The warriors pondered his words briefly before Captain Hadrick spoke again. “I think I will talk with our people in the morning. The choice will be theirs to make. I think you are right, Silvy. We will be departing for Finarth with as many refugees that wish to come. The Gildren Garrison should only be a week and a half away. We head there and then to Finarth. The others will have to find their new homes on their own. I hate to even speak those words, but I agree with you in that our choices are few, and none are appealing.”
The Gildren Garrison, Finarth’s most northern outpost, guarded the bridge over the Gildren River and provided the only accessible route across the massive river. From there it would be another week to Finarth.
“Gutting an orc at the gates of Finarth sounds appealing to me,” Groben added with a smile. The rest of the evening passed quickly as stomachs filled with warm stew and the hard traveling began to rest heavily on their eyelids.
“Get some sleep,” Captain Hadrick ordered after they finished their meal. “We have a long day tomorrow. Lieutenant Silvy, check the perimeter. At night I want five watches set, relieved every four hours. See to it.”
“Aye, Captain,” Silvy replied as he stood from the fire.
The attack came during the third watch. Captain Hadrick was awoken by screams and the sounds of battle. At first he thought it was a nightmare, but that thought was quickly dismissed when he heard the horn of alarm.
He leaped up from his wool blanket and grabbed his sword and shield. He had no time to don his plate armor as the chaos outside moved to a louder crescendo of screams and fighting. But he always slept wearing his chain mail, and he silently thanked his old sergeant who had instilled that habit in him.
He raced out of his tent and sprinted toward the sounds that came from his left. The refugees had also been roused from their slumber by the noise and they looked at the captain with frightened eyes. Some were holding young ones close, and a few of the men were holding weapons in shaking hands, unsure of what to do. Luckily his men had kept a perimeter of fires going, and the moon was out in full, painting the grassy landscape a glowing blue. So he could see well enough as he raced through the campsites of the terrified Cuthainians.
Captain Hadrick saw two of his warriors emerge from the darkness in front of him. Thank Ulren he thought as he saw that they too were wearing their chain mail. He had passed that lesson on to them as well, and luckily none had shirked that duty tonight.
“Groben, Sury, good…follow me!” Captain Hadrick ordered as he bounded past them. As they neared the western perimeter the sounds of fighting drew them directly to the source. Five other Free Legions warriors had joined them and they spread out into a flanking position as they neared the commotion.
Six dark clad orcs were locked in battle with two Free Legion fighters. Hadrick’s trained eyes flicked across the scene as he and his men jumped to help their comrades. He saw a score of dead bodies littering the grassy ground, and only one was an orc.
The two men were fighting back to back, using the longer reach of their long swords to fend off the clumsy swings of the short orcish blades.
Hadrick and his men erupted from the darkness to help his frantic men. The orcs on the far side disengaged and ran into the black night, knowing that the element of surprise was gone. But three of them were stuck between the newly arrived men and the two fighting soldiers.
One orc frantically swung his sword toward Hadrick, simultaneously trying to backpedal and escape into the night. But Hadrick was having none of that. He took the sword directly on his shield and pivoted at the last minute, lessening the impact of the strike. He spun full circle and led with his sword. His blade struck the orc in the side with enough force to drive it to the ground. Hadrick lifted his sword and hit the beast right in the face just at it looked up. The heavy body fell silently to the ground.
Meanwhile, Hadrick’s men easily dispatched the remaining orcs.
“Silvy, are you okay?” Hadrick asked as he ran towards the two warriors who were previously fighting for their lives. Silvy was wearing his plate mail and he looked unhurt, other than a slight cut on his hand.
“I’m fine, Captain,” he replied as he wiped sweat from his forehead.
“And you, Torum, are you hurt?” The captain asked as he turned towards the other man who was leaning heavy on one leg.
“Just a cut on my leg, sir. I will be fine.” Torum was wearing his chain mail shirt over cream colored leggings. His feet were bare and it was obvious by his appearance that the attack had come as a surprise. Fresh blood dripped freely from a long cut across his thigh.
“Get that wound cleaned and bound. Sury, get more fires lit and reset the perimeter. Tell the refugees to arm themselves and to make sure the men are alert. We need lots of light and eyes open to use it. Who knows how many are out there or if they will be returning,” the captain added.
“Yes, sir,” Sury replied as he ran into the night.
The rest of his men had already begun to assess the damage and form a perimeter. They were all seasoned veterans and they knew their job. The Free Legion did not get their reputation for nothing; they earned it through constant conflict with the marauding tribes and nomads that lived across the plains surrounding Cuthaine.
