The Order of the Trident: Speculum (Eldarlands Book 2)

by Samuel Rikard

  “Need two rooms for the night.”

  The barkeep tossed the rag over his shoulder and reached under the counter, grabbing two keys. “That'll be four kerilum.”

  The two men paused, hearing the currency.

  Ravion reached into his belt pouch. “Will you take gold?”

  The room went silent. Everyone turned to face the newcomers.

  The barkeeper leaned in close, whispering to them. “I wouldn't say that so loud around here. We ain't seen gold in these parts since I was a boy. Shadow runs pretty strong through here. You're liable to end up with an orc warvich in ‘yer gut before the night's out. Go around back. I'll meet you there.” Increasing his tone he near shouted, making sure everyone heard him. “We don't use no resistance money ‘round here. Get out! Find somewhere else to sleep!”

  Ravion was a bit confused, but picked himself and left. Gareth studied the man for a moment, unsure what was happening. Shaking his head he turned and headed out the door.

  Reaching the back door they waited patiently. A click echoed through the wooden barrier and it opened revealing the barkeep. “Sorry ‘bout that. Couldn't risk any of them reporting back. Here's ‘yer keys. Since ye ain't working ‘fer the shadow I'll take two silver if you got it.”

  Ravion pulled two gold pieces. “Take this. If things get rough you may the need to extra for repairs.”

  “Thank you, much. Come on in. There's a ladder in the store room that'll take you upstairs. I'll send a girl up in a bit to see if ya’ need anything.”

  Ravion nodded his appreciation and stepped inside. Finding the ladder he quickly climbed up and stepped onto the balcony, overlooking the room below.

  The rooms lined the outer wall on two sides. Checking the markings etched into the keys they found the two rooms furthest from the stairs, their doors blocked from view by a false wall.

  Stepping into their perspective rooms they closed the doors behind them.

  Ravion lay on the bed looking up into the vaulted ceiling. He recalled Senaria, letting her scent flow through him. The warmth of her skin seemed so close, yet so far away. Looking upon her face in his memory he closed his eyes, hoping to dream of her. A tap at the window roused him. Sitting up he glanced out, seeing a hawk perched upon the seal. Standing, he approached and unlocked the wooden frame. Sliding it up in its track the bird flew into the room, shedding a few of its smaller feathers. It landed on the back of the chair, waiting patiently. Ravion noticed a small piece of parchment wrapped around its leg. Untying the sinew he unrolled it, studying the ink stained markings.

  R, I'm glad you're well. When able, meet me at High Point Bluff. Travel north, keeping the forest within sight to the right. You'll know it when you see it. D.

  Chapter XIX

  An Orc of a Different Color

  Krenin ran his hand down Uma's fur. She'd grown accustomed to him while she was nursing. He held the tankard against her, working his fingers to drain what milk he could into the cup. Listening for the warg masters he looked in, ensuring he had enough. Quickly climbing between the rails, careful to keep from spilling it, he stashed the mug behind the feed bags.

  The warg master came through the door. “The warchief believe you well enough to train. Report to Commander Mac'thar!” He passed the half-orc, disappearing into one of the rear pins.

  Krenin grabbed the mug. Stashing it beneath his shirt to keep it as warm as possible he made his way into the cold and quickly entered his hut. A smile came to his face seeing the gray and white tail wagging back and forth at his sight. He stared into those icy blue eyes, feeling a sense of joy wash over him. The pup had grown nearly double its size in the few weeks it'd been living in his hut. Krenin grabbed the hanging cow bladder from the wall support. Quickly pouring the still warm milk he sat down on the bedroll and held it up, letting the pup bite down on the end.

  The pup drained the bladder in no time. Delightfully wagging his tail he pawed at the half-orc, trying to climb into his lap. Krenin lifted the pup up. Gently scratching him behind the ears, he felt a joy he'd never known. It was short lived. “I have to go train. You stay here and be quiet. Don't want them finding you.” Setting the young warg on his bed he stood and made his way out the leather flap, feeling the rush of cold surround him. Stealing another glance into the small dwelling he looked upon the beautiful fur coat, wondering how much longer he could keep it a secret.

