The Sleeping King (65 page)

Stealthily, they eased northward. Will was concerned about his inability to speak or understand the heavy accent of the orcs. He hoped one of the Boki would speak clearly enough for them to communicate.

Twice they heard the sounds of skirmishing and veered away from the shouts and clanging. Cicero started a quartering pattern, zigzagging left and right as they maintained their generally northerly course in an attempt to locate the Boki encampment. They could use a little dose of Bloodroot's familiarity with this place long about now, but the tree spirit remained frustratingly silent within Will.

After maybe an hour of fruitless searching, Cicero lifted his head suddenly. Took a long sniff, turned, and headed unerringly to the north and east. Will's pulse spiked.
Last chance to back out of this madness.

A faint, familiar odor tickled his nostrils unpleasantly. His impulse was to duck and hide. To creep away. To save himself and the others. But he fought the impulse. Resolutely forced one foot in front of the other. Ever since that night so long ago in Hickory Hollow, his path had been leading him to this—a direct confrontation with the monsters who'd killed his parents and slaughtered everyone in his village. It was as it should be. A fitting end to his long journey.

But he was still scared stiff.

Please let them run not into a club-happy Boki perimeter guard who swung first and asked questions later. Please let this scheme not have been a colossal mistake.

Whether some greater being heard Will's plea or whether it was nothing more than dumb luck, they managed to reach the edge of a medium-sized clearing filled with crude Boki shelters with their heads still attached to their bodies.

Cicero glanced over at him questioningly and Will nodded back. He turned to face Rosana. He did not know what to say to her. So instead, he pulled her close and kissed her hard and quick, full on the mouth. And praise the stars, she kissed him back.

He let go of her and stepped out into the moonlight.

Great galloping stars in heaven.
The encampment sprawling before him must house hundreds of Boki warriors. Anton thought to defeat this army? Will shuddered to picture the size of the force Anton must have brought with him.

Within seconds, a half-dozen orc guards had spotted Will. A shout went up, and within a few more seconds the entire camp was on full battle alert.

He murmured over his shoulder, “I think it is safe to say we've got their attention.” He felt the others move up behind him in a tight cluster. Will lifted his hands away from his sides, raising them slowly to clasp them behind his head lest the orcs think he might cast magic. He walked boldly toward the Boki. Might as well not earn the beasts' contempt before they killed him.

Shock poured through him as Raina moved up beside him, head held high. She strode beside him like she was the Emperor's daughter herself.
Brave girl. That, or incredibly foolish.

“Let's end this,” she muttered. “Let's find this king and wake him up. I've had enough of these games.”

Will snorted. “Me, too.”

She replied, “Head high, Will. You were chosen by a great tree lord for this quest.”

He pictured his father that last night, a great warrior in command of the battle, and did his best to channel Ty. He squared his shoulders and walked boldly beside Raina toward he knew not what.

“Soo-ren-duhh, hoo-mans!”

He refrained from rolling his eyes. As if it weren't already obvious that surrendering was precisely what they were doing. He muttered down at his chest, “Okay, old man. Tell them who you are.”

Nothing.

Two of the Boki charged, clubs drawn, and Will fought with every ounce of his being not to run screaming from them. Visions of that night in Hickory Hollow, his first sight of these monsters bursting out of the brush, washed over him. The horror of it was fresh again. The terror. The fear for his family. The blood—

“We're all going to die,” Rosana wailed from behind them.

 

CHAPTER

25

Leland tried twice to talk Anton out of taking the fight to the main Boki force, which had indeed been spotted to the north of their position. He failed, of course. A person would think Anton had learned from past mistakes. After all, no one had ever accused the man of being thick.

But Anton wanted no part of Leland's advice. Frustrated, he returned to the front lines—a thinly stretched formation that couldn't possibly withstand a direct assault by the Boki—and continued hunting the Boki rear guard.

