The Andor: Book One of the Legends of Tirmar

by Mark Dame

  On the other side, pinpoints of light dotted the hillside.

  “Gurnborg,” Gudbrant said.

  Chapter 8

  The path to the valley floor, or what remained of it, switched back and forth along the mountainside, the slope too steep to go straight down. The two-furlong distance from top to bottom took nearly half an hour of slipping and sliding to cover. The group gathered together at the bottom of the slope for a few moments of rest.

  The valley floor seemed to be relatively flat, at least compared to what they had been traveling through for the last several days. The path turned into a full-sized road at this point, leading straight across the valley toward Gurnborg. The tall grass that lined the road was mostly trampled into the ground for several yards on both sides from the company of orcs that had passed through.

  Though the valley contained little natural cover, with only scattered clumps of trees and small bushes, the misty rain and low-lying clouds limited the visibility enough to keep them hidden from any lookouts at the garrison.

  “That’s enough rest,” Gudbrant said after a few minutes. “Sunrise is only a couple of hours away and I want to be inside before daybreak.”

  With no sudden drop-offs or steep climbs, they traveled much faster than they had in the mountains. Before long they came to a fork in the road. What appeared to be the main road continued to the west. It was rutted and overgrown with weeds, apparently not often used. Splitting off to the north, the road again turned into not much more than a muddy path that led toward the orc stronghold. Gudbrant gathered them together.

  “From this point on, we have to be even more careful. They’ll have roving sentries, especially along the road. And once we get close, we’ll need to stay out of sight of the guard towers as well.”

  Gudbrant took the lead, with Randell directly behind, then Flyn, and finally Harvig in his usual spot in the rear. Gudbrant led them off the path, along the right side of the road. They moved at a much slower pace now, crouching down among the tall grass. Between the main road and the northern slope, there were no trees or bushes, just a wide-open field. Flyn recognized the grass as wheat, not much different from what he had planted at home in the fall and harvested in the early summer.

  They hadn’t traveled far when Gudbrant signaled for them to stop and crouch down. Flyn couldn’t see anything but the grass around him and a vague outline of Gudbrant a few feet ahead. Then he heard voices coming from the road. The voices were too far away and too quiet to understand, but he recognized them immediately as orcs. One of the patrols Gudbrant had warned about.

  They stayed crouched down in the grass until the voices disappeared. Gudbrant peeked out to make sure all was clear. Then he signaled for the others to follow and they resumed their crouching walk.

  Twice more they had to stop and hide from passing patrols before they reached the foot of the slope. Each time, Flyn strained to hear the sentries over his own beating heart, sure that one of them would see the disturbance in the wheat and come to investigate. But none of them did. The sentries walked past the hidden group, oblivious to their presence. Even when they reached the edge of the field, Flyn was still convinced one of the orcs would see the path of crushed grass through the field and raise an alarm.

  “I suspect they’re not very concerned about intruders,” Gudbrant said, seemingly sensing Flyn’s apprehension. “They’re mainly concerned about large groups of soldiers that might try to attack. No one would be stupid enough to try to break into the garrison.”

  Ahead of them was a tree-lined slope leading to the orc garrison. Watchtowers loomed above the forest, their ramparts a darker shadow against the night sky. The lower walls were hidden behind the trees, though they could see torches flickering through the leafless tree limbs. Torches burned on either side of the road where it entered the trees. Two more sentries stood alongside the torches. More torches spread out on the hillside marked the road’s winding path to the gates.

  The sentries on the road were no more than two hundred yards from the band of would-be infiltrators. Nearly fifty yards of scrub grass and low-lying bushes separated the wheat field from the wood line.

  “How are we going to get past those guards?” Flyn asked.

  Gudbrant grinned. “Easier than you may think. Standing next to those torches, they won’t be able to see much farther than the light of the torches. If we stay quiet and move slowly, they’ll never see us.”

  Flyn was skeptical, but said nothing. After all, Gudbrant had far more experience at this kind of thing.

