[https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/52262188646_e57c59e01a.jpg]Eshge

Her head was throbbing.

Mika groaned as she broke the surface of consciousness. Her plush surroundings contrasted sharply with the bag-of-rocks-and-glass feeling inside of her, and everything smelled of sun on stone and scaled leather. She longed to escape into the silkiness of the bedding, the pleasure of those scents. She kept her eyes sealed shut and resolved not to open them for several hours, at least.

“Princess?”

Her eyes snapped open at once to fix blearily upon Uthur’s face. His brow was furrowed in concern, but otherwise, he looked well. As she blinked to clear the sleep from her eyes, his markings turned from orange to yellow-green. Relief washed over her. Nightmares half-remembered still lingered at the edges of her conciousesness. Visions of her first Fleshsong gone wrong…Uthur’s skin and bones healing only to bubble and melt away soon after.

“How do you feel?”

“Hnnnnnng,” said Mika.

The prince chuckled.

“A little like a hangover, isn’t it?”

“Wh-why?” rasped Mika, struggling to prop herself up. She was still wearing the dress she’d worn into the Rend, but someone had done their best to clean the vomit off of her. She was in the chamber that she supposed was hers now, and there didn’t seem to be anyone else there with them.

“Fleshsinging takes its toll even on those experienced with it.” Uthur spoke softly, considerate of the throbbing pain in her head. “That was a high-level Song for your very first of its kind, and you used it to heal an orc near-dead…yes, you’re going to be feeling it for a while.”

Pride and disgust churned together into a heady mix that Mika was not at all prepared to deal with.

I Sang a high level Song successfully. I saved him.

But it was a Fleshsong. I’m A Fleshsinger.

I’m an abomination.

Envisioning a very heavy door, Mika slammed it on her thoughts.

“How long?”

“You’ve been unconscious for nearly twelve hours.”

Mika stared at him. Twelves hours? And he just happened to be here when I woke up?

The shift in Uthur’s expression told her that he’d managed to read hers.

“I’ve been in and out to check on you, as have Threl, Ume, and Retga,” he said hastily.

“I see.”

They looked away from one another, a sudden awkwardness installing itself between them.

“And the humans? Did you…”

At once, Uthur’s muscles tensed, teeth grinding together.

“They escaped. We still don’t know how they got in. The King Regent has been notified. Hunters seek them still, and patrols have been tripled. We will not allow ourselves to be caught off-guard again.”

Mika’s lips twisted. She didn’t need to ask what they might want with her. But it did make her wonder.

“You were scouting for humans when you found me. Do they raid your lands often?”

Uthur scowled.

“They skulk into our forests and mountains when they can, seeking ways to take that which isn’t theirs, as they always have. But since Reclamation, none has stepped foot into the Rend. Until now. At least, none that we know of.”

“Reclamation?” Retga’s words rose to the forefront of her memory. History lesson later. “Was that before or after there came to be Ulvari constructs in the Rend?”

“After,” replied the prince. “Your people and ours…they lived together here in the Rend, once. Two societies woven as one, coexisting. Why do you think we have Ulvari buildings? Why do you think we have this room?”

Again, she was staring.

“But…you’re…and we’re….” she sputtered, trying to find words that wouldn’t propel her back to Uthur’s bad side. “How could that be? Predator and prey?”

Uthur exhaled, long and slow, through his nostrils.

“We’ve lost a lot of history ourselves. Much has been preserved through song alone, which has likely changed greatly over time. The rest, we’ve learned from the Rend itself. Many researchers think it makes perfect sense, that your people survived by becoming too useful to eat. Others insist our kind has never preyed on yours at all. That we just internalized your instinctive fear of us during our time together.”

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Mika didn’t know what to say. A few days ago, she’d have been sure every word was a lie. But now…now she had no idea what to think.

“If we coexisted once…then why did we stop?”

“We were at war. With the humans. And then, for some reason…we were at war with each other, too. Again, all we have is conjecture and sung histories that may or may not be twisted by time and bitterness.”

From the look on the orc’s face, Mika could tell she wouldn’t like the answer to her next question. But she asked it anyway.

“And what do those histories sing?”

“That the Ulvari betrayed us. Fought on the side of the humans. That’s why we call you goblins, even now. We no longer sing those songs as absolute truth, as we might have once. But some things stick.”

She cringed at the word, as she always did. It was a hateful slur, the name outsiders used for them. But no one had ever told her exactly what it meant, and it was uncouth to ask. Uthur must have seen the question in her eyes.

“It’s orcin,” he explained. “For traitor.”

Anger, indignation, confusion, disgust…all of them and more warred for supremacy at his words. Turning her back on the battle, ignoring it, Mika swallowed. Opened her mouth to speak, and swallowed again.

“Well…about today. I know we don’t have much time, but if I could just get the chance to clean up and maybe eat a bit before we do more Stonesong lessons…”

“No.”

Her gaze snapped up again to meet his.

“No?”

“No more lessons until after the Rite. You need to rest and recover. Properly. Especially if you still intend to join us tomorrow.”

“But that’s exactly why I can’t rest!” she argued, shoving her blankets aside and dangling her legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ve wasted so much time sleeping, and I’ve only given one lesson. There’s so much more I need to—”

“How much difference will a single’s day’s lessons make, really?”

