De'Vas Chronicles Book 4: Chapter 7

“You still alive?” Blake asked as he ascended the ramparts.

Ash let out a haggard laugh as he sat on the stone floor of the ramparts, his hand clutching Haylee’s bow. He had collapsed here after he defeated the orcs. Even Sparky’s return to his elemental scar did nothing for his strength.

“Maybe,” Ash said, grinning at the old bearkin. “I was worried you were the Warchief.”

He was exhausted. His skin felt like it was on fire, and he could see more lightning-shaped burn marks covering his arms. His heart felt like it was beating oddly, and Sparky just kept yelling at him to rest. It was as if the elemental expected him to lie down on the stone floor and fall asleep. Hell, he probably did.

Blake walked toward him, looking at the dead orcs covering the ramparts. He pointed at the body of the tall orc who had been holding Haylee’s bow.

“That’s Warchief Mullin,” Blake said, then pointed at another body. “That one is his second-in-command, very skilled in Fire Magic.”

Ash frowned.

“None of the orcs cast any spells.”

The old bearkin looked away from the corpses and at him.

“I doubt you gave him enough time even to try. I don’t know if anyone has told you this, but you’re terrifying when you fight,” Blake said as he reached into his animal hide clothing. “As is expected for the Right Hand of the Nightmare Queen.”

The bearkin pulled his hand from a pocket and held a green caterpillar in front of Ash, the thing wriggling in his grasp. Ash stared at the ugly little creature for a moment, then looked up at Blake.

“What is that?” he asked.

The bearkin frowned.

“Greengrub,” he said, offering it again. “They feed on plants with healing properties. Eat it, it’ll help you recover.”

Hesitantly, Ash took the greengrub. He watched the insect wriggle in his hand with disgust before throwing it into his mouth and biting down. The flavor of grass filled his mouth as he chewed.

“I’m never going to be able to eat gummy worms again,” Ash said after he finished.

Blake held out his hand and Ash took it, the bearkin helping him to his feet. He still felt unsteady, but could tell the greengrub was already affecting him.

“So, it’s like a healing potion?”

Blake scoffed.

“Never had a greengrub, only potions. You really are a lordling.”

Ash spat over the rampart’s edge, trying to get the taste of grass out of his mouth.

I will never complain to Lilly about the taste of her potions again!

“My friends…” Ash started, only for Blake to cut him off.

“They weren’t in the pens, and Eva questioned some of the orcs about them. They saw them, but failed to capture them, only the bow.”

Ash swore.

“I need to find where the orcs last saw them…”

Blake crossed his arms.

“No. You need to find a bed,” the bearkin gestured at him. “The orcs didn’t do this to you. You’re still not recovered from your battle with the stone dragon. Rest, I’ll send others to find your friends.”

Ash swore again. Blake was right, hell, Sparky had been right the first time. He was still recovering after using the lightning elemental’s power to fight Victor. Even the brief fight with the orcs had caused him to collapse, and whatever was going on with his heart. He looked at the burns on his arms and wondered if he had similar ones inside his body. Then he frowned, recalling what Blake had said.

“Others?” Ash asked, his brows furrowed.

Blake’s face shifted into a grin.

“You didn’t hear Eva’s proclamation, did you?” he asked.

Ash gestured to the dead orcs surrounding them on the ramparts.

“I was a little busy. Also, it’s hard to hear much when a dozen orcs are charging you and screaming on top of their lungs.”

Blake nodded, but still wore his grin.

“Well, you’ll find out soon. When you feel well enough to walk, we’ll head down to the courtyard,” Blake said, then the grin dropped for a more serious look. “Also, I owe you a debt. I have my Grace back because of you. My blade is yours if you’ll have it, and I swear an oath to the Divines that I’ll help you find your friends.”

Ash smiled as the Old Bear slapped his fist against his chest in a salute.

“Thank you, Blake.”

Then Ash turned and took a few cautious steps, seeing if the greengrub had worked enough for him to be able to walk. He felt confident until he arrived at the stairs. Slowly, he descended them and felt his legs burn with each step. Midway down, he saw the courtyard and froze.

Nearly a hundred people waited in it, some kneeling on the ground, others standing and watching him cautiously. He quickly realized that only the orcs were kneeling, and those standing were beastkin, elves, and dwarves. Eva stood before the group, a battle axe in her hands. She locked eyes with him, then smiled nervously before lifting the axe above her head.

“The victor is clear! Glory to Warchief Ash!” Eva shouted.

All the orcs stood and slammed their fists into their chests together in a salute.

“Glory to the Warchief!” they said in unison.

Ash’s mouth hung open as he stared at the display. He felt a hand slap him on the shoulder and turned to see Blake grinning at him.

“Glory to the Warchief!” Blake said, doing the salute himself.

