But doing that might just be what Raddick needed to get himself out of a sticky dilemma. He needed to get away from Renhelm and the civilians. The refugees were a problem but they were not his problem. He was not a mercenary hiring his services to the highest bidder, he was a captain of the Royal Army and he followed orders rather than his own whims, even when following orders felt dishonorable or cowardly at times. “Wait here,” he whispered to Koren, then slipped back toward where Renhelm was growing increasingly frustrated and anxious at the slow and clumsy pace of the civilians. Dwarf soldiers were rousting civilians who were still sleeping with a hand over their mouths and whispered warning. Civilians who were already awake and aware of their perilous situation muffled their fellows who were startled out of slumber without a soldier nearby. Parents stifled the cries of their children, even when mothers had tears streaming down their faces from being unable to comfort a child. Renhelm’s soldiers were doing the best they could and the civilians were cooperating as best they could, but it wasn’t enough. The ghostly white triangle light of false dawn was fading and the sky in that area was beginning to turn rosy pink as sunrise approached, too soon.
“We’ll not be far enough from here by first light,” Renhelm snorted, and wiped away a tear of his own.
“I have an idea about that. I propose to take my men up the mountain through these woods, then cut across the open area when we’re high enough not to be seen by those orcs. We will work our way down, then my archers will hit them when the orcs come out from cover. We can pin them down for a while, discourage them from investigating these woods.”
“The orcs will pursue you,” Renhelm warned.
“I expect so,” Raddick agreed, alarmed he could clearly see the dwarf’s expression even under the trees. Dawn would be coming soon. “We can lead them away from you. Without being slowed down by civilians, I am confident we can stay ahead of orcs, and I will look for an opportunity to lose them higher up the mountain.”
“You will make for Magross?” Renhelm asked, searching the man’s eyes and knowing he was not being completely truthful about something.
“If we can, yes. Will you tell me how to find this secret ravine that leads to the valley?”
“I can’t. It’s a secret, I’d be committing treason by telling you. My plan was to blindfold you when we were close. It’s well hidden,” he shrugged, “I couldn’t explain it even if I was allowed to.”
Raddick gritted his teeth. “Magross, then,” he lied, having no intention of being trapped in a dwarf fortress over the winter, perhaps longer.
“I can lead the way, Captain,” Koren pointed to his eyes when Raddick had gathered his people. “I can see-”
Raddick held up a hand for silence. “Yes, you can see exceptionally well, and that means you might lead us through paths the rest of us cannot follow. Lem will lead,” Raddick gestured for their lead scout to go ahead.
“Yes, Sir,” Koren blushed in the dark, chagrinned because he knew Raddick was right. Koren’s unnatural eyesight, hearing and sense of balance allowed him to move quickly and quietly in places where the others might stumble and trip over their own feet.
Bjorn tapped Koren’s shoulder and whispered “You can lead me, my night eyes are not what they used to be.”
Koren looked with guilt at the last civilian stragglers, seeing one elderly dwarf limping and leaning on a walking stick, shuffling along as best he could while one of Renhelm’s soldiers urged the trailing group to move quickly. “We’re not leaving the dwarves, are we?”
“Captain said we’re to lead the orcs away from them,” Bjorn replied. “Best thing for those dwarves is if the orcs never come into these woods and get on their trail.”
“I know, but-”
“But nothing, young lad,” Bjorn made a cutting motion with one hand. “You heard what the Captain said; Tarador needs you if we’re to survive this war. How many lives will be lost if Tarador falls? More than the hundred here. That’s what Captain Raddick needs to think about, you don’t go making his task any harder.”
“Yes, Bjorn,” Koren forced himself to look away from the dwarves. He hoped he never needed to make such terrible decisions, and fearing he soon would.
Lem disappeared into the darkness and each soldier filed past Raddick, bouncing on their toes as the captain checked nothing each soldier carried would jingle or otherwise make a noise. Swords were cinched tightly in scabbards, with scabbards strapped across backs so they would not swing free or snag on underbrush. Arrows were tied together in their quivers, and all contents of packs had been hurriedly tucked into bedrolls. Such preparations made their weapons and other gear less available for ready use, but Raddick did not intend to engage in combat until he was ready. He would keep his promise to Renhelm to lead the orcs away from the refugees, but not at the cost of risking Koren’s life, or risking the boy being captured.
