"Dusk Of Innocence: Chapter 9" by Danielle D. Reynolds

Chapter 9

            The mood the next few days was as somber as the grey skies above them.  The rain had mercifully stopped, but the knowledge of what they might find at Argenault still hung over them.

            Everywhere they went, Markas realized, Darklore had already been—Brue, the Tower of Secrets, and now, Argenault.  Ivanus and Emily were right, Darklore was luring them.  But where?  And why?

            The why bothered Markas more than anything else.  Darklore was so powerful, what was keeping him from simply appearing, grabbing Emily, and spiriting her away, as he had done with Krumar?  Markas had two theories, one slightly more comforting than the other.

            The first was that, for some mysterious reason, Darklore wanted Emily to join him of her own free will.  Their last encounter had nearly confirmed this theory.  Darklore had seemed if he was trying to woo Emily—or maybe break her.  Markas was somewhat comforted by this theory because he had come to believe that Emily had a strength a character that would never submit to Darklore.  However, Darklore might just be playing with Emily, and when he got bored…Markas didn’t like to think about it.

            The other theory was more comforting, if it were true.  Markas wondered why Darklore just didn’t unleash his undead horde on the world.  Something was staying his hand, some unknown force that couldn’t be accounted for yet.

            But Markas kept his thoughts to himself as they traveled in silence.  Even Jonathan had enough sense to remain quiet, though it seemed to Markas that he was more pouting than actually concerned in any way.  Meanwhile, Emily continually searched the sky for TiTi.

            At one point, Ian turned to Emily and said, “Something might have happened to him.  He is just a bird after all.  Some predator may have caught him.”

            “No,” Emily replied, “I would have known.  I would have felt it.  But TiTi is far away right now.  I can barely sense him.  I can’t even tell where he is, only that it’s far from here.”

            As they left the Forest of Sanctuary, they arrived in the Midlands which were patchworked with the various estates of Crolisian nobles.  Markas had expected to have to go well around this area to make their way to the King’s Highway, as one needed each noble’s permission to pass through their holdings.  However, Ian had been employed by many of the nobles, either as a bodyguard or in the various little skirmishes that broke out amongst the noble houses.  Ian didn’t know any of the nobles personally, but he seemed to know someone on each estate who could procure permission for them quickly.

            It became fairly routine after a day.  Ian would call over some worker and have him deliver a message to the noble’s steward.  Shortly thereafter, an old comrade or even the Lord’s steward himself would ride out personally to deliver a mark of passage and talk with Ian for a bit, usually inquiring if he was available for employment.  Ian would politely decline and then they would continue on their way.

            So two days later, when Lord Boringer’s steward came riding up to them, it was not unexpected.

            “Well met, Master Ian,” the steward said as he approached.

            “Greetings Master Wallace,” Ian replied.

            “I’ve brought you out a mark of passage,” Wallace said, “But I rode out here in hopes that I might persuade you to take up arms again in Lord Boringer’s behalf.  The pay’s excellent, almost double what it was last year.”

            “I’m sorry, but I’m already in the employ of these good people,” Ian said, indicating Emily, Jonathan, and Markas, “This is Sir Tau, Miss Rosewood, and Master Silverthorn.”

            “Ah, I see,” Wallace replied, “Well, perhaps they would be willing to renegotiate your contract.  I believe Lord Boringer would be willing to buy it out in order to employ a sword like yours, Ian.”

            “Look Augustus, what is going on?  Nearly every noble between here and the Forest of Sanctuary has offered me employment, often like you, double what it was last year.  Why the sudden need of armed men?”

            “Haven’t you heard?”

            “No,” Ian replied, “I’ve been in Carsonia the past two months and I was working on ships to and from the Spicelands before that.”

            “Well, it happened shortly after you left Lord Perval’s employ.  You remember he was in a nasty skirmish with Lord Randolph in the Northlands?”

            “Yes,” Ian said, “I even have some scars as souvenirs from that one.”

            “Well,” Wallace continued, “Perval came off the better, after that.  He’d made his point, though he could never prove that Randolph was in league with the Dague Noir.”

            “The Dague Noir?” Emily interrupted.

            “The thieves guild that operates out of Argenault,” Ian answered, “The slave traders we encountered by Brue were Dague Noir.”

            “Dague Noir that far south?” Wallace said, “Thought that was the territory of the Carsonian thieves guild.”