  Making his way to the training pits he approached the armored orc standing near the front.

  “Green-skin, grab sword and fall in. You behind, have lots to catch up.”

  Krenin picked up one of the crude, rusty weapons lying on the rack outside the pit. Stepping between two of the unarmored orcs he took position and turned to face the commander.

  “Begin!”

  Krenin didn't have time to raise his blade in defense. The orcs surrounding him spun around, bringing their dulled weapons down upon him. He hit the ground feeling the ice melt beneath his flesh. The blows continued coming in, too numerous count.

  Hearing a commanding shout they stopped, returning to their idle state.

  Krenin weakly picked himself up. He could feel his bruised and broken skin throbbing in the cold, but he would survive. No bones were broken, though it didn't mean he wouldn't hurt for many days. Staggering back into position he readied his sword, hearing the commander give order again. He raised the blade in defense stopping the first attack he saw, though there were too many to block. Again he collapsed to the ground. Hearing a familiar echoing shout, they backed away from him.

  ***

  Days turned to weeks, and weeks into months. The half-orc stood in formation, ready for the vicious assault. They'd stopped attacking him every time trading it up to some of the new arrivals, but he still fell victim on occasion. Listening to the commanding shout he threw his blade up, deflecting the first sword. Wasting no time he knocked a second away from him, and a third. Spinning around he held them off, keeping a single blade from getting past his defenses. Realizing what he'd done he brought the sword low, knocking the legs out from under one of the orcs. Shoving another over the first they toppled, granting him a wider area to fight. In minutes he had secured his area, locking all others out.

  “Halt!”

  Glancing up at the commander Krenin lowered his sword and snapped to attention, awaiting orders.

  The commander approached, stepping in front of the green-skin. “Took you long enough.” Increasing his tone he turned away and addressed the unit as a whole. “If you can't protect yourself, you can't protect the orc to your side. Remember this. One day it could save your life.” Returning his attention to the half-orc he spoke in a softer tone. “Fall out. You go train with Warlord Grundar.”

  Krenin turned and laid the dulled weapon on the rack. Passing the chow pit he grabbed a large hunk of boar meat and took a small bite, continuing toward his hut. Opening the flap, the large warg sat idle on the bedroll. The fur blankets had been shredded and strung across the room. Shaking his head Krenin quickly stepped inside, making sure no one saw the hidden dog. Holding out the meat the warg gently took it, lying in on the dirt floor and began devouring it. Krenin glanced at the crate, lying against the wall. The layer of straw was compacted and covered in filth. It was ready to be taken out and changed. The dog was producing more and more waste each day. Running his fingers through its thick mane, he watched the collection of gray and white hair bunch between them. “We're gonna’ have to hide you somewhere else pretty soon. You gettin' too big to stay in here.”

  The warg's light blue eyes looked up at him. Abandoning what was left of the meat he turned, laying his head across the half-orc's lap. Krenin patted his side, listening to the hollow sound echo beneath his hand. “Perhaps we sneak out in a few days. That give me time to get stuff.” He heard footsteps approaching his door. Jumping up he rushed to the leather flap and stepped out, seeing one of the gray orcs a few steps away. Quickly closing the flap he waited for the orc to speak.

  “Warlord Gr
undar waits for you. Said to get there now or you face the lash.”

  Krenin nodded, watching the orc turn and head off. Stealing a final glance at the flap he turned and headed after the orc, trying to think what his excuse was going to be.

  Reaching he pit he noticed several orcs dressed in armor and carrying sharpened weapons. There were a few that carried a small number of scars upon their flesh. Compared to their commanders battle scarred bodies they were minor, but they were clearly superior to the orcs he'd been training against. He spotted the warlord standing near the front of the pit.

  “What take you so long to get here? I've no time to wait for foolishness.” The warlord glared at the smaller orc, clearly not happy about his presence in general.

  “I had to shit. Thought it better to do before coming.”

  The orc raised an eyebrow. Shaking his head he gestured to the large hut standing alongside of their area. “Go get fitted. You gonna’ fight like an orc, you gonna’ look like an orc.”