Satisfied and proud that his people had all secured their gear, Raddick gave the hand signal to follow Lem. With one last look backward at the still-unruly gaggle of civilian dwarves retreating down the path they had so wearily ascended the evening before, Raddick turned to take up the rear, following Bjorn. He could not only see Bjorn, he could identify the man by his hair and the cap he wore. That told Raddick dawn was fast approaching, and they had no time to waste.
With Lem leading the way, they kept within the tree cover, even when the treeline bent in the wrong direction for a short distance. Raddick approved cutting through the open only where the trees dwindled away and low ground allowed the team to crouch down for the passage where they might otherwise be seen. Then it was back under the welcome cover of fir trees, a grove growing together so densely that it made for slow going. No matter, they only needed to climb another hundred yards before cresting a ridge, then they dared walk out in the open where rocks and low-growing shrubs clinging to crevices provided the only hiding places. From there, Raddick insisted on leading the way downward, approaching from above the grove of trees where the orcs were hidden.
By then, dawn was imminent, the sun not yet above the horizon though Raddick could clearly see individual trees in the grove in front of them. He halted and called Koren to him. The area offered poor cover, Raddick would not risk taking his people any farther down the mountainside. Behind them, it was more than a quarter mile up to the nearest tree cover. “Is this close enough?”
“Sir?” Koren asked, confused.
“Close enough for shooting,” Raddick added, mildly exasperated. “Can you hit them from here?”
“Oh, yes, Sir. Unless they’re down at the very bottom of that grove.”
“We shall assume they are not,” Raddick declared the discussion closed. He was taking as much risk as he was comfortable with, as much risk as he could justify to keep an escape route while keeping his promise to Renhelm. “Ready your bow,” he whispered and gave the same order by hand signal to the others.
Bjorn took the arrows out of Koren’s quiver, knowing the boy had carefully inspected each one the previous day. After laying the arrows on dry ground, he removed the dozen arrows from his own quiver and selected the six best, passing them to Koren. The boy sighted along each one and tested them for balance, keeping one eye on the treeline. Five were acceptable, so Bjorn added them to the row in front of himself. When it came time for battle, Bjorn’s task would be to feed arrows to Koren quickly and smoothly so the young wizard could concentrate on choosing targets and aiming. To be ready, Bjorn took three arrows in his hands for he had seen the blinding speed Koren could shoot, one arrow being fitted to the bowstring while one was still in flight. “Ready?”
Koren answered with a curt nod, his focus on scanning the treeline. The position they had chosen was good for shooting once Koren stood, but less than ideal for keeping watch on the orcs. Raddick was not concerned, once the orcs came into the open Koren’s extra sharp vision would not be needed.
Three other soldiers were ready as archers, though Raddick planned for them to only threaten the
enemy, and be ready if the orcs were to charge at them. Unless the orcs came out of the trees near him, Raddick did not want to waste arrows at long range. From what Bjorn had told him, and what he had seen when Koren chased away the orcs while Shomas lay gravely injured, the arrows from Koren’s bow alone should cause the orcs to flee back into the trees. Orcs could be-
Two orcs stepped out of the treeline together, crouching down and moving with a shuffling gait that looked awkward but did not hinder them. The two scouts hopped from one rock to another, using what cover they could find, shuffling along rocks and stepping over shrubs. It surprised Raddick as it always did when he saw how fluidly they moved for such sickly-looking creatures. These orcs wore leather vest made from the skin of unfortunate animals Raddick preferred not to think about, and his eye picked up a glint of reflection from otherwise rusted chainmail under their vests. The type of chainmail preferred by orcs was made of thicker, heavier and less finely-crafted metal than the type used by the Royal Army, but it was just as able to stop an arrowhead or to blunt a sword cut. Koren had been warned not to aim for the chests or bellies of orcs but the warning was not needed, the boy had replied he knew where to aim, and that he never missed.