            “It is,” Ian said, “But convention has never stopped the Dague Noir before.  Anways, I remember that Lord Perval effectively broke any power that Randolph might have had in court with his little offensive.”

            “That’s what most of us around here thought,” Wallace said, “But a few months later, Lord Perval was brought up on charges of High Treason, convicted, imprisoned in the Argenault dungeons, his lands seized, his house razed, and his family sent into exile.”

            “What?” Ian asked, astonished, “What proof could they possibly have?”

            “Was rather flimsy, if you ask me,” Wallace said, “Some documents discussing the assassination of King Rathbyrn that had Lord Perval’s seal on them.  Not even his signature mind you, just his seal.”

            “So that’s why all the Lords and Ladies are so keen to hire extra help?  Are they afraid its going to happen to them next?” Ian asked.

            “Partly, I’m sure,” Wallace said, “The ones further out at any rate.  But well, those closer….well, what happened next was unbelievable.”

            Wallace paused, the continued, “Well, just over a month ago some orcs arrived in Argenault.”

            “Orcs?” Markas said, “There haven’t been orcs in Crolis for over twenty years.  Not since they were banished after the Orc Wars.”

            “I know,” Wallace said, “These orcs came from one of the craggy little islands they had been banished to, led by an orc called Kratlok.  He came before the king and asked for reparations for what his people lost in the Orc Wars.”

            “What?” Markas, Ian, and Emily exclaimed in unison.

            “I know,” Wallace continued, “Everyone expected the king would laugh them right back to where they belong.  But he didn’t.  He gave them Lord Perval’s holdings instead.”

            Silence followed.  Ian, Emily, and Markas all looked at each other.

            “But how?  Why?” Markas asked, finally, “The orcs agreed to leave.  It was in the treaty.”

            “Kratlok claimed the treaty didn’t take in account the half-orcs.  Said since they had human blood in them, they had as much a claim on their homeland as any full-blooded human.”

            “Half-orcs?” Ian said, darkly, “Oh yes, bastard children born from the orcs raping the women in villages they raided.  Using them to claim land, it’s disgusting.”

            “Well,” Wallace said, “To be fair, most people don’t take too kindly to half-orcs, nevermind the poor things really didn’t have much say in their parentage.  Most people just chased them off, as if they were orcs.  However, the orcs, or at least this Kratlok’s clan, welcomed them with open arms.  Are quite a few among his number I guess.”

            “Still, that’s a flimsy argument at best,” Ian said, “And the king agreed to this?”

            “Yes,” Wallace replied, “And its why all the noblity near Perval’s holdings are keen to beef up their defenses.  So far the orcs have kept to themselves, but who knows how long before they take to raiding again.”

            “I’m sorry for the situation Augustus.  And in normal circumstances I’d gladly join you,” Ian said, “But my employ with these people is of a somewhat personal nature and I don’t think there’s any amount of money that could change my mind.  If I run into anyone in Argenault who might be interested, I’ll send them your way.”

            “I appreciate it, but I’m pretty certain most of the available fighters in Argenault are already employed.  The ones worth their salt are at least.  I’ve sent men down to Carsonia and I know some of the nobles are looking as far north as Fursk.”

            “Well, thank you for the mark, Master Wallace,” Ian said, “I wish you luck with the current situation.”

            “Thank you, Master Ian.  We’ll need all the luck we can get.  I wish you luck with your endeavors, as well.  Gods bless.  Sir Tau, Miss Rosewood, Master Silverthorn.”

            “Torus be with you,” Markas said, as they rode off.

            “Northerners?” Ian mused, after they were a little way off, “They must be desperate.”

            “Northerners, like raiders?” Jonathan asked, confused.

            “No,” Emily replied, “From what I understand, the northern people are a confederation of tribes.  The raiders are from a sort of renegade tribe.  The majority of Northerners are decent people, though some claim a little primitive.”

            “Well, of course,” Jonathan replied, “They are Northerners after all.”

            “Nothing ‘primitive’ about them,” Ian said, “Life is much rougher up in the Icelands.  Tougher breed is all.  The raiders used to attack trade caravans going between Fursk and the Iceland camps.  Then both the Fursk authorities and the Northerners began the crack down on them.  That’s why they moved south.  Better, weaker targets.”

            Markas thought he saw Ian grimace for a second.

            “I’m sorry if we are keeping you from gainful employment,” Markas said, “It’s obviously a good time to be a mercenary right now.”

