The Banner of the Broken Orc: The Call of the Darkness Saga: Book One

by Aiden L Turner

  ‘My Lord, take my hand. We must flee’, Oleif said, his head turning this way and that, searching for enemies.

  Lord Audemar held out his hand and allowed himself to be pulled onto shaky legs. He took the banner from Oleif and used its long shaft to steady himself. He looked around at the corpses that had broken his fall and found that his bow had survived the fall intact.

  ‘Arrows’, Audemar croaked. Blood sprayed from his mouth, his teeth were cracked and loose.

  ‘There are arrows in our stores, my lord. We go there now. It is but half a mile’, Oleif said.

  ‘The others?’ Audemar asked, emotion thick in his voice.

  Oleif shook his head. ‘The battlements were overwhelmed. A brother gave me the banner and begged I take it to Gymir. The enemy has taken the fortress and we shall be overrun if we do not flee south.’

  ‘East’, Audemar said. His voice was hoarse. Tears ran down his face. ‘We go first to Gymir.’ Oleif did not reply, tears flowed freely down his face as he held his lord’s arm and staggered eastwards towards where Gymir did battle.

  It seemed the short journey took hours, though that was merely the perception brought about by pain and despair. When they neared Gymir they saw large numbers of peasants wielding tools for weapons and celebrating a victory. The men-at -arms seemed to be taking respite as they were momentarily free from attack.

  ‘My Lord Audemar’, Gymir called as he rushed to the injured man’s side.

  ‘Iron Guard has fallen’, Audemar said. His form was bent. He leaned heavily upon the banner’s pole and spoke with despair in voice.

  ‘As has Sprettaman’, Gymir replied.

  ‘How?’

  ‘It matters not my friend. It is over. The north is lost.’ Gymir spoke with a casual tone. ‘But the south is not.’ He spoke seriously now, his voice commanding. ‘Lord Audemar, I charge you with a duty. Will you accept this charge as a man of God and as a man of honour?’

  Audemar straightened and raised his eyes. ‘With the strength of He who is Greatest, I do.’

  ‘Then take these people and go with all speed through the mountain pass and into the south. Gather all those you meet upon the way and by oath fight against the servants of the Darkness so long as the race of Man endures.’

  ‘And of you, Knight-captain? And the brothers who stand at your side?’ Lord Audemar asked.

  ‘We shall fight here, for this land is in our blood and our fallen kinsmen look on from the heavens. We shall not shame them.’

  Audemar said nothing as he gripped the knight-captain’s hand, nodded his head and turned towards the south. Soon the whole rabble of the peasant’s army followed him as he marched home.

  Chapter Forty

  Ever West

  Jacob marvelled at the engineering of the wagons they rode in. Wooden wheels, much the same as those used in horse-drawn carts, sat deep within grooves in the hardened clay floor. An almost imperceptible downwards slope and the force of gravity built up speed surprisingly quickly, and they now raced through the tunnel at the speed of a fast horse.

  Jacob rode in the first cart with Releaka and her son Caleak, along with Brondolf, who spoke in quiet tones with Colburn. Five other brothers of the order filled the cart to an uncomfortable level. The remaining brothers and the old and young of the Elven people followed in a great train of ten carts, all crammed to overfull with many of the elves seated upon the brothers’ laps.

  ‘This method of transport is truly remarkable’, Jacob said to Releaka. His voice was raised over the noise of the wheels upon the ground and the air displaced as they sped along. ‘I wonder though, has the cart ever come above the groove?’

  ‘Yes. When we first built the “many wheels” it overturned at great speed’, Releaka replied casually.

  ‘Were there many injuries?’ Jacob said nervously as the cart jolted.

  ‘Yes. It took many nights for the people to heal.’ She smiled as she saw the prince’s discomfort. ‘We made the grooves deeper and made improvements to the piece where the wheel turns on the axis. It is safe.’ The cart jolted heavily, and she added, ‘I think.’

  ‘We are slowing’, Caleak said. His face was illuminated with excitement. He showed none of the discomfort around Jacob or his men that the other elves did.

