Page 31 of Agor the Merciless
“I’m taking you to someone who can help.” Her orc mate ignored her, though it hurt.
He carried her through the winding passages under the mountain. His orcs stepped back when they passed, watching them with curiosity and apprehension. No one said anything. Most of the main cavern they used when it rained outside sat in darkness. Agor walked past the fire pit, where the last bits of wood turned to ash. He moved quickly through the open space, adjusting his hold on Zoe when she shook in his arms. She weighed less than when she first came to the horde, after weeks of eating almost nothing. He turned down a passage that most orcs avoided. The smell of herbs and smoke grew stronger with each step. The tunnel opened into a room where blue-white crystals on the ceiling gave off subtle light. Jars, books, and plants filled shelves along all the walls, and low-burning candles covered every surface.
Lyra the Mage stood at a wooden table reading an old book bound in dark leather. She looked up when they came in.
“Put her here,” she said, walking to a cot against the wall and straightening the bedding.
Agor set Zoe on the cot. She opened her eyes for a moment before closing them again. Lyra covered her with a blanket and tucked it around her shoulders.
“She kept asking for the ointment on the way here,” Agor said as he stepped back.
Zoe pulled the blanket around herself, moaning softly.
The mage went back to her book and turned a page.
“First, she must go through withdrawal. Then she can heal.”
The captain looked at the book over the female orc’s shoulder. The pages showed drawings of plants, and strange marks written in small, cramped handwriting he knew from many years of reading Grak the Bitter’s reports. A chill ran down his spine. He didn’t like to think about his former mage.
“What have I done to her?” Agor asked.
“You didn’t cause this,” Lyra said, pointing to a paragraph in the book. “Grak planned this and kept it secret.”
“Tell me what you mean.”
Lyra pushed the book toward him. “This ointment isn’t just for pleasure, captain. This spell steals life from whoever uses it and gives that life to the person who made it. People who use it want more and more, until it kills them.”
“It will kill my mate?”
“Yes, and you too, but slower because you’re an orc.” Lyra closed the book. “Grak the Bitter did this to get back at you. He guessed one day you would find a bride who stayed. He left the salve as a trap for you to use.”
Zoe moved under the blankets and turned toward them. She struggled to open her eyes and focus on what they were saying. It was the most difficult thing she’d ever done. Her thoughts scattered as soon as she tried to pull them together into something coherent.
“Grak...” Her voice came out in a whisper. “Who is Grak?”
Agor and Lyra looked at her. Agor lowered his eyes before walking to the cot and sitting on the floor beside it. He looked at his hands rather than at Zoe.
“Grak the Bitter was our horde mage before Lyra. He fought beside me for many years.”
Zoe waited for him to say more. The blanket rubbed against her skin, coarse and not very comfortable, but she paid more attention to the ache that ran through her whole body.
“He got old, and his magic grew weak. When a mage loses power, he loses everything. Grak feared he would become useless. I didn’t see what was happening until it was too late. First, our krags stopped eating. Then my warriors couldn’t lift their weapons. The whole horde became tired and angry at each other.” Agor bowed his head, and his braid fell over his shoulder. “I thought something in this new world made us weak. As if, maybe, humans were infecting us with their weakness just because we lived among them. That was stupid of me, but I knew less then than I know now. I should have looked at what changed inside the horde.”
Lyra worked at her table, putting dried leaves in a stone bowl and grinding them. She was listening to the captain telling the story, though she knew it well.
“Grak used magic that no good mage would touch. He took life from plants, from animals, even from the other orcs without anyone knowing.” Agor raised his head for a second before looking down again. “My bull krag, the one I raised since birth, died when Grak stole its life for a spell. I caught him standing over the body with power coming from his eyes, his body shaking and glowing with it.”
Zoe tried to sit up but dropped back on the cot when pain shot through her.
“I told him to leave that same day and never come back. Before he left, he cursed me. He said any ‘soft new-world thing’ I tried to cherish would break by my touch.”
Unable to sit still anymore, Agor stood up and walked around the room. His shoulders brushed against the bundles of plants hanging from hooks in the ceiling.
“I spent all this time watching for danger outside our borders. I missed the danger growing among us. When Grak the Bitter left, I thought we were safe.” He stopped in front of Zoe and looked at her with immense regret in his eyes. “I never thoughthe’d leave a trap behind, that his magic would wait until I found something important to destroy. I failed to protect my horde then, and now I’ve failed to protect you.”
Zoe watched him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. He looked defeated. The Agor before her seemed different from the captain who’d picked her at the institute. This one admitted to having made a mistake. This one showed fear. His name – the Merciless – didn’t quite fit him right now.
Lyra considered this was a good time to interrupt them, before they both spiraled even deeper into despair.