            “I suppose,” Ian said, absently, “Don’t worry about me.  I’ve got enough to get by on.  Besides, like I told Master Wallace, I’ve got a personal interest in all of this.”

            Ian glanced over at Emily.

            “What are you talking about?” she smiled, “I hope your still not worrying about me.”

            “I hope you are worried about the best way around that orc encampment,” Jonathan said, “Sounds like nasty business.”

            “Actually,” Ian said, “I thought we should go and investigate it.”

            “You aren’t serious!” Jonathan exclaimed.

            “I am.  I don’t mean to ride up into the midst of them, but I want to see this encampment for myself.”

            “Whatever for?” Jonathan asked.

            “Because,” Markas answered, “It seems awfully suspicious that the King would just give the orcs a prime holding so close to Argenault.”

            “Unless,” Emily added, catching on, “Someone was controlling him with magic.”

            “Wait,” Jonathan said, “It can’t be Darklore.  That doesn’t make sense.  Master Wallace said that it all started after Ian left, over two months ago.”

            “Well, actually it’s more like eight.  I was on a ship for awhile there,” Ian said.

            “See, even less sense!” Jonathan said, “Darklore only left to go to Argenault a few days ago.  He said so himself.  We ran into him remember?  And before that he was off attacking the druids and that waste of a village…”

            “And my Order,” Markas interrupted solemnly.

            “Exactly,” Jonathan said.

            “Actually,” Emily said, “That only accounts for the past month or so.  We don’t know what he was doing eight months ago.”

            “Still, I thought we were supposed to be protecting Emily.  I seriously doubt taking her into an orc encampment is protecting her.”

            “We aren’t going to get too close,” Ian said, “Just close enough to take a look.  If they’re up to something, I want to know about it.”

******

            The four of them were crouched on top of a hill, looking down into the Argenault Valley.  In the far distance, they could see a small dot which was the capital city.  But that wasn’t what had their attention at the moment.  Directly below them at the base of the hill was the orc encampment.

            “This is madness!” Jonathan hissed.

            “I know,” Ian said, lowering his spyglass, “Handing over the land of a well respected noble to a bunch of greedy orcs.”

            “No, I mean us being here,” Jonathan said, “We should be doing everything to avoid them.”

            “It’s easier to go around them if we know where they are,” Ian smirked.

            Emily giggled softly, “Why Jonathan I do believe you got Ian to smile.”

            “Really, Emily, this is not the time the time for humor,” Jonathan said, tersely.

            “Actually, humor is an appropriate way to break the tension in some situations,” Markas said.

            “Can we just go now?” Jonathan said.

            “Yes, though I am curious why you wanted to come here,” Markas said to Ian.

            “Well, in part, I had to see it myself to believe it,” Ian said, gripping his fist, “I didn’t know Lord Perval personally, but I had the privilege of working for him.  He was a good man.   The Royal Court is full of so many corrupt nobles who care nothing but for their own pleasure and power.  Perval wasn’t like that.  He fought to make sure there were laws to protect the common folk—the merchants, the farmers, the crafts people, the servants, and the poor.”

            “But that’s not the only reason why,” Markas said, “I don’t think you’d risk Emily’s safety for that.”

            “No,” Ian said, “I want to know what those orcs are up to.  The connection to Darklore is tenuous at best.  I was hoping to find…something.”

            “Well, other than a bunch of semi-drunk orcs, I don’t think you’re going to find anything else out,” Jonathan said, turning to leave.

            “Wait!” Ian said, raising his spyglass to his eye, “No, it can’t be.”

            “What is it?” Markas asked.

            Ian numbly handed Markas the spyglass.  Markas looked down.  In the center of the camp, a large orc had appeared, dragging a naked woman behind him.  Markas watched as the orc lashed the woman to a pole in the center of the encampment.  All the orcs had gathered around them and their catcalls reached them all the way on top of the hill.    The large orc signaled another orc over.  Markas watched as the other orc began to whip the woman mercilessly. 

            “Is it over?” Emily asked her hands over her face.

            “No,” Markas said, looking away. 

            “That’s Evangaline Perval.  Lord Perval’s daughter,” Ian said.

            “I thought Master Wallace said that his family was in exile.  What is she doing down there?” Emily asked.

            “I don’t know,” Ian said, “But we can’t leave her there.”

            “Oh, yes we can,” Jonathan said, “Better her than us.”

            Ian started to say something but Emily cut him off, “How can you say that?  How can we let that poor girl suffer?”

