Epilogue
The Green-Eyed Monster
AN 1219 (AZ 1456) - Early Spring
Castle Notos, Maximilion, Notos
Great ruin had been worked upon the cities of the east and it was because of that ruin that Urgill was told to wait yet another winter before the pledge of the Firebringer Tribe would be fulfilled. That made it two winters since the West Wind Tribe was driven out. Seven winters since she last saw their homeland. Had she not waited long enough?
In truth, she had become lost after she learned of her father's death. Everything she had done was so that her people would be free of the Death-speaker with her father as their new King. Without him or her brother to follow after him, who would rule? Would any of her people even survive the ravages of the accursed West Wind Tribe before the land consumed them?
As a matter of ceremony, she publicly bewailed her father's death for six days and seven nights, but in truth, it was closer to six moons that she let her grief consume her. During that time, her new followers worked to expand Dan Lanrun and only after they had completed a second ring of the city did Urgill realize what her newly strengthened war-band was capable of. She was more ready now than she had ever been to retake her homeland. The flame of her resolve was rekindled within her. It made that second winter all the more difficult to bear in patience, but she did so and now was the time to hold Rowland and the Firebringer Tribe to their honor.
She would not be rebuffed any longer. With Marah Sidhe and an honor guard of eight Orghim and two Trollim, she ventured to the great city of the north. They could not travel openly during the day, but thanks to Marah Sidhe's magic, they were able to proceed without raising any alarm.
Navigating the great city was much more of a challenge, but eventually they made their way to one of the gates that led to the great stone hut of the king. It was around sunset when they approached the gate. Their appearance was hidden by hooded cloaks, but this could only serve to deceive the casual onlooker. It would not hold up to closer observation. This was where Marah Sidhe's power became necessary.
"Who goes there?" a guard upon the wall demanded.
"We are friends," Marah Sidhe replied, her human accent flawless. "We seek an audience with Captain Rowland. Open the gate."
Urgill could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise, a sign that Marah Sidhe was using her power to influence the guard. Few humans could stand against her.
"Open the gate!" the guard shouted.
The gate opened and four guards with spears were waiting for them. Again, Marah Sidhe used her power to bend them to her will.
"Escort us to Captain Rowland," she told them.
The guards rested their spears on their shoulders, turned smartly, and marched forward. Urgill and her warriors followed them on the winding way to a large feasting chamber. For the Orghim, feasting was done around a fire, but the humans feasted around a wooden thing called a table. There were many people at the table and at the head was Rowland. Urgill's heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.
No one seemed to take much notice of them at first, but then Marah Sidhe raised her voice to announce her.
"Ukhromgin Orghim Shildur, Urgill, daughter of Orgun, has come for an audience with Captain Rowland."
Urgill and her companions threw back their hoods and the assembly went abuzz like a hornet's nest. Several of the rougher-looking sorts at the table drew knives and the guards in the chamber moved to surround the Darklanders. There was a lot of shouting, too many voices for Urgill to understand any of it. Her warriors held their spears at the ready to ward off the guards and it almost seemed certain that there would be blood when the blast of a horn silenced everyone.
It was Rowland who blew the horn. Unlike so many of the others, he showed no sign of being angry or afraid at her presence.
"That'll be enough of that," he said. "Guards, stand down. Princess, have yours do the same."
In her own tongue, Urgill told her warriors, "Hold your weapons at rest."
Rowland's guards did as they were ordered and so too did Urgill's warriors. Though still cautious, the feasters no longer appeared ready to attack at a moment's notice. For now, the danger appeared to have passed.
"And what brings you all the way here from the forest?" Rowland asked.
"I, I have come about pledge between your tribe and mine," Urgill stammered in her halting use of the human tongue.
"Come," Rowland said, beckoning her to follow. "Let's talk over here."
Rowland went over to the throne of the king. He did not sit on the throne but rather at its feet. The Aldur stood a few steps below him.
"You can stop embarrassing yourself," the Aldur said in the Org tongue. "Speak your own tongue."
Urgill could feel her cheeks burning. She did not like to be made a fool, especially not in front of Rowland.
"Am I not a the daughter of kings?" she demanded. "And are you not a serving wench? Mind your tongue."
The Aldur laughed.
"You are a worm and the daughter of worms."
Though Rowland did not seem to know the Org tongue, he could tell the Aldur was doing nothing but heaping abuse on her and intervened.
"You two hiss and spit like cats in the alley. Simona, let's hear her business."
The Aldur frowned, then looked to Urgill and told her, "Out with it. Why are you here?"
"I pledged myself to the Firebringer Tribe. I fought in your cause and now I call on you to fight in mine. Let us go to the Darklands and break the yoke of the Death-speaker. Fulfill your pledge to me as I have fulfilled my pledge to you."
"She wants you to go to the Darklands," the Aldur told Rowland.
Rowland gave her a nod. It was apparently all she needed.
"If you wanted to go to the Darklands to fight, we could have sent you with the West Wind Tribe when they departed," the Aldur said. "But the people of this land will not cross the sea, nor shall you."
"What of our covenant!?" Urgill demanded.
"You broke that covenant when you took in our enemies, those with hands stained with the blood of the people of this land."
Urgill never thought to seek the counsel of the Firebringer Tribe when she accepted the survivors of the failed invasion, nor did she expect it to be used against her as a breach of faith.
"They had no choice!"
"An enemy is an enemy," the Aldur insisted, "but our chieftain will show you mercy. Take your kind and go south, beyond the river, and never return."
Urgill could not believe it.
"You banish us?"
"Would you rather we kill you?" the Aldur asked, fingering the hilt of her knife to emphasize the point.
Even if Urgill simply submitted and took her war-band south, what future would there be for them?
"There are no females," she said. "We will die out in a generation."
"They have you," the Aldur replied. She smiled cruelly. "You must be honored. You will be the mother of an entire tribe."
With all her expectations tumbling down around her, Urgill looked to Rowland for the hope beyond hope that burned in her breast since the first day that they met.
"I, I thought..."
The Aldur saw the yearning in her eyes and sneered, "You thought what? You thought he would take you to wife? You, an Urg worm?"
The rising incredulity in the Aldur's voice exposed the impossibility of Urgill's dream. Nevertheless, she still grasped for it even as it slipped through her fingers like smoke, pitifully stammering, "I, I...."
The Aldur covered her mouth as she laughed, exposing Urgill to further mockery. Even though there was no way any of the humans in the feasting chamber knew what was being said, some of them joined in and soon the chamber was echoing with laughter.
Urgill had never liked the Aldur but in this moment she had never hated her more. With all her hopes dashed to pieces and seven years of struggle for naught, she could not bear it. Her fury and hatred overwhelmed her and her vision clouded over red.
Everything seemed to fade away.
Then her vision cleared and she found herself standing over the Aldur, covered in her blood, her flesh in the Urg's teeth. As the blood-madness left her, Urgill realized what she had done. The Aldur was dead. She killed her.
Struggling to make sense of what had happened, she turned to Rowland, just in time to see the great sword come down on her, splitting her from shoulder to hip. Her last thought was disbelief. This could not be happening. Any of it. It was all a bad dream.
And then there was nothing.