Narg winced as if he’d just eaten a sour plum.
“I don’t understand what need you have for these half-dead little folk, but I know for certain that their former masters have sworn to avenge the deaths of their tribesmen.”
Seeming me tense up, the troll hurried to reassure me.
“We did not allow them to enter our Forest. They have sent many riders to intercept you at Dry Gully.”
Then I really winced. The dried-out former riverbed formed something of a natural boundary between the western lands and the Wastes. There was no other way but to go across.
“But that’s only half the trouble,” Narg continued. “They ride with Sarkhaat.”
When Mee heard the last sentence, he squeaked in fear. His ears drooped and the fur on his back stood on end.
Seeing me have no reaction, the troll decided to introduce some clarity:
“Sarkhaat is the Great Shaman of the Horde. One of the Five Elect. Top advisor to the Supreme Chieftain of the orcs. Level fifty-seven.”
I frowned in incomprehension. I was totally lost.
“Does this Sarkhaat also thirst for revenge? And is that not a bit too much honor for eight slave drivers?”
“The old man doesn’t give a crap about the drivers,” Narg waved it off. Then with a predatory squint, he added: “He is hunting the people who killed his grandson, who left for the Tree of Spirits many days ago.”
Mee hiccupped in fear, which gave us away lock stock and barrel.
The troll, smiling, tilted his big old head to the side and asked:
“How did the grandson of the most powerful shaman on the steppe wrong you? Actually, you don’t have to answer. I know perfectly well how orcs treat someone when they feel superior.”
After saying that, Narg revealed an ugly scar on his left forearm.
“You know,” I said. “I will answer nevertheless. On that day, the apprentice shaman and his riders fell upon us. Two of our companions died in the ensuing battle, but we defeated them in the end. And with the Great System as my witness, the advantage was not on our side. But if some great shaman has taken it in his mind to avenge the death of his grandson that just means I have one more enemy.”
“Hm... I’ll be honest,” Narg chuckled darkly. “I’d rather have a hundred enemies than one like Sarkhaat.”
“Well, where’d you get the idea you are not his enemy yet?” I asked. “And in fact, you could already be a sworn enemy of all orcish shamans as a whole.”
My question struck the troll.
“We have no quarrel with the orcs,” Narg replied. “Yes, sometimes we have our squabbles, but we are not enemies. We’re more like uneasy neighbors.”
“Hm...” I kneaded my chin. “What are you gonna say when you find out the orcs are at fault for the desecrating of the Tree of Spirits?”
“What are you talking about?” Narg asked gloomily.
“The shamans were blinded by greed. Out of a desire to subjugate the most powerful spirits, they made blood sacrifices to the Tree for decades, and that defiled it. And that is what caused the recent onslaught. We were only able to mollify the Tree temporarily with the correct kind of sacrifice. But there is sure to be another outbreak. And another after that, and another... And only the gods can say what kind of beasts will come to ravage your Forest. This time the passage into the world of the spirits was open for one day, but who can guarantee that it will close at all next time?”
“The things you’re saying are unbelievable!” Narg exclaimed, dumbfounded.
“Don’t believe me? Ask Farhas,” I answered calmly. But then as if in passing, I added: “Although that will not be too easy. The elder is probably very far from here by now, deep in the Stone Forest. He’s leading his tribe away from the Tree of Spirits.”
While Narg furrowed his heavy brow in thought, his soldiers exchanged perplexed glances.
“By the way,” I said. “I almost forgot. Before you attack us, the grandson of the great shaman sacrificed Farhas’ daughter to the tree and almost killed his grandson. We found the boy half-dead next to the altar. My brother here healed him before it was too late. But you know... I think you’re right. Whether the orcs are your enemies or ‘uneasy neighbors’ is no longer up to me.”
After a heavy silence, Narg hit me with a harsh gaze:
“Today I have heard lots of new and unbelievable things. I must communicate all this to our elders. Farewell!”
After he said that, Narg turned and started in a quick pace toward the forest. The other trolls followed their leader without delay.
I don’t know why, but I suddenly shouted out to him:
“Narg!”
The troll turned.
“You have very little time!” I shouted.
The troll nodded gratefully and, before hiding amongst the trees, answered:
“Same to you, friend!”
* * *
There were two paths leading to Dry Gulley — over the steppe or through the Stone Forest. The latter was significantly shorter. Based on what Farhas told us, taking the forest paths had saved us approximately twelve days. Just under two weeks. But that’s only on foot. Our pursuers were riding wargs, which made the calculations totally different and unfortunately, not in our favor.
In other words, if we had any chance of avoiding an encounter with the orcs it was, to put it lightly, a long shot. But still there was hope.
It’s been five days since our run-in with the trolls. That same evening, I told the people about my conversation with Narg, not forgetting to mention who exactly was after us, which put them into shock. Beyond that, I was also forced to come clean about whose soul the great shaman of the orcs was really seeking.