  ‘The ground rises’, Releaka said. Her voice was melodic and sweet, her presence alluring, and Jacob felt arousal at the closeness of her. ‘It will bring us to a safe stop, though we are overloaded so we may stop before the ground levels out. As soon as we stop your men must jump over the side and steady the carts, else we drop back down.’

  Word was passed and as the carts came to a stop eighty-four men-at-arms of the brotherhood jumped from the carts along with Colburn, Brondolf and Jacob. The carts had stopped short of the point where the ground levelled out but only by a hundred yards and the eighty-seven well-muscled men pushed the carts and their Elven passengers the rest of the distance with ease and in short order.

  They were at some staging point with piles of food, and skins filled with water. The brothers were hungry before the fighting in the Elven homeland and that had been almost ten hours ago, although it was almost impossible to mark the passage of time for men unused to a world without a sky. They set about the supplies without waiting for leave but before eating they broke loaves of bread in pieces and handed them to the Elven folk who were obviously weary of these giant men in their armour and armed with great-sword and shield.

  Jacob took bread and a skin of water and joined Releaka, who sat with her son.

  ‘Where is this place?’ Jacob asked as he offered Releaka the loaf of bread.

  ‘We are halfway between our home and the place your king lives. The warriors of Elven Earth were here less than twelve hours ago. We have travelled over two hundred miles’, Releaka said. Then added, ‘What becomes of us, prince of men?’

  ‘We shall not harm you.’

  ‘But our people are at war, and you now march to aid your kin.’ Releaka spoke quietly as if afraid to be overheard by her people. ‘We shall not live as captives, nor can we return. You will not talk Cameos from war.’

  ‘I must return, for my woman is there, and friends as well. I cannot leave them to an unknown fate’, Jacob said sharply.

  ‘So, you must replenish yourselves, and take the “many wheels”. It will take you to your homeland and to war. But we cannot go with you, for you will fight against our kind, so we must fight against you.’

  ‘We must go westwards.’ Both Releaka and Jacob turned as Caleak spoke.

  ‘I must go to my woman, little one. I made a vow to protect her’, Jacob replied, though he felt an odd sensation at the boy’s words. The memory of the words ‘forever west’ that had haunted his thoughts in the hours before his coming to the Elven home echoed once more in his mind.

  ‘She will make her own way.’ Caleak spoke calmly yet with a self-assured manner. ‘There are tunnels that lead west, through the land the Ratton once held. That is our route.’

  Jacob looked quizzically at the boy, but he somehow felt at ease with what he spoke. ‘How do you know what path we should take?’

  ‘How do you not?’ Caleak said with a grin.

  Jacob sat down upon the cool clay ground and closed his eyes. He sought to connect a mental bond with Robert, but unless his friend was in a state of calm and peace, the task would be beyond the prince. Caleak sat opposite Jacob, his form tiny compared to that of the warrior prince, yet there was a power to the boy in the way he bore himself. A sense he had a great understanding of the world, a presence of mind.

  An hour passed in near silence. The prince and the son of the Elven chieftain both sat cross-legged, their hands resting palm upwards on their knees. The brothers of the order took this time for prayer and meditation, as did many of the Elven folk. Brondolf stood protectively close to the prince whilst Releaka stood calmly next to her son.

  ‘We shall go westwards’, Jacob said suddenly, his eyes opening as he spoke. His tone held
resolve, yet it was clear he still feared for his love.

  ‘Have faith, friend’, Caleak said with a warm smile towards Jacob.

  The earth shook. It was a light shaking. Not enough to knock people around, yet it still reverberated throughout the station. Dust filled the air, and the warriors raised shields and put hands upon the hilts of swords.

  ‘Stay your hands brave men’, Releaka said soothingly. ‘It is but the falling of the earth, where Cameos, chieftain, launches his assault.’ The men-at-arms did lower their hands from the reach of their sword hilts. They relaxed their shield arm and the tension in the staging area lessened.

  ‘You said they invade over two hundred miles away. How do we feel the effects from such a distance?’ Jacob asked.