  “We’ll cross one at a time. I’ll go first. Randell next, then Flyn, and Harvig, you cover the rear. Wait until the person ahead of you is across before you start.”

  Randell and Harvig nodded. Gudbrant looked at Flyn.

  He was still unsure, but nodded anyway.

  “Okay,” Gudbrant said. He took one more look at the sentries, then started across. He moved slowly, crouching and watching the orcs as he went. It took him over a minute to cover the open ground and disappear into the trees on the other side. Randell followed as soon as they lost sight of Gudbrant.

  Finally, it was Flyn’s turn. The guards hadn’t moved. Harvig gave him a pat on the back. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the wheat.

  A shiver passed down his spine, though he wasn’t sure if it was the cool night air on his face or fear of being out in the open. He glanced back at Harvig, who urged him on with a wave of his hand.

  Another step. Now he was completely exposed. If the orcs looked his way, they would surely see him.

  There was no way he would make it across. This was madness. This whole plan was absurd. What had he been thinking? There was no way they would make it into the garrison, much less be able to find and rescue Kel. He should have just stayed in Garthset. He couldn’t go home without Kel, but if he didn’t go home at all, at least he wouldn’t have to face Kel’s family and explain to them how his stupid plan of paddling his boat around Trygsted led to Kel’s capture, and maybe death. He could never face that. If he stayed in Garthset, he could at least be alone in his shame.

  “Go on!” Harvig hissed from behind him, making him flinch.

  Flyn took another deep breath and started across the open field, crouching as he had seen Gudbrant and Randell do. He forced himself to go slow. Every fiber of his being wanted him to run, run as fast as his legs would carry him. Each painfully slow step took him farther from the safety of the wheat field, but seemed to bring him no closer to the trees ahead. One step at a time, he inched his way toward the spot where Gudbrant and Randell had disappeared, his eyes moving between the woods and the orcs.

  Halfway across one of the orcs turned toward him. Flyn froze, not daring to move a muscle. The guard looked straight at him. Flyn braced himself to run. His best plan would be to turn around and run back into the wheat field where he could hide, maybe evade the orcs long enough to escape back to the other side of the valley and, if he was lucky, back into the mountains. From there he could make his way back to Garthset. Sweat dripped into his eyes, blurring his vision.

  How had he ever thought he would be able to sneak into an orc fortress to save Kel?

  The orc turned away, leaning on his halberd.

  Flyn breathed a sigh of relief. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and continued on wobbly legs. When he reached the trees, he collapsed to his knees.

  “As I said,” Gudbrant whispered, “they can’t see beyond the torchlight.”

  Flyn was still on the ground when Harvig arrived.

  “No time to rest, Andor,” Gudbrant said. “We have a long climb ahead of us.”

  The steep slope was covered in boulders, trees, and briars. Fallen logs and tree branches added to the mix of obstacles. Their view of the fortress was completely blocked. Even the torches on the fortress walls were hidden from view. The climb ahead of them seemed impossible.

  “It’s a very effective natural barrier,” Gudbrant said. “Probably why they chose this spot for their garrison.�
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  “Can we make it to the top?” Flyn asked. He certainly didn’t think so looking at it.

  “That, my friend, is what we are about to find out.”

  Gudbrant picked a spot between a tree and a small boulder and started to climb. The others followed, working their way up over the smaller rocks and around the larger ones. Gudbrant seemed to know exactly where to go, finding a path up the mountainside where none could be seen. Flyn struggled to keep up with Gudbrant’s pace, but the militiaman never outdistanced the others, sometimes slowing or even stopping to allow them to catch up.

  Each time Flyn climbed over another boulder he paused, knowing that somewhere above them in the dark, sentries in the guard towers were looking for them. If the guards saw them scrambling among the rocks and trees, the group wouldn’t know until they reached the top where the orcs would be waiting. If they were lucky, they would be captured and used as slaves.

  That wasn’t the way Flyn wanted to find Kel.