“Silvy, what happened?” the captain asked.
“Orc patrol, sir. They slipped out of the darkness and killed Morgan who was on watch. Then they snuck in and began to attack some of the refugees as they slept. It’s a good thing orcs can’t walk softly as they might have gotten to more. I was relieving myself over yonder in the grass when I heard them. It was my horn that you heard.”
“Very good. Well done, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you, sir,” Silvy replied.
“Get a count of the dead and see me in my tent shortly,” Hadrick ordered as he turned and walked briskly back to his tent.
Inside his tent, Hadrick buckled his breast plate on and went to the maps on the table. His tent was small, barely big enough for the one table and sleeping furs. But he had certainly slept in worse conditions. After several minutes the tent flap opened and Silvy strode in.
“What is the damage?” Hadrick asked as he buckled on his sword belt.
“Morgan, Cons, Ardis, and Teagen, dead, sir. Along with ten refugees.”
“Good men,” Hadrick muttered as he shook his head sadly. He had been fighting alongside Ardis for ten years and he considered him a good friend.
“But that is not all, sir,” Silvy continued.
Hadrick narrowed his eyes. “Yes?”
“Seli is missing, sir.”
“Missing, what do you mean?”
“She was on watch with Morgan. But we can’t find her body anywhere. She is gone.”
“Ulren’s blade!” Hadrick swore. Seli was the only female in his command. It was not common for a women fighter to make it through the training, but it wasn’t unheard of. Seli had proven herself year after year, and he hated to think what those scum would do to her.
“Captain, what are we to do? You know what they will do…”
“I know, Silvy, but what can we do?” the captain asked, his anger and frustration evident in his voice.
“But I think they didn’t kill her because she was a woman. I heard her scream just after the fighting…and…”
“I know, Silvy. But we are blind. We cannot go marching around in the dark. They can see and we can’t. Besides, if we took a small force out, then we would be leaving these people unprotected. We have to hope that Ulren will protect her.”
Silvy ground his teeth in frustration, but he knew Hadrick was right. There was nothing they could do for her. At least not at night.
Captain Hadrick sighed. “Be vigilant, Lieutenant. We will send out scouts in the morning to look for her. Pass the word that we leave at first light. I will speak with the refugees in the morning.” The captain then dismissed Silvy and gave another heavy sigh. He knew it was going to be a long night.
* * *
It was nearing sundown and Tuvallis had moved out of the thick forests of the Tundrens several days ago. He had pushed himself hard as he felt an urgency that he could not explain. He would need more supplies to get to Finarth. He thought to head more southeast towards some of the small towns that dotted the fields around Cuthaine, before turning south towards Finarth and the Gildren Garrison. He could re-supply himself there before moving on.
He knew that Malbeck’s army could be close. Scouting and raiding parties could already be roaming the lands nearby, so he had to be careful, which was why he decided against a fire as he picked a comfortable spot near a lone oak tree to lay down his bedding. It was cold and patches of snow covered the ground, but he was well outfitted with a thick fur coat to keep him warm during the night.
He made a soft bed of dry grass and laid his wool sleeping roll over it. His breath puffed out in clouds, but at least it was dry and the clear sky showed no signs of rain or snow.
He rummaged around in his pack and pulled out a hunk of cheese and dried mutton to eat for supper. He ate it quickly, as he was hungry from the day’s long, hard trek. He washed it down with water and noticed that his canteen was almost empty. So he stood up and walked over to a patch of nearby snow. He stuffed the snow into his water container knowing that it would melt throughout the night tucked under the warmth of his furs.
He turned to move back to his bed, but the beautiful sunset grabbed his attention. The last remains of the sunlight were dropping behind the horizon, causing a pinkish glow to streak the sky. And it was when he was looking at the dazzling skyline that he noticed, off in the distance, a flickering orange light. What was that? Tuvallis wondered.
It looked like a large campfire off in the distance, but that seemed unlikely this far from any homestead or town. Tuvallis looked back at his make-shift bed and wondered if he should go investigate the mysterious light. He’d have to pick up his bedding and repack it, as he would not be able to find it again in the dark. He certainly didn’t like the idea of sleeping so near a fire that could be the nightly home of thieves, or worse yet, an orc scouting party from Malbeck’s forces.
With that in mind, Tuvallis packed up his bedding and strung his bow. He kept his bow string tucked tightly in a dry warm pocket to protect it from the elements. It only took him a few seconds to string the bow, then he shouldered his pack and he was off.