Never.
If Raddick had concern that his little company relied on the skill of one boy, he did not give voice to his fears. The two scouts were joined by three other orcs, coming out of the treeline one by one, strung out in a line. The scouts were headed straight for the grove of trees where the dwarves had spent the night, though at an angle uphill. In Raddick’s mind, that meant the orcs were simply scouting likely hiding places rather than being on the track of known prey, and for a tense moment he considered letting the orcs pass by, then discarded the idea. Once in the woods, the orcs would spread out and could hardly fail to see the trampled underbrush, broken branches and items inevitably left behind in the darkness by a large group of dwarves. If it were at all likely those orcs could pass on up the mountain without noticing the presence of dwarves, Raddick could consider his promise to Renhelm kept without putting his own people at risk. As it was not likely they could have such unhoped-for good luck that morning, Raddick sighed to himself and gave the signal to engage the enemy. Bjorn acknowledged Raddick’s order and nudged Koren, who nodded without breaking concentration. In fact, though the boy smoothly rose to his knees behind the bush he used as cover, he kept the bowstring pulled back for a long moment. Too long.
Keeping behind cover, Raddick crawled to Koren and hissed urgently in the boy’s ear. “Now?” The two scouts were uncomfortably close, and one of them stopped suddenly to sniff the air.
“Not yet.” Koren replied with a frown.
“When?” Raddick was concerned by how long the boy had held back the heavy bowstring, although the young wizard’s arm was not shaking at all. “How do you know when the time is right?”
“I don’t know how I know. I just know,” Koren’s confidence was fading as he spoke. Now that he knew he was a wizard, he was always ready for the spirits to fail him, to ignore his needs, his silent pleas for help. He would know only when he never sensed the moment was right to release the arrow, and that would be too late. Raddick was right, the nearest of the orcs was too close already and sniffing the air suspiciously. The creature could not be detecting the scent of the Royal Army soldiers for the breeze was blowing across the mountainside, but the scent of over a hundred unwashed dwarves would be a powerful lure to a band of orc hunters seeking blood.
Koren pleaded with the spirits to aid him but they did not respond, if they heard him at all. Losing focus, Koren turned to look at Raddick, his eyes wide open with fear that he had failed them and all of Tarador. The captain kept his cool, merely gesturing for Koren to resume his duty. When Koren looked back, the closest orc was partially behind a tall, thin rock, so Koren switched aim to the last of the five and-
The bowstring twanged as the arrow flew. Koren had no time for register his shock before Bjorn slapped an arrow into his free hand and he automatically fitted it to the bowstring, pulling back smoothly and turning to the left, the second arrow launched into flight before Koren realized he had selected a target. By the time he had aimed at a third orc, the first arrow found its mark, hitting the orc’s exposed neck with a sickening wet splat. The second target turned its head slightly in puzzlement at the odd sound when an arrow thudded right into its unprotected armpit and it fell backward with a strangled cry. The third orc was even less fortunate, the arrow aimed at it was flying directly at the stout leather vest and chainmail of its chest, when that orc dove for the ground in panic and the arrow instead hit it squarely in the forehead.
Bjorn’s fingers trembled when he realized Koren had aimed not at the third orc’s head, but where that orc’s head would be when the arrow arrived. Such unnatural power was frightening, and Bjorn had to force his hands to still so he could place another arrow into Koren’s waiting hand.
“Can you get him?” Raddick asked Koren as the captain pointed to one of the two surviving orcs, who had both ducked for cover at the sudden deaths of their three fellows. Both orcs howled, a terrible sound that sent chills up even Raddick’s spine. They were calling other orcs, and the blood-curdling shrieks echoed off the mountainside.
