Blake lay down on his furs and groaned. He knew he should try and Dreamwalk and talk to the others, but he was tired and in pain after the long walk and just wanted to sleep.

Anyway, what the hell was he going to say? 'Yep, still trapped. Super trapped. Oh apparently I'm here because a rogue personality or possibly underling of roboGod wanted me dead specifically. So yeah, really doubt there's a way in. And there's a god-enhanced orc in here after my balls. Yeah, I'm pretty fucked.'

Frankly the thought was growing increasingly frightening, but he locked that away behind a wall of will. He realized he didn't want to talk to Mason because if he saw his brother he'd be reminded how bloody alone he was. And if he saw Mason he might actually crack a little and show some fear. And Blake hated being afraid.

So no. He wasn’t Dreamwalking anywhere. Better to have some progress, first. Everyone liked good news.

"I'll be ready for more with Chief Terzog tomorrow," Blake said, "if it can be arranged."

Ilya looked at him with obvious surprise, then some nervousness.

"I haven't spoken to him or any of the chiefs yet. I don't know how they'll feel. But I will try."

"I can come with you," Blake said. "It might be easier coming from me."

She nodded, and smiled a little. "Tomorrow, then, we'll go together."

"Thank you, Ilya," Blake said and meant. "For everything you've done. I'd be dead several times over if it wasn't for you."

She smiled shyly, obviously pleased but also unsure what to do with such words. But she hardened, and looked away. "Whatever it takes to stop Gromsh. I won't rest until he's dead."

"I understand," Blake said, then sat up. "Will you tell me about your family? I don't mean how they...I mean how they lived."

Ilya smiled a little and looked far away.

"My eldest brother liked to sing. Father never encouraged it, of course, but he did it anyway. It wasn't 'seemly', father said, and he'd be mocked by the other boys. And he was for awhile. But he grew up strong and wise and became a fine warrior. He sang for the others when they trained, and they all loved him for it. Black bird, they called him, because his skin was dark like my mother's."

A tear rolled down Ilya's face, and she looked away.

"You must think me a weak, foolish female."

Blake stood and sat next to her, wiping a few tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

"No," he smiled sadly. "I think you're brave and beautiful, and your love for your family does you credit."

Ilya looked at him and shook her head. "You human men are very strange," she whispered. "Do you all speak this way to your women?"

He laughed, and shrugged. "No. I suppose we don't. I'm probably a weird human."

Ilya smiled and gestured at her mother's oracle staff sitting in the corner. "I guess I'm a weird orc, too."

Blake was beginning to notice how close they were sitting in the little tent, and how the small fire flickered in Ilya's amber eyes. He put his thumb back on her cheek, cupping her face as leaned in closer. She had clearly almost never been touched at all. She practically leaned into his hand like a cat, looking about as ready to spring away, or scratch his eyes out.

With a human girl he'd just kiss her, knowing nearly all of them disliked a man who had to ask. But with Ilya...he had no idea, and only wanted to be as gentle as possible.

"Would you like me to kiss you?" he said, trying to smother his own desires. "Is that something orcs do?"

"We do," she said, clearly unsure. "But…by friend could be back at any moment. I..." she bit her lip and stood a little straighter. "Yes, I would."

Blake smiled, then slowly put his lips to hers. They were surprisingly smooth and soft, and he wasn't sure why he expected it otherwise. She clearly had no idea what she was doing, so he took his time and taught her with his lips. He fought every burning instinct in his body to push further and start touching, just sitting and 'making out' like teenagers.

When he finally came up for air, Ilya put a hand to her lips and smiled shyly. "That was nice, thank you."

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"My pleasure." Blake grinned, feeling like a kid with a crush. He wasn't sure exactly what he was doing, but it felt right and good and for now that was enough. "Thanks for telling me about your brother. I have a brother, too. I miss him very much."

"Is he...?"

"No, no. He's just...not trapped here with me," Blake smiled. "Much too sensible for that sort of thing."

"You're the risk taker of the family?" Ilya grinned.

Blake laughed. "I suppose I am. Though I've never really thought of it that way." He winced slightly as the pain in his side flared. Ilya noticed and pulled up his shirt to check the bandage.

"We should change this."

Blake nodded, and Ilya took off his shirt and unwrapped the bloody cloth around his side, shaking her head again at the speed of the healing wound. "It's so strange," she said, "seeing you as an orc after...seeing you as you really are. You seem so...flawless. I would never know, even though I know."

Blake pulled out the waistband of his pants and glanced down, then looked up at Ilya with a wink. "Yep. Everything's where it should be."

She flushed yellow instantly, and Blake practically cursed himself for a damn fool before she sputtered with a laugh.

