Miller, Half-Orc

by J R Marshall

  “If my efforts prove successful, my lord,” for Jambeedee looked back towards Grimnir, “Miller’s safety should be restored within forty-eight hours. I’ll need to speak to my friends and so forth.” Jambeedee was careful to carry on the pretence that he was only a go-between, it was all polite conversation, but I had no intension of waiting forty-eight hours.

  “Grimnir!” I said in front of Jambeedee. “I’ll be collecting my equipment from my factor in two hours’ time, woe betide him if there’s any problem, perhaps a couple of guards might accompany me?” And Grimnir, understanding, called for one of his sergeants.

  Jambeedee, keeping his expressions neutral was quick to comprehend the risk, for he wanted to access the merchant first.

  “Master Miller, your safety is paramount, please allow me to collect the items on your behalf as it seems some of my friends may have misbehaved. It’s the least I can do, you are after all, a guest in His Lordship’s house?”

  But I wanted the merchant dead, and with Grimnir watching, I agreed to Jambeedee’s kind offer.

  “That’s extremely generous of you, Jambeedee, and I gratefully accept, nonetheless in a couple of days I will be paying him a visit; he’ll squeal like a pig for he probably arranged the assassination with someone.”

  “Oh, you think your merchant was involved? Well, I don’t know! If you like I can try and find out?” Jambeedee remained expressionless.

  I showed Grimnir my scrip, and then offered the paper to Jambeedee.

  Within two hours my possessions were returned and not unexpectedly the merchant had mysteriously fallen head first onto stone flags, breaking his neck, slipping whilst repairing the warehouse roof, strange as his wife reported he was scared of heights.

  CHAPTER 12

  “No wonder this bloody horse was lent to me, no one else wanted the damn creature!” My arse was sore, for riding three days on a horse with a peculiar wallowing gait had proved too much for my backside.

  Persuaded to protect a small caravan, between the towns of Hedgetown and Cragtor, I Miller, a half-orc bastard, rode alongside Riklor, a junior sergeant in the employ of Lord Grimnir.

  “Bloody hell!” I looked at Riklor, for in front of me stood a man I intended to murder – Krun. “Surely this turd’s not in the employ of Lady Tam?”

  Krun was one hundred and fifty miles from where I had seen him last and seemingly on patrol, and Riklor being a sergeant in the employ of Lord Grimnir, had a tenuous authority over low-ranking Cragtor militia such as Krun.

  Dressed in chainmail, a sword at my side, and a battle axe strapped to my horse, I dismounted and stood six foot four inches tall, formidable, and I so wanted an opportunity to slay him.

  “Krun, you stinking bastard, what a pleasure it is to see you still poor and unpromoted. Why aren’t you where you belong, or did you get caught fornicating with a pig?” I walked up to his horse desperately trying to antagonise him. “Still paying whores for your entertainment?” I drew my sword as I approached, and poked him none too gently in the groin.

  “Oh, by the gods! It’s the ignorant half-orc slave. Who did you steal that armour from?” And looking at Riklor, “Is he with you, Sergeant? For the last time I saw this ugly bastard, he was pleading for his life, begging for my mercy.”

  I swang my sword, blade turned flat, striking Krun in the mouth. He fell from his saddle, though his right leg was caught in a stirrup.

  Five militiamen surrounded me, and above the cursing Riklor bellowed, “Put your bloody weapons away. You as well, Miller.”

  Walking back, I remounted my horse, and rode past the other men, kicking Krun’s horse hard so it leapt forwards ten feet, and Krun who was trying to release himself from the stirrup was dragged along the ground, his head hitting small rocks.

  “My duty’s done!” I shouted back to Riklor, for the caravan was now well protected. “And I know if I tarry in Krun’s company I’ll do something stupid.”

  What the hell’s Tam employing Krun for? I wondered as I galloped along the north road, heading for town, Git racing to keep up.

  It took me a few hours to arrive at the gates, and dismounting paid two copper pieces toll. Cragtor was more expensive than Hedgetown.

