Blood of the Orc Prince by Lionel Hart
1
Chapter One
“You know what I have to do, right?”
The question came with no prompting as Taegan and Zorvut lounged together in their private study. On opposite ends of the custom chaise lounge that had just been completed for them a few days earlier, Zorvut’s much-longer legs were stretched out and Taegan’s draped over them as he curled into his book. The casual intimacy between them had only been increased by their comfortable silence, and Taegan raised a quizzical eyebrow when Zorvut spoke.
“What you have to do?” he repeated, lowering his book to meet his husband’s gaze. Though the first few weeks after they had been bonded a second time had been truly blissful, Zorvut had started to become more withdrawn and pensive as more news of the war reached them. Taegan had sensed his worry and fear, though he was sure Zorvut had tried to shield as much of it as he could from the mental link between them. His serious, lost-in-thought expression had become quite familiar to Taegan, though there was a focus to him now that had not been there previously. “No, enlighten me.”
“I have to find my biological father. Maybe he can help me figure out how to control this magic,” Zorvut answered, and Taegan blinked in surprise. He had not been expecting that response. “If I can learn to use it, fight with it, maybe I can go and subdue my… the warlord. If I can best him, alone… The fighting would come to an end.”
Taegan frowned, setting aside his book.
“Traveling seems like one of the most dangerous things you could do right now,” he protested. “And besides, how would we even find this man? We know almost nothing about him, not even his name—”
“We know his name,” Zorvut interrupted, shaking his head. “Tomlin Whitmore. That’s what my mother said. I’ve been…” He trailed off, a tinge of guilt leaking through their bond into Taegan’s head. “Well, I’ve been doing some research, you could say. He was a rather well-known bard. He even came through Aefraya once, though it was well before I was born. I’ve found out a few things.”
“Research? How so?” Taegan asked. Mostly, he was surprised Zorvut remembered the name—there was little of that night he remembered clearly.
“Well, bards mainly perform at taverns and inns, right?” he replied. “So I thought I would ask around the inns in town, and it turns out he had performed at a tavern called the Magenta Marigold once. The owner is an older fellow called Castien, and he told me what he knew.”
“The Magenta Marigold,” Taegan repeated, frowning. “Yes, I know it.”
“He said the last rumors he heard were that Tomlin Whitmore retired to a human settlement in the south of Autreth around five years ago, a port town,” Zorvut continued. “He didn’t know the name, but I looked over some maps, and I’m pretty sure it’s a village called Naimere.”
“Well, you really did do your research,” Taegan mused, glancing away. He was not sure why the discussion left him feeling so unsettled. “I don’t know, Zorvut. I understand why you want to seek him out, but… I just don’t want you to be in any danger.”
Though affection came through the bond at that, Zorvut let out a bitter laugh.
“Unfortunately, I think the danger will find us regardless, my love,” he replied, shaking his head. Taegan grimaced—that was certainly true. Though they had been laying low, the war front seemed to be drawing ever closer to the castle, and even King Ruven seemed unsettled.
Part of Taegan wanted to protest; after all, who could say if this Tomlin Whitmore could—or would—help them at all? Yet another part of him was loathe to run from a fight. But he tamped down the thought and instead managed a slight smile.
“That’s true,” he agreed, reaching for his book once more. “Maybe we can talk with my father, see if there’s a way to get in contact with this mystery human.”
From the way his eyes flicked away Taegan knew that was not the answer Zorvut had wanted to hear. But he could promise nothing more than that, and ultimately it would be the king’s decision if they could leave the castle grounds at all.
“Shall I read to you?” he offered, and Zorvut’s expression softened from across the lounge.
“I would like that,” he replied.
* * *“Thank you for waiting for me,” King Ruven said brusquely as he strode into the meeting hall where Taegan and Zorvut were sitting. “And I apologize for my tardiness. My discussion with the captain went longer than I anticipated.”
“That’s all right,” Taegan replied. They had only been waiting in the meeting hall for a few minutes, careful not to disturb the large world map laid out across the large table as they settled into their seats. The king had a pile of papers and books in his arms but set them down haphazardly on the map, sitting down across from them. His long, dark hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and a robe was pulled over a plain undershirt. The bags under his eyes betrayed the stress and lack of sleep he must have been suffering, but he offered them a slight smile as he sat down all the same.
“I’ve learned a few things I wanted to discuss with you,” the king continued. Taegan glanced over at Zorvut who briefly met his gaze. He could feel a strange mix of hesitance and anticipation coming from the half-orc’s end of the bond; he could not say why Zorvut was feeling the way he did, but he himself had been feeling anxious ever since Ruven’s manservant had asked them to come speak with the king in the meeting room. Whatever the king wanted to talk about privately with them likely was not a positive turn of events.
“Go on,” Zorvut said after a moment as the king seemed to collect his thoughts.
“Well,” he said, looking down at his clasped hands on the table. “Orc forces continue to draw nearer to the capital. I had hoped that by keeping the both of you out of the public eye, tensions might ease off a bit, but this has not seemed to be the case so far.”
