Against All Odds-book 2 of Princes and Priests/chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE                                    .

There was something that felt rather surreal to Dave about waking up in a room that was all in white. There were no windows to tell the time and there were no fires or candles. As pleasant as it was out of the cold and no longer on the run, it was wearing on him. After what felt like weeks of not seeing any locals, except the orc who brought food, it began to feel rather like a strange jail. He and his company were all feeling it, like strange pets kept in a very nice cage.

Dave had heard of stranger sorts of capture and was beginning to feel defensive and hostile. He set out to find anyone he knew or at least someone who would talk to him. He knew Elven and should be able to talk to at least someone here. Everyone was on edge, and with Theo and Oirion annoyed at each other, the common room was not where he wanted to be. Shannon had not returned; he seemed very uneasy with all the questions, as well as oddly vulnerable.

Dave resorted to magic. He tried a few times to scan out, to learn where the others were, but to no effect. It was all blocked. Desperate to not feel so blind and helpless, he took a hold of the thongs at his throat and tried again. He had never used the magic in the choker, but he saw his father use his, often in tight situations. He expected a small boost at least. He got a scan mark at once and set out to try to find one of his friends, whoever might be closest. He passed through several hallways that he was sure he had not seen before. These hallways were smaller and not as rounded as the others. The hall led him down several flights of stairs to a great chamber. Inside, there were many orcs working at various chores.

There were several orcs spinning on large wheels and a set of very old orcs weaving on great looms, not surprisingly, making white fabric. Others were grinding something in stone bowls and doing various other tasks that Dave didn’t recognize off hand. Among them he saw Kelly and cut for her at once.

She stood with a group of female orcs about halfway down the great hall, looking almost feminine in the white robe that she wore. He was rather happy to see her and realized that he missed her quiet presence. He crossed the floor, pulled her into a one-arm hug and kissed her cheek as she reached to take his hand.

She had been back to the common room only a couple of times, obviously disliking the tension as much, if not more, than Dave.

“Dave,” she said simply.

He let out a breath of relief. “I have really started to go stir-crazy,” he admitted. “What are you doing here?” he asked, realizing he had intruded on the group.

“Talking.”

“You? Talking?” he asked teasingly.

She smiled a little and then spoke to them. It was far too fast for him to follow. They parted to let her lead Dave out of the group.

“Did you learn much?” he asked, hoping for anything to help him calm his tight nerves.

“They are orc on the outside, but remind me of elves on the inside. They think very highly of Fairer Races, and that there would be no greater thing than to have a child with a Pure Race, as they call the un-warped. You are quite a celebrity.”

“Am I? I feel more like a prisoner.”

“In a way we are, but not by their doing. They are trying to hide us from those who hunt us. They were already at war with them, but they wish to divide the enemy by means of confusion as to where we are.”

“Why? I mean… why do they think we are being hunted in the first place?” he asked her.

They left the common hall and went up a flight of stairs to a hallway. The hallway opened up into a massive common yard. It felt almost like an outdoor park in its vastness and activity. Magnificent pillars soared upward toward a well lit ceiling, and there were many potted trees and plants providing more of an outdoor feel. Many orcs were moving around, talking, browsing, and doing business in an open market.

“They believe that Shannon is the angel Malkazadon,” said Kelly, “that he is being hunted by the one who had him exiled from heaven, Gera’Don.”

“I never got that whole story.” Dave said. “From what I understand, Malkazadon was supposed to be the one who brought war and death to the world, but he is seen as the protector of the souls of the dead, the lost, and the forsaken. A lot of pirates tattoo him on themselves for protection against demons and dark forces.”

He wasn’t the one who brought death and war,” Kelly said, “but it was blamed on him. In the first age, when the angels moved to purge the world of all strife and ungodliness, Malkazadon begged his brothers not to do it. He took the blame off of the people and onto himself to save us. He was cast out of heaven, banished from the ranks of angels, and stripped of all power.”

