Forging Destiny

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  Tovak took a drink from his skin, which was less than half full. The water was warm and stale-tasting, but it didn’t matter to him. He was parched from the heat and gulped it down.

  “Hunger makes the best cook,” Dagmar said as he examined his own haversack and, appearing less than thrilled, pulled out a dodder.

  Tovak took another bite. He chewed slowly, then washed it down with more water. To his right, through a scattering of trees and back the way they had come, the entirety of the plateau was spread out before them. It was a magnificent view. White clouds floated above the plateau, casting long shadows across the vast grasslands. Tovak felt deeply moved by the beauty and offered up a silent prayer of thanks to Thulla.

  For a time, as he ate, Tovak watched the shadows rolling across the grasses of the plateau. Turning to the southeast, he could see the long, mottled streak of what could only be the warband marching across the plain.

  In his head, he could imagine the long, thick block-like columns, formed by the marching warriors of the line, trailed by the camp followers and ultimately the warband’s supply train. Seeing the warband from his current perspective was inspiring, but at the same time, it seemed to mar the pristine beauty of the plateau.

  Tovak heard a scuff of boots on rock and looked over to find one of the pioneers approaching from the direction of the tail end of the column. It was clear to Tovak he had been scouting behind the column. He was undoubtedly one of those charged with ensuring they were not being tracked or followed.

  The pioneer wore light armor, like the skirmishers, but colored green and brown. He carried a smaller pack too and had in one hand a stout walking staff that had been smoothed and then covered over with varnish to protect it against the elements. A sword was sheathed at his right side and a dagger on the left.

  The pioneer was older, nearly elderly, and had a grizzled and hardened look to him. He wore a black patch over one of his eyes. He seemed unassailably tough to Tovak, intimidating even. Tovak got the sense this was definitely someone you did not want to cross.

  “Iger,” Karn greeted the pioneer and jerked a thumb in the direction they’d just come. “Spot anything back there?”

  “Nah,” Iger said and blew out a long breath. His voice was gravelly, like two rocks grinding together. “We did not see anything but wildlife. But I still have to report to Dagon.”

  Tovak wondered who we referred to. He suspected Iger was likely part of a scout team.

  The pioneer looked over at Tovak and Gorabor. “Got some new squaddies, I see.”

  “Aye,” Karn said. “That I do.”

  Tovak hesitated a moment, then pointed at his friend, who was looking up at the fearsome pioneer in what could only be described as awe. “This is Gorabor and I’m Tovak.”

  Iger fixed his one good eye on Tovak. “Heard of you.”

  Tovak took another swallow, washing down the last of the dodder he’d been chewing on, as he thought on how best to respond. A fresh mountain breeze blew over them, rustling what few small pines and trees were scattered amongst the rocks and the brush about them. The cool air was more than welcome—it was a relief.

  Tovak gave a mental shrug and instead offered up his skin to the fearsome-looking pioneer, almost like a peace offering. He was surprised when the pioneer took it without hesitation. Iger drank a swallow and then passed it back. He seemed to suddenly spot Dagmar across from them and shifted his attention to the skirmisher.

  “Heard you got bit by a gnome,” Iger said, “in the ass too, if the stories can be believed.”

  “Don’t you have anything better to do, Iger?” Dagmar asked.

  “Not at the moment,” Iger said matter-of-factly. “Is it true?”

  “Yes it bloody is,” Dagmar replied, grumpily, before biting into his dodder. Through chews he spoke. “It seems like everyone knows.”

  Iger grinned at him, showing several bad and missing teeth. “You’ve got to admit, if it happened to someone else, you’d find it funny as could be.”

  “I suppose,” Dagmar admitted grudgingly and let out an unhappy breath. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “There’s no supposing about it,” Iger said. “You’d be laughing your ass off, just like the rest of us. Only it was you that got it in the ass.”

  Tovak could not help but laugh, as did those around them.

  “Very funny,” Dagmar said. “Very funny.”

  Iger’s gaze flicked back to Tovak before turning out towards the plateau and the warband. “That’s a sight I will never grow tired of.”

  “The warband?” Tovak asked. “Or the beauty?”