  Flyn’s arms and legs ached from the endless climb. He was bruised from slips and falls, though thankfully his armor had protected him from serious injury. Still, Gudbrant kept climbing. At one point Flyn turned to look back at Harvig, whose labored breathing he could hear over his own. Looking down, his head grew light, and dizziness overtook him. If not for the tree limb he was holding, he would have toppled right over Harvig to a certain painful death. He didn’t look back again.

  When they were nearly to the top, Gudbrant called a halt. The others climbed up next to him, gasping and panting to catch their breath. The misty rain had become an early morning fog, hiding much of the fortress ahead of them. To their left, the main gate was lit up by giant lanterns hanging above it. Unlike the simple torches used to light the road up the mountain, the lanterns used hoods to direct the light toward the ground. Here, anyone approaching the gate would be illuminated by the lanterns, yet unable to see any guards stationed on top of the wall.

  The wall of the fortress, at least thirty feet high, disappeared into the fog beyond the main gate. To their right, it continued for several hundred feet where it ended in one of the massive guard towers they had seen from the valley. The tower’s top was hidden in the mist. Which also meant they were hidden from the guards in those towers, much to Flyn’s relief.

  “The weather seems to be on our side this morning,” Gudbrant said. “Even so, our path becomes tricky from here. We have no chance to make it in through the main gate. There is, however, another way. I’ve heard there is a smaller, back gate that’s used to bring in ore from the mine. I don’t know how hard it will be to reach, nor do I know how well guarded it is, but perhaps they aren’t expecting anyone to try to sneak in. Their main concern seems to be defending against a large, frontal assault.”

  “And what if it is guarded as well as the front gate?” Flyn asked. He was amazed they had gotten as far as they had, but he was sure their luck would run out soon.

  “Let’s just scout it out,” Randell said. “Then we can come up with a plan.”

  “Agreed,” Gudbrant said. “If anyone has any questions, now is the time to ask.”

  He looked at Randell and Harvig. Both shook their heads. Flyn had a thousand questions, but decided that knowing the answers would probably make him feel worse. When Gudbrant turned to him, he shook his as well.

  “Good. When we get to the top, we will work our way around to the east. We’ll stay in the cover of the trees as long as we can.”

  He turned and began climbing again, the rest of the company close behind.

  The last part of their climb was easier. In a few minutes, they were looking at the bottom of the wall, no more than a hundred yards from the tree line. The fortress was built on a large mesa, though Flyn couldn’t tell whether the plateau was natural or man-made—orc-made, he corrected himself. The ground between the walls and the trees was all mud and rock. The mud was filled with thousands of footprints, still fresh. Flyn suspected that the large group that had passed them earlier that night had started here.

  Gudbrant led them along the edge of the trees around the fortress, moving slowly to avoid making any noise that might alert the guards that were sure to be on the wall. Flyn hoped fog would help conceal them from searching eyes, just four insignificant shadows among the trees.

  As the group rounded the corner of the fortress, the trees came to an end. Ahead of them lay open ground, bounded by the fortress wall on the left and a sheer cliff climbing into the fog on the right.

  The fog was growing thicker. Now the top of the wall was completely hidden.

  “We are fortunate,” Gudbrant whispered to the group. Any other time, there would have been no way for them to move past the wall surrounding the garrison without being spotted. Gudbrant hurried to the cliff wall, to stay as far from the fortress as they could.

  The walk along the plateau was quick and easy compared to the climb up the mountainside. Even so, the fortress was massive. Flyn estimated about two furlongs from the front corner with the guard tower to the back corner. They continued along the cliff until they were well past the corner and the back wall of the fortress was lost in the mist. Ahead of them, the cliff turned to the west and became a steep slope. A path ran from the back of the garrison to the slope and up into the mountains. Except for a few weeds, the ground between the cliff and the fortress wall was completely bare. If not for the fog, the party would be completely exposed.

  “Not much cover to sneak in,” Harvig said.