“Where is Gera’Don in the rest of the story then?” Dave asked, as they continued walking through the great hall.

“Gera’Don was said to be golden in the multitudes and he is mentioned in all the ancient Great Scriptures, in the lists of angels that were present at various times, but he is a rather obscure power. He came with the other angels to aid the races and save the world from the Great War, but he was never mentioned as one of those who were here.

“The priesthoods think that is because he came to earth for some other reason… to capture Malkazadon. They think that he hunts Malkazadon. Even when the other angels were on the earth during the war, Malkazadon had to stay hidden. Otherwise, Gera’Don would strike him down and the world would be without the guardianship that is bound by the blood that flows in his veins. So long as he lives, the world will endure. That’s the story.

“The full story, in the older more complete scriptures, explains that the one who brought death was an angel. He was radiant and beautiful as the sun, and came with soft words and fair sweet song. He offered the glory of God and infinite knowledge and power; all that the people had to do was take his hand.

“The older priesthoods debated over whether the angel was truly a demon, or if the angel was the one called Gera’Don, and the demons were his offspring.  Still who knows,” he shrugged. “When you start to read things that ancient a lot of it is filled with contradictions.”

“They think Shannon is Malkazadon?” Dave asked.

“Yes.”

“And the madman who is hunting us?”

“You don’t know who that is?”

“No.”

“It’s Gerome Forester,” she said.

Dave walked with her a bit, not saying anything. He let the information sink in. It was deeply disturbing at so many levels, he couldn’t even begin to accept it. Gerome, the Holy Pontiff, the ruler of Purt, was hunting them. He had feared such, but dared not to think it.

“Shannon is a good man,” he said after awhile. “He scares the hell out of me most the time, but he is a good man.”

“If he wasn’t, then he would not be with us. Still, you can see why those who live here might think as they do. I don’t know who Shannon was before the civil war, but the pontiff does, and he is entertained by Shannon’s struggles, and amused by the fact that Shannon has to run away instead of face him.”

“An all-out war would cause a great warp; Shannon has said as much.”

“So he runs and the pontiff chuckles at him,” Kelly agreed. “That must be hard for a man like Shannon to swallow, to be helpless while his people fall apart.”

They continued to walk and then saw Ivan running across the yard towards them. He was wearing one of the white robes, but wore it a bit clumsily. He held it up off of the ground, giving him clearance for his feet. He ducked behind Kelly with a rather distressed look.

“What’s wrong?” Dave asked, amused at Ivan’s ineptness in wearing the robe.

“She won’t leave me alone,” Ivan panted. “We have to go, and soon.”

They looked over and saw a huge orcan woman coming toward them, obviously following Ivan. She slowed when she saw that Ivan was no longer alone. Ivan moved to keep Dave and Kelly in between him and the woman. She watched him, her chest heaving and her nostrils flaring.

“She’s going to rape me,” Ivan half whispered. “God almighty, can you imagine. She’d bite my head off as a snack afterwards.”

Dave chuckled.

“Come then, my brave comrade, we will put you in Shannon’s shadow to hide.” He put his arm around Ivan’s great shoulders, trying not to laugh too openly.

“Please… where is he?” Ivan pleaded seriously.

Shannon no longer wore the white robes; he, once again, was wearing his black leather. He sat in the common room with Theo and Oirion, resting in the light trance that he commonly used to conserve energy. Oirion was reading a small book, and Theo slept curled up in a chair. Oirion looked up as Dave, Kelly, and Ivan entered.

“Hey.” He closed the book. “I was just wondering where everyone was.”

“How are you feeling?” Dave asked Oirion, as he picked a chair.

“Restless; I am ready to go. This place is just too…” He gestured vaguely, not sure what it was that bothered him.

“White?” Dave offered. “I feel like I’m stuck inside a pearl or something. I want to go.”

Oirion nodded. “As nice as they are, I want to breathe fresh air, even if it’s a bit cold.”

