Author's Note: Hello everyone! Just to manage expectations upfront, this is not the beginning of a new series. I am actually working on another project right now, but I have had these chapter burning a hole in my mind for a while and I had to get it out. If I do return to the world of Orc Dominion, this would be chapter 1 of the new series. You don't need to have read the previous books to enjoy it, but you'll probably get more out of it if you read Conquest. It's got much more of a horror bent than I've written before, so please let me know how you think I did. Enjoy!
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A cold, bitter wind nipped at Karlotta's face as she crested the rocky hill. The chilly gusts somehow managed to worm their way through the folds of her cloak to snap at her soft, fair skin no matter how tightly she held it closed. The hardened leather jerkin she wore kept the worst of it out at least, and the exertion from carrying her heavy pack kept her warm. Karlotta quickly crouched to the ground, lowering her profile against the bright full moon.
The last thing I need is to be spotted.
Normally she preferred to infiltrate during the new moon and in complete darkness, but she didn't want to risk angering the dead without its light to guide her way.
How did anyone live here?
The thin, bare, brown blades of grass poking through broken stone were not enough to graze goats, yet somehow the Catabrian Hills had once supported a large civilization of human tribes. They were gone now, replaced by a herd of minotaurs that Augras the God-King had settled there after the War of Ascendency.
The only humans left in these lands are slaves; all the more reason not to get caught. His Grace isn't going to send anyone to save me if this goes poorly.
Gondark, the Duke of Braden, was not an orc who forgave failure, even for one of his agents. Her cousin Randolph botched a mission in Dromstadt and was drawn, quartered, and had his organs harvested for reagents by the King. When Gondark was informed about his agent's death he just continued eating his liver and onion stew while watching his fool cavort obscenely.
We grew up together, trained together, and he threw Dolph's life away on a gamble.
The memory still hurt a year later. Politics in the Kingdom of Heste were a cutthroat, zero sum game.
But that is how it works. We both knew from the beginning that there wouldn't be a rescue if you get caught.
Intrigue in the greater Orc Dominion were worse.
Thankfully, that's not my problem.
Her patron wasn't operating at that level yet. After being reconquered by Heste two centuries ago, the Dukes of Braden had been focused on establishing their position in the Kingdom, and not worried about international affairs.
As Karlotta crept over the rugged earth, she looked for any sign of habitation. This hill was said to have been the seat of one of the ancient tribes, though not a trace remained. The only indication of minotaurs were campfires flickering in the distance, but that didn't mean anything. Even centuries after the minotaurs were introduced to the Western Kingdoms their ways and culture remained obscure. Stories abounded of them, ranging from simple pastoral shepherds living in the hills to an industrious mining civilization occupying vast underground labyrinths.
Personally, Karlotta doubted the latter.
If they were that organized, they'd be a bigger force in the world.
Which wasn't to say that they were peaceful drovers either. The Roethge Forest protected Heste from the worst of their depredations, but it wasn't unheard of for minotaur bands to raid border settlements for livestock and women. Even after countless generations the Mincentti magic used to make them internally infertile still held sway.
Not that any of the Mageocracy were inclined to help develop a cure, even if it meant an end to the incursions of their lands. No one wants to uncork that bottle.
Which isn't to say that orc lords hadn't tried to make alliances or use them as shock troops over the years, but after Augras released them from his service they were loathe to be tied down again. Though she'd never seen them, she'd heard the centaurs were the same, preferring to live in the wilds of the Angrian March to the east then try and settle under the vassalage of a noble.
If the stories are right, the entrance to the mine should be just ahead.
That was another strike against the minotaur labyrinth theory; if they were miners, why had they left the pit abandoned?
Unless it really is haunted.
Legends said that the gaping chasm in the earth was where the ancient humans had thrown their dead, or possibly their enemies. It was a fact that the chronicles recorded the human women tossing their half-orc spawn into the quarry after they were temporarily liberated by the Princess Knight.
The story that Queen Jeanette's bastard son Achmar, or Agdar, had also been thrown in after being killed was what brought her here tonight.
If he was buried here, and if he was a bastard son of Jeanette, and if she could find his remains then the magical potential is great.
An icy shiver ran down her spine
Especially if it has been bathing in the spirts of the dead for a few centuries.