  Krenin nodded and stepped into the open canopy. Despite the chilling wind and constant snow the open sided structure was surprisingly warm. He searched the collection of forges seeing all kinds of weapons and armor lying here and there. Looking for anyone to talk to he approached the first forge-man he saw. “Warlord Grundar sent me. Said to get fitted.”

  The smith glanced up from his work, scanning the smaller orc from head to toe. “You awful small. What he want, kid armor?” The orc laughed at his own joke. Gesturing to one of the piles of various pieces he steeled himself, letting his laughter die off. “Dig through those. Find the closest. We modify and make fit.”

  Nodding in acknowledgment Krenin searched the pile, finding what he could. The women's armor was a closer fit to his smaller stature. He suspected they'd give him a hard time over it, but it was better than nothing. He brought the pieces he found to the smith.

  The orc took one look and busted into laughter. Calming himself he forced the words out. “Come back at nightfall, I'll have them ready for you.”

  Krenin returned to the warlord. “He said come back later.”

  “Very well. Take this and fall in.” The large orc extended the greater warvich to him.

  Krenin wrapped his hand around the weapon recognizing it immediately. He couldn't recall where he'd seen it before, but he knew it was his. Moving toward the rear of the collected orcs he took position, ready to defend himself if they turned to strike.

  ***

  The reforged armor fit perfectly. Krenin stretched in the heavy plate. It moved as if he weren't wearing it at all. Testing his flexibility he heard some of the other orcs chuckle at his expense. He didn't care. It was comfortable and had done a fine job protecting him. That was all that mattered. Taking position in the center of the pit he watched the orcs standing around the outside ring. He rather enjoyed these exhibitions. They gave him a chance to expand his single combat skills and silence anyone who spoke out against him. Already he'd climbed through the ranks, yet there were many who still doubted him. It doesn't matter. Soon they'll all respect me! He raised his warvich and waited for the command.

  The warlord stood on an elevated platform overlooking the spectacle. Banners whipped in the chilling winds attached to their jagged posts stuck into the ice covered ground. Raising his hands for all to see he called the defending champion. “Seargent Vorak Shadowhelm, enter the ring.”

  Krenin watched one of the seasoned orcs approach. He carried a smaller warvich in each hand and his thick armor was stained black. He recalled seeing this orc fight before. He was vicious, refusing to give the slightest quarter.

  “Anything goes. Last orc standing claims status. Loser descends to the afterlife with nothing. Begin!”

  Vorak charged, both swords raised and ready to cut the half-orc down.

  Throwing his warvich up in defense Krenin deflected the first strike and side stepped, letting the second fly past him. Spinning around he narrowly raised his sword in time to block the incoming attack. Looking into his opponent's face he saw a calm unlike any he had seen before. This orc hadn't begun to test him.

  Vorak smiled. The green-orc had been lucky thus far. That ends now! Keeping his main hand locked against the greater warvich he brought his off hand up, ramming the jagged hand guard into his jaw. He watched the green-skin stumble backward. Sword in hand he pulled his blackened helm from over his head and swung it, bashing him in the face.

  Krenin fell backward slamming into the densely compacted snow. Grabbing his face in pain he could feel the sticky, warm blood pouring from the wounds.

  The orc raised his blades evoking a cheer from the surrounding spectators. Circling, gaining the most out of them, he returned his attention to the prone half-orc.

  Anger burned inside him. This orc was going to pay. Abandoning his sword Krenin jumped and charged, throwing his shoulder into the orc's midsection.

  The impact knocked the swords from his grip. Flying backward, propelled by the green-skin, he landed hard in the snow. No sooner than they hit the ground he felt his neck pop. It was jarred from the thick, green fist slamming into the side of his face.

  Krenin brought his other fist around knocking the orc's head the other direction. His eyes locked onto the dark, red blood trickling from the deep gouges where bone and skin were closest. He could see the white sinew beyond the meaty tissue. Bringing his forehead down he felt a crunch as he shattered the orc's nose. Rising from his beaten opponent, he took pleasure in the inflicted pain. The orc hurt him. It was only right he did the same. Spitting a mouthful of blood on the weakened orc he turned and marched toward his sword. If he was going to finish the job, he was going to sate its appetite. Reaching his weapon he picked it up. He spun around, hearing a deep howl echo from the across the pit. The orc had climbed to his feet, his chin outstretched and pointed into the sky.