Ivan dropped down, sighing heavily. “So, where are Salma and Tavia? I could really use a good, smooth-faced woman to play with.”

“Now, see,” Dave laughed, “you could have all the women you want, but you’re just too superficial. You leave them weeping in the hallways.”

“It’s not funny, Dave,” he said with a grin.

“What did I miss?” Oirion asked.

“Ivan has an admirer,” Kelly said with a perfectly straight face. She sat easily, not seeming to notice Ivan’s pained expression.

“Oh, come now, Ivan,” Theo said sleepily. “I’ve heard about the Ezeeren and the things they do up on the highlands. Isn’t your god the son of a bear?”

“That’s different!” Ivan said, shocked at the comparison.

Theo chuckled a little. “Maybe,” the blond man said, pushing himself up, “or maybe not. From what I understand, most gods who were born to the world were produced out of rather unlikely unions. Maybe they fail to understand the way it works when they are choosing parents.”

Ivan huffed, folded his arms over his chest and tried to hide how upset he was.

“You’re Purtan, Theo,” Oirion said. “You should not talk of ‘Gods’ in any context other than mere folklore.”

Theo lifted an elegant eyebrow at the priest. “I’m Awens, Oirion.”

“Awens is part of Purt,” Oirion pointed out, a bit sternly.

“Only on a map,” Theo said right back with the same tone.

“The King and Queen regularly host the pontiff. They are great lords of Purt,” Oirion added.

“The King and Queen? The king is a spineless insane fool and the queen is as corrupt as she thinks herself beautiful. She is also a self-proclaimed queen; she is the king’s sister, not his wife.”

“She is your queen!” Oirion said, shocked at Theo’s obvious disgust at the king and queen of Awens.

“She’s a lot of things, Oirion, but my queen… she is not. I would burn in hell before I knelt before her of free will. Oh no. She is a dark and vile woman. I do not want to even talk of her.” He held up a hand to stop Oirion from saying more.

“What’s different about Awens?” Kelly asked. “Why isn’t it part of Purt?”

“In the days before the angels, there were two races that lived on the land of Purt – the men that became as Shannon,” he motioned to Shannon, “true Purtans. They are very similar in this age to what they were before, but have been influenced by the magics they used and the eventual blood of angels. The other race was the Awens. They looked very much like I do, I suppose… a blond version of the Purtans, but tall and built more like Shannon or Dave. The mountain range, which later became known as the Armond Mountain Chain, divided the land and the races lived on either side. In the Dark Age, they united their magics to defend the continent, as a whole, against the invasions of the Razzan. The war was very hard on both races. Then, when the angels came, Purt was made into a single empire through the blood of Armond. The Purtans took the religion and teaching of the angels and let their old religion go. The Awens kept their religion and their magics, and many of the herdsmen and hills-folk still do.”

“Do you?” Oirion asked, almost accusing.

“The true Church of Purt doesn’t deny the reality of other gods and does not demand others to accept their faith. Do not wear that ring and then glare down at me when I make mention of gods who are every bit as real to their people as you are to us,” Theo said with a strength that made even Shannon look up.

“Enough, Oirion,” Dave said, stopping the other man from an argument. “We are all a bit testy. Just drop it.”

Oirion shook his head, but let it go. Theo curled up to go back to sleep. Dave was right; it was pointless and they were all in poor moods. They needed to leave, and soon.

“I do have a question,” Ivan said a bit seriously. “How do we plan to hike the mountains?”

“On our feet,” Dave said.

“No, I mean with the air,” Ivan said. “I can breathe up in the heights, but…” he shrugged looking around for answers.

Shannon opened his eyes and looked at the big man.

“Can you do anything?” Ivan asked the Purtan.

“Not for anyone but myself,” Shannon said. “The Purtan blood some of you have will help. The thin air will be painful, but not fatal as long as we do not linger too long.”

