The Descendant (The Diamond Sword Chronicles Book 1)

by M. M. Whan

  With that thought in mind, Dorien picked up a stack of parchments and smoothed them over his desk. He sat down in front of it, grabbing his ink well and quill, scanning the writing to spot where he had left off. The parchments were the most recent scouting reports from the nearby mountains, scouting reports that would serve a purpose for the upcoming training missions he would be sending the new recruits on. He grinned wickedly as he absorbed the information inscribed on the pages.

  Orcs, many of them.

  Scouts had discovered several large clans of mountain orcs; large, strong, and savage brutes that bred like rabbits. Their numbers were estimated to be over a hundred strong, but mountain orcs were revered for their strength, and especially their endurance. Fortune seemed to smile upon him for the first time in a very long while.

  Aside from himself, there was only one person in line for the throne, and Terryn had already named his son to succeed him. As luck would have it, Corbin was recently promoted to patrol leader of one of the three patrols being sent out for the training exercise. It was probably the most wonderful feeling he had ever felt to discover that Eferath, too, had been promoted to patrol leader. It could not have been a more perfect opportunity for Dorien, and he fully intended to take advantage of the situation.

  According to the scouting reports, the greatest concentrations of the vicious mountain orcs were at three specific places, but, being that even the most novice of patrol scouts could spot the orcs, their positions were not optimal to inflict the most damage to each patrol. No, if Dorien’s plans were to come to fruition, he would need to give fate a push in a desirable direction.

  Dorien reached over and grabbed a map of the area of the scouting reports. It was a rough drawing, but he wasn’t looking for detail. He found just what he was looking for in the form of two distinct landmarks. One such landmark, was a passage flanked by high rock walls on both sides that stretched on for miles. The second one, was a small bowl-like valley that was surrounded on all sides by thick forest, the perfect place for an ambush. Dorien could feel the beginnings of a plan form in his mind, but he was suddenly stuck with a dilemma.

  How would he get the orcs to set the ambush at those positions? Or would they even listen to him for that matter? He sat down at his desk for a very long while, staring off into nothingness, tap-tapping his quill thoughtfully on the desktop.

  Suddenly, an idea hit him as profoundly as any slap might, and he sat bolt upright in his seat. A smile took in his ears as he sprung from his seat, and scurried over to his personal chest. Inside, he found a rather large bag filled to the top with gold coins; his personal treasury filled with nearly every gold coin he had earned in the past few years.

  “This should come in handy.” He said quietly to himself as he tightened the drawstring to close the bag before he lifted it out of the chest. He packed it neatly into his large field pack. He knew that he had to be quick to conclude his business and return. The duties of his station required him to be in his office, if he weren’t, too many of the wrong type of questions would be asked. And he definitely didn’t want to have a personal conversation with his brother about his absenteeism.

  Dorien gathered up a few other items he thought he might need along the way, and quickly made his way down to the stables, and to his horse. With a quick nod to one of his men guarding the main gate to the academy, he set his horse at a gallop, and charged through the gate.

  He reached the outskirts of one of the mountain orc clans inhabiting these parts of the mountain late into the morning. He knew he was close to the orc settlement when he spotted a pair of sentries not far from the main host. It was common knowledge that orcs were not very fond of sunlight, and tough though mountain orcs were, even they brought their guards in closer to keep from being discovered in the daytime.

  The orc camp was located inside of a dwarven mine that had been abandoned centuries ago, but there was a significantly large group of them scattered all around the small rock valley directly in front of the mine entrance. The location was typical dwarven pragmatism; the rock on either side of the entrance was sloped incredibly steep, making attack from above impossible. The rock valley in front was surrounded on all sides by high cliffs with only one way in, and one way out. The entrance into the valley was quite small, barely large enough to allow six men to walk abreast. The ancient dwarven inhabitants worked the stone specifically for that reason, just in case any enemies beset their home, they would be funneled into a veritable slaughter.

