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the orc in the jaw as she flipped. The orc spat out teeth and blood. Before he could regain his bearings, Skera-Kina’s hand shot out, and with nails like spikes, she gouged at her opponent’s eyes. The orc shrieked and fell, momentarily blinded. Skera-Kina sprang like a cat, smashing both her heels down on the orc’s injured leg. She heard a pop as the knee was crushed.
    The orc roared, thrashing about in pain and frustration. The other two males outside the circle sat shock-still, immobilized by fear. They had never seen anything like this; the orc never even touched her.
    Skera-Kina stood over the injured male and spoke, her expression hardening. A noble attempt, she thought, but the outcome was never in dispute.
    As the orc ’s ancient language flowed from her lips, she felt a shiver of euphoria. She said in a slow, grave voice, “I am the Lady of Death—devourer and destroyer. When the Final Battle comes to pass, I shall bring ruin and devastation upon this land. It is the law of nature that the weak shall fall before the strong. I am the winner, and your life is mine.”
    The orcs paused, frozen in fear. The foggy air carried the rasping echo of Skera-Kina ’s voice, and the sound reverberated across the sea like the tolling of a great bell. She leaned down near the orc’s face and asked, “Uggun nee ibixtuk? —Do you choose life or death?”
    “Ibixtuk,” he spat. “I choose death.” Skera-Kina nodded gravely, then stepped outside the circle and recovered the orc’s axe from the dirt. There was really no other choice, but if he had shown fear and pleaded for his life, she would have slaughtered them all. As it was, she would allow the other two males to live, and they would carry this story back to their elders.
    She lifted the weapon above her head, and the orc snarled at her with steely hate. Skera-Kina nodded in satisfaction. He was unflinching and defiant to the end—a worthy adversary. This orc had fought well and deserved an honorable death.
    As the axe came down, she happily granted it.
     

Bolrakei Returns
    Hundreds of leagues from Parthos, the dwarf clans were arguing. Two opposing factions had formed within Mount Velik: one faction calling for a new king, the other supporting the ailing King Hergung, bedridden and sickly.
    The Vardmiter clan, led by the rebel leader Utan, had broken off and left Mount Velik for good, relocating to the Highport Mountains. They would not return.
    For centuries, the Vardmiter clan had been treated like outcasts, performing all of the other clans ’ undesirable jobs: the cleaning of sewers, butchering animals, garbage pick-up, preparing the dead for burial, to name a few.
    The jobs were unpleasant, but they were necessary, and when the Vardmiters left, the largest segment of the dwarves’ manual labor force had vanished. None of the other clans wanted to do these “dirty jobs,” and Mount Velik had descended into chaos.
    Despite several attempts, the dragon riders had failed to negotiate a peaceful settlement between the clans. Today, the dwarf council would meet again to discuss the reinstatement of a clan leader to her former position. Bolrakei was the former leader of Klora-Kanna, the wealthy jewelcutters ’ clan. Even after being stripped of her office several years ago, she had remained defiant. She simply refused to abandon her authority, staying the de facto leader for her clan. A replacement for her office had never been elected, and she continued to rule through her advisors. It was evident that a majority supported her return to leadership, and a few even supported her bid for complete control over all the clans.
    An arrogant smile crossed Bolrakei ’s lips as she strutted into Mount Velik’s vast atrium, where the dwarf council waited for her to arrive. The council had been formed recently, with the oldest and most powerful families coming together to establish law and settle disputes. Members included heads of each of the powerful dwarf