“What about Tavia and Oirion?” Ivan asked, concerned. “What about Travis?” he asked, this time with worry in his voice and eyes.

“Is there nothing you can do?” Riven asked Ivan, as he joined the group around the table. “I thought Ezeerens had the magic to guard the lungs of other races; a magic that could help us all.”

Ivan looked half-desperate and half-trapped. He ran his hand over his head, troubled.

“Ezeer is not what it once was, and the magics have left. I don’t even know if my lungs will hold out in the higher passes.” He looked to Shannon. “Don’t you have any sort of magic?”

“He blew the gate, Ivan,” Theo said. “He’s lucky to be on his feet, let alone casting magics to guard our lungs. What about the priesthood? Don’t you two have something for this?”

“Not in the priesthood,” Riven said sadly. “The dwarves have such magics, but it’s through that priesthood, and I don’t know it.” He folded his arms over his chest, holding his elbows. “So where does that leave us?”

“Maybe the Ulam know some sort of magic.”

“I’m afraid they are not likely to,” Kelly said. “Most of their magic is very Elven in nature or is keyed to the city. There are few wizards and even fewer healers. The elders are the only ones with any real powers.”

“This has to be answered,” Dave said. “We can’t just hike off to have our lungs give out.”

“Will it really be that bad?” Theo asked. “Does the air get that thin?”

“Yes,” Shannon said.

“Were you going to say anything,” Theo asked, “or just lead us into it?”

“It is not time to go yet,” Shannon said. “One of you may think of something, or I might heal enough to help you. There is time still.”

“How much?” Dave asked. “I want to leave here.”

Shannon looked at him a moment before he answered. “We cannot leave until one of you thinks of something or I recover enough to figure something out.”

Ivan got up abruptly; he didn’t say anything, but left with a troubled look.

***********

“Theo.” Ivan shifted on his feet, a bit uneasily. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Theo let the big man enter his chamber. He shut the door; Ivan started to pace. He stopped and looked around at the room.

“Odd how the rooms are all so alike here,” Ivan said. “It’s so impersonal.”

“What’s on your mind, Ivan?” Theo asked, picking up his cup of tea from the small table in the center of the room.

“Oh, I…” he sank to one of the three chairs in the room, gripping his hands in his lap. “Well, first, I guess, I mean… well, I’m sorry about Cindie.”

“She was the one who ran ahead. It’s not your fault.”

“No, I mean…” he ran his hands over his head, “not that.”

“Oh.” Theo sat in the other chair, tucking a foot under him. “Yah, well, it wasn’t a very nice thing to do, but I’m not angry about it.”

“It’s been a long time since I had friends, you know, I just… I’m really sorry. I owe you an apology.”

Theo shrugged, apparently not worried about it. He took a sip of tea. “Ok. Is that all?”

“No.” Ivan shifted and then leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “You know some magics that the others don’t.”

“Yes,” Theo said slowly.

“Well, I used to know some, but… I mean, I haven’t tried to use it, but…” he looked up at Theo. “I don’t know if it’ll work, and if it does, I would rather no one know about it.”

“Why wouldn’t it work now if it did before?”

“I’m not in Ezeer, and the magics that once worked no longer do. You know, with the magic places being defiled by the Church, the Powers have fled even from the ones that they once blessed. I don’t think the Powers will come to me at all, but even if they would in Ezeer, they might not here.”

“And you don’t want Oirion to know?”

“I don’t want anyone to know. I would keep it to myself, but I need help. I can’t do it on my own. I just figure, with you being a sorcerer, you might understand better.”

“You know, I never said I was.”

“Right, well, it’s pretty obvious, Theo. I saw what you did with those arrows. I’ve seen it before…. not done as well, but I’ve seen it.”

“Really? When?” Theo asked excitedly.

“I live in Dacan and fight for gold. Weapons come in many forms. I don’t fight with magic, but others do. It’s all sport,” he shrugged. “I just want to see that we all get through this.”

