370 days until the Arkon Shield falls

General Steiner,

I’ve received an intriguing report from one of our elite dungeon parties. The team leader is convinced the territory to the far north is already occupied, and if his information is to be believed, by a strong and well-organized faction. I’ve attached the details. I don’t have to tell you what this means for our plans. Confirm his findings and report back to me.

—Minister Lacum, the Order.

I dragged my steps as we marched upstairs, and Tara held back too. “Here you go,” she said, holding out Ash on her palm.

“Thanks,” I said. Acknowledging the elemental’s cheerful greeting, I stowed her in my pocket and gave Tara a tired smile. “Good job in the orc camp. Doesn’t look like they suspected a thing.”

Tara shrugged. “It was easier than it should have been. I got the feeling the orc’s don’t think much of us humans.”

I nodded, knowing what she meant. The overwolders in general, and the orc’s in particular, were arrogant. “What was the camp like?”

“Intimidating,” Tara admitted. “Say what you will of the orcs, but they are disciplined and well organized.”

I nodded thoughtfully but said nothing further as I picked at the problem of what to do next.

“What’s got you down?” Tara asked.

I glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

“Something is eating at you,” she said. “I can tell. You’re not looking forward to this meeting. Why?”

I sighed. The green-eyed woman knew me too well. “I’m not sure I agree with Thursten and Arenson’s strategy.”

She stared at me blankly for a moment. “What, you mean enslaving Jhaven and using him against his people?”

I nodded. The two rebel leaders had come up with a diabolical plan for overcoming the orc company. While I had few qualms about its chance of success, I was less enthused about how the pair proposed going about it.

Tara pursed her lips. Placing one hand on my arm, she stopped me. “Explain.”

I bit my lip. When we’d discussed the matter earlier, I’d not voiced my doubts. I was conflicted myself as to the right course and had hoped the Trials would take the decision out of my hands. Now, though, I was left in a quandary. “Strategically, enslaving the shaman is the right move. With a Veteran mage on our side, the outcome of any battle against the orc company is assured. Jhaven is an orc, too, and one of Orgtul’s followers to boot. He must have killed and subjugated many himself.” I fell silent.

“But?” Tara prompted.

I exhaled noisily. “But I just can’t square myself with the idea. Slavery is...” I shuddered. “The very notion is vile. Even if Jhaven is an orc.”

“Jamie,” Tara said carefully, “isn’t this what you crusade demands of you? Isn’t this what you promised to do? To make every orc you found suffer?”

I hung my head in shame, unable to meet her gaze. “You’re right. I did want vengeance. I more than wanted it—I craved it.” I inhaled deeply. “But my thinking was flawed.” I sighed. “Don’t get me wrong. The orcs have to be defeated, and I still believe our best strategy is to take the fight to them, but there are limits to what we can do—or should do.” I stared into her green eyes. “And slavery,” I said softly, “is a step too far.”

Tara didn’t say anything for a long moment as she held my gaze. “All right, Jamie,” she said at last.

“All right?”

“All right, I will support you however you want to play this, but let’s get in there now before it is too late to change Thursten and Arneson’s minds.”

✽✽✽

The scouts had placed Jhaven in the largest room—Gorkin’s. As Tara and I entered the chamber, we caught the tail-end of the shaman’s words. “... will never serve you!”

Arneson scowled. “Then you are a fool!” he spat.

Thursten glanced at us. “What kept you two?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he waved aside the question. “Nevermind, I don’t want to know.” He turned to glare at the shaman. “The orc is being obstinate.”

“He is refusing to be bound?” I asked, concealing my relief. The shaman’s hands were tied together, and he was seated crossed-legged on the floor with the rebels looming over him. His ash staff lay next to him. The weapon intrigued me, but I didn’t have time to examine it now.

Arneson jerked his head down once. “He won’t accept my contract,” the rebel leader growled.

“He claims he would rather die,” Thursten added.

Tara and I exchanged glances. Given that the Trials itself had not forced the orc into slavery, the only way to bind Jhaven into servitude was by ‘convincing’ him to do so of his own free will. So far, it seemed verbal threats were not working, and from Arneson’s expression, he was ready to move on to other methods.

Jhaven’s gaze found mine. “Kill me,” he demanded again.

