Prince Uthur

The deck was drenched, the air loud with the wet pattering of a sudden downpour as heavy clouds drifted overhead. But there were even darker shadows looming into view, a pair of them. Great black creatures that were all sharp edges and baffling proportions. Enormous, pointed heads with beaks longer than their bodies. Arching blades of wings which Mika saw, as they drew closer, were not feathered at all but instead formed of fleshy membranes which stretched from the creature’s overlong arms to their much smaller hind legs.

One of them unleashed a rumble that started low and echoing in the back of its throat and built up into a whooping cry. Then both creatures swooped over the prow of the ship, tilting sideways in the air so that their wingtips nearly brushed the deck.

The circle of crew eased back. Then, with an ear-pounding, rain-splattering thunk, two huge figures landed in their midst…dropping from saddles fixed upon the creatures’ backs.

From the moment her eyes caught on the pair, Mika’s gaze was locked. They were…they were terrifying, of course. They were orcs.

But they were also somehow beautiful, so much so it pained her.

Emitting another series of whooping calls, the winged beasts leveled out and swooped off into the purple distance at the corners of her vision. The wet planks of the deck creaked in protest as the royals approached the captain, already parting himself from the crowd and kneeling into a bow.

“My princes.”

“You may rise, Rhast,” said one of the two new arrivals, similar to the captain in height. It would take at least five Mikas standing upon one another’s shoulders to meet the eye of either. Both princes were set apart from all the rest of the orcs in that they had hair, and his was iron-colored, long and pulled back at his neck.

“Report?” barked the other. Mika’s already rapt attention honed in still further.

Like her companion, the second prince wore a long-barreled weapon slung at her back, all dark silver metal and burnt-looking, polished wood. She was dressed as her companion was, too, in scaly black leathers under armor that looked like pieces of carapace. But even that was beautiful, streamlined and sharp with a faint sheen of color visible in the gloss of its inky surface. Her skin was a much darker shade of gray than the other’s, and her eyes—which perched at a high angle above pronounced cheekbones—were the color of blood.

“We have found no further sign of the humans, Prince Retga,” replied the captain. “We did find something unusual, however.”

The prince of the red gaze raised a brow. The other immediately scanned the deck at Rhast’s words, his golden eyes fixing at once upon Mika.

“A goblin,” he breathed before the captain could go on. Mika grit her teeth.

“What?” Snapped Retga. “How? Where?”

“Not just a goblin, my prince,” said the captain, gesturing with one hand as another orc came forward with Ixos in his arms. “A Stonesinger. We found her wandering the shallows, headed deeper west and unaccompanied…aside from the construct, of course.”

Then Threl was pushing forward through the circled crowd, dropping to his knees before the royals.

“‘Twas me who found her, majesties,” he said, breathless. “Almost right below this spot. All bitten up and just a little to the—”

Captain Rhast snarled, yanking the elf to his feet by his hood.

“Back, damnit, no one’s called for you.”

“It’s alright, Rhast,” eased the as-yet unnamed prince, putting up a hand the size of a serving platter to forestall the captain as he turned his attention to the elf.

“Well done, brujhir. Thank you.” Looking back to Rhast, he cleared his throat. “We have urgent news, as well. Let us speak further in—”

But Retga, ignoring elf and others alike, picked Mika out where she stood at Bosarg’s side, head barely brushing past the knees of the sturdy, wood-carved “deck legs” he’d strapped into for the occasion. The wind shifted slightly, the rain blowing past the orc’s face as she breathed deep and her pupils flared wide. One of the bystanding orcs gasped as he watched, and then suddenly everyone was staring at the red-eyed prince.

Something had changed, and drastically…but Mika had no idea what. And then Retga was striding, thundering forward, the slick planks quaking beneath her steel-tipped boots as she made for Mika like a hunter for its prey.

Just as her every instinct screamed at her to flee, the prince stopped. Dropping to one knee about half an orc’s pace away, her scarlet gaze took Mika in from quivering ear to curled toe, fixing longest on the bandages just visible through the tatters of her sleeve and hem. Her lips pulling into a line around her silver-tipped tusks, the orc drew in a long breath through her nose. Scenting her. Then her pupils went so wide, Mika could see her own reflection in their darkness. She could see that they were ringed by an edge of brighter color, like cave coral—a brilliant pink.

