Athgar and Natalia stepped inside to see Kirak seated on a pile of animal skins. Beside him was a female Orc who appeared even taller, though thinner of frame than the great chieftain.
"Come, sit," said Kirak.
Athgar sat, with Natalia beside him.
Kirak offered him a bowl filled with a pale white liquid. "Will you drink the milk of life?"
He accepted the bowl, sipping lightly from its rim, then passing it to Natalia. She took her own sip, then passed it, in turn, to Urughar.
"Now," said Kirak, "let me officially welcome you to the Orcs of the Black Axe. This"— he indicated the female Orc—"is Laghul, our shamaness. It is she who has confirmed your story, reaching out to the Ancestors of the Red Hand."
"Greetings," said Laghul, "and welcome to our tribe. As a member of the Red Hand, you shall be granted all the rights and privileges of our race, including a hut, which you may use at your leisure."
"Thank you," said Athgar. "You do us a great honour."
"Please, tell us of your journey."
"Shaluhk, who is now the Shamaness of the Red Hand, consulted the Ancestors. On their advice, we are travelling north, seeking a city known as Ebenstadt. Do you know of this place?"
Laghul nodded her head. "We do. It lies some distance to the northwest, past the villages of the Torkul, though to my knowledge no Orc has ever set foot there."
"Your master of flame indicated you were having trouble with the Torkul. I assume they are like me? People with grey eyes, that is?"
"They are," said Kirak, "and they have been a thorn in our side of late."
"Can you be more specific?" asked Athgar. "Maybe there is some way in which we can help?"
Kirak eyed him suspiciously. "And why would you agree to do that?"
"It is in both of our best interests. I believe these Torkul are my people, though long separated from my own village. When Athelwald was destroyed, its people were carted off into slavery. I have since learned some escaped, and I'm hoping they found refuge amongst their fellow Therengians."
"And how does that serve our interests?"
"My people lived in peace and harmony with the Orcs of the Red Hand. I see no reason why it cannot be so here. Tell me what it is that they have done."
"They encroach on our lands," said Kirak, "and threaten the very balance of nature. Our Ancestors brought us here to live free of the influence of Humans. And yet now that very same plague has been brought to our homes."
"When you say they are encroaching, do you mean hunting or settling?"
"The former, but it is only a matter of time until they put down roots. Already they have migrated from the west, pushing them ever closer to our homes."
"Have you tried talking with them?" Athgar asked.
"They are Humans. They will not listen to reason. At the mere sight of us, they attack."
"They are likely fearful," explained Athgar, "as you are of them. Tell me, do you know why they migrated?"
"No," Kirak confessed, "and they are unlikely to explain it to us. It is hard to be reasonable at the point of a spear."
"Perhaps," offered Natalia in her broken Orcish, "we can help."
"Yes," added Athgar. "Show us how to find them, and we shall try to reason with them. Let's hope we can get to the bottom of this."
Kirak looked at Laghul, who simply nodded her head. "Very well," said the chieftain. "The Ancestors have seen fit to send you to us. Let us now see if their decision was a wise one."
Confrontation
Summer 1104 SR
* * *
Laruhk sprinted down the column, halting before Kargen to stop and gasp for air.
"What is it?" asked Kargen.
"Humans," the hunter replied. "A large number of them, with weapons."
"The farms we passed must have spread word. They are likely the duke's men."
"What do we do?"
"We must halt," ordered Kargen. "Move the hunters forward, younglings and elderly to the rear. I shall go and talk to the leader of this group. Let us hope he will see reason and allow us safe passage."
"And if not?"
"Then we might have to alter our plans."
"I do not like this, Kargen. It could mean a battle, and we are already weakened."
"I do not like it, either, Laruhk, but we must see to the safety of the tribe. We have more than two hundred Orcs to look after. I will not see them fight unless absolutely necessary."
"I shall do as you ask."
