I mounted my horse and pulled up beside the wagon where Arsch and Elly sat.
“Still don’t want to ride the other horse?” I asked Elly. She wasn’t a fan of the equines and given a choice, she’d rather walk or sit in a wagon.
“Why? It’s uncomfortable, and I am useless with my spear.”
“You rode in the forest,” I argued.
“We weren’t to be attacked in the forest. We are vulnerable here,” she said.
Arsch nodded.
“That was pretty cool, wasn’t it? Having a zoo follow us?” I said.
Arsch smiled and said, “It was fucking awesome!”
I laughed. I loved listening to the little gnome curse. It was like teaching your five-year-old nephew all the cool words.
“How did Cloy do that?” Elly asked.
“What do you mean?”
“The Forest Mother never does such a thing. Has never done such a thing,” Elly noted.
I shrugged, “They’re probably old friends.”
Elly looked straight ahead, steeled herself, and said, “I do not trust her.”
“She’s a god,” I said.
“Exactly,” Elly said. “Everyone knows gods only serve themselves.”
“I trust her,” I said, not as confidently as I wanted to.
“Why? What has she done to earn your trust?” Elly asked.
“She,” I started but came up blank. She never saved my life and never did anything of real import. She married us and threw her clout around, but that was obviously so we could meet her timeline.
Elly gave me that look that all women give when they know they are right.
“She uh…” I searched desperately for something. She never told me she was a god, to begin with. She stole my woobie. She got me drunk on fey wine and made her eyes go weird. I have no idea what her personality is like. “I don’t know, I just do.”
“Magic,” Elly said.
“Gods can’t force worship or influence feelings. Everyone knows that,” Arsch said.
“Who says that? Gods are selfish. Look at Snarf. He eats our food, drinks our finest wine, and whines unless he is waited on hand and foot. When I am the Queen in Teletha, gods will have to earn their place, the same as everyone else.”
Can’t tell you why, but I became super horny every time she spoke like that. Of course, I’ve always had a thing for older women who were smoking hot and wielded spears like a fucking ninja.
We were interrupted by Glory Beard, riding forward on his wargoat. The animal was much better suited to him than Rover. It wasn’t nearly as fast or big, but he made it look it intimidating.
The goat was white, had a huge beard, and two giant horns. It was stocky and looked like it could knock over a wagon.
“My Dude,” Glory Beard said, “with your permission, I would like to send some scouts forward for the first half of the day.”
“Cool,” I said.
He understood this to mean, OK. He then nodded and took off forward to check on the vanguard.
I decided to not bother him, but I wanted to check everyone out too. I excused myself and went to the rear of the formation.
The gnomes were all happy to see me, and most yelled, “My Dude,” as I passed.
The refugees had made it back and spoke of my exploits.
“After Teletha, will you crush the squidheads?” I was asked more than once.
“I will,” I promised, and then left to check on the front.
It was the same as the rear, and I received nothing but good cheer.
Glory Beard went to the front picket, which was two people about two hundred meters forward of the vanguard. I decided to join him.
The picket also had wargoats, which I found out were a lot faster than they looked.
I towered over the three on Rover.
“My Dude,” Glory Beard acknowledged my approach.
“The troops look great. You should be proud.”
“I am indeed, My Dude.”
The two pickets sat up straighter in their saddles.
“How many days until we reach Teletha?” I asked.
Glory Beard readily knew the answer. “Less than eight at our current pace. We can speed up if necessary, but I think to coincide with our assault with your river force, our pace is perfect.”
“I agree.”
I circled back to check on Elly, who was deep in conversation with the gnome driver. She smiled as I approached.
Arsch had gone to another wagon, and it seemed as if everyone was having a pleasant time.
“I’m going to ride around,” I told Elly.
“OK,” she said. “Be safe.”
I half expected her to protest, but she didn’t.
I thought to give a pretext but decided to not hedge. Really all I wanted to do was be alone for a bit. I love Elly with all my heart, but sometimes I just want to be alone.
Rover and I decided to scout out a little bit. We went east, the same direction from which we found the human and orak patrol. I’m glad I did.
I was about ten miles away from the convoy, not a far distance by horseback, but a considerable way on foot. I crested a small IV line when I saw an encampment. A large encampment.
I dismounted Rover and told him to stay. I bellied crawled as far as I could go without worrying about exposing myself. I figured the encampment was five clicks out.
I pulled out my ACOG once again and examined the threat. There were at least one hundred oraks and thirty humans. The oraks were all armed with primitive weapons, just like the patrol. The humans were armed with swords and spears. No ranged weapons were present that I could see.
Then I saw the civilians. There were at least fifty. No men. I saw some gnomes, at least one dwarf, and three elves.
There were no palisades or other static defenses. There was no apparent organization in the encampment, either. There were tents strewn about in a chaotic fashion. There were two covered wagons, and at least eight horses, but not much else.