Several of the beastkin started saying it now, even a few elves and dwarves joining in.

“What the hell?” Ash exclaimed.

***

Ash sat on the stone throne inside Castle Markel. A chair that all rulers of the Kingdom of Markel sat upon and was supposed to have been hewed by the first king over a thousand years ago from a stone that fell from the heavens. That’s what the elf kneeling before him had said, along with how fitting it was to now belong to a great warchief like him.

“You don’t need to keep trying to inflate my ego. You’re welcome to leave, and I’m not going to ask anything from you for your freedom,” Ash said for perhaps the third time.

The elf paused as he fell silent, but remained kneeling. Ash already knew the man was carefully considering all the words he had just spoken.

“My family will sing your praises, oh great…” the elf started.

Ash waved his hand, stopping his speech.

“Queen Blackthorn is opposed to slavery. As her vassal and one who shares her views, I will not allow slavery or exact a price on those enslaved or their family for their freedom.”

The mention of Cleo’s name made the elf pale, but his mood brightened at the rest. He finally stood.

“Thank you, Warchief!”

Then he turned and raced for the castle door, as if worried Ash would change his mind. Ash sighed in relief that the man was finally gone.

This is worse than when Cleo made me District Boss…

“Wine, Warchief?” a feminine voice asked.

He turned to see a rabbitkin woman in an animal hide dress holding a wineskin. He also saw her thrust her chest out and smile when he looked toward her.

“I’m good. Thank you.”

He turned back and saw the next person approaching the throne, a dwarven man who knelt. The dwarf cleared his throat as if preparing a long speech, and Ash’s gaze drifted to glare at Eva. The orc woman stood to the side of the throne, her lips thin as she did her best not to make eye contact with him.

He had a few things he would like to say to her about making him Warchief of her clan, and she knew it. As soon as he had descended the stairs, her and Blake had led him to this damn throne and person after person came before him to either swear fealty, or request their freedom.

Still, Blake had kept his word, and as soon as a few beastkin swore fealty, he formed search parties from them. The Bearkin had assured him that if his friends were still in the Markel Forest, they would be found.

That left Ash to recover while playing Warchief in a world he barely knew anything about and a government system he had read about in history books. His glare intensified at Eva, and he could see a bead of sweat roll down her cheek.

“Umm… I can come back, Warchief,” the dwarf said, slowly standing and backing away.

Ash exhaled and plastered a fake smile on his face.

“Sorry, it’s been a long day. What can I do for you?”

It took another two hours before everyone could meet with him. Thankfully, things did go faster once the former slaves figured out he wasn’t trying to trick them or planned to extort their families. By the end, all the surviving orcs had sworn fealty to him, and many of the beastkin had as well. He suspected that the fact that Blake had demanded to swear an oath of fealty to him was the main drive for the beastkin. Well, other than a few who seemed to have other things on their mind, like the wineskin bunnygirl.

The nearly endless wave of people gave him time to think about this title of Warchief and what to do. Since his fight with Victor and the realization that he was on Vas, all Ash had been focused on was finding the girls, but what would he do after that? The obvious answer was to hunt down Victor, kill him, and use the silver ball to travel back to Earth, but how would he find the bastard?

“Eva,” Ash said, tapping the armrest of the stone throne in thought.

The orc woman presented herself before him, slapping her chest in a salute. A few beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. She was terrified he would punish her for the proclamation, and he did plan to pay her back for it, eventually.

“I want you to search through those who swore fealty to me for skilled individuals—traders, warriors experienced in warfare and raiding, and scouts familiar with the Markal Forest. Make sure your selections represent the races who swore fealty to me. I don’t want just to see orcs and beastkin.”

Eva nodded.

“It will be done, Warchief,” she said with a salute. “When do you wish for them to meet with you?”

His fingers tapped on the stone throne once more. The damn thing was horribly uncomfortable.

“Tomorrow morning, we can have breakfast together while I talk with them,” Ash said, finally standing from that damn cold chair. “Also find individuals who won’t just blow smoke up my ass.”

Eva froze and fiddled with her translator ring.

“I-I’m sorry, Warchief?”

Ash sighed, imagining what that sounded like to someone unfamiliar with human idioms.

“I don’t want yes-men. Find me those who are knowledgeable, but aren’t afraid to speak their mind to me.”

Then he started to walk away from the throne to the keep’s doors.

“I’m going to collect my thoughts as I survey what I guess is now my castle,” Ash said to the orc warrior. “At least as much as I can before the storm arrives.”

He planned to use Castle Markel as the base of his operation as he tracked down Victor or anyone else with one of the silver balls. Determination filled him. He was going home, he was going to kill that dragon and he was going to fuck up whatever the Coalition was planning on Vas.