She took the weapon, examining its construction. Quickly stringing it she drew back, looking down the flexed wood. Letting the tension off she brought it down and handed it back to the alfar. “That's a nice weapon. Did you make it yourself?”
He didn't know what to say. Lost in her beauty, he found the first words that popped into his head. “Uh… yes?”
She smiled at his discomfort. “Release him.” Directing her words to him, she continued. “Walk with me. And know, any hostility shown toward any of my people will be met with swift and unforgiving justice.” She turned and walked away.
Demetrix hesitated uncertain why she would trust a perfect stranger, not that she didn't have enough security in the event of an attack. He followed after her.
Seeing he was at her side she led him through the center archway and into the main keep. “You're quite the shot. Kenoar Pass to the Fields of Shanar is a one in a million shot and you did it twice. I could use an archer like you, but I'm troubled. You don't seem like an agent of shadow. Why did you kill two of my men? Surely you understand the danger the orcs pose, yet you interfered in a successful ambush resulting in a greater number of casualties for us.”
Finding his ability to speak again in her presence Demetrix chose his words carefully and offered explanation. “I regret having to kill those men. I didn't want to. They were attacking the wrong target.”
“Wrong target? There were humans? Elves? The orcs don't typically take prisoners to Idenfal.”
“I'm afraid you misunderstand. One of my companions was captured and loaded onto the caravan. I'd been tracking them for quite some time when your men attacked. I had no problem with that. When they went after my friend, I had to step in.”
“I understand protecting your friend. I'm sorry my men got in the way of that, but I feel like you aren't telling me something. Unless your friend was an orc he shouldn't have had anything to fear of my men.”
Demetrix paused, uncertain if he should tell her or not.
Elalon stopped, turning to wait for him.
“Krenin is half-orc, though not of this land. He's not like the orcs here.”
“I find that somewhat hard to believe. I've never met an orc that didn't raid, rape, and loot for the pleasure of it. Much less one that was capable of having friends.”
“Have you ever seen a green orc?”
“No!”
“You've never met an orc like Krenin then.”
“Well, even if your friend is different I fear he won't be for long. Once he reaches Idenfal he'll be trained to forget everything he's ever known. If he survives that, they'll rebuild him to be like them. It's a safe assumption that your friend is gone.”
Demetrix took a deep breath. There was logic in her words. Resuming his pace he took position beside her once again, walking wherever she was leading him. “Even if that's the case I still own it to him to try.”
“I can't fault that. It's that very attitude that spawned the rebellion and makes us different than them.” She passed through the inner courtyard and into the center most building. It shot into the sky, seeming to reach the clouds.
Demetrix found it strange. The size of this place should have made it visible for days in any direction, yet he couldn't recall seeing it prior to being here. “How are you able to keep this place from being overrun?”
“We have the area cloaked. From the outside it reflects back, making it seem as if it's not here. It's taken hundreds of years, but the orcs won't come into the forest. Our survival is dependent upon discrepancy. We never attack from the same place more than once and we never lead our enemy to our gates.” Following the twisting corridors, she stopped outside a single door.
Demetrix stood upon the red carpet lining the hall. The walls were mostly bare, save for the groomed ivy and other plants hanging here and there. He looked at her, uncertain why she stopped here of all places.
“You're welcome to reside in this room while you're here. If you need anything you can find a guard at either end of the hall, or you can find me to the right and at the end. I'll have all your gear returned to you. Please take a moment to clean up. I'd appreciate if you'd join me for dinner.”
He hadn't expected any of that. Blushing, he thought as quickly as his mind would let him. “It would be my pleasure.” He gave a shallow bow, mimicking the way Ravion always had.
***
Gareth twisted the arrow, probing deeper into the wound. “Don't play games with me. You know who I'm talking about!”
Wiping the blood away from his longsword Ravion sheathed it. Picking up the heavy bow he approached his friend. Staring at the defeated and bloodied orc, he knelt down. “Getting anything yet?”
“He was just about to tell me where they took him.” Twisting the shaft a little harder Gareth forced the head into the meat, watching it tear the hole wider. He pressed his knee into the muscle of the orc’s good arm, constricting the veins and keeping it numb and unable to function. Straining to focus he forced his will into the brute’s mind. He could feel the defying thoughts, urging him to search deeper. The answers were there, he just had to find them. Images of battle and blood filled his mind. He could see this orc's desire. It was almost as if he was a slave to his own blood lust.
The orc howled in pain, feeling the iron head wedge itself beneath his flesh. “I don't know! Why don't you ask someone else?”
Ravion looked around at the fleeing humans. Most of them wanted nothing to do with this. The few that watched kept their distance for fear of retribution. “This isn't getting us anywhere. We need to get moving. I’m sure another group is on its way by now.”
“Almost.” Returning his attention to the orc Gareth continued. “I know you're dumb, but you're really going to tell me you don't remember seeing a smaller, green orc within the past few days. I mean, come on, the way I understand it he's the only green orc this land has.”