I slowly left the crest, mounted Rover, and rushed back to the convoy. The gnomes outnumbered the oraks and humans, but there was no telling how much damage would be done in a fair fight.
I wasn’t about to give the oraks a fair fight.
I returned to the column and called Glory Beard, Arsch, Elly, and Shimone to a war council meeting.
We all rode in the back of a wagon, and put a decent flank guard up, as well as, a scout in the direction of the camp.
The wagon traveled along, and the five of us sat comfortably in the back, staring at some dirt I spread out along the floor. There were little lines where the boards didn’t properly meet, but it was a good enough sandbox.
“OK, here we are,” I said, pointing to my crude sand table. “We’re traveling this way. The encampment is here. I estimate about one hundred and thirty enemies. No ranged weapons. There are also about fifty prisoners, all women, and kids.
I looked at Elly, “Three plains elves.”
She nodded.
“So, I’m asking for suggestions.”
Glory Beard pondered for a moment, “A frontal assault would be ill-advised.”
“I agree,” I said, happy that I didn’t need to argue with what was basically the general of the gnomes.
Arsch smiled, “We hit them after night. Go in quiet.”
I had already come up with that, and I was happy Arsch was adding in.
Shimone spoke through Elly, “The elves attack from the rear in the center of the mass. They spread out and kill as many oraks and humans as possible. Then, once the alarm is sounded, the oraks will probably try to escape. The gnomes have groups of ten here, here, and here,” he pointed to four positions around the map. “The gnomes kill any orak that leaves.”
Glory Beard put his hand in his glorious beard and smiled. “That’ll work. That’ll work well. Only need thirty gnomes.”
“I’ll go with the elves,” I said.
Shimone nodded, “You go with us, but you stay back wit
h the archers.” Elly translated, laughed, and then said, “It’s because you walk like a dwarf, and smell like a human.”
The others all gave a slight chuckle.
“Hey,” I protested.
She reached over and hugged me, “It’s OK, I still love you.”
“Damn well better.”
I turned to Glory Beard, “I want you to remain with the convoy. In case something happens to us, I want you to complete the mission.”
To his credit, Glory Beard didn’t protest.
“I’m going with the elves too,” Arsch said.
I gave him a fist bump and said, “Fuck yeah!”
Chapter 42
We were all in position around the encampment. The half-moon was high in the sky and rained down a decent bit of illumination.
The elves, Arsch, and I were all a click away on the far side of the camp. We had to do a wide swing around, and it took us nearly six hours to get into position. I wasn’t tired, though. The anticipation of a battle was forcing adrenaline through my veins.
As usual, I had my night vision on, and I could see the glow of the firelight. I figured it was about two in the morning or the Telethan equivalent, and the camp had died down considerably.
It wasn’t going to be as easy as the last orak encampment I took. There was no aletree to make sure everyone was drunk off their asses.
We were in what I designated the ORP or Objective Rally Point. Of course, it wasn’t a real ORP, because we were still within sight of the camp.
“We’ll be thirty paces behind you,” I said to Elly.
She nodded.
“Good hunting,” I said, and kissed her.
She gave me a long passionate kiss back, not a simple peck on the cheek.
The elves formed a wedge with the swordsman at the center. Shimone took off do to his own thing, and within a few minutes, I completely lost him. His leaving was not part of the plan.
Arsch stayed back with the archers and me.
The brisk night felt good on sweat-stained clothing and matted hair. The movement had been swift.
We all silently moved forward. While the elves were only about a hundred feet in front of me, and I could see them, I could not hear them.
The four Rose Thorns maintained a two-meter separation from the swordsman, each one drawing back on a forty-five-degree angle. It was obviously a tactic they had practiced a thousand times.
“My Dude,” I heard someone whisper.
One of the archers was getting my attention, and I swept my night vision around.
There were two guards chatting near a low fire. They were both humans.
I stopped and put my PEQ-15 laser on the leftmost one.
I heard the familiar twang of two bowstrings, followed by the low whoosh of an arrow.
Seconds later, both guards slammed to the ground, arrows through their faces.
After hearing the bodies thud, the elves rushed forward to commit their carnage. They did not release a war cry. They just began slaying orak and humans alike with impunity.
They must have slaughtered forty oraks before the alarm was given.
A man started shouting from the point near the campfire.
I pulled up my PEQ-15 laser, centered it on his chest, and pulled the trigger. The crack of my M4 pierced the night air.
I hoped it would have the effect I desired.
Shouts and alarms started around the camp, as humans and orak alike reached for weapons and armor.
There was no discipline, however, and they had not rehearsed any type of withdraw or emergency plan. Instead, they had relied on their superior numbers to dissuade any attack.
I scanned the area for more targets, but couldn’t find any. The forward attack had done its duty perfectly.
The coppery smell of freshly spilled blood mixed with the disgusting stench of the dying shitting themselves stung my nostrils. People do disgusting things when they die.
I followed the line of bodies and carefully made my way between tents. There was always the chance that the elves had missed a target.