  ‘A vast amount of soil and rock just vanished in your kingdom. Your Sprettaman and its town and farmland just became an island.’ Releaka spoke in a sudden acidic tone, causing all eyes to turn towards her. ‘We once lived in those same lands. We of the Elven race. Under the sun, beneath the shade of trees, beside rivers and lakes. We lived in peace and in a time of plenty. Then your kind drove the Elven folk into darkness and hardship.’

  The older elves looked ready to attack, to throw themselves upon the men. Fury burned in their cat-like eyes.

  ‘They would rather see the blood of war then be your travelling companions’, Releaka said indicating the restless elves, many of whom were renowned warriors before age finally weakened them.

  ‘But they will do as I bid them!’ Caleak snapped. ‘Am I not heir to the mantle of chieftain?’

  Some of the elves lowered their heads, others looked at Caleak challengingly.

  ‘You are not chieftain, in truth’, said an old male who still held the presence of a warrior.

  ‘You have had your day!’ Caleak replied harshly. ‘There are sixty-one children here. I shall give them back their birthright. You are here to help them make this journey and to teach them of the times of Darkness, so that they may never fall as you have.’

  Without another word, Caleak walked purposefully forward. Leaving the worn and level ground of the staging area. He walked through an adjoining tunnel mouth, much smaller than that of the Elven made tunnel.

  For three days they walked, climbed and crawled through underground passageways and caves, some made by nature, others by hands unknown. Jacob was once again struck by the resilience of the Elven folk. They never asked for rest and seldom asked for aid, even though burdened by small infants and the skins of water and sacks of food all carried.

  Unlike the elves, the men needed light to see and two or three torches burned constantly casting flickering shadows but failing to penetrate the gloom.

  They travelled in near silence, each amongst them dwelling on their own personal struggle with the changes in the world they knew.

  ‘Your son is a very special being’, Jacob said quietly to Releaka during a short break for food.

  ‘He has sight beyond that of open eyes. Though what it means for my people, I know not. I am his mother, and he is long before the time when my word is not law unto him, yet I follow his lead. Even if I do not know where the path leads.’ She made a dismissive gesture that surprised Jacob with its human familiarity. ‘He speaks with the Mother’, she said as if in explanation.

  ‘The Mother?’ Jacob said curiously.

  ‘The Goddess’, Releaka replied in a curt tone and looking at Jacob as if he were bereft of sense. ‘She gave us sanctuary and life in our underground home. She gave us water and grew food from her earth. Trees and plants and animals all are gifts from her. She blessed the Elven people for many long years.’

  ‘We call her Naturein. The farmers and gatherers, fishermen and hunters, prayer to her for blessing the harvest or for thanks for providing from her bounty’, Jacob said, calling back pleasant memories of studying with Red Rob.

  ‘She spoke to my mate, Cameos. She told him it was time for us to renew our people and take back the lands we were forced from. It nearly tore our people apart; the Darkness twisted the minds and hearts of some of our kin. But finally, our time has come, and we have taken back that which was taken.’

  Caleak appeared at his mother’s side. ‘Our people are plagued by the Darkness still.’

  ‘As are mine’, Jacob replied gravely.

  ‘We shall come above ground soon. Come, friend Jacob.’ Caleak took Jacob by the hand and led him through more passages.

  They moved for hours more, before coming to a single straight tunnel through solid rock. Jacob felt the tunnel walls. They felt damp. He drew his hand to his face and tasted the salt in the moisture.

  Caleak walked forward followed by Jacob then Releaka and soon the entire group walked in single file through the tunnel. The air became fresher, brought in by a gentle breeze that smelt of the ocean. Jacob noticed the light breaking its way through. Discarding his torch, he saw the light was natural and he felt his heart lift like never before. Murmurs went through the group. An oppression that had gripped both men and Elf lifted, and good-natured talk was taken up.

  Jacob walked faster. His body was bent over as the roof of the tunnel became lower. Onwards they went, the circle of light growing both in size and the intensity. Jacob longed to embrace the sunlight, to stand beneath its warming rays and see the sky above his head. He imagined rain, cool and fresh upon is face. He moved faster, invigorated by the need to be once more in an open space.