  “No, there’s not,” Gudbrant said, staring into the mist. “Randell, do you think you can scout out the gate without being seen?”

  Randell thought for a moment. “I suppose I could try to get to the wall, then crawl along it. The fog should keep the guards on the wall from seeing me.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking. Let’s do it. Even with the weather, it will be getting light soon. I would like to be inside the garrison by then.”

  Randell dropped his pack and sword, taking only a dagger with him, then turned toward the gate.

  “Don’t take any unnecessary chances.” Gudbrant put a hand on Randell’s shoulder.

  “Don’t leave without me.”

  Randell started toward the gate in a crouched walk. The fog closed in around him and before he had walked more than a few dozen yards, he was gone.

  How long Randell was gone, Flyn couldn’t guess. With no reference to the sky, he lost track of time. He and Harvig sat with their backs against the cliff wall, snacking on dried meat sticks, waiting for Randell to return. Gudbrant paced back and forth, occasionally stopping to stare into the gloom. As they waited, the fog grew thicker. Eventually they couldn’t even see the path into the mountains anymore, even though it was less than fifty feet from them.

  “What’s taking him so long?” Gudbrant muttered. “I should have found a better way.”

  Harvig seemed unconcerned with the fate of the other militiaman.

  At last Randell appeared out of the gloom, seeming to materialize before their eyes. Gudbrant ran to him.

  “What did you see?” he asked before Randell had even made it all the way back to the group.

  “I managed to get very close to the gate. The fog is quite thick near the wall.” Randell sat down and reached for his pack. “Two orcs guard the back gate, same as the front, though I heard more on top of the wall.”

  “Just the two?”

  “That’s all I saw.”

  “What about torches and lanterns?”

  Randell shook his head, taking a long drink from his flask. “None. I guess they aren’t concerned about the back door.”

  “I’ve been working on a plan while you were gone.”

  The plan seemed simple enough: distract the guards and run through the gate.

  The first step of their plan was to try to look like the human slaves they had seen earlier. Sneaking around inside the garrison would be hard enough, but dressed for battle, they would be spotted immediately.

  They hid their packs, weap
ons, and armor among the rocks and covered them as best they could with smaller rocks. Gudbrant found two branches and erected them in a cross several yards to one side of the spot with their gear.

  Flyn had his hunting knife tucked into his belt, hidden under his tunic. The others did the same with their daggers. All of the slaves they had seen had been wearing worn clothes, so they tore holes in their pants and tunics. For a final touch, they used mud from the field to dirty their clothes and faces.

  When they were finished, Gudbrant stood back to examine them.

  “It’s not perfect, but it will do,” he said. “We don’t want to get up close and friendly with the orcs anyway.”

  To Flyn, the others looked as ragged as the slaves, though perhaps better fed. Their journey from Garthset, especially the trek through the mountains, and their encounter with the orc patrol had already done most of the work. Even so, the reality of their situation was beginning to set in. While he had always known their goal was to infiltrate the garrison at Gurnborg, seeing the fortress and preparing to actually sneak in gave it a whole new perspective.

  “All right,” Gudbrant said after making a few final adjustments. “We go now, or not at all.”

  With a final nod, Gudbrant turned and disappeared into the fog. Randell looked at Flyn and Harvig, then, without a word, led them in the direction of the fortress.

  The thick fog surrounded them, a cold, wet blanket, deadening sound as well as sight. The air hung heavy and silent. They had lost sight of the mountain slope behind them, and the fortress wall in front of them was well shrouded. Flyn had no idea how Randell knew which way to go. He just followed the militiaman, hoping he knew the way.

  The fog ahead began to grow darker until, finally, the fortress wall materialized in the gloom. Randell paused when they reached it, signaling Flyn and Harvig to remain quiet. After listening for a moment, he motioned for them to follow and hurried along the wall toward the rear gate. They followed him as quickly as they dared, keeping close to each other to avoid getting lost in the fog. After a couple of minutes, Randell stopped. Even though they couldn’t see the guards yet, they must be close to the gate.