Page 36 of Agor the Merciless
The meeting ended, and everyone left to prepare for what would happen next. Roric went back to his forge, Hestra talked to her hunters about what to do while the captain was gone, and Grol and Tarn talked about their work in the garage. Pira and Zana made plans, too. They drifted away, absorbed by their tasks. Soon, only Agor and Zoe stood by the fire. They faced each other but didn’t speak for a long time. He stared at her face as if wanting to remember how she looked.
Zoe stepped toward him. Agor opened his arms and she walked into them, putting her head against his chest. He held her gently.
“Hold me tighter,” she said into his chest. “I won’t break.”
Agor held her closer and felt her warmth. He put his chin on her head.
“Promise me you’ll be safe out there,” she said.
“I promise.” He caressed her hair. “I will fix this, Zoe. I will kill Grak and stop him for good. And then, I will give you the life you deserve.”
“What life is that?” Her hands pressed on his back like she didn’t want him to go.
“One where you can choose what to do. Work with your hands, if you want. Fix old things and build new things.” He moved back to see her face. “I was wrong to stop you before. I won’t do that again.”
She nodded. “Just come back.”
Agor touched his forehead to hers. “I will always come back to you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Zoe stood at the edge of the clearing as the morning sun broke through the trees. Birds called from branches while Agor the Merciless secured his weapons to his krag. Their goodbye had been said the night before. Now, they only nodded to each other before the captain swung onto his mount. Lyra, Durnak, and the two grunts waited in formation, ready to follow. The small group rode into the forest and branches parted for them, then closed again as they passed.
When the last rider disappeared among the trees, Zoe took a deep breath. The morning air filled her lungs, sharp and clean. Her body felt stronger than it had in days. She wouldn’t waste this chance. She marched across the clearing, past the tanning racks and the fire pit where Pira worked on the morning meal. Her steps grew more certain as she approached the patchwork structure at the camp’s edge.
Grol and Tarn worked inside the garage, moving tools around a large workbench. In the center sat an engine block, its metal surface stained with oil. A crack ran along one side of the casing. The two orcs looked up when her shadow fell across the floor. Tarn grinned, trying to contain his excitement. Grol nodded and stepped back from the workbench.
“This one stopped working a few days ago,” Grol said, pointing to the broken machine.
Tarn approached her, holding out an assortment of tools.
“We have these from old human garages. I’m not sure what half of them do.”
Zoe picked up a ratchet, testing its action. The tools were worn but would do. She approached the workbench, studying the damaged engine. Her eyes tracked the crack in the housing, followed pipes to their connections, noted the pattern of wear on the moving parts. She nodded to Grol and Tarn, grabbedwhat she needed, and attacked the engine housing. Metal turned against metal as her hands found their old rhythm. The cover came off quickly, revealing the internal components with all their complexity.
The physical work and problem-solving filled her mind completely. This was a battle she knew how to fight.
***
The krag shifted under Agor as they crossed into Grak’s territory. The change happened without warning – one moment, they traveled through healthy forest with green leaves and birds overhead, the next they entered a place where life had stopped. Trees stood bare against the sky, their bark falling off in strips that covered the ground. No leaves grew on their branches. The forest floor had no plants, just black dirt that looked wrong.
Agor raised his hand, signaling the group to halt. He listened, but nothing moved in this dead place. No insects, no animals in the brush, no birds making noise.
“We’ve crossed the border,” Durnak said, his voice too loud in the quiet.
The captain nodded. The dead forest made his muscles tighten. Grak’s magic had pulled life from this land over years. He’d seen the early signs when the old mage started affecting their camp, but here the damage went much deeper. The krags noticed, too. The beasts moved from side to side and growled deep in their throats. His mount pawed at the ground and tried to turn back toward living trees.
“The animals know,” one of the grunts said, struggling to hold his krag still. “They feel it.”
“We continue on foot,” Agor decided, getting down from his mount. “Tie the krags at the border. They will wait for us there.”
The others got off their animals and tied them to the last healthy trees at the edge of Grak’s territory. The beasts calmedonce they knew they wouldn’t have to go farther. They started grazing.
Agor checked his weapons – sword at his hip, daggers in his belt, axe on his back. Durnak and the grunts did the same, touching each blade and handle to make sure everything was in its place. Lyra stood away from them, looking at the trees ahead. Her blue robes stood out in the gray-black woods. She turned to Agor, concern marring her young face.
“The energy Grak takes from the earth flows to him constantly. He only lets the trees regenerate enough to keep feeding him, but I wonder if he might want to move soon, find another place to deplete.”
“Can you tell where he is?” Agor asked.