  Dorien knew that it would be impossible for him to slip into the camp unnoticed, and fighting his way in would be the most stupid thing he could ever attempt. No, if he were to see his carefully laid plans come to fruition, he would have to be taken to the chief. Mountain orcs, however, were not known for the hospitality, nor for their political nature and Dorien had no way of knowing whether or not they would even let him leave with his life.

  If they didn’t kill him outright when they spotted him, that is.

  With that thought in mind, Dorien mounted his horse, hooked his left arm into his wooden kite shield, loosened his sword in its sheath, then eased his horse forward. Just as he was getting close, he heard a sharp whistle pierce the air and he raised his shield just in time to take an arrow into its surface. Orcs began hooting and hollering, and a great clamor arose as weapons were drawn all around the camp. Dorien dismounted and threw his sword to the ground along with his shield, and crossed his arms in front of his chest as a form of surrender.

  The orcs had other plans however, and Dorien was suddenly lying face down as a heavy club smashed him in the back. He rolled to the side to narrowly avoid getting cut in half by a heavy axe but he knew beyond any doubts that he was done for. He was unable to reach his sword, and even if he could, huge mountain orcs surrounded him with weapons poised for the kill.

  The final blow never came as a great roar filled the air, and the orcs closest to him backed away. Dorien struggled to his knees. His body ached all over, and bright flashes of red filled his vision with every beat of his heart. He was bordering on the edge of consciousness, and he was suffering from tunnel vision as he stared upon the largest orc he had ever seen.

  The great orc, which Dorien figured to be the leader, stood before him and puffed out his large chest. The creature stood over seven feet tall, with pale green skin and arms as thick as Dorien’s thighs. The difference between normal orcs of Fraea Luna, and the mountain orcs, was in the tusks. Instead of their tusks sticking straight out from their faces like their smaller, weaker kin, mountain orc tusks went straight down like the fangs of a weretiger.

  “What want?” The massive orc demanded in his broken command of the common tongue. Dorien couldn’t help but wonder whether creatures this stupid sounded the same in their own language or not.

  “What want?” It demanded again angrily.

  “I have a proposition for you.” Dorien blurted, and the orc leader looked around at its companions before scratching its ugly head.

  “I have…” Dorien stammered, frantically thinking of a way he could communicate effectively with such primitive creatures. He snapped his fingers while moving his hand around in small circles as if the movement would help in his thought process. “I have job for you.” He said confidently.

  “Job?” The orc echoed incredulously. “What job?” He snorted, and Dorien hid his smile. But the rudimentary conversation would make conveying his plans incredibly difficult.

  “Kill human patrols.” The orcs in attendance all began shouting and hooting excitedly.

  “You is human.” The leader said with a menacing grin, and Dorien swallowed hard.

  “Yes,” He replied cautiously. “One human not feed your grand army, many keep fed for weeks.” Dorien hoped to deflect the obvious hunger of the orcs present. The next few moments would tell whether or not he had succeeded.

  It took a very long time before he could fully explain everything he had planned to the dimwitted creature, and even l
onger before he was sure that the orc had even understood him. The two finally came to an agreement shortly before the sun reached its highest point, but it finally came down to what Dorien feared.

  “What you pay?” The orc growled, and Dorien had to fight the urge to curse under his breath. He was almost certain, that if he showed any amount of gold after explaining his plan, the greedy orcs would just kill him and follow through on the ambush. Still, they already knew where the human patrols were going to be, it was just as likely that they wouldn’t kill him.

  “Alone.” Dorien said plainly, and when the orc leader offered a blank expression the academy commander nearly sighed in frustration. “I give you pay alone so no others take what yours.” The orc nodded and smiled conspiratorially that he understood before leading Dorien away from the gathering but pointedly not far away from the armed guards.

  Eager to conclude his business and get back to intellectual society, Dorien slipped his hand into his backpack and pulled out a large handful of gold coins. As discreetly as possible, he handed the coins to the leader and whispered into his pig-like ear. The stench of the beast was overpowering, somewhere between soiled clothing, and a dung filled outhouse.