Anton was being lured into a trap as surely as the sun would rise in the morn. And the governor seemed not to care one bit. Leland supposed it was possible this was an elaborate scheme to murder him, Aurelius, and Selea. They all held enough rank and titles that they would be very difficult to put to death openly. It was also entirely possible that Anton sought to start a war. For what purpose, though, Leland could not fathom. Either way, this madness would surely end in blood.

*   *   *

The pair of orcs were almost on Will, their weapons raised high over their heads, their eyes aglow with bloodlust. He feared Rosana was right. They were all going to die.
Bloodroot! Talk to them!

Still nothing.

Do I have to be at the point of dying before you bestir yourself to save us both?

“Dead meat we are,” Sha'Li muttered.

To Raina's credit, she did not flinch even once as the orcs charged them.

At the last moment before the Boki warriors slammed into them Eben shouted, “We're here to see the Sleeping King!”

A huge greenish-brown orc pointed out Rosana's tabard and grunted something that sounded like, “Bal. Tha. Zar.”

A disgusted groan went up among the other Boki. What was
that
all about?

They were hustled none too gently in a tight cluster, surrounded by a cadre of hostile guards to a fire burning in the center of the sprawling camp. It threw off a dancing, even cheerful light, in marked contrast to the grim visages of the Boki pouring into the space. The fire circle was crammed with Boki, male and female, all big, muscular, armed, and dangerous looking. Will felt puny among them. He might have attained most of his adult height already, but he had yet to fill out as a man and still retained the gangly cornstalk leanness of youth.

An aged Boki with dozens of bones twined into his matted hair stepped forward, and right behind him the last person Will would have expected to see in this place: a large, jovial-looking human wearing a soiled White Heart tabard.

“Who are you?” Will blurted. He was backhanded across the face for his troubles, a casual swipe that laid him out on the ground.

He picked himself up slowly and dusted himself off as one of the Boki guards pulled Rosana forward and grunted, “Balthazar.”

The White Heart man exclaimed to Rosana, “Good heavens, child, what madness brings you here?”

“I would ask the same of you!” she retorted.

“I am Emissary Balthazar of the White Heart. I live among the Boki to teach them of the Heart. I know their ways and how they think. I can help you communicate with them.”

Apparently, the fellow had done his job, for the sight of Rosana's tabard had stayed the orcs' clubs. One of the orc warriors, a big fellow with scars all over his arms, grunted something in not quite intelligible common.

“He wishes to know why are you here,” Balthazar translated.

“We seek asylum from Anton Constantine,” she replied to the White Heart brother.

A hiss went up at the governor's name that nearly drowned out Balthazar's groan.

Rosana glanced over her shoulder at Will and he nodded encouragingly to her. “And,” she continued in a lower voice to Balthazar, “we seek the Sleeping King. He might also be called the Mythar. We want to wake him up. Perhaps the Boki can tell us where to find him?”

Balthazar frowned. “Are you sure this is what you wish to ask them? They will kill you for it.”

“It is, in truth, why we are here,” she replied. “Will, he can explain more.”

Will stepped forward to do just that, but the Boki who'd slapped him shoved him back into line with the others.

Balthazar commenced speaking rapidly in syllables flavored heavily with a Boki accent. It seemed to be taking him entirely too long to repeat what Rosana had said, but eventually a roar of rage went up among the orcs and the nearest ones brandished clubs in the party's direction.

Balthazar leaped in front of their little cluster, his arms spread wide. He shouted for their hosts to halt and the orcs paused in the act of surging forward. The White Heart man muttered over his shoulder without looking away from the furious mob, “If there is more to your story that might stop the Boki from killing you all, now is the time to tell it. And quickly.”

Will stepped forward again, and again was shoved back.

Cicero tried next. Perhaps his kindari heritage and kinship with the forest would earn him a measure of respect among the orcs. “Surely, the Boki know of the threat to the land. Surely, they feel the attacks upon the forest, feel the damage. We wish to help stop all of that.”

A few of the shamanically decorated Boki nodded as Balthazar translated. The murderous mood of the mob eased a fraction.

“And?” Balthazar prompted.