  “You need to pay extra for the horse,” said one of the guards, and I told him he could “Whistle up its arse,” for the beast belonged to Lord Grimnir, and I wasn’t paying, and leaving the beast outside the gates walked through, much to their consternation.

  “I’ll inform Glamdrun, your captain, when I see him. You should give it to Sergeant Riklor, he’ll be here within the day.” For I didn’t want to deprive Grimnir of the animal’s value, even though it was the shittiest horse I had ever had the misfortune to ride.

  My battle axe now carried in one hand, I headed for the Haggard Hen and hoped the landlord would remember me for I wanted to bathe and secure lodgings for the night.

  Pushing through town, one hand on my axe, the other ready to grasp my dagger, I was conscious that I had far too much silver in my possesion and would try and offload some with Tam.

  The ‘Hen’ as it was known locally, offered various standards of accommodation, and being somewhat richer than the last time I visited, I intended to sleep well tonight. As I entered my iron-shod feet clattered on the stone flags, reminding me of the last time I visited.

  Heads turned, for the common room was packed with the better off in society, who weren’t accustomed to seeing a road weary warrior spending serious silver.

  Nonetheless, the landlord remembered my last visit; it was after all hard not to, and securing the best room in his establishment I paid for a single evening, to be bathed, my mail scrubbed and clothes cleaned.

  It was late afternoon, the sun low in the sky, and keen to get on with my mission I headed for Tam’s castle.

  This time before dusk was interesting in Cragtor, for many traders were still open for business, lamps hung above open shutters, people buying cloth, pins, oils, herbs spices, women browsing, though most determinedly accomplishing tasks whilst time allowed.

  The smells and sounds of Cragtor were in contrast to Hedgetown, the place felt more secure, the rich were not restricted in their showy display of wealth and children seemed more ready to run ahead of parents, forming small gangs and running through the streets and alleyways. Individuals were generally less wary of each other. Guards walked singularly whereas in Hedgetown the patrols tended to be in groups of two or three; people were for the most part relaxed and at ease.

  Tam knew I was travelling with the caravan, yet the hour of my arrival wasn’t known, and unlike Hedgetown, only Glamdrun and Tam could vouch for me, so approaching the castle, I was braced for delays.

  The castle doors smelt of fresh light tar, a form of creosote designed to preserve the timbers but also flammable and of doubtful benefit in times of conflict for the doors could be set alight, burning for hours depending upon how recently the surface had been treated.

  Men on wooden scaffolds were repointing the lime mortar, stone masons were lowering blocks of stone and dressing large stone blocks newly set within the walls. Below them, on the green grass in front of the ramparts, roughly hewn blocks brought from quarries were being chiselled into differing sizes. Tam had seemingly begun repairs on her stronghold, though it had always seemed well maintained.

  Although I didn’t know it then, the upkeep of a castle is an ongoing chore, yet there seemed a lot of activity.

  Approaching, the main gates were almost closed, and I was rightly challenged; an overweight man wearing banded mail hindered my access.

  “Halt! I need to see your permission, or know the nature of your business.” He seemed slightly wary of me for my armour signified competence and he rightly considered caution and deference was due. Appearance makes a huge difference when dealing with guards, and he knew to exercise his authority with care.

  “Now then, guardsman! I have business with Lady Bluebottle, I’m expected.”

  “Yes, I was told someone of yo
ur race would be seeking access. What is your name, master warrior?”

  “How many half-orcs do you see trying to gain access to Lady Bluebottle?” I said, sighing. “I’m expected, the name’s Miller, fetch someone who knows what they’re doing!”

  It took only five minutes, and an escort arrived.

  Tam greeted me in a side room, looking tired, for whilst she always smiled there was an anxiety about her, a weariness that was occasionally apparent. The fact that she betrayed her calm exterior was in itself unusual.

  “It’s wonderful to see you, Miller: Grimnir’s given few clues as to your activities, he keeps your affairs rightly private.”