We turned right on what looked like the main road in the center of the camp when I saw that the forward group had formed a circle against a small counterattack by ten oraks.
The elves were playing it safe, though, and I only saw them break formation to send a spear or jab through a throat.
The oraks tried desperately to break the circle, but every time one was able to swipe a spear to the side, another spear point replaced it and gave the orak something to remember his mistake by.
I knew the elves had the upper hand, and I knew they were doing well. They were methodical, careful, and disciplined. Still, I didn’t like seeing my wife in a melee. I raised my M4 and shot three oraks in quick succession.
The oraks were startled by the shots and turned to advance or run. That was a big mistake; the elves dispatched the remaining rather efficiently.
The elves immediately went back into the deep wedge and proceeded down the road.
Arsch, the archers, and I trailed behind them, doing our best to watch their backs and our flanks simultaneously.
In the distance, I heard the shouts of more fighting. The gnomes were getting after it.
We arrived within a minute at a large square tent at the end of the road.
The attack element pulled up short and formed another circle right in front of it.
I saw Elly wave at us.
The four in the supporting element entered the circle, and we were immediately surrounded by a wall of spears. I noticed the swordsman entered the circle with us too.
“Big tent,” the swordsman said.
“Let me go first,” I said.
It made sense to me that the spears wouldn’t want to clear a building or tent. They would have been at a distinct disadvantage. There was also the possibility that the camp commander was in there and had some valuable information.
I put my weapon on semi, tapped the shoulder of the swordsman, and exited the circle.
The swordsman grabbed the flap of the tent, ready to pull.
I nodded.
He threw the flap back and breached like the point of a stack.
The room was lit by two candles, and my eye that wasn’t with my night vision could see clearly.
There was a huge bed with a body in nightclothes lying down, his throat slit. On the edge was Shimone, lounging and eating an apple.
He looked up at me and said, “What take long?”
I just laughed.
We cleared the remainder of the camp within an hour, and soon had anyone who surrendered, bound and separated. We also had the prisoners, who were basically slaves, freed, and fed.
The sun came up, and I ordered a SITREP. We had four gnomes KIA and nine WIA.
Two of the WIA were litter and weren’t expected to last the night.
Oraks are vicious and about five times the size of a gnome. I counted my blessings at our low casualty rate.
Elly was consoling the plains elves when I found her. As I approached, I noticed all three shied away from me.
They all had a terrible look in their eyes, and I could see at least one of them was in psychological shock.
I gave Elly a look. “We’re they?” I let the question go unanswered.
She nodded, and I could see tears in her eyes.
“Arsch!” I yelled for my gnome friend.
He quickly ran up, “My Dude?”
“How many prisoners remain?”
“Twenty-two My Dude, all human,” he said.
“Blindfold them, and escort them here, one at a time.”
Elly looked at me with concern in her eyes.
“I know this will be hard, but justice and closure are necessary. I just want a nod from one of them, if they want me to execute the prisoner,” I said.
Elly didn’t argue and immediately translated.
The older one gave a meek acknowledgment.
The first prisoner Arsch escorted forward. He was a hu
man with a scraggly beard.
I looked at the women expectantly. One of them shook her head.
The second man they brought forward was a balding older man with an evil look to his face.
The older woman nodded.
I removed my knife, went behind the man, and cut a deep gash into his hand.
He protested in pain and squirmed, but his bindings were efficient.
At the end of the procession, I had cut six human hands.
“I don’t know if this is right, Elly, so help me, please?
She gave me a quizzical look as she continued to console the youngest of the elves.
“I am happy to have them kill those men, but I am not sure if it’s right or not. Revenge can be bad, but justice is good.”
Elly closed her eyes, and a stream of tears came down her face. “The choice should be theirs.”
“Ask them, please?”
Elly spoke to them.
The oldest’s eyes narrowed, and she responded.
Elly looked at me, “She wants blood.”
I nodded.
I walked back over to the prisoners whose hands I slashed. With help, I escorted them to an open area near the tents. I placed two guards on them with explicit instructions that the elf women were to do whatever they pleased; however, the prisoners could not leave the area alive.
I came back to Elly, “They are over there. I then pulled out my knife and handed it to the oldest elf.”
The woman examined it with a strange fascination. I then saw an evil grin that gave me a little bit of a shake.
Arsch walked up behind me, “What are we doing with the remaining prisoners?”
“Shit,” I said. There weren’t exactly some MPs I could hand them off to.
I walked up the dozen or so humans and yelled, “Which one of you is in charge?”
Most of them nodded to a man who was taller than me with blond hair and blue eyes. He was about twenty-seven in Earth years, I guessed.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Logan, the slave driver,” he said.
“You freely admit to being a slave driver?”
“It is my title and my job. I ensure the slaves aren’t overworked, are fed, clothed, and taken care of.”
“And raped?” I asked.
“I fought that,” he said and then shrugged his shoulder to his black eye.
The eye was not fresh.
Of Gods & Grunts Page 33