Chapter 14
The day grew hotter. Dev slouched along beside Daysleeper, swatting at the occasional biting fly. She could go no faster than Felwyn in any case, and it seemed wrong for an Orc to ride while the little Human walked. The harpy Lrfk perched on the wolf's back, and Dev was a little surprised to see how well Daysleeper tolerated her presence. After all, she must weigh almost nothing.
"Lrfk," Dev said. She swatted another insect. Another hyena must be pretty close, because she heard rustling off to the left. It stopped after a second. They generally slunk off once they caught scent of the wolf.
"Yes, Warrior," the harpy said in Orcish.
"Ask the necromancer if magic can hurt Undeads."
Dev listened as the harpy spoke in Common. She caught one or two words – "magic" was one – but it would be a long time before she could speak for herself in that language. Felwyn replied in the absent tone Blackstare was already beginning to associate with her.
"As far as we know," Lrfk said, reaching forward to scratch behind Daysleeper's ears with a taloned foot. "Pretty wolf." Dev raised her eyebrows. He doesn't even let me do that.
"Mir'noj says he doesn't know of any Undeads who are immune to magic," Lrfk said after a second. "There are some Humans who can cast a shield that makes them invulnerable, but that's to everything."
"So an Undead doesn't normally take a fireball to the chest and just walk off?"
"A really big one might," Lrfk said. "Maybe an abomination or a frost wyrm, although I don't know what that last one is. But they'd be marked."
"Un huh," Blackstare said.
Viri Starwater doesn't have any scorch marks, Dev thought. And with a fireball that size she ought to be down to her bare ribs.
That was the trouble with talking to Felwyn and Lrfk. Dev had soaked up the idea that Phage Marrowice was probably not able to lie. If he tried it would bother him, and he would be very bad at it. With someone as strange as the necromancer, it was impossible to tell.
I'll be keeping an eye on her.
The trouble was that Dev had no doubt whatsoever that Viri was keeping an eye on her. And when she thought about the Huntress' eyes, this was not at all a comforting thought.
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High above the Orc's head, out of hearing and almost out of sight, Skrch sang softly as she flew.
Even the Barrens has birds that can sing beautifully. Raptors are not among them, and certainly not harpies. Grief is little known among a race so cursed as theirs, and when a sister falls, it is most often cause for harsh rejoicing and a prompt division of her nest pretties. Humans might say "Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead," but the closest equivalent in Saark is "Your sister can't steal your shinies with her guts around her ankles."
But the queens have two songs. One is magic laden, very powerful in its effect, and it is the reason why so many races who hate harpies have contributed to the harpy gene pool. The other is for queens only, because only queens lay eggs – and only queens lose fledglings. The song is not taught, and it has no words and little melody, but every queen knows it. Even Skrch's own dam, ferocious animal that she was, had crooned this same song as her eggs fell out of the nest.
She had pushed them, of course. But the song was still there. It was one of the first sounds Skrch had ever heard. She sang it now, for her broken eggs and her lost children. The krrrahk gave her some distance in the air, even their wild ears recognizing it for what it was, and the storm crow flew beside her in silence.
Skrch never stopped watching the ground and the air while she sang. She might be grieving, but she wasn't stupid. This is how she saw the Orc before any of the others.
It was more than a mile ahead, riding a wolf on the bare rock that rimmed the grassy plain, but Skrch could make it out very clearly. The skin on its bare chest was ash gray, and it wore no armor. The way it slouched comfortably in the saddle twanged something very old in the back of Skrch's head.
That is a really dangerous Orc.
"I'm going down for a look," Skrch called, raising her voice to be heard over her own wing draft. "Eyrilus, it might be better if you stay here. Krrrahk, you keep an eye on Dev and Felwyn. Jhha?"
"Jhha, Mother," Serrw called.
"If you wish it, I will stay," the crow said.
"Good." Skrch wheeled and beat for the West.