"It's time to sleep," she rolled her eyes, but was forced to lean in close as she wrapped the cloth around him.

Blake smiled and tilted her chin, kissing her again. She looked surprised, but closed her eyes and made a little moan against him, frozen when he'd finished.

"I picked up some drakeroot for the bleeding," said Ilya’s friend as she pulled away the flap on the tent, coming in with her eyes on the item in question. Ilya practically leapt away from Blake, in the least cool ‘we're just applying some bandage over here’ fluster imaginable. The other orc looked up and her eyes went back and forth from Blake's shirtlessness to Ilya's bright yellow skin.

"Oh, Ilya," she said with something like resignation, which only made the yellow blush worse. "I can come back, if you two need a..."

"No," they said in unison, and Blake put on a charming smile. "She was just helping me with this." He gestured. "Thank you. I'm going to sleep now. I'll see you in the morning."

He was tempted to yet again flush Ferrah’s mind with whatever mana he had left for Mental Influence, but decided instead to just sleep. Who knew what might find him in the night? And he supposed Ilya wouldn't like it if Blake kept her friend's brain floating in a magic cocktail of emotion.

With considerable effort to inform his erection it really wasn't helpful or required, he lay down and closed his eyes.

* * *

Blake dreamt of his home in Houston—a queen sized bed with down feather pillows, silk pajamas and a steaming hot shower. He and Mason had the run of the place most days. Their adoptive parents were always busy with their work or charity or social lives. They weren't bad parents. They just weren't very interested parents. And it left the two young boys plenty of opportunity to get in trouble.

"Come on, they won't even notice we took it," a thirteen year old Blake told his brother in the estate's triple garage. "A quick pass by Sophia's house, we honk the horn until she sees how awesome we are. Then we zoom back like nothing happened. Easy."

Mason had called him an idiot. He'd said all the ordinary, practical things—their father loved this car, they were both terrible, inexperienced drivers, Blake's little crush might not even be home, etc. But as usual Blake was not to be denied.

Soon they were pulling out onto the crescent with music blaring until Mason scowled and turned it off. They even made it to Sophia's house and got her attention. Then on the loop back their neighbour, Mrs. Friedsman, happened to drive by. She took one long look at 'the two orphan boys' driving Mr. Nimitz' bentley, and had her phone out before she passed.

"What the hell were you thinking?" said their father later as he paced. "Don't you know that's exactly what people think of you? That you'll be no good, ungrateful criminals no matter what I do?"

"It was my idea, sir," Mason said, eyes to the floor. Blake hadn't said a word, and Father had looked at him so long and hard he thought he'd crack.

"I know it wasn't. And for letting your brother take the blame, whatever punishment I come up with you get double, Blake. Now go."

That part was good parenting, more or less. The ‘confrontation’ stage. They just never had any follow through. They'd grounded Blake for two weeks, which soon became one week and then a few days, none of which he'd actually spent truly grounded.

"Why'd you take the blame, anyway?" Blake asked his brother later, and Mason shrugged his already broad shoulders.

"Because being grounded makes you crazy. And I don't even really care."

It was classic Mason: true, in a fashion; self-sacrificing; a bit obtuse. But Blake had grinned, and soon forced him to leave his self-enforced grounding, and things were back to usual.

But it was just a dream. Blake woke to the sounds of shouting, screaming orcs. Ilya was frantically looking for her friend, then a deep, booming voice echoed through the city.

"Ilya, daughter of the Vori, I know you're hiding the human. Come out from wherever you are, give him to me, and I will spare your life. But disobey me now, and I will rip your limbs from your body and boil what’s left. Decide quickly."

Blake met the orc girl's eyes, and saw the terror. He couldn't afford to feel the same, and as the fog threatening to overwhelm his senses emerged he tried for the first time to turn Mental Influence on himself.

It worked, surprisingly enough. So he flooded himself with Calm, which didn't do much, but every bit helped. Ilya was pacing across the tent, hands in her hair before peeking out the flap of the tent.

"He has warriors all over," she said. "He's going to find us. There's nowhere to go."

"There is," Blake said, feeling suddenly very sure. "We can go to the dungeon."

"What?" Ilya turned and stared. "The demonic ruins? Are you out of your mind?"

Probably, but it’s worked for me so far, he thought.

Blake knew he couldn't wait. Ilya was close to breaking though and he doubted he'd ever get her into that mine. But if she didn't follow him now, or else turn him in like she probably should have, she'd die screaming.

"I'm sorry, Ilya," he said, as he activated Mind Control. "But it's our only chance." She looked confused until the power hit her, her mind wiping of everything but rapt attention.

"The mine isn't what you think," he said. "It's the only thing that can save us. We have to get to it. Right now."

She blinked, and held out her hand.

"We can make it. Let's go."