            “I didn’t say not to do anything,” Jonathan said, “We can let the town guard know at Argenault.  They’re much better equipped to handle the orcs than we are.”

            “He has a point,” Markas said, “There’s at least eighty orcs down there.  I doubt we could take them all.”

            “Yes, but given recent events, I’m not sure the authorities in Argenault would be rushing to her rescue,” Ian said, glancing down at the valley.

            They all stood and followed Ian’s stare.  Lady Perval’s screams had stopped and the orc’s cheering had died down to sound of drunken rabble.

            “Well, they’re drunk,” Ian said, “That’s one advantage we have.”

            “And we have the element of surprise,” Markas added.

            “Sir Markas, you can’t seriously be considering this?” Jonathan exclaimed.

            “We can’t just leave her,” Markas said, “And Ian’s right. We cannot be assured that the authorities in Argenault would help her.”

            Jonathan sniffed, “Well, if you are going to follow the advice of someone like him over my own council…”

            “Stop it!” Emily said passionately, “How can you be so uncaring, Jonathan?  What if that were me down there, would you just simply walk away?”

            “Of course not,” Jonathan said, slightly taken aback, “I’ve been charged with protecting you.  We all have.  It’s you I’m thinking of now.  We can’t just lead you into danger.”

            “Emily can stay up here,” Ian said, “She won’t be in harms way.  Will you be in range enough to help us from here?”

            Emily pursed her lips and peered down the hill, “I should be, though if I’m not I could always move closer.”

            “No,” Ian sighed, “We don’t want to put you danger if we can help it.”

            “I should be in range from up here,” Emily said.

            “Good, stay up here and help us as much you can,” Ian said, then paused, “You can stay here with Emily, Jonathan.”

            Markas glanced at Ian.

            “You should be in range with your bow,” Ian said, “Emily, I want you to promise me that if anything goes badly, and I do mean anything, that’ll you’ll flee.”

            “But…,” Emily began.

            “Jonathan’s right,” Ian said, “It’s important to keep you safe.  We aren’t that far from Argenault.  If anything happens to rest of us, you need to head there.  Go to Sir Tiberius at the Order of the Shining Light.  Let him know everything.  Promise me?”

            “I promise,” Emily said, resolved

            “Now then,” Ian said turning to Markas, “How many do you think you can take?”

            “Well, that depends,” Markas said thoughtfully, “By myself, I could only handle three, maybe four at a time.  But on Kirin, well, I could probably be very difficult for a large group of them.”

            “Good, good,” Ian said, “And that’s really the key.  We just want to keep them busy.  In fact, if we can avoid killing any of them that would be best.”

            “But why?” Jonathan asked, outraged, “You yourself have been disparaging the orcs.  Why should we show them such mercy?”

            “It’s not mercy so much as handling this correctly,” Ian replied, “However much we might not like them, they are there with the permission of the King.”

            “Killing them could be construed as a crime,” Markas said, “We don’t want to cause more trouble than we have to in Argenault.”

            “Exactly,” Ian said, “Sir Markas, you create as much of distraction as you can.  Emily, if you could use that entangling spell of yours to keep them tied up and whatever else you can think of.  Jonathan you slow them down with your arrows.”

            “And just how am I supposed to do that?”

            “Aim for the injury, not the kill,” Ian said, “Try to hit their arms and legs.”

            “Fine,” Jonathan said, as he unstrapped his bow, “And what will you be doing?”

            “I’m going to try and sneak around the side and rescue Lady Perval,” Ian said, “Once I have her, we retreat back to Lord Boringer’s estate.”

            Markas mounted Kirin and readied his lance.  Emily gracefully traced some sigils in the air and a faint glow appeared around Markas and Ian.  Ian drew his sword.

            “Are we ready?” Ian asked.

            Everyone nodded.

            “Then let’s get on with it,” Ian said, as he started down the hill, “Remember Emily and Jonathan, wait until Markas has their attention before you start your own attacks.”

*****

            Emily watched as Markas and Kirin took to air and plunged down into valley.  She held her breath, her hand gripping a clump of silvery arachnae webbing.  As she watched, the orcs were roused from their drunken stupor as Markas swooped through their camp.  Emily watched as the orcs regrouped preparing for Markas’ next attack.

            “Tangaletia!” she cried as she slammed the webbing into the ground.    She smiled as she heard the orcs cries of surprise as a fluffy cloud of slivery threads rose up from the ground underneath them and entangled them.

