Rjord shook his head. “After one of them hit me with an axe I didn’t exactly stop to take count. I ran.”
“They saw you transform?” she pressed.
Rjord pushed up and nodded.
Lady Arkyn peered into the darkness. Her senses didn’t detect anything yet, but she knew that would soon change. “Orcs hate magic,” she said. “They’ll surely follow you. Wait here.” She grabbed her bow and moved away from the wounded man, leaving a roll of bandages with him so he could tend to his arm while she moved to a better position.
She didn’t have to wait long before a trio of orcs came into view. They were running at full tilt through the ash, stirring up great clouds of gray around them and breathing heavily. She let them get close enough to see Rjord on the ground. They redoubled their pace and sprinted in with their weapons ready. One of them whistled sharply.
That was what she was waiting for.
A large goarg galloped up from a little farther south. The rider upon its back held a great spear in his hands. Lady Arkyn jabbed four arrows into the ground with one more already against the bow string. In a matter of seconds all five arrows took flight. The first coursed through the goarg rider’s neck. The second pierced the goarg’s eye, sinking deeply into the animal’s head and dropping the beast to crash through a thick layer of ash. The third tore through an orc’s chest. The fourth and fifth arrows, however, sunk into the sides of the remaining orcs’ knees. They fell to the ground crying out in agony.
Lady Arkyn sprinted toward them as quickly as she could. One of the orcs pushed up, but an arrow pierced his right shoulder and he fell back to the ground. The she-elf leapt over the first and landed on the second orc before he could move. Her boots drove the orc’s face deep into the ash, muffling his shouts. She followed that with a quick strike to the back of the orc’s head with the heel of her right boot, then she leapt over to the first orc, taking hold of the arrow shaft running through the orc’s shoulder and jamming her knee into the small of the orc’s back. The orc jerked upwards, arching his back. He opened his mouth to yell, but Lady Arkyn grabbed a hold of his throat and squeezed on the orc’s windpipe. It wasn’t enough to kill the orc, but it was enough to silence him.
Out came her dagger. The blade went up to the orc’s neck and she whispered into his ear. “You chief is a coward. He ran from the field of battle.”
“Foggd be!” the orc grunted.
“You will all die,” Lady Arkyn said.
“Foggd be!” the orc repeated.
She knew then that this orc did not speak Common Tongue. If he did, he would have responded to the insults directly. She plunged her dagger into the orc’s neck and dropped his now lifeless head back to the ash.
Lady Arkyn moved back to the unconscious orc. She grabbed his left arm and twisted it up behind his back as she positioned her knee directly in the center of the orc’s spine. She used the dagger in her right hand to poke the orc’s cheek until he woke up.
“Your chief is a coward,” she told the orc.
“You are coward,” the orc said. He wasn’t fluent by any means. He struggled to find each word, but they emerged from his mouth with all the bravado and false confidence the orc could muster while the point of Arkyn’s dagger pressed into his skin.
“Your chief fled the field, running home as fast as he could while he left all of you to die.”
“Graa!” the orc shouted as he tried to squirm free. Lady Arkyn’s grip on the orc’s arm was surprisingly tight given her slight frame. The orc wiggled and wormed, pushing this way and that, but nothing worked. She held him pinned to the ground. “You die soon. Chief no run home. Chief go east around your coward catapults. Chief destroy human home.” The orc then started laughing.
Lady Arkyn slit his throat. “East then,” she said as she rose and cleaned her blade. “That saved me a lot of trouble.”
“You’re going after him?” Rjord asked.
Lady Arkyn nodded her head. “The snows will be here in a couple of weeks. If I can cut off the head before then, the orcs will be forced to turn back.” She situated her bow onto her person and then beckoned for Rjord to join her. “Come with me.”
Rjord shook his head. “I have no intention of going back. I barely escaped.”
“There are some scouts up north,” Lady Arkyn said as she gestured behind herself with her head. “You might want to go back into your wolf form. They have goargs.”
Rjord huffed. “I’m not going north either,” he said.