  Looking at her, wanting to read her thoughts, but sensing nothing, I revealed the whole of my experiences, but offered to come back at a better time. “You look exhausted, is there anything I can do?” I worried that I encroached upon her peace.

  She smiled and closed her eyes. “Secure ten miles around the town, rally an army, defend the castle, defeat all the kingdom’s enemies,” and pausing for a few moments, “perhaps later you might!”

  “Give me forty men, and I can secure the land, though you will have to ignore some complaints.”

  Tam, opening her eyes, looked at me. “We may not have forty men, for every spare man is being summoned northwards; Culanur will fall, and then petty kingdoms will emerge, people will be used as pawns, and times more difficult will be upon us.”

  I was surprised, for although I knew Culanur’s north-eastern border was threatened by fierce barbarian tribes I had heard no rumour, neither had Grimnir revealed any hint of these troubles.

  “Grimnir gave me no clue, he revealed nothing, neither did I see any preparation for war,” although I added, “not that he ought to tell me anything.”

  “What would you do, Miller? Defy the King, or defend a lost cause?”

  And I understood. “I would do as Grimnir does,” adding very mischievously, “more lives will be saved in Cragtor.”

  Tam spoke with a cynical expression on her face. “Now you understand, but this is not to be discussed, for matters may take months to unfold.”

  “Who do you think I would be discussing it with? Even when drunk I’m avoided.”

  Tam was going to contradict, but ultimately changed the subject.

  “Let’s go down into the basement, I’m fascinated by your association with this entity in your mind.” And an eagerness entered my thoughts as she said those words.

  “How do you feel about using your scroll? You could have tried before.” Tam, sitting down in her delicate chair had just whispered for Sandy.

  “I’m excited by the prospect of an intelligence that might want to associate with me, be my ally, for I’m certain I would have been in mortal danger had the warning, the disquiet, not sounded in my mind,” and looking slightly away from her, head half turned, “I doubt my hope.”

  Smiling once more, given a cheerful task, Tam said, “Sandy will be with us shortly, he’s a minute away.”

  And I sensed him approaching, as moments later he rose above the ground.

  Touching him as he emerged, the synergy slightly less strong, I could feel his warmth and companionship with Tam.

  “I spend hours listening to them, but in Hedgetown I could not reach deep enough.” I meant the small spirit creatures, but they understood.

  Sandy looked at me expressionless, I could faintly sense his goodwill, and after a minute of private conversation between Tam and Sandy, she said they were ready.

  “I’ll go first as before.” And as she knelt upon the ground Sandy sank away, and I was alone, worried, braced for disappointment.

  Placing my hand on the ground, meditating, controlling my breathing, trying to thrust anxieties aside, I fell.

  The ocean of altered perceptions sped below, colours flashing across my mind, the earth song growing louder, the trumpets sounding, a chorus of instruments, tumultuous colours merging with the senses, tasting the music, all senses combining and enhancing, complimenting one another.

  Falling deeper, the connective energies of the earth whipping past me, too fast to gather, I fell faster, Sandy and Tam beside me, and something sped ahead as we were drawn deep down.

  Sandy buoyed me, slowing my descent, and something else wanted to come close.

  Slowing, the connective forces of the earth gently floated past. We approached the purple haze, a mist where the small entities began, and communicating that I should be able to hold myself, Sandy released me.

  With great concentration I succeeded in steadying my position, and then I felt an affinity to one small spirit; he entered my mind, reinforcing my concentration, and I was elated.

  Dwelling, absorbed by my friend’s goodwill, I lost my connection with Tam and Sandy, or rather I was wholly distracted, like a child forgetting their manners, in receipt of a fabulous gift.

  Unaware of time, enjoying the emotion and experience of my new association, he spoke, like water washing over rocks, to and fro. We communicated, until finally he said we were being summoned back, and ‘he was willing’.

  As Sandy bore me aloft, the spirit creature stayed bound to my consciousness, and coming out of meditation, sitting on the ground, I probed my thoughts, sending a question to myself, for I could no longer hear him, but an affirmation, a gentle hidden emotion testified to his continued presence.