“We can fight,” Taegan interjected, and both Zorvut and his father’s heads swiveled to look at him. A pained expression came over the king’s face—Zorvut remained largely expressionless but a tinge of surprise came through their bond.
“No,” Ruven replied sternly. “Taegan, I know you want to fight, but I’m not going to risk that. If the warlord is still pushing for the castle out of some misplaced hostility toward you and Zorvut, letting you get anywhere near them is the last thing I want.”
“I’ve trained all my life to fight,” he protested, but from Ruven’s expression he already knew it was a fruitless battle. “To fight, not to run away.”
“And I’m sure they’ve trained to snatch you right off the battlefield and take you straight to the warlord,” the king snapped, then seemed to visibly stop himself, closing his eyes and taking in a long, measured breath. Taegan looked away in irritation, but couldn’t argue. When he met Zorvut’s gaze, the half-orc gave him a chagrined expression for a brief moment, and he knew Zorvut quietly agreed with his father. That did not come as a surprise.
“But the reason I wanted to talk to you,” Ruven continued, a carefully calm expression back on his face. “Is that I am considering sending both of you away. I think you will both be safer further from the castle, further from any fighting that might draw near.”
Taegan’s scowl deepened, but he said nothing. That was not surprising to him either, and neither was Zorvut’s slight spike of excitement at the words.
“I agree,” Zorvut said quickly. “I’ve actually been thinking about this, and I have an idea of where we could go.”
“Certainly,” the king said, unclasping his hands to gesture at Zorvut. “I wanted to ask your opinions anyway. What is your idea?”
“Well, we were able to learn the name of my biological father, or at least who my mother claimed he is,” he explained. “Tomlin Whitmore, a human bard. He retired several years ago, but the rumor is that he retired to a port town in southern Autreth called Naimere. I think that if we can track him down, maybe he can help me… get a hold on all of this.” He clenched and unclenched his fist as he said it, looking down wistfully at his palms.
His magic had largely been a source of frustration and little else since their return to Aefraya. When they had explained his sudden gift to the king, he had arranged to have some warlocks from the library work with him, but they had been able to teach him very little. Whatever source of magic he drew from, it did not seem to be the same as the elven tradition.
“Hmm,” Ruven mused, lifting a hand to his face in thought. “Well, that could be a promising lead. And even if you don’t find him, that’s far enough away that you should be safe. I don’t think anyone would go looking for you there.”
“That’s true, too,” Zorvut agreed, leaning across the table toward the king. “If we leave at night, maybe cut our hair first so we’re harder to recognize… I don’t think anyone would think to track us there. No one but us knows of any connection between him and I.”
“I don’t know, Zorvut,” Taegan interrupted—he had not expected his father to agree so easily. “I’m not convinced that this man would be able to help us, or if he even would if he could. It seems like a dangerous journey with no guaranteed benefit.”
From across the table Zorvut’s expression faltered, crestfallen. Ruven gave him a strange look as well, though his expression was much less readable than Zorvut’s.
“Far less dangerous than going headlong into battle, Taegan,” he pointed out, and Taegan glanced away, half embarrassed and half guilty.
“I suppose you’re right,” he mumbled, sighing. While he still was not convinced, every argument he had against it sounded petty and childish in his head. Zorvut seemed to sense his lingering hesitance, though, and reached across the table to grasp his hand.
“It is dangerous,” he said softly, meeting Taegan’s gaze. “But we’ll be together, so we’ll be safe. And I just really think… I truly believe he’ll be able to help me somehow. Do you trust me?”
Taegan’s hesitance melted away at the earnest expression in Zorvut’s golden-yellow eyes. The more time they were spending together, the better he was able to pick up the nuances of his husband’s face—where he had once found the half-orc to be expressionless and hard to read, he could now recognize so many thoughts on his face plain as day. He squeezed Zorvut’s fingers and nodded, pressing his lips into a tight smile.
“Of course I trust you,” he replied, and took a deep breath before looking back over at the king. “And you think this is a good idea, Father? Better than whatever you had in mind?”
“To be honest, I didn’t have anything specific in mind yet,” Ruven said. “I wanted to see what the two of you thought first, and just as I suspected, you already had an idea. And, Taegan, if you are still unsure about traveling so far, perhaps you can remain behind and we can send Zorvut off with an escort. I’m sure one of the land barons would offer you a comfortable place to stay out of the way of everything.”
Taegan balked at that, giving the king an incredulous expression. “Certainly not!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. Zorvut chuckled at his theatrics, but he felt the same immediate rejection of the idea coming from the bond as well. “No, whatever we decide on, we do together.”
“Good,” Ruven replied with an amused grin. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Well, I think Zorvut’s idea of disguising yourselves as well would have merit. I think haircuts might be in order for the both of you. Zorvut, can you grow a beard?”
The half-orc grimaced at that, but nodded. “It’s not flattering, but maybe that’s for the best.”