King of the Orcs. The creature that my brother may be toiling away in service to right now. The one who may have given the order to destroy my village. The one who now holds my future here on this mountain in his clawed hand.
He claps once more, an evil gleam in his eyes, before letting his hands fall to the armrest of his throne. He playfully twiddles his fingers around a massive skull with a metal band around the forehead; that was once an orc of great importance. Perhaps even an old king.
The thought makes me shiver.
My traveling party bows slightly, and not wanting to be disrespectful, I do the same. I dip into a courtesy as I stare at the floor. When I rise and look up, I see there are a few more orcs scattered behind Vorgak. They all rake me with gazes that make my knees lock.
The larger of the three makes no effort to hide his stare but lingers on my chest and hips before licking his tusks hungrily. There are supposed to be humans here, the king’s own alchemists and healers, but I see none. Perhaps they are wise and stay hidden. Something I too will be doing when I begin my stay here.
Vorgak calls out to Bazur in their language. Bazur nods and responds to a smug Vorgak. They chat for a moment, while I try to ignore the other orcs’s gaze on me.
I’ve just about worked up the courage to interrupt when Vorgak’s eyes fall on me. He says something to Bazur who narrows his eyes, before pushing me slightly forward. I take a step and bow again.
“Well, it looks like you found something interesting at the outposts after all.” Vorgak’s words are swallowed by his thick accent. His elven is choppy and cold. I lock my spine and remind myself I didn’t come all this way just to be scared off by his presence.
I slip my hand into the pocket of my cloak and produce a letter stamped with the royal crest of Myrkorvin. Holding it out to Vorgak, I feel Bazur turn toward me. I don’t have to be looking at him to see his surprise. Willing my voice to be even, I clear my throat.
“I am Kaethe, Royal Alchemist to King Arkain and Queen Elveena of the Dark Elves. They have sent me here as an emissary so that our people may be united in the ways of science and medicine. I have come to help train your healers and alchemists, at my king’s orders.”
One of the orc guards snatches the letter from my hand and brings it to Vorgak. The silence stretches, I can hear a few of the orcs whispering behind me. Apprehension trickles down my spine as more silence passes.
Vorgak reads the letter, turns it over in his clawed hand and chuckles.
“We did enjoy the last gift your king sent our way.”
The orcs in the hall chuckle, something evil lighting in their eyes. Wylan always gave me a bad feeling, and what he did was treasonous. I never gave much thought to what happened when he was dumped at their tunnel but now I can’t stop myself from asking.
“What became of Wylan?”
The orcs snicker even harder, Vorgak’s scarred mouth twists into a smirk.
“You are a woman of science, are you not?”
I nod once at his rhetorical question. “Let’s just say, we did our own experimenting on him.”
I shiver, knowing that whatever that means, it can’t be good. Vorgak sits up straighter on his throne, crushing Arkain’s letter in his hands.
“Your arrival has come at a poor time,” Vorgak says. I lower my brows in confusion.
“King Arkain wrote months ago saying I would arrive on this day. I—”
“In our kind’s experience, the dark elves don’t always keep their word. I had no reason to believe your king to be trustworthy. To send us one of his most trusted alchemists, after decades of silence? You understand my wariness.”
Not a question, a statement and I nod, feeling dread sink my stomach. He’s going to turn me away. All of this was for nothing. I can’t bear making the journey back. Not ladled with failure and limited supplies.
“In fact, my own healers and alchemist had been sent away from the Keep weeks before the first letter from your king arrived. I could’ve called them back, but again, why disrupt their studies when it was not certain you would turn up.”
“I can conduct my own research here, if no one else is—”
“Don’t,” his voice snaps like a whip, “interrupt me.”
Swallowing, I nod my head and my knees begin to shake.
Vorgak falls back onto his throne, letting my letter from King Arkain drop to the floor. “But seeing as you are here now and have traveled all this way, I cannot simply turn you away.”
He chuckles again. “Conduct your own research? Do you see where you are, human? This Keep is not safe for your kind. The creatures that roam these tunnels will have you for dinner. Or worse.”