“You’re leaving?” Lady Arkyn asked pointedly.
Rjord nodded his head.
Lady Arkyn’s hand reflexively moved up to her quiver. There was only one punishment for desertion. Rjord’s dark eyes pleaded with hers silently, but he didn’t move to run. He held his breath, staring at her. Lady Arkyn’s fingers grasped the cold, smooth shaft of an arrow. She knew what had to be done. Her arm pulled and the arrow slid free of its place. Rjord closed his eyes. She put the arrow to the string and pulled it back to the corner of her mouth. She stared down the arrow at the man. She drew in her breath and held it. Then she released her hold on the arrow.
No sooner had the string twanged into place than the arrow embedded itself deep in the ash and dirt next to Rjord’s face. The man twitched, and then slowly opened his eyes. He slowly turned his head away and put a hand up to the red line where the arrow’s fletching had scraped him. His eyes again looked up to her, but this time there was no pleading, only puzzlement.
“I guess I missed,” Lady Arkyn said coolly. “Go on, get out of here.”
“Why?” Rjord asked. “You owe me nothing. Why didn’t you do it?”
Lady Arkyn sighed. “I fight enemies of the kingdom. I am not about to start shooting scared countrymen on the field. Go on.” Lady Arkyn motioned with her chin out to the east. “If you see any able-bodied men, send them out here to us.”
Rjord nodded. “I can do better than that,” he promised. “Look for me after the snow falls.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lepkin woke early in order to make breakfast for Dimwater. He pushed his way into the bedroom with his hips as he balanced a tray of eggs, fruit, juice, and bread in his hands. After he twirled into the room and nudged the door closed with his left heel he smiled when he saw Dimwater still sleeping on the bed. The large, round bulge from her stomach moved up and down with each breath. Marlin had said the child would be born sometime in the middle of the winter, another couple of months away.
He glanced to the frosted window and noted a few early flakes of snow drifting in to chase autumn away. He could only hope the premature frost would drive the orcs away as well. He moved in and set the tray on a small, round table. Then he picked up the table and carefully set it next to the bed.
“Smells good,” Dimwater said with a groggy smile as she opened her eyes. She didn’t bother looking at the food. Rather, she looked up to Lepkin. “It is good to be back with you,” she said.
Lepkin sighed and smiled wide. “I am happy that you are no longer ill.”
Dimwater pushed up awkwardly to a sitting position. Lepkin moved quickly to offer one arm for support and gently push her back with the other. “You had me frightened beyond what I can describe.”
Dimwater smiled. “It was a curse,” she said. “Something my father gave me some time ago.”
Lepkin knelt beside her. “I am so sorry, for all of it,” he said.
Dimwater shook her head and put a finger on his lips. “No, you shouldn’t say that. We are together now. It may have taken us longer than we would have liked, and there have been some rough points, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
Lepkin reached up and gently slid his fingers around her hand and pulled it away just enough so that he could kiss it. Then he leaned over and kissed her growing stomach. “Marlin said it is a boy,” Lepkin said.
Dimwater smiled. “He will be big and strong, like his father.” She leaned over and kissed Lepkin on the cheek. “Now, what do we have? I am
starving.”
Lepkin laughed. He had already brought her two additional meals during the night. He knew better than to mention it though, so instead he uncovered the food and positioned the tray closer to her. She tore into the food, abandoning all etiquette as she ripped hunks of bread off with her teeth while she simultaneously poured juice into her mouth. She moaned something and closed her eyes and nodded. Somehow she gulped the massive bite down and then let out a burp.
“This is perfect, thank you.”
Lepkin nodded and smiled.
“Any word from Erik?” Dimwater asked through a mouthful of eggs.
Lepkin’s smile faded. “Not yet,” he said.
Dimwater choked the bite down and took another gulp of juice. “He’ll turn up,” she assured him. “He always does.”
Lepkin nodded and moved to the window.
“Tell me more of the orcs,” Dimwater said.