  Tam sat quietly, allowing the time to pass, allowing my thoughts to become reconciled to my experience, and after twenty minutes said, “Dream allies are rare, you’ll never see your ally above ground, nor in physical form.”

  “Does it matter?” I asked, knowing that I wanted the union.

  “No, probably not, but you just needed to know.”

  I reached in my backpack, seeking the scroll that Tam had given me. An arcane rune etched on the front described the contents therein, and breaking the seal, noticing the tiny writing, knowing that Tam herself had made this for me, I looked at the words, waypoints of an incantation, the energy magically stored within the parchment.

  “I’ll leave you now, Miller.” And Tam, rising from her chair, Sandy sinking into the ground, closed the door behind her as she departed. I was alone, yet not so.

  This was a most personal moment, uttering words beautifully written, my hand shaking, quietly summoning the power contained therein. Gently at first but increasing in intensity the dweomer spread throughout the room, circling in the air like gossamer mist blown gently on a light breeze, swirling through and around my body, engulfing my entirety, the energy passing through, unimpeded by my physical form, and although Tam had said it wasn’t a marriage, it felt like one.

  The clarity and enhancement of mental acuity, an affirmation of union combined with trust, my mind delighting in the sole association, a sharing of destiny.

  I could hear my tiny entity willing me on, exalting, eager to accept the bond of a lifetime, wrapped in harmony. Images of the earth’s music played across my mind, and each knew that life would be different.

  Normally when craft is actioned there is a dissipation of the force gleaned from the earth, yet on this occasion, there was no such diminution, the energies remained absorbed within, a fortification against decay.

  I knew the thoughts of my ally and he played beautiful pictures across my mind, showing hidden places deep within the earth, giving me his name, unpronounceable, almost as a story, the name I knew, yet others could never know. Unique, personal, a secret known only to myself.

  He spoke across my waking thoughts, describing his abilities, and in turn fascinated by my application of craft, my prowess with weapons, seeing through my eyes a world wholly new, delighting in the bond.

  Journeying in the earth song, clutching the ground, deep in meditation, racing through the connective energies, he guided my gathering of the strands, buoyed up, not as Sandy or Tam might do, but through the strengthening and reinforcing of my own concentration, so I no longer feared the lack of natural resistance.

  Under his guidance wi
th fabulously enhanced awareness I harvested complex connective forces, my expanded comprehension allowing the fabrication of all my spells, many, which until recently were only within my potential.

  Time and space became irrelevant, and hours passed, until he advised someone was knocking gently on the door, and I had nothing to fear for it was only Tam. He didn’t disparage Tam, but simply knew there was no danger.

  Speeding across the ocean of altered perceptions, I emerged into consciousness. ‘Wisp’, for I had thought the name appropriate, remained with me and I could hear his thoughts.

  It was after midnight, and two guards walked with me through the town, I, oblivious to their company, but reaching ‘The Hen’, and knocking on the door, a shutter opened, and the landlord escorted me to my room.

  I fell asleep, but my dreams were marvellous, superb, my heart celebrating, triumphant in the magnificence of this new association.

  *

  It was three days later that I awoke, mid morning, and I was totally disorientated. Not until the landlord greeted and handed me a message, written in elvish, did I start to realise how long I had lain undisturbed.

  Tam had paid for the week, but should I wish to talk, I would be most welcome to visit. She had vouched for my continuing use of the room, though having no idea how long I would be staying, I still needed to settle any extra costs.

  Git, my hound, was overjoyed to see me, and bounding forwards expressed his enthusiasm, imagining himself abandoned.

  I spent time wandering through town. Wisp could sense the thoughts of people when they stared at me, and if I asked he would visit them at night, reading their dreams and reporting the next day.

  He made me laugh, because to Wisp these experiences were new; he was constantly asking the meaning of human dreams. Many of those he visited had prurient minds, and he like myself was naive.