I can only nod my head, my failure weighing on me. Vorgak looks over his shoulder to the orc who has been staring at me this whole time. The orc has moved closer and I can see a prominent scar that runs along one cheek. His yellow gaze appraises me like a rare fruit, and I avert my eyes.
“You’ll need a chaperone while you’re in my lands to keep you…safe. Can’t have King Arkain’s prized alchemist go missing on my watch.” Somehow, I don’t believe he’s concerned about my safety. Vorgak nods at the leering orc. “He will take you up to Wolf’s Teeth Clan, they have few humans but your skills will be welcomed there.”
My head feels dizzy. Going to a clan? That wasn’t part of the plan. I was meant to stay here, to find out what I could from the humans living in these walls. They would surely know where all the humans who get captured are kept.
“King, I—”
“You are welcome human, I’m sure they will be thrilled with your company.”
The orc starts walking toward me and suddenly I am six again and there’s no running. I have to go with the orc who looks at me like I’m his next meal. Whose eyes promise to inflict pain as soon as he is free to.
My hands tremble, my vision blurs—I’m going to faint. I’m going to faint.
A growl erupts from beside me.
“That won’t be necessary,” Bazur says. “I’ll chaperone the human.”
I snap my head to the side. Something powerful glows in Bazur’s eyes as he stares up at Vorgak. An unspoken conversation takes place between the two males before me. After a moment, Bazur raises his hand, gesturing at the orc that was approaching me.
“Mazgark will eat her before they make their first camp. Then we will have war with the elves.” I sway on my feet at the thought of that.
“Perhaps war is what I wish for. Our kind is built for it, and we have known peace for far too long.” I watch as Vorgak cuts Bazur a sneer. “You most of all should know what years of peace can cost.”
Bazur responds back in orcish and I can no longer understand what is being said. Whatever it is, the orc who was supposed to take me, Mazgark, grows more and more tense. His eyes like yellow fire blaze at Bazur, his muscles tense and his fingers dance along the hilt of the sword strapped to his hip.
Vorgak says one last thing before looking back at Mazgark. With a wave of his hand Mazgark is dismissed, growling as he retreats to the far corner of the room.
“Fine. The human shall remain in your care Bazur. I trust you will keep an eye on her.” Vorgak leans forward, baring his teeth at me. “He will let you train the humans in his clan until the summer. I will issue this warning only once, human. Bazur will watch you day and night. If I get a whiff of you doing anything other than what your king stated in his letter, I will be very angry.”
I nod, my voice wavering but somehow I manage to say, “Thank you.”
Vorgak waves me off. “Go, it is a long way back to Black Claw Village and I’d hate to change my mind before you leave.”
My feet seem glued to the stone floor. Luckily, Bazur’s aren’t. His warm hand curls around my upper arm and pulls me from my trance. My booted feet scuff along the smooth floor. I twist to look over my shoulder and up at Bazur, my mouth open to…explain myself? To ask why he volunteered to take me with him?
All of it is at the tip of my tongue but he lets out a low growl at me.
“Be quiet and keep moving.”
“Human,” Vorgak calls, my feet are just about to cross over the threshold out of the throne room but his rasping stops our whole party. I turn slowly to look at him; those beady eyes zeroing in on me. “The punishment for spies found on Brokenbone Mountain is death. Remember that.”
Bazur’s grip on me tightens and I shake my head.
“Y—yes, King.” My mouth begins to water, my vision goes blurry. I’m six, I’m running on cut feet, the bodies are burning, my parents are dead, and I’m going to be dead soon too. I have to keep running, I have to—
“Move, Kaethe. Now,” Bazur snaps in my ear, and I somehow manage it.
Bazur’s strong grip on my arm is the only thing that keeps me up right as we make it through Dread’s Keep. Once we’re past the guards and I can feel the morning sun on my face, the snow and cold wind stinging my cheeks, Bazur releases his hold on me. My knees buckle and my head spins and I plunge into a waiting darkness.
I feel nothing as I land face first in a pile of fresh snow.