The orc’s eyes narrowed severely, then, rising, she turned back to the others. Her hair, which cascaded in braids and coils like a mane down the center of her head, whipped over her shoulder with the movement.

“What happened to her?” she snarled.

“I assure you, my prince, she was in much worse condition when we found her,” replied Captain Rhast, though some of the confidence had drained from his tone and his stance slumped almost imperceptibly, brow tilting forward. “She was under attack by a pack of verisor when Threl picked her up. But Bosarg’s seen to her wounds.”

“Her clothes are in shreds,” said Retga, and Mika could not tell if she was particularly angry, or if she just always sounded as though she were growling.

“Yes,” replied the captain. “We’d only just brought her up before your arrival. There hasn’t been time for much else. But I’ve been taking a look at her construct, and…” he faltered as, striding forward to join Retga, the other prince looked down upon Mika and frowned.

Then he, too, leaned through the rain to scent her. Something changed in his expression, eyes tightening around the corners as one of his hands flew up to cover his forehead, rubbing at it as though he had a headache.

“Little thing’s shaking like a laceleaf. Must be freezing,” he said.

“Or scared,” chirped up Threl from the sidelines. “You’re all pretty ugly. I mean, like, to her. Probably. But in a good way! Ow!” Something bounced off the back of his head from out of sight, and several of the orcs laughed.

The iron-haired prince met the healer’s eye.

“Bosarg, you’ve been with her since they brought her up?”

“I have, my prince,” grunted the elder orc.

“Very good. Please take her to the master cabin and wait with her there. We’ll join you shortly.”

“Yes, my prince.”

Inclining his head, Bosarg gestured for Mika to follow him. All too happy to be out of the rain, she complied. Up a narrow stair he led her, humming all the way, to the main cabin’s second level and along a walkway lined by a netted railing. Down below, the murmur and chattering broke as the captain shouted orders. The crew scattered, and within heartbeats the ship sprang to creaking life around them as lines were drawn and sails flung.

Then the first low notes of the Skysong were sung, though Mika could not see the Singer. The winds turned, the sails filled, and the ship shifted subtly westward. Another voice sprang up, this one higher, lighter, its rhythm erratic and its tempo faster. The trees shifted beneath them, their branches parting before the ship’s prow and twisting about the hull, easing its path and adding support and momentum as the vessel began to pick up speed.

“In here,” said Bosarg, brushing past a particularly heavy tapestry—and Mika wondered at the orcs’ distaste for more solid sorts of doors. Then, as her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, the orc set about lighting the lanterns. She meant to ask him not to, but she was too distracted by the smell of the place to get to it. She hadn’t been able to catch much of the scent of the orc princes earlier, but she’d had just enough to know that this was it. Their scent, their essence, concentrated together into an unsettlingly heady mix.

Scale leather. Salt. Woodsmoke. Deepwood blossoms. Blood.

Storm.

Realizing her mistake too late to prevent the over-brightening of the room, Mika pulled down her goggles instead as she peered unashamedly about.

Everywhere were skulls studded with crystal, pelts, shields, weapons, netted shelves full of wooden cases…and everywhere were tapestries. Given a chance to look closely at one of the woven pieces at last, Mika was astounded by its intricacy. It was a scene of the deepwoods, where crystalline waters gathered at its greatest depths, ferns and trees rising steeply all around them. And in the pools bathed crested beasts with scales made of shells, lakegrass dripping from their jaws.

Bosarg dragged an enormous blanket from one of the cots and draped it about her shoulders as she stood there, studying the thing. In the next heartbeat the door-hanging flew open, the princes entered, and Mika’s jaw dropped.

With her goggles on, much of the room had drained of its ordinary color. But upon the princes’ brows, she could now see intricate markings. Retga’s were sharper, coming down like curved blades from her hairline and the sides of her head before breaking apart as they tapered to her brow. The other prince’s were more like spots, soft edged and glomming together into blobby stripes before disappearing beneath his hair.

At the sight of her, both of their markings went from light gray to a bright, cerulean blue.