“Not from here,” Koren replied without explanation, “but,” he released another arrow and was rewarded by a high-pitched wail. His quarry had been huddled behind a rock but one boot was showing, and that boot now had an arrow through from one side to another. The orc jerked, unable to pull the exposed foot behind cover because the arrow shaft was tangled in the branches of a stubborn shrub. Reaching down with both hands to grasp the boot was rewarded by yet another arrow slamming between the bones of one forearm, pinning that hand to the orc’s shin. In agony, it rolled upward where a final arrow pierced the side of its skull, dropping it instantly dead.
Bjorn broke the momentary silence. “See, that’s why I wear a helmet,” he said without a trace of humor, but the unexpected remark and the release of tension caught the soldiers off guard, and they exploded with laughter.
“Helmet-” Raddick choked, his dry throat unprepared for hearty laughter.
“Well, it’s true,” Bjorn seemed surprised by the reaction to his offhand remark, then he too chuckled.
“Koren,” Raddick brought himself back to the task at hand, which was the lone surviving orc, who ironically had been the closest. The creature was now running away, dashing from cover to cover and unleashing arrows of its own. The arrows were hurriedly aimed if aimed at all, though one came close enough to make Lem dive down for his life.
“I see it,” Koren blinked to clear a tear of laughter from one eye. “This one is clever,” he announced, worried. The orc was quick and skilled, it knew how to move through the terrain so there was almost no break in cover, no opportunity for Koren to get a clear shot.
“We can’t let it get away,” Raddick said with concern, for the creature was still howling for help, and faintly echoing answering cries were now coming from down the mountain. “Thomas, go to the right and cut it off from the treeline, we’ll surround it if we have to.”
“Can you hit it?” Raddick inquired of Koren, not liking to risk his people. The orc had arrows, and in close quarters orcs could be dangerous as a cornered snake. “Ah, this is impossible,” he grimaced, judging he had asked too much even of a wizard archer. “If you can’t-” He was interrupted when the creature’s howl was abruptly cut off in mid-cry. It had dashed between two rocks and found an arrow waiting for it, an arrow that had plunged through its neck and wedged in the crevice of a rock, holding the dead orc upright as its dark red blood soaked the ground.
“The spirits say it is not impossible.” Koren asked with a grin.
“No one likes a show-off,” Raddick scolded while shaking a finger, but he could not hold back a relieved answering grin. “We’re moving,” he ordered simply, not needing to explain further. The soldiers gathered their arrows and secured the quivers tightly so the
y could move without making noise, and without a word, followed Raddick back up the way they had come down.
“It would be better for us to be back under cover of those woods,” Bjorn suggested, nodding toward the grove of fir trees where they had spent the short, uncomfortable night. Before Raddick could answer, Bjorn spoke. “But we need the orcs to see us and follow us, if we are to keep your promise to the dwarves.”
“Exactly,” Raddick said simply. He pointed to the ridgeline above, while listening to the howls of orcs that were growing louder and closer. “I would like to be way up there when we allow them to see us, rather than down here.”
“Agreed,” Bjorn was already getting short of breath from the climb, and the mountainside was only getting steeper the higher they climbed.
By mid-morning, Bjorn was regretting Raddick’s sense of honor. Not that he himself would have acted differently, but if their captain had been slightly less honorable about keeping their bargain with the dwarves, it might have saved Bjorn from a lot of serious trouble.
When the Royal Army party reached the ridgeline, with even young Koren huffing and puffing out of breath, they discovered there was another, higher and steeper ridge above, with only patchy groves of short fir trees for concealment. The situation was less than ideal, yet Raddick ordered the party to halt, exposed on the ridgeline, while the excited hunting cries of orcs grew ever more loud. To Raddick’s great frustration, when a dozen orcs burst from the treeline, they were above where Koren had stood to shoot the scouting party, and the hunting party did at first not see the bodies of the dead scouts. The hunters were crossing the open area, headed directly for the grove of trees where they would surely see signs that dwarves had sent the previous night! Raddick could not shout for attention, that being too obvious an attempt get the hunters to chase them, but he did not know what else to do. The distance was much too far for an arrow to reach the hunters, and Raddick was at a loss for ideas when Lem reached inside his vest for a signaling mirror.
Deceptions (Ascendant Book 3) Page 24