It was getting late, and shadows had spread to cover most of the valley. To the west, the sky burned an incendiary red, while a few high clouds shimmered in shades of crimson deepening toward purple. A beautiful sight to behold.

  Like an invading army, my shadows moved through the forest, zigzagging toward the orc camp. Maybe because I had become more, even my shadows had grown—it was as if the darkness itself were creeping forward.

  The air was still warm, though a light breeze had begun to flow from the south.

  The orc camp covered a large clearing. To its left and right, the main orc forces were hidden in the forest, ready to close in like a pincer once the viscount’s cavalry entered the open ground.

  In the middle of the clearing stood a double circle of carriages covered with canvas. The sight gave me wild west vibes, except these wagons had been arranged in two concentric rings. Heavily armed orcs were concealed among them, while in the center huddled a group of about sixty or seventy people, mostly humans, bound together with heavy metal chains.

  Most had their faces lowered, shoulders slumped in despair; some were silently crying. Others stared eastward, a mix of hope and despair in their eyes. A few children whimpered softly before being shushed by their mothers.

  Then it struck me: these were mostly small children, old people, and the severely wounded. Expendable slaves, the ones not deemed worth saving. Was it really worth paying a gold or two to rescue a slave who’d sell for less?

  Four large fires had been lit around the group of slaves, and three massive orcs were talking and gesticulating wildly beside one of the bonfires.

  They were probably the leaders of the raiding party, or at least of this central group, so I decided to gather my shadows and materialize there.

  The shadows thickened, becoming as dense as black smoke. They flowed over the ground, rising and swirling together into a vortex that grew taller than a man. Within that whirl of darkness, my shadow-clad body - wrapped in the Shroud of Darkness - took form. More and more shadows streamed across the earth, feeding the central swirl and keeping me concealed.

  I wasn’t about to risk even a hint of nudity showing through. The way the spells linked together now was a beautiful, seamless dance.

  To remove any doubt about who I was, I cast over myself the crown and regal attire, recalling the image that had been distributed across Hologomora. To make sure they saw and recognized me, I added a small display of light that drove the shadows away. I wanted their attention.

  As I emerged from the darkness and my body took form, I drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. For a heartbeat, that breath was the only sound in the stunned silence. Then came the yelps, cries, and shouts that accompanied my beautiful entrance.

  Everyone had tensed at first; many orcs grabbed their shields or weapons. But one of the leading orcs turned toward me and, after a moment of hesitation—probably trying to cast Identify on me—struck his chest with his gauntleted fist, producing a deep boom.

  “All hail the Queen!” he shouted in a booming voice.

  “All hail the Queen!” others echoed, and soon a chorus of guttural voices rose from around the carriages.

  Some beat their chests, others struck their shields with the pommels of their swords. For a moment I feared they’d cut themselves, but no cries of pain followed.

  Hah! I’d got their attention, and they did recognize me! Hopefully everything would run smoothly and I wouldn’t have to light another bonfire, I told myself. Still, a little devil inside whispered that the scene would look even more majestic once true darkness fell.

  More orcs were running out of the forest to see what was happening, while others shouted at them to go back, but to no avail. It seemed I’d already broken their formation.

  I stood there a moment longer, letting them take me in, careful not to make any sudden moves. Then I began to advance slowly toward the group, keeping a soft light on myself, like an actress stepping into the spotlight. Singing in that tavern ages ago had finally paid off; I didn’t feel the same stage fright anymore. And Grubber circling above helped make my identity unmistakable.

  I didn’t know how to start the conversation about the slaves, but to my surprise, after the introductions and first exchange, it flowed exactly as I’d hoped. As I glanced at the group of captives, one of the orcs, who had introduced himself as Chieftain Baltok, began to explain the situation.

  “Pardon us, Queen. We were just discussing what to do with these slaves before we leave. Lord Gortok,” he said, pointing to a smaller orc with enormous, razor-sharp canines, “thinks we should just leave them here as a burden for the enemy, after we’ve beaten the crap out of their troops. But Chieftain Thorak says we should show mercy and kill the wounded, not let them suffer uselessly.”

  Drackar had warned me that most orcs, except those living in the castle, didn’t use words like Your Highness or Your Majesty, perhaps not even My Lady. Those new manners hadn’t yet taken hold among the common folk; on the contrary, using them would likely be met with derision. But frankly, that didn’t bother me.

  What did bother me was their understanding of mercy.

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  “You could just leave them to my care,” I was about to say, but Thorak raised another issue.

  “The viscount isn’t coming anymore, is he? You did something to them, Queen?”

  “Was that the fire that briefly engulfed the forest?” Gortok asked.

  “Ah, well, Chieftain, that’s true, I did burn them a little,” I admitted with a light shrug.

  They exchanged disappointed looks. Somehow, they managed to make me feel guilty about it.