When I suggested we split up, saying the shaman wanted me not them, they almost all refused. Tom said they were already doomed so there was no reason to take their hope of returning home away from them, no matter how modest it may have been.
After Tom, Maya said her fill. She expressed a readiness to walk as long as it took, regardless of how tired they got or how difficult the path became. Just to get back home. Overall, the people were unexpectedly in support of my plan of travelling at an accelerated pace, stopping as little as possible and for six hours at most only to sleep at night. The exact amount of time my Lair would stay active.
My and Mee’s spells plus the potions of satiety helped us keep up quite a respectable tempo. The people were having a tough go of it, but they weren’t complaining. The time they’d spent in slavery had taught them not to whine. And the little ray of hope that soon they’d be free only pushed them on. Beyond that, the whole way there they were trying to earn as many tablets and esses as possible by any available means. After all, now nobody would be taking them away.
By the way, speaking of loot. The first few days were hardest of all on the kiddos. At first they were trying to walk side-by-side with the adults, but they quickly grew tired and the men had to carry them. But then, at one of our pitstops, Mee convinced the parents to let their little ones take turns riding on Gorgie’s back. That way, the kids were able to level Riding a couple points in just a few days. And that also brought up their Strength, Agility and Endurance.
The harn treated the young riders patronizingly. Only little Rita was able to find the key to his heart. Well, to be more accurate, to his stomach. She quickly realized his name was Gorgie because of his voracious eating habits and was constantly trying to find tasty treats to give to her new friend.
In the end, we travelled quickly enough that our cohort reached the western edge of the Stone Forest by day eight.
“Do you sense anything?” I asked Gorgie, who was lying next to me.
The harn gave a negative sniff, but it was clear something was bothering him.
We hid behind the trunk of a tree on the forest’s edge and spent almost an hour examining the dry bed of the one-time steppe river known as Dry Gulley.
All around is peace and quiet. It’s like everything living on the stepp
e has died out. No orcs to be seen. On the other side of the riverbed looms a dark western forest just like the kind I knew back home. My heart wants to run forward to freedom, but the harn’s anxiety is transferring onto me. Were we too late? Did the riders manage to get ahead of us? And now were they hidden by the great shaman’s magic and waiting for us to flitter out like a flock of careless little birds right into their waiting hands?
In any case, we couldn’t just wait around. A few days from now, there’d be so many orcish yurts here you couldn’t swing a cat.
“We need to move, brother,” I said quietly, patting Gorgie on his firm side. “Ugh, too bad the Sixth Sense has only a fifteen-foot range. If it was two hundred paces... No wizard would be able to hide from us.”
“Hrn,” Gorgie agreed.
I gave a signal to the people hiding behind the distant trees and nodded to Mee.
A few days ago, we tossed all the silvers that dropped from the orcs into his characteristics. At first we wanted to improve Dome, but in the end we invested forty tablets into Intellect. That brought his mana supply up to five hundred twenty points.
In essence, the plan was simple. While Gorgie, the men, women and I distracted the potential enemy, Mee would lead the children to safety on the other side under his Dome. He supposedly had enough mana for forty minutes of invisibility.
He gave me the five-hundred-point mana crystals and, thanks to the Ephemeral Belt of the Twilight Mage, my overall supply went up to five thousand three hundred seventy mana points.
We wished each other luck and quickly walked out from the shelter of the stonetrees.
Mee’s group meanwhile was running over to the opposite edge of Dry Gulley. The spell worked amazingly. The only thing that gave away the invisible children’s presence was their footprints on the snow.
Once we reached the bottom of the dry riverbed, many breathed a sigh of relief. Now nobody would notice us for a while. At that very moment, the guttural cry of a war horn reached our ears. A regiment of ants instantly started marching up my spine. I think the hair on the back of my head started moving, too.
One lone thought was clanging around in my head like an alarm bell: “We didn’t make it!”
The harn sensed my fear and gave a menacing growl of encouragement. The women all started sobbing all at once. But I had to give them their due — there were no hysterics. They just kept running, keeping pace with the men. Brandishing the drivers’ short spears, the women were going to make their lives come at a high cost.
When the roar of the horn came again, Tom stopped stock still and looked at me. His dry lips, cracking in the cold air, spread into a timid smile.
“It’s not orcs!” he rasped.
Gorgie, standing on the top of the right bank of the hollow, snarled down to confirm.
“That is the horn of our lord’s retinue!” Tom called out gleefully, no longer holding back.
The people supported him with a joint shriek of elation. And I suddenly realized that I was also smiling happily. Were our days of roaming at an end? Had we finally made it to civilization?
Quickly making our way up onto the opposite bank of the dry riverbed, we froze for an instant and peered into the distance.