Arneson had had enough. Drawing a knife, he advanced on the orc. “You will soon wish you were dead. That, I promise.”

“Stop,” I said.

Arenson glanced at me and smiled at whatever he saw in my expression. “Don’t turn squeamish on me now, Jamie. Words alone were never going to suffice. We both know that. But apply a little pain…” He twisted the blade in his hand suggestively. “Don’t worry. Soon the orc will do whatever we want.” He turned back to the shaman. “Leave it to me.”

“I can’t,” I whispered.

Arneson swung about to face me, all traces of humor vanished. “Stay out of this,” he warned.

“Son,” Thursten said, drawing my attention to him. “This is war, and there is nothing pretty about it. Surely you’ve learned that by now? Let Arneson do what he must.”

I folded my arms. “There is a better way to do this.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Arenson scoffed and took another step towards the shaman.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Jhaven’s lips twitched as he observed our byplay. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but it appeared he found our conflict amusing. Damnit, I shouldn’t have left this unresolved. Still, I couldn’t let matters continue further.

“Stop!” I barked.

The rebel leader ignored me.

Arenson’s stubbornness was galling. Left with no other choice, I stamped my staff onto the floor and let dragonfire play along its length. “Back away, Arenson,” I ordered softly. “I won’t ask again.”

The rebel leader spun about. “Fool boy!” he exclaimed, his temper snapping. “What do you think you’re playing at? There can be no half-measures. If you don’t have the stomach for it, leave. But one way or the other, I’m going to—”

“That’s enough,” Tara cut in. “Listen to Jamie. He is not as ignorant of the stakes as you assume. Let him talk to the shaman first.”

Arenson’s rage cooled at Tara’s words. The fury dancing in his eyes didn’t dissipate, but he regained control of himself. “And if that doesn’t work?” he asked in a frozen voice.

Tara’s gaze darted to me. “Then, we do it your way.”

Arenson’s face remained expressionless, giving no sign of what he thought, and it fell to Thursten to accept Tara’s offer. “An acceptable compromise,” he said, laying a restraining hand on his companion.

Arenson sheathed his blade. “Go ahead,” he said coldly and backed away from Jhaven.

“Thank you,” I murmured solemnly. Approaching the orc, I analyzed him.

The target is Jhaven, a level 267 orcish player. He has exceptional Magic, exceptional Might, is gifted with Resilience, and exceptional Craft.

Jain had spoken true. Jhaven was a Veteran.

“Don’t waste your breath, human,” the shaman hissed. “I will never enslave myself to your people.”

“What if what I proposed wasn’t slavery?” I asked.

The shaman’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”

Pursing my lips, I studied the orc, wondering at the best approach. For all of Jhaven’s repeated requests to die, he had done nothing to force our hand. He had complied with Thursten’s orders even when there were a host of ways in which he could have passively resisted. Did that mean the shaman wanted to live? I thought so.

“I don’t blame you for not wanting to become a slave,” I said at last. “I wouldn’t think to inflict that fate on my worst enemy.” I held his gaze. “Your people, though, have no compunctions about forcing my own into servitude, and ordinarily, I would just kill you, both for your crimes and those of the masters you serve. But I don’t have the luxury of making such simple choices. The truth is we need you. And if you want to live, you need us.” I paused. “The question, though, is, do you want that?”

The shaman studied me through slitted eyes. “Go on.”

I held back a smile. Jhaven might not want to acknowledge his desire to live, but his response was answer enough. “We cannot hold you like this indefinitely. Sooner or later, you will escape. If you don’t bind yourself to us through a contract, we will be forced to kill you.”

I paused to study Jhaven’s reaction, but he didn’t appear surprised by my words and remained silent. I went on, “You, though, have made clear you would rather die than become a slave. That doesn’t mean, however, that we can’t come to some other sort of agreement of mutual benefit.”

Jhaven’s eyes narrowed. “What agreement?”

“Jamie,” Arneson growled. “I warn you, my people won’t—”

I slashed my hand downwards, cutting him off. “A contract of civilian service,” I said, my eyes not leaving the shaman.

The orc looked puzzled. “What sort of contract?”

“A year of service to Sanctuary as the settlement’s mage, doing whatever non-combat tasks the village council asks of you, including teaching, building, crafting, and providing information on the Orcish Federation.”

“And in return?”