  Just then, another orc came riding out of the forest on a wolf, which immediately caught my attention: it was a rare mount. The wolf leapt easily between the concentric rings of carriages, and the rider landed gracefully a few meters from us with a heavy thud and the clang of metal.

  He added another resounding thud as he struck his chest.

  “Queen!” he said.

  Okay, that wasn’t quite the All Hail the Queen I’d gotten used to, but it was a salute nonetheless.

  “You have a problem, Dontak?” Chieftain Baltok asked, then turned to me. “Pardon my little brother, Queen. He’s a bit of a hothead.”

  The “little brother” , actually a head taller than Baltok and with arms as thick as Drackar’s, glared at me with small, red eyes and practically growled his next words.

  “Baltok! She took away our revenge! She let her dragon burn the approaching army!”

  “Ahm,” I said, trying to clarify, “that was not my dragon, that was me.”

  Baltok shook his head. “This boy hasn’t even drawn his first battle blood yet, Queen, and he’s eager to do so.”

  “I demand satisfaction,” Dontak said, drawing a long iron stave from somewhere in his gear; surprised eyes turned toward him.

  Thorak snorted. “Let me teach the boy a lesson in your name,” he said, producing another weapon, something that looked like a heavy iron ball, about the size of a bowling ball, linked by a short chain to a handle. It didn’t have spikes, so it probably counted as a safe blunt weapon too.

  I huffed.

  “No need. I’ll teach him myself.”

  I summoned a large ball of metal, the same way I’d conjured spears during my fight at the castle, and hurled it at the charging orc. Of course, the “throw” was purely magical, my arm only moved to accompany the motion. The metal sphere struck him square in the chest and sent him hurtling through the two rings of carriages, wood splinters flying everywhere.

  He hit the ground hard, sending up a spray of sand, pebbles, and dirt toward the forest.

  The orcs beside me burst into guffaws. For a moment, I thought I might have hit too hard, but then a groan came from the heap now lying near the tree line. He managed to lift one hand.

  “I yield,” he mumbled, then let it fall back.

  Baltok shrugged and turned to me.

  “What revenge? Why was he talking about revenge?” I asked.

  “For all our brothers who were enslaved to work in their mines. We saved some, but many died there,” Baltok explained.

  “Uhm. Okay — I did burn… ahm, their skin, so that should count as revenge,” I said, then pointed at the captives. “I’ll give you ten gold for the slaves you have here.”

  Gortok shook his head. “Queen, I know you mean well, but we cannot take money for them, they have no value.”

  I was pleased at the thought of getting them for free, but Thorak spoiled my fun.

  “But we can accept twenty gold as compensation for the missing revenge and lost glory, Queen.”

  “What about ten gold?” I asked.

  “Let’s make it fifteen, Queen,” Baltok said. “That would come to five gold each, enough to buy good wine for all of us and help them forget the pain.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Fifteen it is. But I want to buy all the slaves. Let everyone know I intend to buy every captive from this raid.”

  “We’ll do so, Queen,” Baltok acknowledged. “We’ll have them drive all the slaves to the next full Kargath slave marketplace. Your handlers should be there to take them.”

  Thorak shook his head.

  “If I may add something, Queen: have your royal handlers care a bit more for the slaves, and you wouldn’t have to buy new ones so often.”

  That sentence struck a nerve. I drew a long breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm myself. Why couldn’t I simply issue a decree: there shall be no more slaves, free them all? But then I remembered Drackar’s stern warning. Such a reform would unleash chaos, more suffering, and likely cost many slaves their lives. Maybe he was right. Would I regret taking his advice? He was an orc, after all.

  “I’ll take care of that,” I finally said.

  To seal the deal, Baltok grasped my forearm; I instinctively gripped his in return.

  “The slaves are yours, Queen!” he declared.

  “Alice!” I called. I didn’t need to shout, I could tell her shadow was already there. “Handle them each five gold, if you please.”

  The shadows behind me shifted, and Alice materialized.

  “Yes, my Queen!” she answered and her eyes shone briefly.

  I chuckled at her reply—Alice was starting to talk like the orcs.

  While she counted out the gold, I turned to Thorak and Gortok. We clasped forearms, then they struck their chests with their fists again before leaving. Baltok followed soon after, striding toward the spot where Dontak now sat.

  I released the metal from the huge conjured ball, letting it decompose and drawing back the residual magic that had held it together.

  As the orcs dispersed and the camp erupted into motion, preparations to depart, most likely marching through the night to rejoin the rest of their forces, I turned to Alice.

  “You still have some money?” I asked.

  “It’s from the funds for the new harvester machine,” she answered, “but now it’s probably not enough. We’ll need a solution soon; some of the fields will be ripe for harvest in just a few days.”

  I sighed and shrugged.

  “I’ll check with Hew. We’ll have to find something. Go with Grubber, make another pass over the area, and tell me if there’s any other danger of fighting. I’ll go check on the slaves.”

  She nodded once and shadowmelded instantly.