“Alright. What do you need me to do?”

Ivan dug into his robe front and pulled out a small roll of white silk. He laid it on the table and unrolled it, revealing several different items: a lock of blond hair, a small piece of paper, a broken red button, a few flakes of darkened red, and a few other tokens, each spaced out carefully. Ivan drew his hand over the collection of items.

“Each thing is a part of the company. Travis’ hair, paper used to wipe the breath of Tavia off a glass, a bit of blood from Dave…” he gestured to them all. “I collected them all carefully and with pure intention. I don’t have anything from you, but I do have this.” He revealed the last thing. It was a little piece of grass. “It’s grass that Shannon spun in his fingers. He was making grass ropes for the fire. It’s a piece of his magic and his touch.”

“How long have you been collecting.”

“Awhile.” Ivan shrugged. “It’s an Ezeeren thing. You carry with you something of those who matter, in order to protect them. It’s a show of respect and love. That’s beside the point.” He motioned it away. “I have nothing from you.”

“Why not?” Theo asked, fascinated by the collection of things. He pulled the chair closer to look at them all.

“It’s complicated.”

“I know you didn’t have any respect for me, Ivan, that’s fine. I didn’t give you any reason to.” He shrugged. “I can’t say I have much for myself. I was just curious why. Is it part of the magic, part of your religion, or is it my magics?”

“It’s partly religion… and partly because I felt that your contribution to the company wasn’t worth my sacrifice; that if one of us should fall in battle, I wouldn’t have given my life to save yours.” Ivan hesitated and then choked the words out, “I was wrong. The rest is chance. Dave’s blood is from play fights, Travis gave me his hair, Shannon dropped the grass… you don’t do things like that.”

“So is that what it is? Those you value equal to, or more than yourself, in a battle?”

“Sort of. It’s complicated.” Ivan shrugged. “I’m sorry, Theo; it’s been so long since I had to even think about it, and then to try and talk about it in another language is hard. And it might not matter at all.”

“You have my interest,” Theo said. “What do you need me to do?”

“It takes two people to do it. It’s sort of an overall blessing for those you adopt as brothers. I so should not be doing this, but it’s what I am going to do anyway.” He rubbed his hands together. “I need you to offer something of yourself, as sort of a payment to the Powers for the others. It’s for the Powers to use, to spin into the magic of the protections. You just have to hold out your hand, let me put the stuff in it, and then give it back to me.”

“Ok. That’s pretty simple.” Theo bit his fingernail, ripping off a bit. “How’s that?”

Ivan smiled.

“Perfect.” He took the small piece and laid it on the white cloth. “Hand out.”

Theo held his hand out and watched as Ivan simply picked up each little bit of the company and set them one after another into Theo’s hand. The big man seemed to do nothing else. Theo’s fingernail was last. He set it carefully with the rest and then closed Theo’s hand around it all. Ivan sat with a bowed head for several moments before he held out his own hand. Theo turned his hand over to pour the things back to Ivan, but the scattered trinkets were no longer there at all. What poured out was a bit of golden sand. It fell into Ivan’s great paw, melting into his skin and then faded into nothing. Ivan let out a great breath, almost as if he was about to cry.

“It worked, I take it,” Theo said, leaning forward to see the giant’s palm.

“It worked,” Ivan whispered in Ezeeren. “They heard me.” He wiped his eyes of tears and drew a deep breath. “Thank you, Theo. I will tell Shannon we can go now.”

Theo nodded, “Sure, Ivan. I hope the magic works well enough to get us all over the passes.”

Ivan smiled and nodded. “Me, too.”

***********

It was early morning when they all gathered on the massive plateau outside the recently reopened gate. Each was led out by an Orcan youth. They could all feel the cold wind blowing into the main yard as they approached the opening where the massive gate once was. A cold mist hung over the valleys. Ice crystals hung in the air, and snow banks, created by strong winds that were now quiet in the stillness of the dawn, rose up, reaching well over their heads. Winter had blown in while they were inside.