The orc was silent for a few moments, clearly searching his memory. “I remember seeing a green orc a few months ago. He was taken to Idenfal to be trained as an orc.”
“Impossible, he was taken from the tavern just yesterday.” Gareth felt the orc’s mind unlock, revealing all his secrets. The orc's telling rang true. How is that possible?
“Kill me if you want. Doesn't change anything.”
“We’ve learned all we’re going to from this one.” Gareth brought his dagger down, cutting into the orc’s meaty throat. It gargled in protest, drowning in its own blood. “Tell me, how could we lose a few months in a single night?”
“You don't believe him, do you?”
“I was able to see into his mind. He wasn't lying.”
“Interesting. The only thing we've done was go to the library. I suppose that could make sense. I've heard stories of certain places that remain outside of time. I suppose that would make sense as to how they keep the magic from being detected.”
“I guess. If it's been a few months where do you think Demetrix or Krenin are?
“It's hard to say. Though it seems all our answers are in Idenfal. The sooner we get there, the sooner we find out what the hell is going on.” Ravion tossed the orcish bow over shoulder. The crude weapon was unwieldy, but it was good to have distance if they needed it. “The tunnels are this way.” Ducking into the alley, he disappeared from sight.
***
A cool cloth rested against his forehead, absorbing the beading sweat pouring from him. Lying on a wooden table his eyes shot open, taking in the sight of the hide covered hut. He could see the heat waves rising out the open top melting away the outside snow, yet he felt cold. Trying to sit, a shooting pain erupted in his chest.
“Rest. You not ready yet.”
Krenin glanced over, finding a gray-skinned orc standing a few feet from him. He held a stone bowl in his hand, working a wooden pestle inside. The contents crunched between the two, echoing throughout the small room. Straining against the pain, he looked down at his chest seeing where the spear had penetrated him. A light gre
en, nearly white, paste was packed into the wound bubbling out a yellowish fluid. “What happen?”
“You were run through. Lucky from the look of it. Nothing important got hit, but the poison took its toll. You got infected.” The orc approached and wiped away the bubbling fluid.
“How I get here?”
“Warg riders brought you. Only three survive. The shadow lookin' out for you. Warchief say you important. Don't want you to die without honor.”
“Warchief?”
“You meet in due time. Rest now. You take care of pups tomorrow. Go to train when healed.”
Laying back he watched the heat roll from the opening, feeling his strength fade away. Closing his eyes he drifted off to sleep.
***
The following day Krenin sat up, feeling the wound pull. It was numb, but didn't hurt any less. The deep purple skin had faded, returning to a bruised green. Pulling the wool shirt over his body he hooked the wooden buttons running down the chest, pulling it together. They were a few sizes too big for him, but it was better than nothing. Stepping out the leather flap he felt the cold assault him. It burned his lungs and froze his nose hair. The light bits of moisture clinging around his mouth were starting to freeze already. The sounds of combat echoed all around him. He searched all directions, finding himself in the middle of the largest orc settlement he'd ever seen. Even the capital of Tulgrim was nothing compared to this, though it was more pleasant to look upon.
In the distance there was a huge stone castle surrounded by a wall. A large mountain range wrapped around it engulfing much of the stonework. The orc buildings were crude in comparison, but equally large. The majority of the space was taken by a series of pits. Most of them were filled by orcs locked in melee. Each one wore little more than rags, though their supervisors were dressed in full armor. A wolf's howl caught his attention. Recalling his duties he noticed what looked to be a rather large stable, though it didn't have a corral he'd grown accustomed to seeing at such places.
The churned snow beneath his feet was packed tight, refusing to make a sound. Pressing a heavy soled boot into it he took his first step, nearly stumbling. Catching himself he took another step, finding his rhythm. He rounded the corner, seeing the most fantastic sight. The largest dogs he'd ever seen ran from one end of the pin to the other. They were nearly twice his size and covered in a variety of patterns.
“You there, green-skin!”
Krenin turned finding one of the orcs standing beside one of the massive beasts. He ran a thick bristled brush through the warg's fur, removing clumps of hair.
“Get over here and do this.” He laid the brush on the table and moved, letting the half-breed move where he'd been.
Krenin picked up the brush and pulled it through the coarse hair. He was amazed at how thick the fur was.
“You do that one. After that, there's more.”
***
For several days Krenin collected mats of fur, stuffing it into heavy sacks. He'd wondered what they did with it, but his questions were soon answered.
Krenin heaved the final sack onto the wooden cart, watching it roll off. Following behind as quick as his body would allow, they traveled to the edge of the orc city.
“Unload the sacks and dump the fur into that barrel.”
Following the order he watched one of the orcs scoop a large hand full from one of the other barrels. He dropped it into a metal container and poured molten wax over the top. Removing it from the heat, he put a plate over the top and tossed it into the snow. Lifting another of the strange containers he removed the plate and reached in, pulling a blanket like sheet from inside. Laying it over a mold he pressed it into shape and tossed the finished piece into a pile.
Krenin saw everything from clothing to training dummies lying among the piles. It seemed they used the fur for nearly everything. Looking down he noticed the pressed fibers of his own clothes were made of the same material.