Laruhk ran off, calling out names as he went.
Kargen looked around, spotting Shaluhk, who was lifting young Agar to her shoulders. She met his gaze and wandered closer.
"What ails you, bondmate?"
"It is the Humans," he explained. "They have learned of our journey and are seeking to stop us."
Shaluhk looked skyward. "It is easy enough to spot us. The column of dust can be seen for a great distance, but I am at a loss as to where they came from."
"There is likely a town nearby," said Kargen. "That would be why they are so alarmed. What would you do if a large force were closing in on your own village?"
"Fair enough," said Shaluhk, "but can we not reason with them? We are, after all, only interested in travelling east and mean no harm."
"I doubt the duke's men will be as understanding. I fear they will insist we return to Ord-Kurgad."
"That would be a death sentence."
"I see we are of the same opinion."
"What can I do to help?"
"Consult the Ancestors," said Kargen. "They may offer a solution. In the meantime, I must make contact with these Humans and hope they see reason."
* * *
The afternoon wore on. The troops of Holstead stood in the sun, sweating, while horsemen galloped back and forth, carrying dispatches.
Commander Harmon, watching from the back of his horse, squinted, looking westward. "What are they doing?"
"It appears nothing, sir," replied his sergeant. "They are just standing there."
"I can see that. I meant, what are they doing here, outside of their lands?"
"I have no idea, sir."
Harmon swore. "Go. Fetch Krasmus, and we will see if he can be of help."
"The mage, sir? Surely not! This is an army matter."
"And what would you have me do, Sergeant? Lead my men into a slaughter?"
"They're only Orcs, sir, no threat to our forces."
"Have you ever seen an Orc close-up?"
"No, sir."
"Well, trust me when I say they're large, very large, and not the type of thing you want swinging an axe at you." Harmon shuddered involuntarily. "Besides which, they appear to outnumber us."
"But they are only Orcs!"
"As you've already said, but even savages can inflict casualties. Now go and fetch Krasmus."
The sergeant wheeled around, riding off at a gallop.
Harmon cursed his luck. He had risen through the ranks, but the army of Holstead was nothing to brag about. Men like his sergeant were commonplace, and they hadn't fought a real battle for generations.
He watched the greenskins moving about, noticing a thin skirmish line being deployed. Were they seriously thinking of attacking?
"Commander?" came a familiar voice.
Harmon, startled out of his musings, turned to see the Royal Enchanter, Krasmus.
"Your Grace," he said, "as you can see, we have a bit of a situation here."
The mage scanned the west, observing the deployment of Orcs. "So it would seem."
"What can you do about it?"
"I'm afraid I'm an Enchanter, not a battle mage."
"Still," insisted Harmon, "there must be something you can suggest? Do the Orcs fear magic?"
"Not that I'm aware of, no. In fact, they have their own mages, though they call them shamans."
"Do you have any GOOD news for me?"
"I could cast the spell of tongues," replied the Enchanter. "It would allow you to speak their language."
"You expect me to talk to them?"
"Isn't that what you were intending, Commander? To order them back to their lands?"
"But they outnumber us, Krasmus."
The mage sighed. Sometimes it was necessary to point out the obvious to these military leaders. "They may have the numbers here, but you represent the duke, and he can field an army ten times theirs. Invoke his authority. They're bound to back down."
"I suppose, but why are they even here? Do they really think we'd let them rampage through our lands?"
"I have no idea, but THEY do. Why don't you go and ask them yourself?"
"Very well," said Harmon, "cast your spell."
"Yes, Commander." Krasmus closed his eyes, calling on the forces within him. Words of power began to flow from his tongue, and then he snapped his eyes open, pointing to the commander. A slight blue haze descended onto him, soaking into his skin, the Enchanter's own personal touch to the well-established spell.
"It is done."
"Good," said Harmon. "Come with me."
"Me?"
"Yes, you're one of the duke's mages. What better way to project his power."
