“I'm not mad at them,” Skyeyes said in his usual quiet tone. He and Red were gathering their things, preparing to leave the orc's capital with the others. “They don't understand, it's an anger anyone could hold.”
Red huffed and crossed her arms. “You're too forgiving, Shistra. They attacked us, regardless of their situation. Who knows what they would have done to you, given the freedom.”
The priest shook his head. “It is the world that is unforgiving, thus we must be the ones to forgive.” Red seemed unimpressed with his statement. “Besides,” Skyeyes continued, “we're leaving, and the next time they see me it will be unmistakably as a companion in this war.”
She wanted to argue some more, but Shade knocked on the door and pushed her way inside. “Merdon and Quickclaw are ready, and Grot is anxious. We should get moving before his irrational panic costs us more time.”
“How does he cope being so concerned with magic?” Red asked with a sour face, from both situations.
Shade shrugged. “There aren't many orcs with magic. Much like kobolds, it's a rare talent.”
Red shook her head and walked out the door without another word. It seemed silly to her. Skyeyes, however, apologized. “I'm sorry, she's been a little bullheaded since she got her memories back.”
The assassin frowned. “She had amnesia?”
“Not really,” he said slowly, realizing his mistake. “She had her memories stolen by Verist, the witch we're going to see.”
After a pause, the black-scaled kobold asked, “Is it wise to work with her? The witch, I mean.” She had heard some of Merdon's tale, but not everything it seemed.
“I'm not sure,” he admitted honestly. “She's proven helpful, but I can feel a secondary motive in her actions. I am not sure what.”
Shade nodded. “An ally of convenience and nothing more. Orcs are well versed in those. I'll tell Grot. He'll be more stable if he thinks less about us teleporting and more about what we're going to do afterward.”
The three of them joined Merdon, Sarel, and Grot in the main hall of the orc stronghold a few minutes later. Grot was pacing nervously, and his nervousness was making Merdon look antsy as well. The knight was sort of bouncing in place as he watched the dark-skinned orc wander around the room. His movement didn't stall even when Shade entered. Rather, it only gave him a direction to move in. He reached down and lifted her, the kobold doing what came natural and scampering around his arm and onto his back where she whispered in his ear. She was telling him all the things he needed to know about their destination.
While they talked, Red exhaled and got herself into position. She stood between Merdon and Sarel and looked around, mentally marking out the room, the size of the sigil she would have to make. It was her first time trying teleportation, but she knew the theory and marks. It was just a question of how well she could pull it off. Six travelers wasn't nearly as hard as a whole tower, and she was confident. To a point. Red had been going over the formula and signs in her head since the morning, and Grot's nerves hadn't helped her concentrate. With any luck, Shade could get him calmed down enough for her to work.
Eventually, Grot turned about and asked Merdon, “How much do you trust this witch?”
Merdon let out a derisive chuckle. “About as far as I can throw her, and the last time we tried that none of us could get near her.” Not very far then.
Grot grumbled. “She's the one that was messing with kobolds, right? Taking their names.”
“Memories,” Skyeyes corrected him. “The names thing was just part of their memories. Different magic apparently.”
“Still,” the orc said with a shrug, “not good company.”
“No, but she's the only one we've got,” Merdon admitted. “She's eccentric, but her heart was in the right place.” Red scoffed at the notion but said nothing.
The orc, however, laughed. “Her heart was in the right place? Taking slaves?”
Sarel made a face but agreed with her mate. “She did terrible things, yes, but she did it because she believed it was better for kobolds to not remember. Stupid, yes, misguided, certainly, but morally grey compared to the slavers of Avant.”
Grot frowned and pondered that. “I'm no fan,” he said at last, “but if it's what we have to do...”
“She's an ally of convenience,” Merdon assured him. “Our goals align right now, but if it came down to it, we could proceed without her.” That seemed to relax the chief-of-chiefs, at least somewhat.
Grot looked at Skyeyes and told him, “You'll be a little pleased the ones that attacked you in the bar won't be getting off without punishment.”
The priest, however, frowned and told him, “It does not. I'd rather they be left alone.”
“Well, even if you do,” Grot told him with a scowl, “they attacked Shade. You, that's one thing, her? They ought to have stopped. They knew better than that.”
Skyeyes shook his head. “Play politics with them over this and you're subtly supporting a resident of Avant, your enemy. It may fracture them when the time comes for the kobolds to join us.”
Shade laughed. “Subtly? I thought everyone was already well aware of his favoritism towards Merdon.”
Grot growled, but there was a hint of color in his cheeks. “Merdon's is an ally, and a useful tool for me taking things over here. You have to take care of those things, lest they get rusty.”
“An ally of convenience?” Shade suggested with a smirk. A suggestion that made the chief-of-chiefs look pained.