Lepkin knew she was turning his mind away from Erik so as not to let him dwell on his worry about the boy. He had already recounted the battles with the orcs last night. He told her everything from Mercer’s sacrifice, to burning the forest for weeks on end to slow the orcs, and even the most recent battle. Still, he obliged her. “There is nothing to report. The scouts have not alerted me to any new developments.”
“Would Commander Nials inform you?” Dimwater asked. “I never liked him much. He always struck me as an arrogant sort with an eye only for his own glory and advancement.”
Lepkin folded his arms. “I would have said the same before he arrived, but Al assured me that he disobeyed orders from King Mathias to reinforce our position here. So, I have decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
Dimwater dove right into her eggs, shoveling bites in as quickly as she could while still maintaining some semblance of propriety.
“I suspect the orcs will be looking for a way to flank us, rather than charge us head on again. Al was thinking we could reposition the catapults, but Commander Nials doesn’t want to divide them up. So we wait.”
“What about Lady Arkyn?” Dimwater asked after she swallowed a mouthful of bread and eggs.
“Haven’t seen her since you arrived last night.” Lepkin shook his head and turned to lean against the window sill as he watched his wife finish the last few bits of food on her plate. “Shall I get more from the kitchen?”
Dimwater shook her head. “No, that was enough.” She grabbed the last morsel of bread, used it to wipe up the yolk from the plate and then plopped it into her mouth. She chewed twice and then washed it all down with the last of her juice. “That was perfect.” She swung her left leg out and then used both arms to help push herself up. “Still getting used to it,” she said as she patted her protruding stomach.
“You should rest,” Lepkin said. “Marlin is out helping the army. You should relax.”
“I have had enough of that,” Dimwater said. “I want to go for a walk outside. Let’s see if we can’t prepare a few surprises for those orcs.”
Lepkin smiled. He loved her tenacity. It was good to have her back.
“You know what I could use more of though?” She looked down to the empty plate. “How about just another apple, oh, and maybe another roll.”
“Sure,” Lepkin said with a chuckle.
“And maybe one more glass of juice and a couple hard-boiled eggs for the road?”
“You baking a human in that belly, or a dragon?” Lepkin asked.
Dimwater shrugged. “Knowing us I suppose it could be either.” She flashed a wry smile and then tapped her plate. “But seriously, we do have more food right?”
*****
Gulgarin stood near the fire. He frowned at the crystalline snowflake drifting down in front of his face. The others saw it too. Gulgarin didn’t miss the nervous glances the officers shot each other. One of them even had the audacity to rub his shoulders. Cowards. Gulgarin grimaced and turned away from them to look at the simple canvas tents set up in the ashen valley that had weeks ago been a lush forest.
“We do not have enough food, Chief Gulgarin,” one of the orcs said from behind.
“We must turn back to the fortress,” another put in. “If we leave now, we can avoid needless casualties from the early frost. We can dig in and build our strength. When the thaw comes, we will bring our swords to the humans.”
Gulgarin took in a deep breath and turned around to face the officers. “With the few weeks that the forest fire gave the humans, what did they do?” Without waiting for an answer he picked up a gray stone and chucked it into the fire. “They built catapults!” The vein in his forehead stuck out like a grotesque snake writhing under his skin. “You now wish to cower down for months on end while the humans grow stronger?”
Captain Krelik stood from his position and pointed to the north. “The forest has been destroyed. There is no game here with which we can feed our troops. To bypass the settlement is impossible. Our soldiers cannot fight on empty stomachs.”
“Then we do not bypass the settlement,” Gulgarin roared. “We attack the city head on, and destroy every last one of their catapults.”
“But to do that is suicide,” Krelik said.
Gulgarin shook his head. “No. We will do what the humans did back at Ten Forts. We will send small groups to destroy the catapults. We can use our goargs and berserkers to flank the easternmost catapult. We can send small units under the cover of night. If they can reach the catapults, our losses will be diminished. Then, once the machines are destroyed, we will slaughter the humans.”
“We will still have the winter to deal with.”
Gulgarin shook his head. “Our lands are always cold,” he replied.
“But not always covered in snow. Additionally, the deer and other animals have adapted to our environment. The animals here will not be as easy to find for food.”