“Come on, green-skin. We have cleaning to do.”
Krenin glanced back noticing the warg master had left without him. Moving as quickly as he could, he caught up and followed him to the pit.
“Clean the shit from the pins, but stay out of Uma's. She due for pups and you don't be messin' with ‘em.”
Krenin grabbed the shovel and squeezed between the runs. Tending to his duties he heard the first sounds of birth from the far pin. Laying the shovel against the barricade, he stepped through to see what was going on. Leaning against the rail he watched eight pups squirm around the straw filled pin. Their fur was clean and wet, suggesting she'd already cleaned them. They fought to get at her. He was amazed by their size. Even being newborn they were already the size of a small dog. An unusual movement caught his eye. He saw one of the pups dig its way from beneath the others. It was much smaller and was having trouble finding its mother. Krenin recalled what he was told, but he had to do something. It needed to eat. Climbing through the rails, he scooped the pup into his hand and positioned it at one of the unused nipples.
The pup latched on and started eating. Standing guard, Krenin made sure the others didn't force it away. He waited patiently; making sure it had its fill.
“I told you to stay out!”
He spun around, seeing the enraged orc.
“That one couldn't get food. I help him.”
The warg master glared over the run, looking at the pups. “It's a runt. No use to us. Like you! It won't survive the training. Take it out and kill it. Better die quick than suffer its whole life.”
“You want me to kill it?” He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
“That what I said. Take it out and kill it!” The orc glared his command, daring the half-breed to argue.
His head low, Krenin scooped the puppy up and stepped through the runs. He heard it whimper, begging to be returned to its mother. Stepping outside he locked his arms around the pup, shielding it from the frozen wind. Carrying it to the side of the building he stared into the animal’s searching face. He watched it's nose flex, learning his scent. “I can't do this!” Looking around, he made sure no one was watching. Burying the pup in his shirt to keep it warm he marched across the snow as quick as he could and entered his hut. Laying the pup in his bed he covered it in the fur blanket, made of warg hair. “I'll come check on you when I can.”
As he stepped into the pit the warg master gave him a questioning look. “Is it done?”
Krenin lowered his head. “Yes!”
“Good. Get back to cleaning the pins.”
***
Demetrix stood at the edge of the highest balcony overlooking the forest city. He could see the peaks of Idenfal in the distance. Listening to the soft footsteps behind him, he waited for her touch.
Elalon placed her hand on his hip, laying her chin against his shoulder. “Wondering where they are again?”
“I am. They should have been here months ago.”
“I think I may have something that could help. We stopped a contraband shipment this morning. It had a few items the shadow doesn't need.” She gently pulled against him, silently begging him to follow.
Demeterix followed her down to one of the lower levels. Twice as many guards stood over this area as any other he'd seen in the city. Elalon waited for the double doors to open. Stepping through, she approached a wooden chest resting along the far side of the room.
Demetrix scanned the room, curious to what was so important. The walls were lined in shelves, and tables stood here and there. Nearly every surface had alfaren runes carved into it. “What is this place?” He couldn't help but feel that it was similar to their vault back home. When coming across powerful items it was best to lock them away where they couldn't fall into the wrong hands.
“This is where we put all the magic items we find. It's the only room we've been able to ward against the sharliets.” She opened the chest retrieving a head sized orb, wrapped in a bronze colored cloth. Laying it on one of the tables, she gestured him over. “I haven't seen one of these si
nce I was a child. Even then, they were rare.” Uncovering the orb, she kept her eyes off the reflection.
“What is it?” He studied the crystal orb, unable to find a single flaw or imperfection in it.
“It's a seer's stone. It has several uses, but for you it can show where your friends are.” She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her lips to his. “You just need to place your hands on it and think what you want to see. If it's capable, it'll show you.”
Returning her kiss, he looked deep into her eyes. “Why do you do all this for me?”
She smiled. “You're unlike any man I’ve met. I could have continued on alone, but I choose not to. Despite your little quirks, which I enjoy, I see strength in you. I believe you're capable of great things and I want to be beside you when you realize it too.” Grabbing his wrists, she guided them to the sides of the orb.
Feeling the cold material, he stared into the reflection. Show me Ravion. The image briefly distorted and became clear once again. It showed Ravion approaching a village gate. Gareth marched behind him. They didn't look a day older than when he left them, yet his hair had grown out several inches and a lengthening, brown beard clung to his face and chin.
“I recognize that village. That's Tiermoar. It's about a month southwest of here.”
Demetrix released the orb, letting the image fade. Turning to face her, a renewed hope radiated from him. “Do you know of any way I might be able to get a message to them?”
“I can think of a couple.”
***
The pub was near empty. Only a few men sat here and there enjoying their drinks. The fireplace crackled, sending a few glowing embers out onto the stone platform it rested upon.
Gareth stepped through the door, searching the faces within. Happy to see a lack of orcs he approached the bar. Ravion followed after, taking position beside his friend.
The Order of the Trident: Speculum (Eldarlands Book 2) Page 23