They were well dressed in heavy leather pants, soft wool blouses, and woven fur tunics. The pants were reinforced down the outsides of the legs with embroidered designs that went over and along the seam. Over that, they wore vests, fur ponchos, leggings, hoods, gloves and scarves. The orcs weren’t sure of their tolerance levels, so generously gave them various other clothes for their packs, just in case it got too cold for them.

As they gathered outside, they found that their horses were well groomed, their legs wrapped in fur, and the saddle blankets replaced. The new blankets were long, made of brightly dyed wool, and also embroidered with decorative designs. The animals were a little nervous and clearly glad to see the group, but they had been well cared for and it showed.

Holding the reins of Shannon’s horse was an impressive looking Orcan man. He was not wearing the typical white robe worn by the other orcs; he wore a beautifully crafted leather vest and leggings, both embroidered with golden designs that appeared to be ancient scriptures or spell runes of some sort. He had a wicked-looking blade, some sort of halberd jutting up over his shoulder, and a fur cloak that he wore draped over the other. Stunning, carved bone broaches gleaming with lines of silver held it in place. He obviously didn’t require additional clothing, as his massively muscular arms were exposed to cold winter air, covered only by golden armbands etched with symbols that matched his leathers.

Elders with long white hair and wearing pink robes stood gathered together with dozens of younger orcs behind them.

The oldest, a massive man who stood a good foot taller than even Ivan, came forward. He was wearing exquisite clothing, even more extraordinary than anything they had seen yet, and a crown of gold. Every inch was embroidered in great detail, scrolled in gold with designs of flowers, runes, and great battles; quite possibly a historical record of his Orcan clan. He stood, leaning heavily on a great staff and looked at them through his wrinkled eyes. He cleared his throat and spoke slowly and carefully in a voice as soft and smooth as any elf. He spoke in the common language of the people here. They were all able to follow his careful words.

“I invite any of you to stay,” he said, looking at them. He nodded and smiled faintly. “As you said,” he nodded to Shannon, “for your aid, I offer you gifts of friendship.”

He gestured to the orcs who stood behind him.

Two young orcs stepped forward, presenting a fur on their arms. One of the elder orcs folded it back, revealing a small shirt of mail. It was silver and sparkled in the air as he lifted it up; it shimmered like liquid metal.

“This is for the child,” the king said. “It was made by the gnomes of old. It will fit him well and protect him from harm.” The old orc laid it back down, and the two young orcs proceeded to help Travis into it. Travis was thrilled; it was very pretty, and he seemed to have picked up a bit of Ivan’s appreciation for good-looking attire.

Two more young orcs stepped forward with another fur. A different elder folded it back and lifted up a helm of gold that gleamed in the faint light. It was adorned with unusual black horns that came out of the back and wrapped tightly around to the front pointing forward. A round shimmering white stone was set in the front, centered on a black band that ran upward, reinforcing the top.

“This is for the warrior. Every great man should have something on his head. If hair is unworthy, then might this fit his ego better?”

He chuckled as the helm was given to Ivan, who greatly approved. He placed the helm on his head and thumped his chest with pride, then bowed with respect, tears coming to his eyes. The others all smiled at it. The fact that Ivan had shaved his hair had been a point of joke, not only to the group, but to the orcs as well. The next fur was brought forward.

“This is for the warrior woman,” the king continued, as an elder held up a sword that was as massive as it was stunning. It had a great golden handle set with bloodstones. The hilt, handle, and pommel were solid, crafted as a single piece of gold and ran down the blade on both sides, like two spears etched with detail, reinforcing the blade over half of its length. The blade itself was smoked black and etched with designs of silver flames and phoenixes. “It is ancient and powerful and worthy of her. Might she never forget how close to the fire she went to save Shannon, and that she is his ally and sister.” Kelly accepted the gift with humble gratitude.

