[https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/52178341166_e09b204e73_c.jpg]

Mika had no intention of following Retga’s advice. She didn’t need to observe Kurr any further to understand that he was a particularly loathsome specimen. Instead, she planted herself, her basket of food and her bottles before the great window to the fore of the cabin. There she watched the changing scenery through the reflection of her own wide eyes, drowning in awe at the beauty of it all.

The sun rose ever higher behind them, glaring over the horizon just below the cloud cover to wash the misted canopy in shimmering light. Mika blinked hard as her eyes watered and stung, but she left the goggles up. The scene was perfect as it was, with that strange green glow shining up over the next swell of trees. A small school of flying fish darted from the ship’s path as they crested it, trilling rhythmically. And then the whole vessel was awash in light, and Mika blinked hard against the brightness of it, still unwilling to spoil the color. The ship dipped lower, revealing a vista that took her some time to understand.

It was like an enormous, luminous scar in the landscape. A branching chasm spilling over with viridian fog. As the ship continued steadily downward, she grew ever more certain that the chasm of light must be their destination. Too curious to help herself, she gave up her post at last.

“Oi!”

As she ducked through the tapestry, a voice from immediately beside her sent Mika nearly jumping from her skin. Scrabbling sideways, her gaze went to its source. But she found of course only Threl, a smile rapidly fading from his face as he’d realized how he’d startled her.

Why didn’t I smell him? Why do I never smell him?

She scrunched her nose at him, leaning in a bit as she inhaled. Ah, that’s why. He smelled almost exactly like the canopy itself—of greenery and rain-wet air. But there was an edge there of sweetness and of salt, as well. Too subtle to broadcast his presence. Or hers, or theirs. He’d changed his form again, the sleek swell of his chest could as easily be muscles as breasts, and he’d tapered his hips back down.

“What is it?” His gaze darted over her features, looking for clues. “Did I do something wrong? Majesties said to watch out for you and not to bother you, I didn’t think I’d bother’d you, but I—”

“Where are we?” Mika asked, cutting off his concerns with an impatient wave. “Is this Kanijha?”

“Wha—oh.” Threl looked at once flustered and relieved at the change of subject. “Yes and no. That’s the Rend. And Kanijha’s in it.”

The Stormsingers changed their tune, and the winds shifted. The already bustling activity of the crew intensified as they prepared the ship for arrival. Of the many pounding footsteps, one set grew rapidly louder. Mika glanced over just as Kurr came into view, lip curling upward to reveal massive, sharpened teeth.

“Thought I scented prey,” he rumbled, as other unfamiliar orcs crowded behind him, more than a few of them leering. Leaning forward, he dragged a long breath through his slitted nostrils.

“So it’s true,” he said. “As tasty as the old stories say. By scent, at least.”

Mika hissed.

“Oh no. No, no no. Definitely not.” Forcing his way between them, Threl glared up at the silver-haired prince. “You can fuck right off.”

“That’s prince to you, elfblood,” growled Kurr.

“My apologies. You can fuck right off, my prince.”

Kurr’s lips pulled further back still, his black-dyed tusks jutting forward. He chuckled—a low, menacing sound. Then Retga and Uthur rounded the corner of the main cabin, stalking straight their way. His nose curled, eyes tightening around the corners.

“No matter,” he said. “I’ll have plenty of time alone with the little morsel once I’ve won her in Rite.”

“If your skill in the field were matched by your confidence, that might be true,” said Retga, coming to a stop just a few paces away and examining her sharpened claws. “As it is, she’s got nothing to be worried about. Now keep your muck-grubbing paws away from her. You’ll spoil the scent.”

Uthur frowned at Retga, putting a hand to Threl’s shoulder and squeezing it. The elf fell back, taking position at Mika’s side as the iron-haired prince stepped into his place.

Kurr’s own retinue of orcs stepped up to flank him.

“We’ll have time enough for this tonight,” said Uthur. “Until then, we are to honor our host. This is not our ship, or yours.” As he spoke, his gaze traveled from Retga to Kurr and his orcs. “I’m certain the captain would report any hostilities incited aboard his decks. Such disrespect could easily lead to disqualification.”

Kurr scoffed. But just when Mika thought he’d retort, he threw back his head and issued a whooping howl that echoed in her ears even after she slapped her hands over them.