  Iger glanced over at him before turning his gaze back out to the plateau.

  “Both,” Iger said and fell silent for several heartbeats. “The warband is just an idea, sonny, a dream, and a grand one at that. Each of us, in our own way, makes that dream a reality”—he glanced over at Tovak meaningfully—“no matter our background. Without us, there is no warband. Without each and every individual blade of grass, there is no plateau, no beauty to behold. There’d only be a vast wasteland before us.”

  Tovak thought he read something in the pioneer’s one-eyed gaze. Was it respect? He wasn’t sure. He was about to reply when Dagmar barked out a harsh laugh.

  “Spare me,” Dagmar scoffed. “You’re getting philosophical in your old age, Iger.”

  “There may be some truth in that,” the pioneer said. “As you advance in years, you tend to start thinking more about life and the meaning of things.”

  “Too much time scouting on your own is more like the cause,” Dagmar said.

  Iger looked back at Tovak and seemed to have tired of the conversation. “Thanks for the drink.”

  “Anytime,” Tovak said, and with that, Iger moved off, while offering Karn a nod as he passed.

  “A tough one, that one,” Torimar said, once Iger was out of sight.

  “Agreed,” Karn said. “A good fighter and an even better pioneer. He’s one you want on your side in a fight, that’s for sure.”

  Tovak stared after Iger for a few heartbeats, then stood on legs that ached from the strain of the march. He took a moment to stretch the soreness out of his back. Carrying his waterskin, he made his way to the stream. He splashed some water on his face. It was cold and refreshing. He refilled his skin before stopping it closed.

  “Think there are gnomes up here?” Gorabor asked Tovak as he returned.

  Tovak looked up sharply at his friend. He had not seen any tracks, but that did not mean they weren’t about. He glanced around, thinking he should have a look.

  “Relax,” Karn said, and seemed suddenly amused by Tovak’s discomfort. “The Second has a team of scouts out, screening the march. They’re good. Now that we know gnomes are out there, infesting these ridges, Dagon’s got boys on the lookout for them. We won’t be taken by surprise as easily as the captain was.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Dagmar said. “I’ve had my fill of gnomes.”

  “You just don’t want to be bitten again,” Gorabor said. “Maybe next time one will get the other cheek.”

  That drew a laugh from those gathered around and yet another dark look from Dagmar.

  “Next time,” Dagmar said slowly, as he shifted his gaze to Tovak, “do me a favor and leave him with the orcs.”

  “On your feet, lads,” Thegdol called from farther up the way. “Break’s over. Packs on.”

  Dagmar groaned. “I was just getting comfortable.”

  “Get on your feet,” Karn said to Dagmar as he got himself up. “Even if you’re bandaged like a baby wearing a diaper, I won’t have you making the squad look bad by dragging ass.”

  “It just doesn’t end,” Dagmar groaned as he pulled himself to his feet. “It’s getting old.”

  “Not for us,” Torimar said.

  “It’ll never bloody end,” Dagmar said, shaking his head.

  Returning his haversack to his pack, Tovak stood and secured it in its place.

  “Fall in,”
Thegdol called.

  The march resumed shortly after that.

  “How far do you think we’ve covered today?” Gorabor asked as they continued working their way along the ridgeline, which was broad and flat. It was covered with long grass and a scattering of trees.

  “Maybe eight or nine miles so far,” Tovak replied, staring up briefly at the suns. The march had turned in a northern direction.

  “How far do you think we’re going?” Gorabor asked. “All this climbing, up and down, over broken ground—my legs are starting to kill me.”

  “As far as we need to go,” Karn said from behind. “If you stop talking about it, the miles pass easier, for you and everyone else. Get my meaning?”

  “Yes, Corporal,” Gorabor said.

  They moved from one hill to the next. Sweat once again began pouring down Tovak’s face. At times, as they worked their way along the wide tops of the ridges, the ground was rugged and hard. Other times, he found it smooth and easy to traverse, with little undergrowth to catch at the foot.

  Throughout the latter half of the day, there were several more breaks, but as the sunlight began to dim, a final halt was called along a broad and relatively flat ridgeline with a scattering of trees. Knee-high grass grew around them. It seemed to whisper when the wind gusted.

