Invasion by B.N. Crandell

army here, so why wasn’t she sending everything she had? What had held her up?
    He finished his stew and hurried off to the Gate. He was delighted to see that it looked to be sky blue. The wizards were hard at work. Whatever delayed Sylestra, Master Pilk hoped it continued. Clearing his mind, he joined his wizard friends and started throwing his magic at the Gate.
     
     
     
    Sylestra opened her eyes slowly. They took some time to focus. She lay on a soft bed in a lavishly decorated, but unfamiliar room. The bed looked much smaller than hers and while it had four posts, it had no sliding curtains. The smell was not altogether unpleasant but certainly not feminine.
    The room held very little furniture, but what it did have was finely crafted. A desk with a high backed chair sat at the far end of the room and a matching pair of dresser drawers stood on either side of the bed. A solid looking chest with metal banding was positioned on the floor next to the desk.
    As she became more conscious she noticed an orc guard standing by the door. Her memory of the fight with Gilkan came flooding back. The orc guard was the captain of those that had escorted her to the arena. She took comfort in the fact that an orc from her tribe stood guard instead of one from the Black Skull.
    Realisation struck her then. The Black Skull was now her tribe. She had won the Challenge Festival despite being shot by an arrow. But how long ago had that been? How long had she been unconscious? She got up suddenly and her head swam. The Captain hurried to her side.
    “Are you okay, Supreme Mistress?” he asked.
    “Yes — yes I’m fine. I just got up a little too quickly. How long have I been out?” Her vision cleared and her head settled.
    “Four or five hours, Supreme Mistress,” he replied.
    “Where is General Jak’ho?” she asked.
    “Still outside the city walls. They wouldn’t open the gates until your condition was known.” He stood back from her as she swung her legs to the side of the bed.
    “I imagine that didn’t sit too well with the General?” Sylestra stood up on wobbly legs. The Captain grabbed her by the arm to steady her and then looked at her in horror, obviously worried that he had overstepped his bounds. Sylestra smiled and nodded and he relaxed.
    “He threatened to knock down the city gates and let himself in. He even started lining up our remaining siege weapons to back up the threat,” replied the Captain finally.
    “I imagine it’s more of a promise from General Jak’ho and no idle threat,” said Sylestra smiling. “Come on, I had better go and sort out this mess and then we have work to do.” The Captain let go of her arm and started heading for the door. Sylestra wobbled and almost collapsed.
    “Don’t let go of my arm,” she screamed. The orc sped back to her side with a bowed head and downcast eyes.
    The Captain led her from the room and along a short, carpeted hallway and into a dining room. At the large table sat the announcer wearing less colourful clothing — his previous outfit had no doubt been for show. He looked up from his plate of food and rose to his feet.
    “It is good to see you on the mend, Supreme Mistress.” The orc bowed his head in respect. He had no doubt already been instructed as to how to address her and he did it with such grace and ease that it gave her a fair indication of his previous position.
    “You were the head servant to Gilkan?” she asked, seeking clarification.
    “My name is Biv’rak,” replied the orc. “Head servant is an apt title. My responsibilities were many and varied.”
    “You are in charge now then?” she asked, testing the orc.
    “I believe that is now your role, Supreme Mistress,” replied Biv’rak subjectively.
    “Well answered, and don’t you forget it,” she said with a firm voice.
    “Indeed I won’t, Supreme Mistress. I didn’t like the Fierce One anyway as he killed my brother and flaunted the fact on a daily basis.” Biv’rak