"Thank you." He told Talia instead. "Now, go catch back up with the main camp. If I'm not there by sun up, send a scout back out for me."
Talia nodded, then ran back up the dune, leaving Sanche alone with his thoughts again. He tried getting back into his drawing, but just couldn't find the right mind set. Instead, he let his mind drift, watching the clouds as they passed across the sky.
He was daydreaming, remembering the best time of his life. A young wife, dancing and laughing with him. He and Miranda had been so happy together. Sanche had numerous tragedies in his life, but what had happened to Miranda still haunted him.
Sanche had been a young, up and coming officer in the elvish army, with many superiors vying for his loyalty. But his loyalty had been to the King, a man he saw as just and fair. The King had asked him to personally oversee the assassination of the Greatmother's army. It would have been a masterful stroke, if not for the orcs' sorcery.
Instead, both armies had been decapitated. The orcs recovered quicker though, and pushed through Elvenhom for Heart. As the orcs passed through the city, his wife lay in childbirth. The healer had been called away, something had been affecting all of the army's generals.
The healer had left Miranda strong and healthy, the baby fighting for its chance at life. But something tore after the healer had left, and both mother and child were lost. Sanche weeped softly for his remembered pain and agony, staring at a dried up skeleton of a great Wyrm. He prayed, not sure who he prayed to, for the strength and will power to endure.
Sanche awoke many hours later. The moon was high in the sky, and the stars twinkled in the cool desert air. He pulled himself free of the sand that had continued to suck his body into it. Standing, he shook the remaining grains from himself, cursing the coarse bits that made their way under his clothes. Sanche dreamed of a nice hot bath to wash away this sand and grime.
He stared down at the bottom of the dune, thinking he had seen a reflection of the moon. But when he looked again and saw it was gone, the old elf figured his eyes were playing tricks on him.
He climbed to the top of the dune, searching the area around him for signs of life. A desert hawk dove from the sky, skimming the ground before taking off into the air again, its claws clutching something. Sanche pulled his pad and pencils out again, sketching the moonlit night. He started with the dunes, sculpting the great Wyrm skeletons into them, then the starry sky, being sure to add the shooting star he happened to see. He was deep in concentration, trying to get the skeleton's shading just right, when he felt a strong, hard hand grip his shoulder. Sanche dropped his drawing utensils, grabbing one of his leaf bladed cleavers from his belt. He swung around, aiming for his attacker's neck, but pulled up short when he saw it was his scout.
"Sorry, sir." She said, a slight buzz in her accent. "There was nothing to the east but more desert. The rest of my group was lost in a sand slide."
Sanche shook his head. "I'm sorry to hear that. We should catch up with the rest of the army, they should only be a few hours ahead of us."
The Anuunaki bowed, bending down so Sanche could mount her. She shot off through the desert headed for the other mercenaries.
Chapter Three
Nord scratched his back and stretched. He had just finished getting dressed, and was looking for the mess tent. He smelled fresh bread on the wind, and followed his nose. The flat bread may not be the tastiest, but it definitely filled the hole in one's belly.
He approached the mess tent, the canvas walls pulled up high, making a covered area. The giant elf spotted his half pint friend at a table, a large wheel of cheese already a quarter of it downed by the little halfling. Nord grabbed some bread from the bins in the center of the room, then went to join his companion. Jaxon picked his teeth as Nord sat next to him. "So, my tall friend, what's on the agenda today?"
Nord shook his head. "I honestly don't know. There is water here. I know I for one could go for a nice swim in the oasis." Nord gestured around the camp. "These Anuunaki though, I get the feeling they would rather get this journey over and done with. I worry about Lovonian, but I know he's okay. I can feel he's not in danger." He turned away from Jaxon, "I think we would be better served to rest here for a few days. Collect our strength, and wait for word from Sherman before we continue."