“This is for the dwarf,” he said as a double-headed war axe was presented. Light reflected up its razor edge and down the veins of silver that were set in the rosewood handle. “Might it serve him as well as it served his kinsmen, those who once dwelt in these mountains and who offered us trade and allies when no others would.”

The king lifted from the next fur, a tiny thing. He held it up so it could catch the light. For a moment, a soft glow of lavender light illuminated from the stone in its center.

“This is a gift of great value to us, and maybe more to you. It is a ring of insight and intuition. It should help you to choose your roads more carefully, and hopefully it will remind you to look deep beyond the skin and not to forget us.” It went to Oirion and was placed on the first finger of his right hand.

An elder took from the next fur a long coat of Purtan mail. It was even longer than Ivan’s. While it had no jewels on it, it was made of tighter rings and shone in the light as if it was lit from within. The beauty of it bespoke the craftsmanship and power of the race that was all but dead now, making it just as impressive as Ivan’s mail.

“This is for the Son of Purt. May it be worn proudly and serve him well.” It was passed over to Dave. Ivan helped him into it, admiring its craftsmanship and elegance.

The next gift emerged. It was a plain wooden staff with four large claws on the top gripping a large clear stone. The stone was perfectly spherical and flawless, but the entire staff seemed unremarkable in comparison to the other gifts.

“This is a sorcerer’s staff. May it be of use to the only sorcerer we know. Good luck in unlocking its powers.” It was handed to Theo. Theo bowed to him with a noble grace that said more than words could have.

The orcan king look at little Salma. Orcs fed on sphinxes, naturally, and even if these weren’t full orcs, they still had the inkling in them…. just as she had the inkling to run.

“To the brave cat, this” he said. A bow was held up. It was a re-curve made of light wood and bone, laminated and decorated with intricate designs. There was also a quiver made of golden leather, set with dark green and brown tassels, and a matching belt. She lit up and smiled as she took the gift. She bowed her thanks, belted on her new quiver, and swung the bow over her back.

“To the mother,” he said, as a small round buckler was lifted up. It was lightweight, crafted of smooth white leather, and had a design set into it with small silver nails. The design was that of a woman standing with a sword in one hand and grapevine in the other. She accepted the gift, bowing in gratitude.

He looked last to Shannon.

“I have no single gift worthy of you,” he said. “I give you the mended body of your brother, I give you our gratitude, and I give a day that we will all recall and pray for you, celebrating the day in which you freed our people. Even though the prayers of healing, for us, have not been heard, perhaps our prayers to heal others will be. I give another gift that might be of aid in your ventures.” He pulled a small book out of his pocket and held it toward Shannon. Shannon held out both hands, one under the other, and took it. The orc smiled faintly and motioned to the one who held the horse.

“My final gift to you is Kaava, my grandson. He has asked for the honor of traveling along with you as companion, guide, and guardian.”

Kaava bowed to them.

“May heaven walk with you wherever you go, and may your lives reflect your God.” The Orcan king finished with the prayer of his people, bowed, and then they all went inside, leaving the group to depart unwatched.

“You don’t have a horse?” Tavia asked Kaava. He shook his head and smiled.

“Orcs aren’t naturally up for riding horses,” Kaava said in a deep full voice, “but rather, running them down instead. I have greater endurance and speed than any of these horses.”

“You can outrun a horse?” Riven asked, impressed. “On two legs?”

“No,” he said and then smiled, showing that he had teeth like a dog, “on four.”

“On four?” Dave asked.

“I can pop my shoulders out and run on my knuckles.” He made a fist, showing that when he closed his hand tightly, four long spikes shot out the back of it, extending several inches over his knuckles. “Traction,” he explained with a smile.

“Remind me not to have you punch me,” Dave said, going to his horse.

Kaava laughed a deep chuckle, and then lifted Travis up into the child-sized saddle. Travis smiled at the big Orcan man and giggled a little.

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