  “Here is fifty gold coins.” He lied. “Enough to buy you shiny things!” He stared into the leader’s eyes.

  “You like shiny things?” He baited, looking all around as if suspicious any of the leader’s troops were watching. The leader did likewise, and leaned closer nodding emphatically.

  “This gold buy you much shiny things.” Dorien could tell that he had the dimwitted creature sold, and he nearly laughed at his cunning, especially since he knew that orcs could not count.

  “Now that our business is concluded, I will take my leave.” Dorien announced, and the orc leader did not look up to regard him, merely continued staring down at the palm of his hand, fingering the shiny gold coins.

  Dorien looked around for his steed. “Where is my horse?” He demanded sharply.

  “We eats it.” The orc replied absently. Dorien spotted a large hunk of meat rotating on a spit above open flame and he knew that he needed no further clarification. It took a great amount of self-control to resist the urge to take the orcs head from its shoulders, which was probably a good thing the brutes had taken his sword. With a low, frustrated growl, Dorien stomped away, hurrying for the path that would lead him back to Escoran.

  He ran with all speed, knowing full well that he had a very short period of time to return to the academy before suspicions would be raised. He made it to the academy gates shortly before the sun dipped below the horizon. Dorien was already gone several hours longer than he initially wanted, and so it was no surprise when he was confronted at the gates by armed guards.

  “Halt, advance one and be recognized!” The guard positioned in the watchtower to the right of the gate challenged as he casually fitted an arrow to the string of his bow. Dorien did as he was told, and the guards blanched in surprise.

  “It is I, General Dorien Fallherder, commander of Escoran’s illustrious academy and the Elite Crystal Guard!” He responded haughtily.

  Nearly a full minute passed since he had identified himself and the gates still had not opened. “Is there a problem?” Dorien demanded, his imposing glare passing from guard to guard.

  “N-no m’lord,” the guard in the watchtower stammered, releasing his grip on his weapon.

  “Then why do you hinder me?” He asked, and the young guard swallowed hard before turning to face inside the compound. The guard waved and the massive gates creaked open.

  “Forgive me, my lord, you may pass.” The guard replied deferentially, and Dorien snickered. No one had called him “lord” in a very long time. He smiled widely as he walked away.

  He liked how that sounded.

  * * * *

  The next day, Dorien reached the training grounds late into the afternoon. He was supposed to arrive earlier, but as far as the trainees were concerned, the Academy Commander was a busy man and punctuality wasn’t a priority. He approached the congregation to the sound of weapon impacts, dozens of them. He was several hours late after all, and it appeared that the students had found the best use of their time.

  Sparring.

  As soon as he got close enough to be spotted, one of the students announced his presence, and all movement stopped as the trainees stood at attention.

  “Everyone gather around!” He ordered loudly, and they responded by rushing over to him double time. “In not so long from now, you all will be going on the final exercise of your training. You will be patrolling the mountains for three days. Make no mistake; it is a hostile environment, with a very real chance of contacting dangerous creatures.” He looked around and was surprised by how few nervous expressions he saw. He paused for effect, and nearly smiled at the intensity of the stares coming his way.

  “That being said, it is my job to make sure you are all ready for whatever may happen while on your patrols. You will be completely alone. There will be no instructors there to help you. No one to bail you out if you get lost.

  “Your mission is to patrol the mountains for three days, searching for any threats to the city of Escoran. In the event that your patrol does find a threat, it will be your responsibility to remove that threat.” He spotted a young man raise his hand to ask a question.

  “What is it, son?” He asked, turning to face the lad fully.

  “Sir, with all due respect, is that mission not too dangerous for inexperienced, unseasoned patrols like ourselves? How are we to know what to look for to avoid danger?” As the young man continued, he started getting more and more confident.

  “I mean, are we expected to out-track creatures indigenous to the area, who know the best places for ambush? For example, orcs may be stupid, but they are brilliant trackers!” Dorien turned on him fiercely, eyes widening.