The Orc saw her while she was still a long way off. She saw the thin face tilt upward, then down again. The wolf turned for the nearest outcrop of rock, though Skrch saw no signal from its rider. That's how I found Dev fighting the centaurs – back to the wall. That's not how green Orcs think. They'll get out in the middle of a big open space and start swinging at everything in reach.
Skrch came in slowly and low, so that she would not be over the Orc's head. She reached for the ground a few yards off, flirted her tail for balance, and hopped to a rapid halt.
"Hallo, Orc," she said. "Are you one of Chief Redmorning's people?"
"Yeah," The Orc said in a coarse, worn alto. "You looking for one?"
Up close, Skrch realized she was probably a woman. She was skinny and tall, and her face was very narrow. The lines at the corners of her eyes and the worn ends of her underteeth suggested she was probably older than Dev.
She had not drawn a weapon, and the wolf stood with its hackles down. A few scars crisscrossed the Orc's shoulders, but her belly was unmarked.
I've seen green Orcs attack me on sight. She's not even worried.
"I'm Skrch," Skrch said. "I'm traveling with Dev Blackstare. You know Dev?"
"Un huh," the Orc said. "She was supposed to report back yesterday afternoon. Came looking for her when she didn't."
"That's kind of my fault, actually," Skrch said. "But I'll let her explain that. Wait here, okay?"
"Okay," the Orc said good-humoredly, and Skrch turned and flapped off again.
A couple of minutes later, she was circling Blackstare and Felwyn. The krrrahk came down to see what was happening. Eyrilus stayed up high, sweeping in graceful spirals.
"Hey, Warrior," Skrch said. "You know an older wolf-rider, bad posture, voice sounds like she drinks gravel for breakfast?"
"Bloody Hellfire," Dev said.
"So that's a yes?" Skrch said.
"Are we gonna kill her?" said Ckkk, speaking Saark.
"No, we are not," Skrch said. "We are not going to kill any gray Orcs, understand?"
"I am in so much trouble," Blackstare muttered. "Where'd you see her?"
"About three quarters of a mile ahead on the right. She said she'll wait for us there."
"Is there a problem?" Felwyn said in the Common tongue.
Dev shook her head before Skrch could translate.
"Tell her it's okay, it's not her problem. I mean, I knew I was gonna be really late. It's just I didn't expect her to come herself."
"Who?" Skrch said.
"Kerd Bladeleaper," Dev said. "She's boss of all the raiders in the Clan."
"I knew she was somebody different," Skrch said. She explained this to Felwyn.
"Will you be reprimanded, then?" Felwyn said.
"Don't know," Dev said. "I didn't think so, but the Bladeleaper doesn't usually come this far out all alone."
"She is not alone," said Viri Starwater in Common.
"Bloody… Look, make a noise before you do that, okay?" Dev said. The Elf, now walking beside Felwyn, shot the Orc an uncomprehending look.
"So who's with her?" Felwyn asked.
"A Night Elf," the Huntress said.
"I didn't see her," Skrch said.
"That 'cause I busy following dead woman back here."
Skrch hovered, looking around for the source of the voice. A moment later an Elf rose up out of the grass beside them. Long parallel slash-scars marred both of her cheeks, and other neat marks decorated most of her exposed skin. Given that she was clad mostly in two strips of leather plus a ridiculous number of weapons harnesses, this was a great many scars.
"Hey, that's good," Skrch said. "Better than your Orcish, anyway."
"Yep," the Elf said. "Not so good at Orc-tongue. Plenty good at sneaking."
Skrch heard a flap of large wings as Eyrilus sailed in closer, but the crow said nothing.
"I did not hear you," Starwater said. "Not even your heart."
"Nope," the stranger said. "You too busy watching harpies and Orcs. What you doing with dead woman, Blackstare?"
"It's a long story, and I'd rather explain it to you and the Bladeleaper at once," Dev said. "Um. Felwyn Smallfinger, Skrch, this is… Well, in the clan we just call her Glaive."