“In any case,” he said, turning the conversation from that. “The point is, those kobolds need to be taught a lesson. They know the laws here.”
“I still advise against it,” Skyeyes replied with a shake of his head. “They may refuse to help us when we need them, and besides that, their minds will change when they see what we're planning.”
“I think he's right,” Merdon chimed in. “How many of Ethral's priests have you smacked around, Grot? Would you have stopped if some official got in the way?” He knew the answer. Many of Avant's priests had turned from the orc lands due to certain cruelties.
The orc sighed. “I hate when you all make sense,” he lamented. “What's the world coming to when a man can't get proper public revenge for his mate?”
Shade chuckled and said, “Did I ask you to get revenge for me, dear? Very assuming of you to think that I wouldn't want to take it myself.”
Grot blushed openly at that and mumbled, “Gods you're perfect.”
Red sighed and whined, “Can we get going? Any more distractions and I might not make the circle properly.”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The group looked uncomfortable at the notion and moved closer together, towards Red. She sighed and closed her eyes again. Normally a sigil was drawn in something physical, for nothing if not convenience. Red had decided it was best they leave no traces behind, and was going to form one out of her own power. Which involved a great deal of concentration as the lines steadily appeared on the floor as she thought about them. It was a bit small at first, but she scrunched up her snout and widened it. In the end, they had to squeeze a bit closer together, but the sign was up and she was channeling. Grot was nervous again, but Shade was on his back rubbing his shoulders.
In an instant, Red flared her powers and they vanished suddenly. Their reappearance at the tower was just as fast and it left them all a bit ill. Grot was obviously holding his expression still, while Merdon had bent over and was hyperventilating. Red was the least affected, but even she was shaky as she stepped away from the others. Verist looked at them all slowly and smiled. Their plans were progressing.
“I'd worried you were caught,” she told them. “After you were gone for so long.”
“There were unforeseen complications,” Merdon admitted. “We're safe though, for the most part.” He groaned softly and moved towards a chair in the middle of the room.
Grot turned around and looked at the place, while Verist looked at Shade on his back with incredible interest. She was already wondering if she could get a kobold to sit on her back like that. It seemed difficult for her size, but she was willing to try. Perhaps a strengthening spell would allow it.
“I'd rather have taken a horse,” the orc said as he tested his legs.
Shade pointed to the window and said, “I don't think we could have.” The pair looked outside with wide eyes.
“Welcome to the far North,” Verist told them with a self-impressed smirk. “The Eyes of Avant can't see us here, and there's certainly no spies in the tower either. The perfect base to plan a war.”
Grot smiled and walked over to the table himself. “Now those words, I like.”
They quickly got together and brainstormed some rough ideas. Grot and Shade needed to go visit the kobold villages of Avant, at least one of them, and show off a little. Red and Skyeyes would show them the way. Merdon and Sarel, in the meantime, only needed to get themselves ready for the coming battles. Both of them, silently to themselves, admitted they needed more training. How or where they would get it was unknown, but they needed it. There was also the matter of supplies, the logistics of war, which Verist was more than happy to help out with. Shade began to see what the others saw so odd about her. Her willingness felt genuine, but there was a desire behind them that felt awkward. Like a child doing something right, but only because they sought praise or payment for their deeds. Something that rubbed her scales the wrong way. And she felt Grot noticed it too in the way he raised his brow at her from time to time.
“Speaking of supplies,” Verist noted, floating a book over from her table. “I've found what you need, Merdon.” She put the book between them all but pointed it at the knight. “A mythic shield, carried by the orc general Skath into the first great war against Avant. Burnished silver, and enchanted by one of the few orcish mages to be unbreakable.”
Grot frowned. “The grave of Skath has been lost since the war,” he told them. “If we knew where it was, we'd have the shield ourselves.”
Verist giggled, a dark noise that made Grot's hair stand on end. “Yes, if it wasn't in the middle of Avant.”
The chief-of-chiefs growled and sunk his fingers into the hard oak table, denting it with the force. “It's what?” he managed through his teeth.
“The Eyes buried it in a cave, along with his remains. Some old temple the humans used as a trap. A few Avantian scholars know about it, but no one really cares to find it. It's orcish after all, bad omens and such nonsense.”
Sarel, however, smirked and looked at Grot. “Think about it. An Avantian human with an Avantian weapon with an orcish shield and a kobold mate. If we get him something elven, maybe steal a dragonkin's necklace, we'd have a perfect hodgepodge of everything.”
Grot snorted at the notion, but it did make him think. “Having someone carry that shield into battle would be spectacular,” he mumbled. “Troop morale would be raised, but not if it's a human.”
“Or perhaps it's exactly what Quickclaw said,” Skyeyes butted in. “It would show solidarity with Merdon in particular. He carries an orcish artifact, he stands with you.”