            She glanced over at Jonathan, expecting him to be firing arrows into the fray.  But he simply sat there and watched.

            “Jonathan!”

            “What?” he said, dispassionately, “I think this is a rather ridiculous thing to do.   I’ll wait up here and let those fools get themselves killed.  Then we can flee.  Unless, you’re rather just go now?”

            “I can’t believe you,” Emily said, as she turned and blew a white powder towards the valley.  She traced a sigil in the air after it and a few orcs in the valley below fell into a deep sleep.

            “Oh really, Emily,” Jonathan sighed, “Heroics are all well and good in their place, but really one has to think of oneself first.”

            “Coward,” Emily said as she rummaged through one of her pouches.

            “What did you call me?”

            Emily blew another puff of powder, traced another sigil, and a few more orcs fell asleep.

            “I called you coward.  I’m just sorry it took me this long to realize what you really were.”

            “You stupid wench,” Jonathan spat back, “I was the only one who argued to keep you safe and this is the thanks I get!”

            “You were never concerned with me.  I see that now,” Emily said.

            “What?  You’d rather I was more like that ruffian, Ian?”

            “Ian is far nobler than you’ll ever be with all your foolish posturing.”

            Jonathan stood up.

            “I’ll show you.”

            Jonathan charged down the hill.

            “No!” Emily cried, “Jonathan!  Come back!”

*****

            Clang.  Ian’s sword reverberated as it made contact with an orc’s axe.  A little more force and he watched the orc fall back from his blow.  A few more came at him, but in their inebriated state they weren’t much of a match for him.  He quickly reached for his flask and took a sip as he sidestepped another orc’s clumsy attempt.  After all, nothing wrong with making this fight a little fairer.

              As he punched an orc out cold, he glanced over at Markas who was diving down into the camp on Kirin, not giving the orcs with bows time to get a volley off.  It was then that Kratlok emerged from a hut and surveyed what was going on.   Ian hoped the fracas would be enough to distract him from their true purpose.

            Just then, a familiar figure came running down the hill, brandishing his bow.

            “Fear not fair maiden, for I shall rescue you!” he cried.

            Kratlok laughed as he ran over to the semi-conscious Lady Perval and with one swift action twisted her head.  A sickening crack echoed in Ian’s ears.

            “NO!” he screamed.

            The other orcs took advantage of Ian’s momentary distraction and he felt a blow hit him in the back and knock him off balance.  He went to right himself when another orc landed a blow to the side of his head.  There were more than he could handle.  Another blow hit his chest and he was certain a few ribs had broken.  They swarmed around him, totally aware of what his purpose was.  There wasn’t much he could do but defend himself until the end.

            Suddenly, he felt a tug on his shield arm.  He looked up to see Markas holding him, pulling him up on Kirin, out of the fray.  Ian pulled himself up behind Markas.  Neither of them said anything as they flew to rendezvous with Emily.

*****

            They stopped by a copse of trees well south of the orc encampment.  Markas sought his god’s help and healed Ian’s injuries best he could.   He managed to fix the broken bones at least and stop the bleeding from the huge gash above Ian’s ear.  Ian was still very much bruised though and sore all over.  The sun was starting to set.  Emily wanted to stop, to let Ian rest and Markas wanted to press on to Argenault.

            “It’s only just an hour to the city,” Ian said as he tried to stand up, wincing at the pain, “We should press on.”

            “Fine, but you should drink this first,” Emily said as she handed him a concoction she had been making while Markas had healed him. 

            Ian sniffed the mug, doubtfully.  He remembered the last herbal remedy Emily had given him.  Emily looked at him expectantly with those huge, deep green eyes.  Ian held his breath and took a swig.  It didn’t taste bad at all.  It had a warm, sweet taste and Ian felt his pain was dulled some. 

            “I could have just used my flask,” he said, as he handed Emily back the mug.

            “Well, there’s no reason you still can’t if that wasn’t enough,” Emily replied.

            “Ah, well there you all are,” a voice said cheerily. 

            They all turned around to see Jonathan saunter over to them and seat himself on a fallen log.

            “It took me ages to find you.  I had to avoid the orcs, of course.  Well, I guess if you all listened to me in the first place, it wouldn’t have been a problem.  I won’t hold it against you, but maybe next time you all pay more attention to my council.”

            A stony silence followed with three equally stony stares.

            “What?” Jonathan asked, “I did advise against it.  You were the ones so intent on ‘playing hero’.”