Jaxon couldn't believe his ears. Nord wasn't usually known for being a sit back and wait kind of guy. Usually he was in the thick of any trouble, heading deeper. Jaxon almost called a healer over to check and see if Nord had been drugged. Then he saw the serious expression on Nord's face and knew that the patience of the elves was finally starting to settle over his friend. "Well, we are going to be resting here for the day. Why don't you see how you feel tomorrow? If you feel the same way, then maybe you should talk to Sanche about your thoughts. I've heard he listens to all of his officers and their suggestions."
Nord laughed, taking a bite of some bread and cheese. "He never listens to me, he says I don't have the head to lead." He sat back in the chair, kicking his feet up on the table. "Still, I guess it wouldn't hurt to try."
Jaxon rose from the table, pushing his friend's boots from the table as he passed Nord to leave. "Well, just try to stay out of trouble. I'm going to see if I can find Tinkle, she asked me to help her get some cactus needles. I think she wants to make some wee arrows. Try to get some rest and relaxation today." Jaxon left the mess tent and headed for Sanche's command tent.
Nord cut a large hunk of cheese from the wheel, munching on it as he left the mess tent. He headed for the oasis, looking about the camp as he walked. The Anuunaki didn't use beasts of burden. They had workers bred specifically to do the heavy lifting, able to carry and drag many times their own weight.
Nord walked down the well ordered lines of tents, each clustered around a set of wheeled wagons. The Anuunaki could pack and unpack their camps with amazing efficiency. With just a couple hours warning they could have their entire army packed and ready to go. It was impressive how quickly they packed up their ordered lines, and even more amazing to see them set up.
There hadn't been much time to spar, mostly in the evenings as they set up camp. But when he could, Nord fought the Anuunaki. The insects were strong and quick, and Nord knew his only saving grace against them was his experience fighting Wyrms. Fighting the twisted dragons had given Nord a very unorthodox style, one that relied on tricking you into mistakes. He would lure his enemies into traps, showing openings that weren't there, only to shift into a position of superiority as his enemies attempted to strike. The Anuunaki learned to respect the giant elf in matters of combat. He was one of the few outsiders to impress them consistently.
Nord choose to avoid a spar today, heading for a good soak in the oasis. He felt the sand caked onto the sweat of his skin. A sand scrub was good for cleansing the body of dead skin, but still left Nord feeling dirty.
A wide, deep pool was situated at the center of the camp. Large leaf trees covered the shore and created shade. Nord watched as Anuunaki in the camp moved indoors. Maybe he would suggest moving at night tomorrow as well. The Anuunaki were avoiding the water, a sand scrub was more than enough to keep their chitin polished and shining. That left the tall elf with the entire oasis to himself.
Nord stripped and walked into the water, sighing in contentment as the pool cooled his skin. He swam out to the deepest part of the water, and dove for the bottom. Nord swam with his eyes open, observing the wild animals here. A turtle munched away happily at an underwater weed, ignoring Nord as he swam by. He surfaced for air, considering trying to catch a turtle for stew tonight. Instead, Nord flipped onto his back, floating in the water, absorbing the energy of the sun. As the water soaked into his pores, He let himself drift in a calm meditative state. He floated free of his body, his soul patrolling the camp, searching for anything that felt out of place.
Nord found himself floating outside of Sanche's personal tent. A slight popping noise came from the far side of it. Nord floated over, searching for the origin of the
sound. He was horrified to see a black slimy mass probing the outer wall of the tent. Nord attempted to shout an alarm, then remembered he wasn't in his physical body. He came to a start in the oasis, swimming hard for shore.
He sprinted through the tree line running for the camp, his clothes forgotten, screaming, "Get to Sanche! Protect Sanche!" Anuunaki burst from their tents, scrambling in the direction of their general's. Nord charged through the running insects, rushing to Sanche's tent. He pulled up short as the elder elf burst from inside.
"What the hell is going on here?" Sanche demanded, glaring at the assembled warriors. He reached into his tent, tossing Nord a cloth telling him, "Cover yourself, man! Your elven sword is showing!"
Nord rolled his eyes, covering himself and pointing to the far side of the tent. "I know this is going to sound weird, but I saw something trying to get into your tent. I called for help and came running as fast as possible, feeling you were in danger." Nord started around the tent, motioning for Sanche to follow him.