Shade joined in as well with a grin of her own. “We really should replace his armor, you know,” she told Grot. “If only so he doesn't get caught in the confusion.” Obviously something orc crafted. It made the dark-skinned orc think harder.
Verist turned her attention back to Merdon. “The trick is, orc magic is a bit different than mine. Notably, I should be able to stack another enchantment on there.”
The knight was getting the idea. “You could infuse it with the fragments of the other shield,” he guessed. “Making something that can't break and pulls attacks towards it.”
“A perfect defense,” the witch said with pride.
“It would give you something to do for a couple of days,” Grot shrugged. “We can decide what to do afterward. So, where's this grave?”
Verist pulled out a map and laid it over the book. She traced her finger towards the end of a mountain range, several leagues away from the ruins Merdon had met Skyeyes in. “It's around here,” she told them. “Possibly hidden, maybe just rubble by now. I don't know the specifics, but it's on the mountain.”
“Great,” Grot grumbled. “How close can you put them?”
“That's the unfortunate part,” she said with a frown. “It'll have to be about two, maybe three, days away. I experimented myself and found a lot of interference.”
“Interference?” Merdon asked, his eyes narrowing. “What? Like, a trap or something?”
Verist shook her head. “Nothing of the sort. The temple is built from the same material Avant's walls are, anti-magic stone. It prevents mages like myself from simply teleporting to, or onto, it. And from casting inside it”
Grot hummed. “That explains the trap then,” he admitted. “Skath traveled with his personal mage, they were inseparable and undefeated in combat. Negating one of them, however, might have done something to their dynamic.”
“Almost certainly,” Verist agreed. “I would suggest Red stay here for the-.”
“I'm going,” the mage said with a huff. “There's no way I'm just going to stay in this damned tower for another month or whatever while we plan a cross-country trip with Grot.”
Shade climbed off her orc and said, “I'd like to go as well.” The others looked surprised, especially Grot. “This is an orc artifact after all,” she told them with her arms crossed. “Someone should be there representing them.”
Grot sighed and rubbed his face. “Then I'm coming too.”
Verist slammed the table. “No! You have to go talk to the kobolds, remember the plan here.” This was a diversion for Merdon while the others took care of business.
“I'll not let her go alone.” Grot looked at Merdon and quietly apologized, “No offense.”
Skyeyes looked at Verist and said, “We can plan some of the trip while we're hiking up the mountain. Besides, I would have to go in case Merdon or Quickclaw gets wounded, or stuck.” Avant was not friendly territory anymore. The more of them going, the better.
Merdon sighed and looked at Verist. “Besides, there's something I think we need to work on more than the kobolds.” She raised a brow at his insinuation. “I want to know where the Eyes train their assassins. Their knife hands are getting a little itchy for my tastes, and the last thing we need is more of Grot's chiefs getting stabbed.”
“So you just expect me to find the Eyes' training grounds?” she mocked. “Their highly secretive base where they train stealthy assassins that use enchanted garments to disappear into the darkness itself? Oh, yes, of course. It's not like I just finished tracking down a nearly lost tomb or anything.”
Sarel spoke up, “The Eyes attacked the orcs and provoked this war themselves. What stops them from going after the kobold elders as soon as we begin gathering them? The assassins need to be dealt with before we move into the open, not after.”
The witch was quiet for a moment, her face changed expression a few times as she considered all of that. “You're right,” she said with a breath, after a time. “Kobolds would be even less capable of dealing with assassins than orcs, and much less expecting of them. I should have thought of that.”
“Any ideas?” Merdon asked tentatively.
“A few,” she admitted. “I have some contacts in Ardmach. I can inquire, quietly, about such things. It might take longer than your trip, however.”
Grot grunted. “That'll work out fine then. We can do this, talk to the kobolds, and then put our boots to the neck of those cowards that killed half our leaders in cold blood. One right after the other.”
Merdon nodded and looked at the map again. “Guess we should get supplies ready for this first,” he said, standing up and folding the map to take.
Shade grinned and hopped down off the table. “It has been far too long since I've gone on a treasure hunt.”
“Is that all this is to you?” Grot asked with shock. “A treasure hunt?”
“Well, mostly,” she said with a chuckle. “You didn't need to volunteer to come along.”
“It almost sounds like you're trying to get rid of me,” the orc accused, teasingly.
Shade hopped up onto his lap and firmly grabbed his chin. “You couldn't get that unfortunate if you were cursed. You're stuck with me until the gods rain armageddon on this world, and even then it will be a cold day in all nine hells before I leave you.”
Grot blushed, but his eyes were drawn to the others in the room, who all looked away from the display, except Verist who was smiling wide. He always underestimated how passionate the assassin could be, considering how cold she was about other things.