“Stand down!” Tarn shouted, bursting from the tower’s doors. Jental had to dive out of the way to avoid his surprising charge, while Aryo scooped up Lash before Tarn could run the little gremlin over. His legs were on fire from descending the stairs so quickly, his muscles crying for rest, but his panic pushed him forward.

The bright light of the day assaulted his eyes, but he barely needed to see. He just needed to be heard.

His sudden appearance made the impact he had hoped for. The several dozen humans who had managed to reach this far held their swords and bows frozen, all eyes turned toward him. A few blinked back in recognition as if they had been told to look for him.

Ramad? Did you send these people? He had never considered that the Realm’s forces would be here – yet his speeches to the council must have worked even better than he had thought. The military’s presence was a surprising godsend if it didn’t turn into a nightmare.

“Realm armies!” He cried again. “Put down your weapons! These orcs – they are not your enemy. Not anymore!”

The troops looked back and forth between Tarn and a human man in the center of the fight, whose blue pauldrons identified him as the squad commander. He gave the forces around him a nod, as a little tension released in Tarn’s chest.

“Keep your weapons up,” he called out. His look to Tarn was one of recognition. “But take no action. We were told to look for this one.”

For their part, the orc soldiers continued to walk around in a daze. Many rubbed their heads, while several had dropped to their knees in nausea and disorientation. Some still held their weapons with shaking hands, a few gripping the hilts tightly.

Any moment now, this was going to go bad all over again.

The thunder of the slow-moving Progenitor general could be heard in the jungle, pushing its way away from them. No doubt headed toward the dungeon and either safety or reinforcements. The tools had been taken away.

“We have to act fast,” Urthin muttered, eyeing the jungle. “It will be to the Axe Dungeon in an hour at most. That is if you intended to prevent its escape.”

Tarn definitely intended to prevent it. These Progenitors needed to feel vulnerable. In another heartbeat or two, the orcs would start fighting again. He needed them to turn on their new enemy, even as their ancient one stood directly in front of them.

“Take the others and go follow that thing.” Tarn nodded toward the jungle. “Keep your distance, and don’t fight unless you have to. Give me and Bog about ten minutes, then send Isca back to guide us to you.”

“Understood.” The monk looked at the two opposing forces of humans and orcs, still only inches apart. “And which group do you hope to recruit here?”

“If we do this right?” Tarn looked over at Bog. “Both of them.”

He approached the man in the center of the Realm armies, his hands open to show he was unarmed.

“I’m Tarn,” he called out. “Tarn Arisfal, and I-“

“Arjen Gloom.” His voice was commanding and clear. “Command, Realm Third. I was told to look for you, Arisfal. But I was also told to secure this tower. Is it secure – what… what is with the orcs?”

“It’s a trick.” A mutter came from one of the human troops, but Tarn ignored it.

“Controlled,” Tarn nodded up at the tower, his pulse racing. He had no idea how long the orcs would remain in this docile state, but the clock was running. “By the Progenitors, using that tower. We’ve removed it – they… they are confused. Don’t know who they are.”

“My orders were to find you, and help you.” Gloom lowered his sword, and looked back at his troops. Some brought their weapons down faster than others, but in moments they had all obeyed their commander. “Steward Ramad was most clear. And careful on who he sent.”

Thank you, Ramad. Tarn made a mental note to buy the man several rounds once he got back to the Realm. Assuming they lived long enough to get back.

Across the now-quiet battlefield, the orcs were beginning to murmur. Turning back to them, Tarn could see almost all of them had recovered from the effects of losing Progenitor control and were now wearing expressions on their faces that made him very nervous. Fear, confusion, and even anger were clear as they looked from the dead orcs on the ground, and over to the humans.

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“Bog,” he whispered. “I think this is your moment here. They’re not going to listen to me.”

To her credit, she didn’t hesitate. Bog walked out in front of the groups, watching as each of their eyes slowly fell upon her.

“I know you are confused!” Her voice sounded strong, and confident as she walked between them. She began to walk before the crowd as it slowly gathered around her. “I have been where you are. Part of your mind has been taken, a great crime.”

A great crime, Tarn thought. It was a massive understatement to what they had done, the impossible solution the Progenitors had forced them into. He felt fresh anger at the choice, guilt trying to take hold.

He refused to allow it. Their enemy had forced them into this position, not him. Narsol himself kept asking what was he willing to do to save his people. Narsol had been willing to sacrifice anything.

Yet the confused, dazed faces of the orcs pulled at him all the same. No longer slaves, but no longer who they had been before either.