  “Looks like we will be spending the night here.” Karn glanced around. “I doubt we will be permitted fires. That means it’s gonna be a cold night.”

  “Sergeant Thegdol,” Benthok called. He was standing with Lieutenant Brund about twenty yards away. “We’re gonna need a wall and trench. The Baelix will be responsible for the west side. I will mark it shortly for you.”

  “Yes, sir,” Thegdol said. “Corporals on me.”

  Karn started over to the sergeant as Tovak unhooked his pack and set it on the ground. He was relieved to have the heavy thing off.

  “Tovak.”

  Tovak turned at the call of his name. Captain Dagon stood a few feet away. He had emerged from a stand of trees and, like everyone else, was sweating heavily. The captain’s expression was hard and unforgiving.

  “Join me, if you would.” It was not posed as a question, but a command.

  Tovak saw Gorabor look over with an expression of concern. Dagmar looked over as well.

  “Yes, sir.” Feeling a deep sense of unease, Tovak stepped over to the captain and came to a position of attention. Since they were in the field, he remembered not to salute.

  “I would speak with you in private,” Dagon said brusquely, with a glance at the rest of Tovak’s squad.

  “Yes, sir,” Tovak replied, not liking the idea one bit.

  “Follow me,” Dagon ordered. He turned on his heel and moved off, with Tovak a few paces behind.

  Tovak felt a growing sense of dread as they drew farther away from the camp. Dagon stopped while they were still in sight but out of earshot and turned to face him. Eying Tovak for several long moments, the captain of the Second ran his fingers through his beard.

  “What you did …” Dagon said, then fell silent. His jaw flexed, as if he was suddenly having difficulty choosing the proper words. Tovak said nothing and simply waited. The silence stretched out … six heartbeats … twelve. Tovak remained at attention. He intended to give Dagon no cause to punish him.

  Dagon drew in a deep breath and let it out ever so slowly. He narrowed his eyes at Tovak, and then he seemed to reach an internal decision.

  “I am not happy with these circumstances—with you under my command, Stonehammer,” Dagon said tersely. “Not happy, not one bit. But orders are orders, and I follow mine. While there is nothing I can do about your presence here on this mission, there are some things that are unequivocally within my purview.” He paused, as if gathering his thoughts. “Word of what happened before you rescued your comrades from the enemy camp has reached my ears. I suspect them true.” He tapped Tovak on the chest armor with a finger. “I once told you I would not hinder you in your pursuit of service. I won’t. However, understand that anyone under my command who disobeys an order will receive swift punishment. I will not tolerate you thinking you can do as you wish. We play as a team here or not at all. I will not be swayed in the slightest by a desperate need for you to prove yourself. If you cannot follow orders, there is no place for you here with the warband. Break the rules with me and there will be severe consequences. If you cross me, I promise I will see you whipped, like a dog, and run out of the Badgers.” Dagon fell silent for half a heartbeat. “Are we clear, Stonehammer?”

  “Yes sir,” Tovak said crisply. He kept all emotion off his face, though inside he was roiling with anger and hurt. “I will not disobey your orders, sir.”

  Dagon eyed him, as if he’d stepped in teska droppings and was looking to scrape it from his boot.

  “Permission to speak freely, sir?” Tovak asked abruptly. If Dagon was to speak his mind, Tovak resolved to do so as well.

  Dagon’s head shifted to the side, and he raised an eyebrow.

  “Speak,” he said.

  “Respectfully, sir,” Tovak began, keeping his voice as even and calm as he could, though he was raging with anger on the inside. He could not fully conceal his emotion, for some of it leaked out. “I cannot change the past. Nor can I alter who my father was or bring back your son.” Dagon’s expression hardened. “I was not at Barasoom.” Tovak paused to suck in a ragged breath. “What you heard is true. I crossed a line and defied orders. I did it to save my comrades. If I was to do it over again, I would make the same choice. I offer no excuses for my behavior, for in my mind, it was the right decision. When I made my choice to go, I was fully prepared to accept whatever consequences came my way.” Tovak paused. His voice sounded harsh in his own ears. “I understand your anger with my father and, therefore, with me. And now, you know the truth of the matter. Report me if you wish, drum me out of the Badgers if it makes you happy. To my dying day, I will never regret saving Gorabor or Dagmar, sir. My only regret is that I could not save Staggen.”