  A matching howl echoed in the distance.

  Krenin could hear something massive getting closer. Thundering footsteps sounded near, shaking the ground. A dark flash shot through his vision ending at a huge warg standing in the pit, positioned between him and the orc. The snarling, pointed teeth threatened him. He looked deep into the warg's blackened eyes seeing no submission. This warg wasn't going to back down and neither would he.

  The beast lunged, knocking him from his feet. Krenin felt its dagger-like teeth sink into his arm. Howling in pain he pressed the flat of his blade against the warg's chest, pushing it away as best he could. The vicious maw snapped closed inches from his face, trying to tear him apart. He could see the orc fast approaching, ready to kill him while his defenses were down.

  Another howl echoed, this one much closer.

  Krenin felt the weight suddenly leave him. Glancing over he saw two dogs toppling over each other. His pup hunkered close to the ground. His fur was on end and teeth ready to kill. It sprang, tearing into the other.

  The black warg snarled, scratching and pawing, trying to get at the smaller animal. It was no use; the younger pup was quicker, more agile. It tore into its neck shaking its head viciously, trying to rip out anything vital.

  Krenin was lost in the battle. The pup he'd rescued, rescued him. He had to help him. The larger warg would surely kill him if it got one bite in. His attention was stolen seeing the orc approaching from his side. The smaller, jagged sword was aimed and flying at his head. Instinctively Krenin ducked, bringing his own sword around. It caught the orc in the stomach. Ripping the weapon free he watched the steady flow of blood drip from him, soiling the already stained snow.

  The orc dropped his sword, unable to keep his grip on the weapon. He was rapidly weakening. Hearing a yelp he glanced over, seeing the smaller pup sink its maw down on his mount's throat. It collapsed, ending his pet. Defeated, he looked upon his successor expecting the final blow.

  Krenin slashed wide, letting the jagged blade cut through his opponent's chest. Refusing to leave it to chance he twisted the blade in hand, bringing the pick down. It sank deep into the orc’s skull lodging
itself in place. The half-orc watched the star glazed eyes of the dying orc.

  They stared back at him, crossing and rolling up. A mixture of drool and blood fell from his mouth. He dropped to his knees, the remainder of his strength fading rapidly.

  Krenin ripped the blade free. He heard a suctioning pop as the pick was released. Turning to find his pup he stared in pride, watching the smaller animal bite into the already dead warg. It ripped out another chunk of meat, feasting on its victory. Approaching the pup he scratched it behind the ears, realizing they were surrounded. Raising his blade, he prepared for the worst.

  The surrounding orcs stared in silence, lost in awe of the victors. A single voice echoed above the silence. “A fine victory. One worthy of note.”

  Krenin searched the crowd finding the unfamiliar voice. He stood, stunned, watching the warchief step into the pit.

  “Let this be a lesson to you all. Never underestimate your opponent. You never know the resources they possess. Even the weakest of foes can emerge victorious given the right opportunities.” Gesturing to the half-orc the warchief continued. “Stand down, Krenin. You've fought a fine battle this day. And you emerge, Sergeant Krenin, slayer of Shadowhelm!”

  The orcs erupted in cheers, lost in the primitive heat of battle. “Krenin! Krenin! Krenin!” The echoing roar of his name was deafening in the sea of orcs.

  Pride overflowing he raised his warvich overhead, enticing their praise. It felt good, hearing them chant his name. He’d never had a people of his own. It’d taken a while, but these orcs finally accepted him.

  The warchief extended his hands, silencing them. “The status you've earned has certain perks, one of which is a battle warg of your very own, though it seems you've acquired one.”

  The pup stared up at his only friend, those icy blue eyes piercing his soul. He found the blood matted fur around its maw somewhat humorous and unnerving at the same time. Scratching the pup behind the ears he listened to the warchief continue his speech.