On the ground, a large black stain stretched out, climbing partially up the tent wall. Sanche whistled, turning to Nord. "Where did you see this from?" He asked, pointing to the unusual pattern in the ground.
Nord replied matter of factually, "From the middle of the oasis."
Sanche shook his head, walking back around the tent. "I think something is hunting me. I felt its presence yesterday as I waited on the scouts."
An alarmed look crossed Nord's face, "Should we post a guard on you? It would make it harder for whatever it is. And numbers do seem to deter it."
Sanche smiled, "Sure, but only on the outside of my tent. I'll kill before I give up my private time."
Nord nodded, "I'll talk to the Anuunaki commander, and set up a rotation then."
Sanche waved it away. "That sounds fine. Why don't you come by later, Nord? It would be good to challenge you at stones again."
Nord accepted, heading back for the oasis, and his clothes.
Chapter Four
Nord turned away from the stones board, disgusted at himself. He couldn't believe he had let Sanche back him into a losing position. "How the hell do you do that? I didn't even see the trap until you sprung it."
Sanche shrugged, taking a drink of the aged brandy Talia had scrounged up. "It's a gift. Half the time I don't even realize I'm doing it." He poured himself more of the dark amber liquid, pouring for Nord at the same time.
Nord shook his head as he turned back to take his drink. "I have to say, I'm shocked you're drinking with me." He took a swallow of the brandy. "In Elvenhom you would have never drank with your underlings. You always insisted on being stoically aloof."
"That's because you were my subordinate, and I was your superior officer." Sanche set his cup down and began cleaning up the game. "It seemed important keeping my personal and professional lives separate." He flipped the board on the table over, exposing the hollow center. "Of course, now that our homeland is gone, those traditions seem just silly and sad." Sanche smiled a crooked and sad smile as he tossed the stones into the board before closing and latching it. "Truth be told, I know we're heading for Lov, but I'm hoping we'll find our people among the orcs. If it weren't for that hope, I would be marching on Heart, as we speak, to burn that damned temple and all of the priests to ash and dust."
Nord scowled at his elder. "How can you say that?" He jumped up from his chair, pacing in what little room there was. "Are you telling me you would kill even those who were innocent?"
Sanche shrugged his shoulders. "Who amongst us is truly innocent?"
Nord waved his hand dismissively in the air. "No, I refuse to accept that from you. And you know what? If that's how you feel, maybe you should step down from your position."
Sanche laughed, leaning back in his chair, loose from the alcohol they had shared. "Maybe you're right, but it's not going to happen that way. I can't just turn my back on what they did to us, to our people."
Nord sat in the open chair, imploring this elf he had known his entire life. "Just promise me. We'll take out the Titanbringer, but after that, we'll do investigations before we do anything."
Sanche placed his hand on his chin, considering what Nord was saying. "How about this, I promise not to hurt anyone who surrenders peacefully until after investigations. But anyone who tries to stop our army, they will die!"
Nord shook his head disappointedly. He could tell by the set of Sanche's jaw, the old elf had made up his mind. Nord stood, his back to Sanche. "I hope we find our people, so you regain your senses." He said coldly before striding from the tent.
Chapter Five
Lov walked from his hut, his eyes roaming the now ordered lines of the camp. He waved to an orc who sat stitching a leather harness together. Three scars stood out from the fur on his chest. Lov had learned that you could tell one's social status by how many scars a person has on their body. Like this leather worker, he was provided for by orc society. He wasn't the strongest or the fastest, he may even be a thief, but his lack of scars showed he was smart enough to avoid being caught.
After his manhood ritual, which showed he was strong enough to lead, Lov had wanted to dive in and fundamentally change orc society. What he found instead was a strong warrior class that wasn't in control of anything outside of war. The Greatmothers had a large complex that encompassed all of the tribes of these brutes. There political marriages were arranged, terms of war set, as well as various other official capacities. Servants and the commoners that could manage to stay out of trouble were invited to live in the Greatmothers' Complex. One mark on your chest though, and you were thrown to the wind.
