PROLOGUE
Viv buried her greatsword in the scalvert’s skull with a meaty crunch. Blackblood thrummed in her hands, and her muscular arms strained as she tore it back and out in a spray of gore. The Scalvert Queen gave a long, vibrating moan… and then thundered to the stonein a heap.
With a sigh, Viv slumped to her knees. The persistent twinge in her lower back flared up, and she dug in the knuckles of one huge hand to chase it away. Wiping sweat and blood from her face, she stared down at the dead queen. Cheers and shouts echoed from behind her.
She leaned closer. Yes, there it was, right above the nasal cavity. The beast’s head was twice as wide as she was—all improbable teeth and uncountable eyes, with a huge, underslung jaw—and in the middle, the fleshy seam she’d read about.
Jamming her fingers into the fold, she pried it open. A sickly golden light spilled out. Viv slid her whole hand into the pocket of flesh, curled her fist around a faceted, organic lump, and yanked. It came free with a fibrous ripping sound.
Fennus moved to stand behind her—she could smell his perfume. “Is that it, then?” he asked, only a little interested.
“Yep.” Viv groaned as she hoisted herself to her feet, using Blackblood as a crutch. Without bothering to clean the stone, she stuffed it into a pouch on her bandolier, then propped the greatsword on her shoulder.
“And that’s truly all you want?” Fennus squinted up at her. His long, beautiful face was amused.
He gestured at the walls of the cavern, where the Scalvert Queen had entombed untold wealth within sheets of hardened saliva. Wagons, chests, and the bones of horses and men hung suspended amidst gold, silver, and gemstones—the shiny castaways of centuries.
“Yep,” she said again. “We’re square.”
The rest of the party approached. Roon, Taivus, and little Gallina brought with them the exhausted but exultant chatter of the victorious. Roon combed muck from his beard, Gallina sheathed her daggers, and Taivus glided behind them both, tall and watchful. They were a good crew.
Viv turned away and strode toward the cavern’s entrance, where dim light still filtered through.
“Where are you goin’?” hollered Roon, in his rough, affable voice.
“Out.”
“But… aren’t you gonna–?” began Gallina.
Someone shushed her, most likely Fennus.
Viv felt a prick of shame. She liked Gallina the most, and probably should have taken the time to explain.
But she was done. Why drag things out? She didn’t reallywantto talk about it, and if she said anything more, she might change her mind.
After twenty-two years of adventuring, Viv had reached her limit of blood and mud and bullshit. An orc’s life was strength and violence and a sudden, sharp end—but she’d be damned if she’d let hers finish that way.
It was time for something new.
1
Viv stood in the morning chill, looking down into the broad valley below. The city of Thune bristled up from a bed of fog that hazed the banks of the river bisecting it. Here and there, a copper-clad steeple flashed in the sun.
She had broken camp in the predawn dark, and her long legs had eaten up the final few miles. Blackblood weighed heavy on her back, the Scalvert’s Stone tucked in one of her inner jacket pockets. She could feel it like a hard, withered apple, and reflexively touched it through the cloth from time to time to reassure herself it was still there.
A leather satchel hung over one shoulder, stuffed mostly with notes and plans, a few chunks of hardtack, a purse of platinum chits and assorted precious stones, and one small, curious device.
She followed the road down and into the valley as the fog burned away, and a lonely farmer’s cart tottered by, stuffed with alfalfa.
Viv felt a rising sense of nervous elation, something she hadn’t felt inyears, like a battle-cry she could barely hold in. She’d never prepared as much for any one moment. She’d read and questioned, researched and wrestled, and Thune had been the city she’d chosen. When she’d crossed every other location off her list, she’d been absolutely positive. Suddenly, that conviction seemed foolish and impulsive, yet her excitement remained undimmed.
No outer wall surrounded Thune. It had sprawled far beyond its original, fortified boundaries, but she sensed herself approaching the edge ofsomething. It had been ages since she’d stayed in one place more than a handful of nights, the duration of a job. Now, she was going to put down roots in a city she’d visited maybe three times in her entire life.
She stopped and looked around warily, as though the road wasn’t entirely vacant, the farmer long gone into the mist. Withdrawing a scrap of parchment from her satchel, she read the words she’d copied.
Well-nigh to thaumic line,
the Scalvert’s Stone a-fire