"If you say so."
Harmon urged his horse forward while Krasmus cast the spell once again, this time on himself. His incantation complete, he galloped forward to catch up.
The greenskins drew closer, and Harmon halted. Two of the creatures walked towards them, their weapons, at least for now, tucked away.
"I am Commander Harmon, of his dukenesses army." He turned to Krasmus in surprise. "Did I say that correctly?"
"More or less. The Orcs lack some of our finesse in their language."
"Why does it sound so bad to my ears?"
"The spell only imparts a rudimentary skill," the mage replied.
"Can't you do something to make it better?"
"I'm afraid not, my lord; it is one of the limitations of magic."
The larger of the two Orcs raised his hand in the air.
"I come in peace," he said in the common tongue of man.
"Saints be, he speaks our language," said Harmon.
"I am Kargen, Chieftain of the Red Hand."
"Greetings, Kargen," said Harmon. "In the name of His Grace, the Duke of Holstead, you are hereby ordered to return to your lands." The commander sat back in his saddle, pleased with the discharge of his duty.
"I am afraid I can not," said Kargen. "My people are heading east, towards the wilderness."
Harmon's face paled as he turned towards the Enchanter. "He can't do that! He's heading straight for Althaven!"
"Tell him that," muttered Krasmus.
The commander returned his attention to the greenskin. "I cannot allow it. Return to your lands at once, or my men will be forced to engage."
"We have no wish to fight," replied the Orc.
"There," whispered Harmon, "I've got him now." He raised his voice once more. "Then return to your lands, and let us see an end to this confrontation."
The Orc turned to his companion, muttering something in the ancient language of his race. Harmon strained to hear, but the brute's voice was too low and his speech too fast.
Kargen stepped closer while his companion ran back to the west. "We will go home," he announced, "but we must wait until tomorrow. The sun is too low."
Harmon bowed, trying to appear magnanimous, but inside he was relieved to avoid the confrontation.
"Very well, but you shall begin your return early tomorrow morning."
"Agreed," said Kargen. "By first light, we shall be on our way."
Harmon turned, guiding his horse back towards his own line of troops. "Well, that went much better than I expected."
"So it did," agreed the mage. "It appears you didn't need my services after all."
"They may still double-cross us. I wouldn't put it past them."
"Should we take any precautions?" asked Krasmus.
"Yes, I shall send word for reinforcements, preferably cavalry. I understand they have no horse of their own?"
"Not that I know of."
"Good," said Harmon, "then that should settle it. Now that's done, will you join me for a drink?"
"I should be delighted, Commander."
* * *
Kargen poked the fire with a stick. "Is everything prepared?"
"It is," said Laruhk. "They will be surprised come morning when all they find is an empty group of fires."
"We must take care. Remember, we want them to think we are heading west."
"And so they will. We will leave a trail that even a Human can not miss."
Kargen placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "This is no laughing matter, Laruhk. The safety of our people depends on it."
"I shall lead the hunters myself, and we will draw them westward, then double back and catch up. Are you sure this is what you want?"
"It is," the chieftain replied. "We can not go east, and the land to the south is too open. We would be easy prey for horsemen. Our only chance is to go north, into the mountains, where their horses can not follow."
"They will send more soldiers once they have discovered our ruse."
"So they will," Kargen agreed, "but hopefully by then we will be safe in the foothills."
"And the Ancestors suggested this?"
"In a roundabout way."
"What does that mean? Did the Ancestors agree or not?"
"They did not disagree."
"You are being stubborn, Kargen. You take after my sister."
"I shall take that as a compliment. Now go, Laruhk, and may the Ancestors watch over you."
* * *
All night long, the Orcs moved north, their most skilled hunters bringing up the rear, carefully hiding their tracks. The elderly went first, accompanied by Shaluhk, who led the way, Agar once more on her shoulders. Orcs are a hardy breed, but the pace soon wore on them, and more than one elder had to be helped along the way.