Even after all this time the laws of magic were not completely understood, mostly because so much of it revolved around feelings and intentions and not rules or structure. What was known was that areas steeped in emotion, particularly tragic ones, could imbue magical properties onto items and most especially relics.
Gondark had sent her here to find and retrieve whatever she could, and damn the risk of the minotaurs, or any of the orc lords whose lands she passed through to get here. The beastmen would at least keep her alive, seeing her as just another captive female. Any orc mage who caught her would kill her for being a spy, and for parts.
That's his right; it's why I was born in the first place.
A shrill howl pierced through the night making her drop to the ground and freeze.
There it is, finally
she thought with both relief and trepidation. Stretching out before her was a massive pool of blackness as the ground gave way to the monstrous pit called the Mouth of the Abyss. The pit mine was ancient even when humans lived in these parts. While most believed that people were responsible for it, some scholars believed that it was dug by early Mincentti settlers. As far as she knew, no one had ever investigated to find out the truth. Each gust of wind rippling through the cavern produced another chilling wail, but she ignored the noise to focus on her mission.
No living being has been down there in centuries, maybe even millennia.
Karlotta laid down on the edge of the Mouth and peered into the darkness. The mine descended further than she could see in the moonlight. She couldn't even make out the glimmering of any bleached white bones.
The dead are down there waiting.
Karlotta's hand drifted to the handle of the light war hammer hanging from her belt. She was born to be an agent of the Duke, literally. Her parents had been specially selected due to their heritage. They had just enough orc, human, and elfish blood that their children would have access to magic while still presenting as fully human. From a young age she had been trained in a variety of weapons as well as tutored in magic.
For a mission like this, where there was a high likelihood of facing undead, the war hammer was the preferred weapon. The blunt head was ideal for smashing skeletons, while the opposing spike could be used to pierce the brains of zombies.
At least, that's what I've been told.
Karlotta had never faced the undead before. Encountering the undead outside a battlefield when they were raised through magic was extremely rare and happened only under extraordinary circumstances.
Keep it together, Lottie,
she told herself.
There's nothing down there you can't face.
She unslung her pack, and then pulled out a small tin jar.
She rubbed the waxy contents over her eyes, grimacing as the ground bones and red poppy paste irritated her corneas. She blinked rapidly as she started channeling her magical power into her eyes. The ointment began to heat before finally melting into her eyes as she imagined seeing the ethereal world and the ghostly spirits sure to haunt the abandoned mine.
Next she hammered a stake into the ground at the lip of the cavernous opening and secured her rope to it before tying the other end around her waist. One Karlotta was satisfied that the rope wasn't going to give way she slipped over the side and began lowering herself into the inky blackness of the maw.
Despite the weight of her pack, armor, and weapons, Karlotta didn't strain to control her descent. Her hidden orc heritage, imbued with her own magical powers, made her much stronger, faster, and durable than she otherwise appeared. This is one of the reasons why the orc lords preferred human or elf appearing agents.
Another low whine began to build in the bit as a flash of light in the corner of her eye broker her concentration. When she spun on the rope to check behind her, she saw a skeletal hand reaching out from the wall towards her. She flinched and grabbed for her hammer before realizing the severed hand was caught in gnarled, ossified roots, either tangled after being thrown down or, more ominously, a living victim's last, desperate attempt to save himself during descent.
The quiet drone of the wind grew into a cacophonous scream that lifted her up and made her swing wildly in mid-air. Karlotta's knuckles turned white as she gripped the rope and wrapped her ankles around it. Her stomach flipped and jumped into her throat as she was turned almost upside down by the powerful blast. Finally, after several seconds, the wind died down again and Lottie resumes her descent, faster now as she tried to escape the vulnerable position.
A faint moan ringed in Karlotta's ears and she quickly loosened her grip to slide down faster. Her hands burned from the friction, but that was a small price to pay.
I don't want to get caught there again.
The faster she slid; the more flashes appeared in the corners of her eyes. Once she even saw a face screaming silently at her, or at least, she thought she did.
As she got closer to the bottom an overwhelming pressure began to envelop her. Lottie could feel the aura of magic permeating the area, making the hairs on her arms stand up. The dim light provided by the moon disappeared, leaving her in complete blackness. Yet, somehow, she swore she could see movement far below her.