“And,” Cicero added, “they need to hear what my human friend has to say.”

All eyes turned to Will.
Any advice? Anything, Bloodroot?
The tree spirit within Will was stubbornly silent. He huffed.
Fine.
He would do this himself.

Will reached for his laces and opened his shirt wide.

A gasp went up.

Balthazar turned all the way around to stare at Will's chest. “What is that?”

Will lifted his chin at the Boki. “They know. Tell them it is not merely a piece of Bloodroot. It is heartwood. I hold his spirit within me.”

Balthazar turned to an aged Boki whose dress was adorned liberally with teeth and bits of bone, as if he were a shamanic thorn. “Is this possible, Thar'Ok?”

The old Boki shuffled forward slowly and laid a huge, calloused hand over the disk. He stared into Will's eyes for long seconds. And then slowly, very slowly, nodded his head once. Twice. The thorn grunted a single syllable. “Troo.”

The orcs went wild. Whether they shouted in joy or outrage or utter disbelief Will could not tell. His companions huddled closer to him as Balthazar shouted to be heard, “He said you speak truth!”

“They will help us then?” Will asked.

A long discussion followed among the Boki leaders, if size and number of scars indicated seniority among these creatures.

Balthazar stepped aside with Will and the others while the debate raged on. The White Heart member spoke in a low voice to them. “Since you are here, I have a message I need relayed to the Heart in Dupree. I do not know if any or all of you will leave this place alive, so I am going to break Heart protocol and tell you all in hopes of the message reaching its intended destination.”

Will and the others nodded at Balthazar.

The White Heart man murmured low and fast, “I have good reason to believe that there is a traitor in the colony. Someone who double deals with the Boki and stirs them to violence.”

Will started. “Are they not already plenty violent enough on their own?”

Balthazar shook his head. “That's the thing. The Boki warlord and other most senior leadership of the tribe have no interest in provoking Anton or in invading the colony. And yet, someone incites certain … more angry … factions within the Boki to do both. I believe payments are being made by the traitor to ensure that another insurrection happens.”

“Who is the traitor?” Raina asked in a hush.

“It has to be someone at the highest level of colonial government, with enough resources to buy himself or herself a war, and with a vested interest in benefitting from another greenskin invasion.”

Even Will could not miss the emissary's implication. Anton was behind paying off the Boki to invade Dupree.

“Are you sure of this?” Rosana asked.

Balthazar shrugged. “I do not have direct evidence. But I have lived with these people for fifteen years and more. I know them extremely well. And it is clear to me that I speak the truth. I have overheard arguments about it. I have seen fights among the Boki themselves over whether or not to proceed with another insurrection, and during those fight, accusations have been made by Boki with no reason to make such accusations were they not true.”

Raina frowned. “The Heart cannot make a direct accusation against the governor without witnesses or tangible proof.”

Balthazar threw them all a frustrated look. “It is why I have not spoken up before now. But I believe an invasion is imminent, and the colonists must prepare themselves lest there be another slaughter like before. I cannot in good conscience remain silent.”

“You should come to Dupree. Make a report yourself,” Raina urged him.

“The Boki will not let me leave. They know I have seen too much. Whoever is dealing with the traitor blocks my departure in the Boki council, and the others do not want their dirty laundry aired to the outside world.”

Rosana nodded solemnly. “We shall see to it that your message is delivered as soon as we get back to Dupree.”

Will winced. Just what they needed. To get embroiled in yet more political wrangling, particularly against the governor himself.

Someone yelled for Balthazar and the White Heart member left them to go speak to the Boki elders. Eben used his height to look over their captors and report on what he saw. “I think they want to kill Will and take the disk. Balthazar seems to be arguing that killing Will won't detach the spirit within him from the boy's spirit.”

“Tell them Balthazar is right!” Rosana cried.

Raina added urgently, “Tell them I am a ritual caster and Balthazar speaks truth. Will's and Bloodroot's spirits are joined as one. Only a major ritual might separate them.”