Gulgarin narrowed his eyes on the orc, giving the obvious signal that his patience was wearing far too thin for a drawn out argument. “We will occupy the city. We will live off of the food they have stockpiled for themselves. We can also use the road to venture north and raid smaller villages if need be. We will not let the humans rest through the winter. We will assail them constantly and drive them out of the land before us. For the glory of Khullan.”
“For the glory of Khullan,” the others repeated. Gulgarin saw the anger in Krelik’s face, but the orc did not dare challenge his orders.
“Go, prepare the army,” Gulgarin said. He then turned and walked a short distance toward his tent. Something caught his eye. A shadow, or perhaps movement. His fingers flexed, but he did not move his hand to his weapon. If someone was waiting for him in the tent, he didn’t want them to know he was ready for them.
He strode confidently for the flap and slipped his left hand in and around the coarse canvas. He peeled it back. His eyes scoured the entire interior of the tent in less than a second. Whatever it was he had thought he saw, it was no longer there. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he entered the tent and let the flap close behind him. He moved in. A red and yellow blanket covered the large wooden chair to his right, hiding the entire frame. The cot was made perfectly, as he had left it when he woke. His extra pair of boots stood at the foot of the cot. His war chest remained locked near the side of the cot. Nothing was out of place.
He pulled his sword free and drove it through the center of the cot. The blankets and fabric popped open as his blade slid down to stab into the ground below. He started to reverse his arm and pull the sword free but there was a movement from behind him. He released his sword and pulled a pair of long knives from his belt as he whirled around. The red and yellow blanket flew up and off from the chair, only the chair was gone. In its place stood a comely she-elf with a bow. The string snapped into place.
Gulgarin took the arrow in the chest, letting the strong mithril mail under his leather hauberk absorb the impact. He looked at the bow and smiled. “That weapon does not belong to you,” he said. “Szelevo is an orcish bo
w.”
The she-elf pulled another arrow and moved to set it to the string. Gulgarin lunged in headlong, tackling the elf to the ground. Her nimble, sharp elbows rocked his face and neck as he grappled with her. He tried to angle his knives toward her flesh, but no matter which way he turned, she seemed able to block his thrust. Gulgarin growled and struck down with his head. The elf slid away and landed two elbow strikes to his temple.
Gulgarin barely managed to block the elf’s arm with his left forearm in time to stop a wickedly curved dagger from entering his own belly. Unfortunately, he did not stop the simultaneous knee to the groin. Another elbow strike smashed his nose and then he felt a fiery pain rip along the left side of his head. He roared out in pain and somersaulted away from the she-elf. His eyes widened when he noticed the blood splatter on the ground.
His left hand went up to the side of his head. The warm, viscous liquid met his palm in copious amounts.
“Looking for this?” the she-elf asked as she held up Gulgarin’s left ear.
Gulgarin threw one of his knives, but the she-elf jumped to the side. She flung her dagger at Gulgarin in answer for his attack. Gulgarin tried to move out of the way, but the elf had guessed accurately which way he would flee. The dagger caught his right thigh a few inches above the knee. The elf ran for the bow that was now lying on the ground. Gulgarin reached out for his sword, tore it free from the bed, and whirled it toward the she-elf with all his might. The blade spun end over end. The she-elf managed to grab the bow and hold it before her to catch the sword. The blade cut through the bow, severing it in half and then biting into the she-elf’s shoulder before bouncing out again to land on the ground. She groaned, but did not scream.
Gulgarin was not about to let up. He ran as best he could on his injured leg and leapt to tackle the she-elf again. This time, the assassin escaped. She fled out from the tent. Gulgarin called out for the guards.
“Assassin!” he yelled. Shouts rose up through the camp. Gulgarin tore his tent down around him in anger rather than take the time to exit through the flap. Still, he was far too late to catch the she-elf. Several orcs mounted goargs and went after her. “Bring me her head!” Gulgarin shouted.
Return of the Dragon (The Dragon's Champion Book 6) Page 12