  “Orcs? What do you know about orcs?” He demanded sharply, a little too sharply, and the unexpected reaction had the rest of the students staring at him in surprise.

  “N-nothing sir,” answered the young man nervously as he looked around at his peers. “I was just using them as an example.” Dorien stared at him hard for a long moment, before clearing his throat.

  “Of course, well you have nothing to worry about.” He replied quickly, then pulled out a sheet of parchment and held it aloft. It was the scouting report he had received. “My own scouts and patrol groups have checked your routes for dangers. I had hoped to keep that a secret to add realism to the exercise, but now your patrol will be predictable and boring thanks to your comrade here.” Dorien said as he pointed to the young lad who asked the questions. The poor fellow looked down at the ground, embarrassed. Dorien was being overly dramatic of course, but he knew that his odd reaction had raised more than a few eyebrows.

  Looking around at the group of boys, he quickly spotted Eferath standing near the back of the group, eyeing him suspiciously.

  “Who all knows what defensive combat is?” He asked, changing tack and nearly laughed out loud as every boy raised their hand high up into the air. “I guess that much was expected, but do any of you know what defensive combat means?” Several of the boys lowered their hands tentatively while looking around at their companions.

  “Allow me to demonstrate.” He said after a moment, then he drew his sword, aiming the point of it toward one particular person. “You.” Dorien clarified, pointing his weapon directly at Eferath.

  Eferath tried his best to hide his smile at the opportunity to face the Dorien again. He strode up to the centre of the group, arms crossed in front of his chest. Dorien smiled wide, offering a curt bow as the young man approached.

  “Look at his posture students, it’s perfect.” He remarked as he looked at the other trainees, but Corbin and his companions scoffed. Dorien did not miss that gesture, and his neck hairs bristled with anticipation.

  “Eferath, do you know what defensive combat means?” Eferath nodded slowly,
and Dorien prompted him to explain.

  “Defensive combat is allowing oneself to take the defensive in order to take a tactical measure of the opponent, patiently waiting for an opening in which to strike the killing blow.” Eferath answered matter-of-factly. Dorien stood there for a long moment, digesting the words, a hint of a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

  “A little long winded,” he remarked after a long moment of silence. “But a better answer, there is none.”

  “Care to demonstrate?” Dorien asked with a sly grin, but as Eferath answered with a confused expression, the general launched a downward slash with his sword.

  Eferath backed away as the blade buzzed harmlessly past, then drew his own blade as Dorien came in hard. Though he was completely defensive, Eferath set the pace, never giving too much ground, never taking much. He always kept him and the instructor on equal footing, working each strike up high, or harmlessly out wide.

  Dorien did not let up, and he and Eferath spun as if they were dancing together, only for their blades to connect a moment later. Dorien brought the young man into a clinch, and with his face beside Eferath’s, he whispered very quietly.

  “How about we kick it up a notch?” He said, and when they broke the clinch, Dorien was smiling ear to ear. And so was Eferath. The thrill of the challenge flowed through the young man’s veins. Even though Dorien was not as skilled as his father, the opportunity to best the Academy Commander in open combat was just too tempting to pass up.

  For the next long while, their blades were working as if moving with a mind of their own. Each strike met with a ringing parry as both fighters increased the tempo, each impact blended together into one continuous rhythm. A chorus of gasps emanated from the crowd as the pair dodged mortal injury by mere inches time and time again. True to the intent of the demonstration, Eferath was constantly defensive, waiting patiently for an opening to exploit.

  That opening came a short time later as Dorien came in hard with a straight forward thrust that Eferath side-stepped effortlessly at the very last moment. He could feel the blade sliding along his tunic at the very near miss but the dangerous maneuver was not without its purpose. By dodging at the very last moment, Eferath caused Dorien to overbalance, and stumble forward in his follow-through. True to the nature of the demonstration, Eferath wasted no time in exploiting the weakness.