  And then he was in the space of the tunnel mouth. Sunlight poured down on him from above. He relished in its warmth. Then fear pushed its way into his revival. Voices, human and in panic. The sounds of battle assaulted his ears along with the shrieks and howls of Orcs.

  Jacob knelt and pushed Caleak behind him. As Jacob’s eyes adjusted to the blinding light of the sun, he could make out the ocean, a greenish blue blur as far as the eye could see. Before the endless expanse of water was a rocky beach and upon that beach stood Father Robert, Wilhelm, Zachary and Elysabeth, almost overwhelmed by a horde of Orcs.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Warrior’s Death

  Gymir grabbed a wounded brother by his shoulder and pulled him back towards the last defence of the Brotherhood of the Order of Light. There were less than fifty now. All bled from wounds left unbound. All near exhaustion. All wanted only to die well with their sword still singing, and a mound of slain at their feet.

  Gymir thrust his sword and felt the muscles in his arm weaken slightly as the sword’s tip broke through the Goblin’s guts and then severed its spinal cord. He raised his shield and took the force of an Orc’s axe, a blow that forced him to his knees. The brother to the left of Gymir saw the opening and took the Orc in its throat, covering Gymir in a torrent of slimy blood.

  He stood to his feet once more and wondered if he could defend himself for much longer.

  ‘I think’, Gymir said, straining his already hoarse voice ‘we are winning.’

  Men tried in vain to lift their spirit, but it was too late. Despair had sapped their strength as much as the endless and continuous battle. Dawn had broken and still the enemy came. There seemed no end to their number. They were surrounded and doom felt heavy upon the air, mixed with blood, shit and the unnatural stink of Orc. Gymir knew the enemy would long have been through the closest villages and farmsteads in their orgy of bloodshed, but he knew the sacrifice of his brothers would have meant more people would have had the time to flee.

  Something slashed deep into Gymir’s cheek. He turned with his sword raised. The brother to the right of him jerked like a fish from the water. His head had been split in two, an axe buried deep within. The man’s eyes were rolled back in his skull and Gymir saw that he was already dead, held upright only by the reluctance of the flesh to release the axe’s blade. Gymir put his hand to his face. His back teeth had been shattered by whatever had struck him, and the gash upon his cheek bled freely. He took hold of the object and pulled it free. With surprise and horror, he looked at the piece of skull, brilliant white in the
glow of the morning sun. Anger stoked the embers of his energy into a fiery furnace, and he was suddenly wielding his sword in powerful strokes once more.

  The Orcs halted in their attack. They bared their fangs and swung their tusks from side to side. They roared and growled, shook weapons and invoked the power of the Darkness they served. From beyond the destroyed defences of Man strode an Orc, far greater in size and power than any Gymir had seen before. He stood a head above even the tallest of his kindred, with muscles bulging and pulsating as he strode with a calm ease towards the remnants of the defenders of Man.

  Goblin and Orc alike bowed before him in fear and submission. His body held hues of red over the dark green colour of his flesh. Atop his head, like a halo, floated a crown of bright golden flame. And in his right hand a sword, even longer and with a thicker blade than that of the brotherhood’s own great-sword, writhed in the same golden flame as his crown. The King of the Orc.

  The Orc king stopped twenty paces from Gymir and surveyed the land he had conquered.

  ‘The smell of death is glorious, is it not, man?’ the king said in a deep growling voice that caused the brothers, to a man, to shudder.

  ‘I see many more of your kind slain, Orc.’ Gymir raised his voice, contempt overwhelming the fear he felt in this Orc’s presence. ‘And this is but a taste of the death you will face at the hands of Man.’

  The Orc king laughed. ‘And I thank you. A fallen Orc was a weak Orc and I wish my race purged from weakness. But know, before you die, man. What you see before you, that which makes you reek of fear, is but a part of the power that the Dark Lord shall grant unto me.’

  ‘You are but a slave. A feeble slave who willingly dances to its master’s tune without thought or resistance. The Darkness has no need for living creatures, no matter how repugnant.’ Gymir spoke with knowledge of his forthcoming death and walked forward, ready to embrace it free from shame.