Though he cut across her, Uthur’s words were gentle. “We have no hope of being able to fully pilot constructs by tomorrow night. We’d thought even a small amount of Stonesinging ability might give us an edge…but it’s not enough to be worth the cost. Not with you so weakened.”

“I will pay the cost for a better chance at helping my people,” said Mika, scooting off the bed. “Maybe I can’t have them fully piloting by tomorrow. But…but I can make sure they know more than they do now, and that’s better than just lying here.”

Uthur frowned at her.

“Princess Mikanasha, please—”

“Thank you.”

The orc prince blinked down at her, bemused.

“Thank you for what you did. Thank you for saving me from Thrall Alaric. Even though it all only happened because your people kidnapped me. Thank you.”

For a few heartbeats, Uthur remained silent, then his lip twitched upward to one side.

“That makes us even then, doesn’t it? You have my thanks as well, princess.”

Mika sniffed. “There’s no need to use my title. You may call me by my name.”

“Very well, then, Mikanasha. What are the chances I might still talk you out of working today?”

“Nil.”

Though he huffed at that, his smile grew.

“In that case, I’ll leave you to ready yourself, as requested. Is there anything else you require?”

“Tonics. Something for my headache. And…what do you call it? Ofke. And food. Spiced food. Fried food. Desserts, too.” she pressed a finger to her chin, considering. “And gloves! I still need gloves.”

“Ofke, spiced foods, fried foods, and desserts I can manage,” said Uthur. “And I can even find your tiny gloves. But they’ll have the wrong number of fingers. We were planning on having some made specially after the Rite.”

“Oh,” Mika scrunched her nose. “Of course. I suppose I can do without for a while longer, then. I’ll probably still be bathing when the food arrives, so just have them leave it on that table for me.” She gestured to the low personal dining table in the far corner, near the window.

“I shall see to it,” said the prince, inclining his head and even bending slightly at the waist. A genuine bow? She wondered. Or is he mocking me?

“Wait,” she called as he put his hand to her chamber door. He paused, turning back to face her.

“Did you…did any of you know that this could happen? That I could become a Fleshsinger? Was it because of the blooding?”

Uthur’s jaw set, brows knitting together.

“What’s happening to me?” Mika’s voice broke, and she knew how she must look and sound. Pleading, terrified. Pathetic.

“I don’t know, Mikanasha,” replied the prince at last. “None of us do. I’m sorry. But we can try to find out. Together.”

“I…alright.” Her eyes stung at the corners, but she managed to stifle the tears.

For a moment, Uthur regarded her—conflict writ across his face. His hand twitched. And then he inclined his head once more and left.

Mika groaned again and dragged herself to the water room. Peeling off her clothes, she stepped under the cascading hot spring and closed her eyes.

No thoughts. Only warmth.

No thoughts. Only water.

No thoughts. Only clean.

But she did have thoughts. Too many thoughts. Thoughts that ravened at her brain like scavengers at a bloated carcass.

She rushed through bathing and hurried out to her food, the unwanted thoughts hounding at her heels.

----------------------------------------

Levitation. Take a step. Turn right. Turn left. Move faster.

It was late into the night, the breeze dispersing the glowing mists and veiling the moon with flowing wisps of cloud. The Stonesingers of Thrall Uthur were an exhausted, sweating mess. There was only so much they could do in their wing’s main courtyard, working with one of the long-necked constructs she’d previously taken for decorative statues. But after what had happened, no one was ready to drag Mika back down to the lower levels…and she was glad of it.

They’ve learned so much, so fast.

They wouldn’t be fully piloting constructs on their own for more than a few heartbeats any time soon…but it was more than she’d anticipated. Much more.

A ululating cry drew her attention out of herself.

“Yes! I did it! I turned left!” The elf pumped at the air with both fists.“Miks, did you see?”

Mika did her best to compose her face into a smile.

“Yes, very good,” she said, clapping her hands politely. He’d been the only one to struggle with any of the Songs, and mostly just that one. Once they’re fully trained, they’ll be better Stonesingers than me. All of them. She sighed, swallowing back her bitterness.

“Well done!”

Rallying the Singers, Mika guided them through backing the big, four-legged construct into its original position. That done, she excused herself and made for the far end of the courtyard—ready to go inside, skip the night’s communal meal, and embrace her bedsheets once more. Her head still hurt, and she’d never truly stopped being exhausted.

But as she approached the arched gateway, Eshge and Ume strolled into view.

“Ah, you are all done for the day, then. Wonderful,” said Ume. “Are you ready, or do you need to go back to your room first?”

“Er…” Mika looked from one to the other of them. “Ready for what?”

“Oh,” Ume’s face fell. “They didn’t tell you.”

Eshge sighed.

“Of course not. Don’t worry yourself, princess. It’s just another one of our silly orc traditions.” Looking sideways at Ume, they lowered their voice as their markings turned from green to yellow. “This is a waste of time, Plum. She won’t—”

“What kind of tradition?” Too curious not to, Mika asked the question in spite of herself.

The rosy-haired orc perked up at once, turning away from Eshge to grin down at her.

“The best kind,” she said. “It’s Buruk Tikur. Final Night.”