  Dagon did not reply. He stared at Tovak for what seemed to be an eternity. His expression had gone blank, almost lifeless. The silence stretched out long enough to become uncomfortable, and still Dagon remained silent. Then the captain sucked in a breath and shook himself slightly before clearing his throat.

  “You are dismissed.” The captain’s voice was barely a whisper. “Return to your squad.”

  Tovak hesitated a moment, then turned on his heel and returned the way he’d come, leaving Dagon behind. He could feel the captain’s eyes on his back as he made his way to his squad. They were already hard at work on the defensive wall, digging away and breaking the ground. Tovak went to his pack and retrieved his entrenching tool, then joined his squad.

  “What did Captain Dagon want?” Gorabor asked.

  “It’s not important,” Tovak replied, glancing at Torimar, Dagmar, and Bettoth, who had paused in their work and were looking over, clearly also interested. “I don’t want to discuss it.”

  “Enough talk,” Karn snapped, straightening up. “This wall’s not getting built by itself.”

  Grateful that he did not have to speak on his encounter with Dagon, Tovak threw himself into his work and rapidly built up a sweat. The hard physical labor of digging helped him get out his aggression and anger. After a time, he looked up, pausing to stare at the plateau. Out there, no longer in view, was the warband. He thought on Iger’s words. The warband was an idea and they all made it a reality, no matter their background. Dagon had been right. He was out to prove himself, but at the same time, he was also a Blood Badger.

  “Dig,” Karn said.

  Tovak turned back to his work.

  Chapter Nine

  On his feet and feeling stiff, Tovak stretched and then yawned mightily before glancing around. It was still dark, with the sky beginning to show the very first hints of color. The moon was up, high above, and the temperature was cool.

  Tovak rubbed at his tired and dry eyes and came away with sand. He took a
knee next to his gear. With a weary breath, he began rolling up his bedroll, wondering if being in the army meant that one was perpetually short on sleep. So far, it was turning out to be that way. Around him, the rest of his squad was securing their gear.

  “I heard a rumor there’s been a prophecy of some kind guiding us all along,” Bettoth said as he rolled up his bedroll. “Been thinking about it all night, I have.”

  “A prophecy?” Dagmar asked, looking up from stowing his personal belongings in his pack. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah,” Bettoth said, “a friend of mine over in First Infantry said the Thane’s High Council knew about Grata’Dagoth. There’s some ancient prophecy that was found. A scholar discovered it in an old scroll or something like that.”

  Tovak looked up at that, thinking of Grimbok.

  “That’s why we’re out here,” Bettoth continued. “That’s why the Badgers are in search of the place. Grata’Dagoth is supposed to be some sort of impregnable fortress that’s been hidden for centuries, one the Horde can’t crack. Can you imagine?”

  “Sounds like a load of teska shit to me,” Dagmar said.

  Tovak glanced at Bettoth. Before the detachment had turned in for the night, Dagon had spoken to them in depth, providing more details on their mission. He had specifically mentioned the fortress. Notably, there had been no mention that the road to Grata’Dagoth was guarded.

  “You’re full of it,” Torimar said. “If you’d heard such a thing, you would have been crowing about it before we marched.”

  “No,” Bettoth said, “it’s true. I swear my friend told me.”

  “As if you had a friend,” Dagmar said. “Who was this imaginary friend of yours?”

  “Mikko,” Bettoth said.

  “I’ve heard some fantastical rumors from him,” Dagmar said.

  “I thought he was full of teska shit too,” Bettoth said, “until, that is, Dagon spoke to us last night. That’s why I said nothing.”

  Tovak tied off his bedroll and attached it to his pack. He studied the ground where he’d spent the night sleeping on his arms and under the stars. This patch of ground had seemed uncommonly hard and lumpy. Though he had been exceptionally tired, Tovak had still passed an uncomfortable night. Yes, he had slept, but it had been far from a peaceful rest. He had tossed and turned. But it hadn’t been the ground either that had kept him awake.