Shaluhk found herself wishing she had mastered her magic, making her able to summon warrior spirits to assist, but it was too late now. Her mistress, Uhdrig, was dead, and with her went any chance of learning new magic.
She paused, watching as Kragor picked up an elder. The hunter placed him across his massive shoulders and moved on, bearing the burden with quiet dignity. The entire escape felt desperate, and she wondered, not for the first time, of the wisdom of this strategy. Would not the Humans see the ruse for what it was? Shaluhk shook her head. No, it would work. She had faith Kargen had made the right choice, the only choice he could, given the circumstances. They would continue their trek northward. It was all that was left to them.
* * *
Laruhk looked out over the field, peering from the long grass that hid his position. "They appear to be taking the bait."
"So they are," agreed Durgash. He held up his warbow. "Are you sure Kargen said we could not use these?"
"Yes, he was very clear on the matter. He does not want to injure any of the enemy. It will only make them madder."
"I can not imagine they will be pleased to find we have led them astray."
"Agreed," said Laruhk, "but we must do our part. Our job is to delay them long enough for the others to escape."
"An easy enough task. I see no hunters amongst them."
"You would not know a hunter if one sat on you."
His companion let out a snort, stifling it quickly lest they be heard. "A good one, my friend."
"Go," said Laruhk, "and remember to use the common tongue."
Durgash grinned, showing his teeth, and then speaking Human. "I will!"
Laruhk watched as the Human soldiers reached the firepits. The flames had long since burned out, now releasing only wisps of smoke into the early morning air. They milled about, unsure of what to do, while other men, their junior leaders, barked out orders.
A group of horsemen appeared, trotting past the Orc's position. He was sure they would spot him, one even going so far as to splash him as it rode past, but the rider's eyes
were focused on something in the distance. Laruhk remained hidden.
"Over here," someone yelled. "We've found tracks."
The horsemen spurred on their mounts, disappearing from sight. Not much later, another cry echoed out over the field. "I found something!"
"They are this way," came another voice. Laruhk chuckled to himself, pleased with the ruse. Kargen had planned the diversion, but it was Laruhk who had thought to turn the Human's own language against them. Athgar would be proud.
He waited as the horsemen rode past yet again, seeking out this new voice, then rose to a crouch, putting hand to mouth.
"There they are!" he called out. "To the south!" He dropped back down to his stomach and held his breath. Sure enough, hoofbeats drew closer, and he felt the ground rumble as they rode by.
The game continued, but then the Humans grew tired of the chase. They began to ignore the calls, concentrating instead on moving westward in a methodical manner, looking for a trail to follow. By noon, they were well past Laruhk's position, and he began to grow concerned. He wondered how he might confuse them further, and then a thought struck him.
The Orc crawled forward on his belly, seeking his prey. He soon found a group of horses standing nearby while their riders rested. Remembering the trampling that had so wounded him during the attack on Ord-Kurgad, he flinched but then shrugged. He had survived the injuries, thanks to the efforts of his sister. Obviously, it was not yet time for him to join the Ancestors.
He rose from the ground, moving forward slowly. The riders were all chatting away, deep in conversation. Laruhk drew closer, watching them from the corner of his eye as he approached their horses. His plan was simple enough. Snatch the horses, or release them, and then make his escape.
All that changed when one of the soldiers turned towards the horses. Laruhk froze, but as their eyes met, he knew he had been discovered. He let out a yell as he rushed towards the horses, intending to scare them into running, but the riders had tethered them to a fallen trunk. The Orc was soon amongst them, casting his eyes about, trying to figure out how to untie them.
The warriors called out as they drew their weapons. Laruhk, out of desperation, pulled his knife and began sawing away at a leather lead. Leaping onto the back of a horse, he was ready to speed away to safety, but the beast merely stood there, perhaps frozen with fear.
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