Tom was right. It was the retinue of the Steel King. A crimson banner with a gray crown in the center was attached to the saddle of one of the soldiers, serving as clear evidence.
I counted twenty-four lightly armed riders. Seemingly, we had the good fortune to be spotted by a border patrol company.
While my companions, waving their arms in glee, shouted to the warriors riding quickly our way, I looked where the children’s tracks were going. Mee, keeping the Dome up and not slowing down, was still leading the kids to the forest. I mentally praised him. Unlike the others, the gremlin was cold-bloodedly sticking to the plan, not losing his head.
Strange as it may have been, my familiar’s actions sobered me up instantly. My joy was replaced by a sense of tension. Yes, that was the retinue of the Steel King. And what of it? Who could guarantee that wouldn’t take us for spies of the steppe dwellers and cut as all down where we stood? Tensions on the border ran extremely high. I’d bet every poor sap in the kingdom’s capital knew about the coming orcish horde.
For a few moments, I could easily make out bleak looks on the warriors’ bearded faces. They were all over level twenty — these guys were no joke.
Light equipment. Lots of bows. I didn’t see any mages — I wasn’t even sure whether to be happy or sad about that. On the one hand, Mee and the kids had made it undetected. But on the other, if the orcs did show up, one more mage certainly couldn’t hurt...
My companions, seeing that the approaching riders didn’t share their delight, fell silent and all bunched up behind my back.
I wondered how that looked from an outside perspective. Twelve adult men and women hiding behind an unprepossessing skinny little boy. Furtively, I’d recalled Gorgie with the amulet a few minutes back. No reason to play on the authorities’ nerves.
I overheard some of the parents figure it out and celebrate for their kids. For the record, over the last eight days, Mee’s authority among these people had shot up sky high and was only continuing to rise.
“Lower your weapons, but do not throw them to the ground,” I started calmly. My voice sounded confident and quiet, but it was loud enough for all to hear.
“Do not display aggression, but be ready to defend yourselves. We don’t know what these people have in mind. And, more importantly, we don’t know what kind of orders they have about people like us.”
I had to give my companions their due. They had been carrying out my orders unquestioningly for the whole duration of our journey together. And now as well, they obeyed me without asking any questions.
The riders seemingly noticed our drastic mood shift. Just the way they started exchanging comprehending glances.
A matter of seconds later, our group was encircled. More than ten spear and arrow tips were pointed at us.
“Who goes there?!” the strict booming voice of the mounted company commander made several of the women shiver.
Gray hair, a few scars on a wide face, a nose that pointed slightly to the left, level twenty-three — I could tell right away the man had been an active participant in all kinds of local conflicts. And he had the company to match — cutthroats just like him. Despite the menacing tone, I didn’t see even a hint of hostility in the commander’s brown nearly black eyes. By the looks of things, he could tell who he was dealing with from afar.
“We have fled orcish captivity, Captain sir!” Tom answered for the rest, taking a step forward.
“What clan?” the captain asked.
“Clan of the Yellow Snake,” Tom answered back right away.
They gray-hair briefly exchanged gazes with the lean rider.
As for me, I took an immediate disliking to his big-nosed narrow face. There was something rat-like in his appearance. And he had a greasy little goatee, teary closely-set little eyes and a nasty mouth with thin lips and yellow teeth that jut outward, making him look even more rodent-like.
Despite his level sixteen and combat equipment, he most likely did not have such rich war experience. I took him for an agent of his Majesty’s secret chancery. I couldn’t have been far off. Honestly, I didn’t know what he was doing out here on the front lines. Father loved to say that this kind of guy always tried to keep as close to big cities as possible.
By the way, going off the grim and disgusted gazes the soldiers were casting at the rat man, I was not the only one who felt that way.
“You’ve made it rather far from their main encampment.” the big-nosed man’s voice rasped like an ungreased door hinge. “More than two weeks on the steppe and you didn’t get caught? Very strange and suspicious...”
I had to admit, setting the man’s appearance aside, he was asking very right-minded questions.
“We didn’t go over the steppe,” Tom answered boldly and turned his head my
way.
The man’s answer instantly caught the attention of the rat-face and all the others as well. Although the riders’ faces could have been characterized as measuredly intrigued until that point, afterward we were being drilled into by warily predatory gazes from all directions.
“Hm... Curious,” the scrawny man rasped. “So how were you able to reach the border then? Not by the sky I assume.”
I heard menacing and mistrust in his repugnant voice.
I could see Tom looking embarrassed and could feel the gazes of all my companions focusing on the back of my head.
I suspected I’d have to answer some uncomfortable questions, but I didn’t think it would be so soon. I won’t hide it — I was hoping I’d be able to quietly lead these people to the border and just as quietly bid them adieu. But alas, the gods willed otherwise....
The Wastes Page 30
