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orphans of the tribe from starving to death. 
    "This is madness," she hissed. "Father is trying to get you killed."
    "I know," said Kharlacht. 
    "He's afraid of you," said Lujena, "afraid that if you become a warrior, you'll raise your voice against him in the assembly and he'll lose his prestige. That's why he sent the others to the Tower. They never returned, and no one dared go after them." She gave a sharp shake of her head. "He gives the young men who follow him easy quests, so his supporters can fill to the assembly of warriors. Those who oppose his cruelty, he sends to die." Her eyes glittered with dampness. "He is sending you to die." 
    "Then I must succeed," said Kharlacht, taking her hands in his. "I will return where they did not."
    "Why?"
    "Because the others did not think for themselves," said Kharlacht. "They believed whatever Narrakhan taught them. I do not. My mother taught me to use my head, and so I shall."
    "You proud fool," said Lujena. "No man, whether orc or human or elven, can overcome the creature that lives in the Tower of Bones." She started to shake with anger and fear. "You're going to die, and..."
    "Stop talking," said Kharlacht, and pulled her close and kissed her. She protested, but not for very long, and then melted into the kiss.
    "I could not bear to lose you," whispered Lujena when they pulled apart. "The way Father looks at me...I know he plans an evil fate for me. He is afraid of you, Kharlacht. Afraid of what you might do to him. If he kills you..."
    "He will not," said Kharlacht. "I will go to the Tower of Bones and return. And when I do, when I take my place as a warrior of the tribe, I will ask for you as my wife. Let the old charlatan scheme and plot all he wants then."
    "He's not a charlatan, Kharlacht," said Lujena. "He has magic. I've heard him speak to demons in the night." She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest. "But if anyone can brave the Tower of Bones and return...you can, Kharlacht. Return to me."
    "I shall," said Kharlacht, lifting her hands to his mouth and kissing them.
    He would return, he vowed. He would.  
    But he could not shake the feeling that he would never see her again.
     
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    By ancient custom, only warriors bore swords. But the orcs of Vhaluusk had many enemies, and men and women alike carried weapons. Kharlacht equipped himself with his spear, a short bow and quiver of arrows, and a pair of daggers. His pack held food and tools, and a waterskin hung from his belt.
    And then he left the village, taking the ancient road into the mountains. His enslaved ancestors had built it at the bidding of the dark elves long ago, and the stones remained flat and level despite the centuries. The foothills grew steeper as he climbed, the trees thinning to tough bushes and scraggly pines.
    And then, after hours of climbing, he came to the Tower of Bones. 
    A ruined fortress rested on a mountain spur, all tumbled walls and towers of bleached stone. A single white tower, two hundred feet tall, rose out of the ruins, untouched by time and the elements. The angles and lines of the tower were strange, alien, and looking at the structure made Kharlacht’s head hurt.
    The Tower of Bones. 
    A sorcerer-lord of the dark elves had once dwelt there, and his lingering magic protected the Tower from the elements.
    Kharlacht hefted his spear, took a deep breath, and strode towards the Tower. Silence hung over the ruins, save for the moaning of the mountain wind. He passed under a ruined archway, picking his way over the fallen stones.
    A shape emerged from behind a pile of rubble and walked towards him.
    It looked like a cross between a child and a lizard, with gray, scaly skin, a long slender tail, unblinking yellow eyes, and a crimson crest upon the top of its head. The creature wore ragged furs, and carried a heavy club in one clawed hand. Kharlacht had never seen such a creature before, but he recognized it from the tales. They dwelled in the tunnels of the