All of this The'oak had explained to Lov, painstakingly over the last six months. Lov had learned quiet a bit of orcish, and learned that even though elves were taught that orcs were stupid and brutal, the stupidity was a lie. Lov had learned that the fur covered savages were cunning, manipulative, masters of working towards their goals. Yes, they were brutal and could be crude and cruel, but their intellect was expressed in ways other than words. Even the orcish language was limited in its connotation, but the way the tribes were set up, there was a lot of non-verbal communication.
He was still learning some of the non-verbal ques, the hand signals and such, but knew he would never master what they communicated just by looking at one another. Lov sometimes felt like the stupid one, with The'oak explaining the simplest of gestures to his new young chief. But when a wink had a hundred different meanings... All based on your place in society, what kind of environment you were in, even your intimidation factor. Lov realized it would be impossible to master without being born into it.
Lov ducked through the door to The'oak's hut, searching for the shaman. He had been studying with The'oak for the last few weeks, cramming for a meeting with the Greatmothers. If the camp followers knew what he planned, they probably wouldn't like his ideas. He had no marks upon his body, and planned on keeping it that way. Lov was going to demand a place in their society, as the first unmarked chief since the Great Chieftain Jarltal.
The'oak was sitting at his table, puffing away on a pipe. The thick pungent smell of dragon weed filled the hut. Lov almost turned to leave. He had found that when The'oak smoked the pungent flower he had problems connecting to the world around him. As if it pulled his magic and focus away from him. He remembered what Tinkle had said about smoking it too frequently. The'oak didn't seem to have that problem, he smoked the herb every day. The'oak said it helped him concentrate. Lov didn't see it though, the orc always had a vacant expression whenever he smoked it, as if the candle were lit, but the house was empty.
The'oak put the pipe down, jumping to his feet and charging Lov. "Why didn't you take Shar to your tent last night?" The small orc demanded, looking up at Lov. He shook his finger under Lov's nose. "That's a good way to lose respect around here."
A puzzled look passed Lov's face. "Who?" He asked, not understanding what The'oak meant.
"Shar! The girl who gave you the wink-wink!" The'
oak looked at Lov as if the young elf were an idiot. "Wink-wink means she wants to please you!"
Lov thought back to last night, trying to remember any females that had winked at him. "The only one that comes to mind is the girl who was dancing around the fire."
"Exactly!" The'oak exclaimed, slapping his chest. "Why didn't you accept?"
Lov thought for a moment like an elf, considering a polite way to say he wasn't interested. Just as he was about to speak, he realized who he was talking to and went with brutal honesty instead. "She was covered from neck to belly button in scars, and while she had a nice body, her face looked like she walked into a post and it made her grow a mustache."
For a moment, Lov thought he had made a mistake, The'oak just sat there, not saying anything. Then the old orc burst out in laughter and Lov felt a release of the tension that had filled the room. The'oak sat back down, puffing on his pipe again and saying, "Spoken as a true orc. You are close to ready to talk to the Greatmothers." The'oak pointed the mouthpiece of his pipe at Lov. "Just remember to be that honest with them. They will appreciate it."
Lov thought of what he planned, and decided to ask some probing questions. "So, since I'm not marked could I ask for a place in the Greatmother's Complex?"
The'oak eyed Lov, his eyes communicating clearly to the young half-dragon that the shaman didn't want to know his plan. "That depends. Do you mean as a citizen? You are our leader, and unmarked. There's no reason not to. As a chief? I doubt it. I think they will chew you like jerky and spit you out like a bad taste in their mouths. But I could be wrong." The'oak said, shrugging his shoulders. "Truth to tell, no one has tried since Jarltal was with Greatmother Nika. And even then, he was married to the woman with the most power." The'oak waved his hands in the air. "Enough talk of the Greatmothers. Leave me in peace, find someone else to annoy."
Breath of the Titans: The False Titanbringer: Complete Trilogy Page 18