            At this, Ian leapt up and lunged toward Jonathan.  He was stopped when Emily grabbed his arm.   He winced as it still hurt and turned to yell at Emily to let him go, that it wasn’t worth protecting that waste when he saw the expression on her face.  She was still staring at Jonathan, with an icy cold fury he had never seen before and hadn’t thought Emily capable of.

            “I believe,” Markas said, carefully, taking advantage of Ian’s momentary pause, “That it would be best if we part company Master Silverthorn once we reach Argenault.  If you still intend to go there, that is.  We are about to head there now and you may accompany us to the city walls, if you wish.”

            “Seriously, you jest, Sir Markas?” Jonathan replied.  Markas stared at him grimly.

            “Emily?” Jonathan appealed to her, “Surely, you do not wish to part company with me.  After all we’ve been through together?”

            “I think it best that you do not continue on with us,” Emily said frostily.

            “Ian?”  he said apprehensively, “I know we’ve had our differences, but surely…”

            “Go,” Ian said darkly, “And be glad that’s the worst you’ll get from me.”          

            “But why?  What offense have I given to you all?”

            “Surely, you must feel somewhat responsible for that girl’s death?” Markas asked.

            “How so?” Jonathan replied, somewhat offended, “It was because no one heeded my advice that the girl expired.”

            “What!” roared Ian, “You were supposed to stay at the top of the hill and use that damn bow!  Not run down like a fool and announce to all the orcs what our objective was!”

            “Well, blame Emily then,” Jonathan replied coolly, “She was the one who accused me of being a coward.”

            “Because you were just sitting there doing nothing!” Emily said fiercely.

            “You wanted me to prove myself and I did,” Jonathan said.

            “Prove yourself?  What are you talking about?” Emily asked, looking at him confused, “Markas and Ian never have felt the need to prove themselves.  They’ve always just tried to do what’s right.”

            “Aha, I knew it.  You want to involve yourself with one of them, fine.  I see now that you have been just toying with my affections all this time,” Jonathan sneered.

            Emily looked exasperatedly at Markas and Ian.  They both looked as confused as she did.

            “As I was saying,” Markas said calmly, trying to get a hold of the situation, “If you wish, you may continue on with us as far as Argenault.  We should be there shortly.”

            “I will not waste another moment of my time in that simpering harlot’s presence.  But trust me, Miss Emily.  I’m sure you will sorely regret choosing them over me,” Jonathan spat and turned and left. 

            The three of them stood their in silence for a moment.

            “That was…odd,” Emily finally said.

            “I don’t think he was ever quite right in the head,” Markas said.

            “Still, I don’t understand,” Emily said, “Why he was like that?  Why would he ever believe there was anything between he and I?  Or between yourselves and I?”

            “He’s a liar,” Ian replied, “To be a good liar, you have to make everyone believe that you believe the lie.  If you lie enough, you actually start to believe your own lies.”

            They pulled themselves up onto their mounts and were about to leave when a rustling from the nearby trees stopped them.  Ian thought it might be Jonathan, returning to beg them to allow him to continue with them when a large half-orc carrying a shrouded figure stepped out of the shadows.

            Ian’s hand went to his sword, Markas’ to his axe, and even Emily had a hand on one her many pouches.

            “Please sirs,” the half-orc said, “I haf only come to deliver the lady’s body to you.”

            “Kratlok ordered you to do this?” Ian asked suspiciously.

            “No, sir.  If’n he knew I was here, he’d have me killed on the spot”

            “Then why risk it?” Markas asked.

            “Well, sir, Kratlok told me to get rid of her quick like.  But that didn’t seem right.  Her family, well they should know what happened to her.  An’ she should get a proper burial.”

            “Why should you care?” Ian asked, curiously.

            “I know what you think.  Think we’re all heartless brutes.  But…I grew up here in Crolis.  Me mum was human.  But I soon learned, except for her, most humans have no use for us.  Not that the orcs were much better.  But Kratlok was.  He took us in when no one else would.  Told us we were just as good as the full blooded orcs.  I don’t always agree with way he does things, but he doesn’t want to kill me on sight for who I am.”

            Ian, still stiffened by pain, slipped off his horse and walked over to the orc and took the body from him.

            “Thank you,” Ian said.

            The orc nodded and slipped off back into the shadows.  Ian took Lady Perval’s remains over to Markas who helped secure them on the back of Kirin.  He went over and mounted his horse.

            They all looked at each other and then headed toward Argenault.