“I’ll go ahead of us and inform the clannag of our imminent arrival. I can have the request in the hands of the Hunter’s Hall within the hour.”

“You do that,” said Retga.

Then the wretched prince was off, pounding over to the starboard rail and propelling himself over its side. Unfortunately, he swooped upward and into sight again a few heartbeats later—riding upon the back of a mount much like Uthur and Retga’s. It folded its wings to its side and dove into the mists of the chasm.

“Asshole,” spat Retga. And though Kurr’s cronies scowled at her, they quickly dispersed.

“What do you guys think of this?” piped up Threl. Mika and both orcs turned their attention to him at once to find he’d expanded his chest even more—though it was most definitely muscle this time—and broadened his shoulders still further.

“Ume likes this type, right? Do you think I have a chance?”

Uthur sighed.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Deciding to puzzle the elf out later, Mika pushed past the others and up to the railing, where she peered out from between its bars. There was an intensity to the greenness of the Rend that came not only from the mists that pooled in its depths, hiding whatever might lay below, but from the lush growth which proliferated there as well.

A place where the Depths meet forest and sky. A sacred place.

Silently, Mika mouthed a prayer.

Then something big and dark drifted just overhead, startling her out of her enchanted awe and sending her stumbling up against Threl’s legs, squeaking in dismay. But the elf just chuckled. Purple light washed over them, flickering from the creatures gills, its Song a low, steady thrumming. As it passed overhead—close enough for its flukes to brush orcin skulls—its jaw dropped open, and it scooped up a cloud of tiny airjellies.

“Don’t worry,” said Threl. “Just a bellowshark. Pretty harmless, most of the time.”

Before she could ask when they weren’t harmless, the thing opened its maw again and made obvious where it got its name. And again, Mika had to cover her ears. Gradually, her prey instincts eased and her heartbeat slowed to its usual pace. When the ringing ceased she brought her hands back down and leant forward into the railing once more, watching as the creature sang its way through the air. Beautiful.

Their attention called elsewhere, the princes dispersed.

Drifting ever westward, they navigated their way with care amongst vessels and beasts alike. And through it all, the sounds and scents of rushing water wove, their source the countless waterfalls cascading from the chasm’s overhanging edges. Before long, buildings began to appear from the fog…clinging to the Rend’s tiered walls and outcroppings of stone. And great statues, too, rose from the overgrowth—most of beasts, all inlaid with gemstones. If this were an Ulvari city, Mika would have thought them Sentinels.

“I’ll show you around the clannag when we get there,” said Threl, coming up to lean over the railing beside her. He smiled out at the city, and its emerald light flashed in his eyes. “Then you can get some rest before the big night.”

“I have questions. Many questions.”

Threl’s smile twitched.

“Where is Ixos? When do I get him back? What’s a clannag? What do you mean big night?”

“Your stone bug thing? It’s in with the other valuable cargo. Not sure when you’ll get it back, you’ll have to talk to the princes about that, when they have time. The clannag is, like…the clan’s stronghold in the city. Its base. All the clan’s thralls are welcome there, and the more important ones and their crews have whole wings of it to themselves.”

“And the big night?

“Well, there’s always a feast when the princes return. Then there’ll be the Rite of Claiming to decide who gets you and a place in the Gold.”

Mika stared up at him, aghast.

“That’s all happening tonight?”

“Yup. Like I said, you’ll need your rest.”

A horn was blown, making Mika jump. Threl laughed again, and she punched him on the leg…which made him laugh some more. A corresponding hornblow issued from around a great outcropping of stone and overhanging greenery. As they rounded it, something between a fortress and a village came into view…a rambling collection of mismatched stone architecture that, in some places, recalled that of her home city. Like most everything in the rend, it was drenched in growth, the rooftops green with moss, terraces crowded with overhanging branches and palm fronds.

“That’s it,” said Threl. “Clannag Dragha.”

The ship bumped up between a pair of others at the dock, the crew working with expert efficiency to secure the vessel. Disengaging from the captain, Uthur strode back over. Leaning in close to the elf, he spoke in a hush.

“Get her to our wing,” he said.

“Er…yes, my prince. Very well. But ah, about her construct—“

“Later, Brujhir. Go.”

“Yes, majesty.”

Among the first to disembark, Threl rushed Mika along as the pair made their way down the dock and into a lift like a grand cage, tiny purple flowers growing in the moss upon its roof. As the attendant—another elf—opened the door for them, a bird took off from its perch just over the frame.