“What has happened to me?” A female orc dressed in simple leather armor dropped her bow in front of Bog, where it fell upon the thick grasses. “I know… I know what this is, and how to use it. But I do not know why I would, or against who. I do not even know who I am!”

Bog knelt and picked up the bow, placing it back in the woman’s hands.

“You are a warrior.” She closed the orc’s fingers around the weapon, gently. “And this is your home. This world – is all our homes. You use this weapon to defend it, not against the people before you, but against our true enemy.”

Bog pointed off to the jungle, where the progress of the lumbering Progenitor could still be heard. Around them, the humans still had their eyes on the orcs, their tension clear.

The young orc looked back at Bog in confusion. “Are you… were you our leader?”

“No.” Bog shook her head, looking off into the tower. “Your leader is dead, where I and my friends had to kill him. He was taken by these – Progenitors. Our true enemy. At the cost of your memories, we were able to remove their control over you.”

There were fresh murmurs from the crowd. Some of them looked up at the tower questioningly, while others rubbed their heads as if they still could feel the fingers of the Progenitors upon their minds.

“There is still a battle we must fight,” Bog continued. “When it is done, there will be time for all the questions in your head. I will help you all I can, all my team will. But the children and elders, the heart and history of our peoplecannot wait for us to reclaim our memories now. Now, there is an enemy and little time left.”

“But who are you?” The young orc woman looked down at the bow in her hands, then back at Bog. “If our leader is dead, why should we heed you?”

“I am…” She faltered, her voice catching. She looked back at Tarn, her eyes wavering. He favored her with a simple nod, one he knew conveyed all the feelings both simple and complex between them. She was his oldest and first friend, and he would always be hers.

“My name is Bog.” She activated her gem, calling the axe into her hands. “But once I was called something else. I was a leader among the orcs, one who inspired fought, and sacrificed. I would be honored to be that again, to lead you in battle once more.”

The group stepped back, awestruck by the summoned weapon in her hand. Tarn watched as the fire in Bog’s eyes began to be echoed in the gazes of the orcs that looked upon her. One by one, they picked up their weapons, fresh determination written on their faces.

“Tell me who to shoot, Bog.” The young orc’s grin was fierce, the fire for battle relit within her. “Lead us forward, and we will face these … Progenitors, along with you and your allies.”

“Humans,” she turned to face the gathered Realm troops. “You came to save us, even after generations of conflict between our peoples. I will not forget this.”

“Nice speech, Bog,” Tarn laughed as they ran. In moments they would be in battle once again, and there was a pit in his stomach from their hard choices, but still, he found a grim smile.

“I think the old man would approve,” she laughed. “Now what is the plan? Based on what we have seen, a single Progenitor and its escorts are still the equal of us all.”

Tarn stared off into the jungle. With each moment he waited, the general took a step closer to the Axe Dungeon and its eventual safety. If they allowed it to escape, it might return with overwhelming forces.

“First – we need a group to guard this tower. We don’t know if there are other Progenitors here, and we don’t know for sure that all orcs are freed from their control. Some of the Realm forces should stay here, and keep it safe.”

“A sound strategy.” Arjen Gloom nodded to a subordinate. “Yet it would be good to have some of your team here as well. We are not gem-touched, and some of these Progens have shown the ability to freeze time around them.”

“I’ll stay!” Aryo shouted, running over. “They killed my family, my farms. I missed my chance to keep a land safe, but I won’t miss it again.”

“Oh, Junior.” Jental strode up, putting an arm around his shoulder and kissing his cheek. “You’re just too adorable to let die. I’ll stay with him to make sure he doesn’t get killed while drinking milk or something.”

“Thank you,” Tarn said with a laugh. It was a small thing, but it felt good to smile even for a moment. “We’ll save a piece of him to bring back to you.”

“But are we enough against such a foe?” The Realm commander stood next to Tarn, with Bog and the young orc archer by her side. “The Progenitors seem all but unstoppable. Even one of them.”

“The fact that he’s running back to the dungeon says we’ve got more of a shot than that.” Tarn grinned. “But you’re right, we could use the odds shifted in our favor some more. Can you and the orcs work together to take any smaller Progenitor escorts out of the fight?”

“We can fight, sure.” Gloom said. “And we’ll fight alongside the orcs if they are ready?”

“This is all confusing.” The young orc looked off into the dense trees. “But while I do not remember the name of this jungle, I do know the plants within it… somehow. What trees will have thorns, where to step, how to move silently. If the humans follow, we will guide them. When the time comes to fight, we will do so together.”