“Your freedom once the Arkon Shield falls.”

Jhaven’s eyes glinted. “I will not betray my people,” he declared.

I frowned. “You are our prisoner, shaman, and in no position to negotiate,” I said flatly. “I will not lie to you. The only reason I’ve not killed you is because I want what’s in your head. If you refuse to share that information, we will have no deal.”

The shaman chewed over my words in silence for a protracted moment before inclining his head. “My people will never accept me after this.”

I shrugged. “Perhaps, or perhaps not. That is your own problem to solve. The important thing is you will have your life to do with as you wish after a year. Do you accept?”

The shaman was silent for so long, I thought he would decline, but eventually, he sighed in defeat. “Very well.” A Trials message opened in my mind.

Contract initiated: Shaman Jhaven has offered to serve you in a civilian capacity, fulfilling whatever non-combat tasks you require of him. In return, you commit to keeping him alive until such time as the Arkon Shield falls, after which this agreement will be considered complete. This contract is binding only so long as both parties remain alive.

Do you accept Jhaven’s contract of service?

I had only a few seconds to study the message before it disappeared of its own volition.

My brows drew down. What—?

The terms of this contract are deemed unacceptable. While you possess the Orcsbane Feat, you may not form any Trials-enforced agreements with orcish players.

My lips turned down, and I noticed a similar expression of disgust on the orc’s face as he received the revised alert. The Trials’ response was straightforward enough but still frustrating.

My gaze flickered to the others, wondering who else Jhaven could form the contract with. Not Arneson, certainly. After witnessing his bout of temper, I didn’t trust him fully. It couldn’t be Tara either. She was a warrior, and the chance of her dying before the year was up, was sadly high.

That left Thursten.

Of those present, he was the most suitable candidate. Thursten was level-headed—more so than Arneson anyway—and too frail to be on the front-lines. Jolin would have been a better choice. If anyone could keep a tight rein on the orc, it would be the old lady, but she was too far away.

“Form the contract with Thursten,” I ordered Jhaven.

The rebel leader’s eyes widened, a protest on his lips, but before he could get the words out, a messenger burst into the room.

“The orcs!” the rebel yelled. “The orcs are coming!”

✽✽✽

There was a moment of stunned silence before Thursten took matters in hand. “Slow down, boy,” the rebel commander said. “The orcs can’t enter the settlement. Now, take a minute, then tell us what’s going on.”

The messenger flushed in the face of Thursten’s calm. “Sorry, sir,” he mumbled. He took a steadying breath. “The orc company has left the fort and formed up outside the east gate.” He paused. “They are demanding to speak to Gorkin.”

I frowned. I’d expected that without Jhaven, the orcs would take longer to act. It seemed I was wrong.

Jhaven chuckled and studied the blood-spattered room. “Gorkin is dead, isn’t he? Oh my, you people are in trouble.”

I glared at the shaman. Once again, he was all honeyed confidence. “Complete the contract with Thursten now.”

“No,” Jhaven said succinctly.

Arneson snorted. “I told you, you were wasting your time.”

I rubbed my temples but didn’t respond, not wanting to get into another argument with the man. “Why not?” I asked, keeping my gaze trained on Jhaven.

He shrugged within his restraints. “Isn’t it obvious? Captain Fagan will free me. I know now you won’t kill me, not while you believe I can be of use.” He smiled. “All I need to do is wait to be rescued.”

With an effort of will, I kept from grinding my teeth. Damnit, why did the messenger have to barge in right then? Only a few more minutes, and we would’ve had Jhaven squared away. “Your people cannot enter the village,” I said, affecting a confidence I didn’t feel.

Jhaven laughed. “Your ignorance is amusing, human. My people don’t need to enter a settlement to destroy it.”

Arneson scowled at the shaman’s words, and I saw his knuckles whiten as his hands tightened around the hilt of his sheathed blade. The last thing we needed after Jhaven’s refusal was for the rebel commander to act precipitously again. I needed to get matters under control fast.

“We don’t have time for this, Jamie,” Tara warned.

She was right. We had to deal with the orc company first. Then I can worry about Jhaven. “Let’s go,” I said, spinning about. A step towards the door, I paused and turned to the two scout sergeants. “Bring him with us.”

Tara looked at me in surprise.

“He might be useful,” I said, not explaining further.