They rode to one of the topmost levels, where Threl showed Mika through an entryway flanked by stone beasts with four legs and long, tapered necks.

“I’ll take you to the scholas,” said the elf, nodding to the doormen as he hurried her out of sight of their clinging eyes.

“What are scholas?” wondered Mika, her gaze catching on the myriad skulls hung in alcoves along the walls, each one unique not only in species but in finish. Some were lacquered in something darkly iridescent, others looked almost charred. Still others were polished and carved in intricate designs or set with gemstones.

“They are one of the Arkhas,” he said. “The one you’re closest to. They’ll take care of you.”

Down a long corridor they walked, lined with tapestries Mika could have stayed and stared at for hours, the air thick with incense that smelled of needled trees.

Ducking through the tapestry at hall’s end, Threl held it aside as Mika followed him. She blinked, finding herself once more in the brightness of the outdoors, upon a balcony overlooking the pooled mists of the Rend. Seated amongst the potted fruit trees and palms at its center were a pair of orcs unlike any Mika had yet seen. Most noticeably, they were smaller in stature—though of course, still tall enough to tower over her. Their bodies were softer, too, and their tusks so dainty they barely peeked above their lips. But that was where the pair’s similarities ended.

They stood at once, their eyes gone wide as they fixed upon Mika.

“So it’s true,” gasped the orc to Mika’s left, lifting the skirt of her silken dress with one hand as she hurried over, the other hand going up to cover her mouth. “Oh I can’t believe it. She’s adorable, and oh,” she stopped short about a pace away. She was a lovely a creature as far as orcs went, with generous curves, light gray skin, and a long mane of rose-gold locks. “It’s all true. I could just eat her up!”

“Oh, Er, perhaps maybe d-don’t say things like that around her,” stammered a flushing Threl as Mika backed away.

“Mika, this is Ume, and that over there is Eshge. The scholas of our thrall. Ume and Eshge, this is, er…would you like to say your whole name for them?”

“Princess Mikanasha Raska G4I2.”

“Yes, that. A-anyway,” his eyes flashed to Ume and away again. “If you’ve heard about her already than you probably know Kurr is going to challenge for her, and she’s a Stonesinger. Yeah,” he paused as Eshge released a tiny gasp and the two exchanged significant at looks.

Leaning in a bit, Threl lowered his voice to a whisper.

“I’ve been told to tell you not to ask her what happened to her or how she came to be with us. The princes will fill you in later.” As he looked from one to the other of them, his eyes settled and caught on Ume, his words growing airier and more uncertain as he spoke. He cleared his throat. “Ah, but I must go now. Could you take care of her, please? She needs rest, and probably some different clothes. Pretty sure her majesty took those off a doll or something.”

And then, in one movement, he swept a deep bow and turned on his heel. In the next heartbeat he was gone, the tapestry flapping shut behind him. Rising, Eshge drifted gracefully over to stand at Ume’s side, one hand going to their chin as they considered her. They were a striking orc too—their body all sleek curves, tapering dramatically at waist and wrists, with a most remarkable blue sheen to their otherwise black skin and hair.

“She’s even smaller than I imagined,” they observed.

“She can understand you,” said Mika, frowning up at them.

“Oh!” Exclaimed Ume. “Yes, of course. How rude of us. I am so sorry.”

Eshge shrugged.

“Well, come on then, Let’s get you a bath, a bed, and a change of clothes.” They pursed their lips. “We’ll have to borrow from one of the children until we can have something made.”

Ume pouted.

“Oh, but I like what she—what you’ve got on!” She turned to Mika, dropping to her knees for a better look. “So darling. Oh, perhaps too close.” She rose again and backed up a bit, one hand going up to cover her forehead. “But I suppose it won’t quite do for the feast or Rite, will it?”

‘Well, come on then,” said Eshge, brushing past them to open the door. “To the baths, and quickly. Unless goblins are meant to smell like moldy onions?’

“Oh, she does not,” scolded Ume. “She smells delicious, and you know it. A little sweaty, perhaps, but delici—“

Eshge hissed something under their breath, and Ume stopped talking, her pale skin flushing almost crimson.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed.

Mika huffed, her ears folding back…but she hurried after them nonetheless. She really, really needed that bath.