The night was faintly illuminated by the soft glow of the stars which cast enough light to lead him slowly through the grass. The light from the mysterious fire acted like a beacon, and he had no trouble zoning in on it.
As the fire grew closer, his fears were realized. He could clearly hear the guttural grunts and growls of orcs. It looked as if they had built a raging fire on the outer edges of a lone patch of low growing oak trees that were sporadically splattered across the grassy landscape like paint on a canvas.
Tuvallis stopped forty or so paces from the scene and quietly took off his pack. He gently laid it down and crouched in the low grass to observe the scene. He was covered by the shadows of night, but he had to be careful as an orc’s sense of smell could prove dangerous, and their eyesight at night was that of a hunting cat.
He counted ten orcs and what looked like a long haired human tied roughly to a wooden pole stuck into the ground.
Tuvallis slowly inched closer to get a better look. The flames of the fire danced around and cast flickering shadows over the captive. One of the orcs threw a stick at the poor soul, and hit him in the face, causing his head to jerk back. The captive was bleeding and dirty, and Tuvallis could not get a good look at him. Just then the same orc moved next to the captive and ripped off his dirty wool shirt.
Tuvallis was momentarily taken aback by what he saw. The captive was a woman, and as soon as her breasts were exposed the orcs started yelping and growling like a pack of excited wolves. They surrounded their captive and groped and prodded her, ripping off more clothes in the process. She was so beaten that she did not protest at all. She simply stood there as her head lolled up and down, fighting against unconsciousness.
Tuvallis swore under his breath as he slowly crept around the clearing toward the patch of trees, while his mind wondered if that was such a good decision. He was a tough and seasoned warrior, but taking on ten armed orcs alone would be no easy feat.
It was not uncommon for orcs to rape human women. The end result could be a half-orc child, but more often than not the woman would not survive such abuse. If she did survive the rape, and was unfortunate enough to conceive a child, the birth would more than likely kill her. The baby would be too big.
Tuvallis decided that he would not let that happen.
He made it safely to the dark cluster of trees and slowly inched his way to a large oak that offered a clear line of sight to the clearing that was now only twenty paces away.
The orcs all wore black hardened leather armor, mixed with pieces of plate mail that they had scavenged; they carried short swords, and there were some shields and crossbows nearby. Tuvallis didn’t see any of the crossbows loaded, and that made him feel a bit better. The woman was muscled and lean, and Tuvallis could see several scars across her torso and arms. She was obviously a warrior, and by the looks of the dirty tunic and red sash, he thought she might be from the Free Legion. That puzzled him since Cuthaine was more than several days ride from his location.
Tuvallis began to form a plan in his mind. It would not be easy, but if things went well, then he might live to see another day. He drew two arrows from his quiver and stuck them into the ground at the base of the tree. Then he moved quietly to the left to another tree at the far end of the glade. He placed another two arrows there, before slowly moving back into the grass. The grass was about waist high, so he dropped down to his hands and knees and crept slowly forward another twenty paces. He then used his body to push the reeds of grass down into a soft clearing, like a deer or animal would do to bed down for the night. He stuck two more arrows there before moving again around the clearing to his last location.
It was getting darker as patches of thick clouds drifted around the sky, covering the moon and decreasing visibility beyond the firelight. And the orcs were so intent on their victim that they were paying little attention to their surroundings.
Tuvallis had one knee down as he slowly lifted his head and nocked an arrow. He was roughly twenty paces away, so he could clearly see the orcs tire of their play and cut the woman down. Now was the time to attack.
He took two deep breaths, pulled back on the string of his powerful bow, and put the biggest orc right in his sights. Tuvallis had spent the last fifteen years mastering his skill with the bow, and he knew he could place two arrows almost anywhere he wanted at that distance. He released his breath and let the shaft fly. He didn’t even wait to see if his arrow hit its mark, before grabbing the second arrow that was stuck into the ground at his feet. He had that arrow whistling into the night in less than a heartbeat.
Then he was off, running hunched over in the darkness towards his next location. In the darkness he would have missed it if he hadn’t spotted the clearing that he had previously patted down. Dropping to his knees he grabbed an arrow and let that shaft fly.
Most of the orcs were frozen in shock, or fear, as they saw two of their comrade’s drop to the ground. It wasn’t until Tuvallis’s third arrow hit its mark that they began to move. Several orcs grabbed their crossbows and began loading them. Others drew their swords, grabbed their shields, and faced the darkness from which the arrows had come, growling and yelling at each other in orcish.
Tuvallis silently thanked the stupidity of orcs as he noticed that the remaining six orcs had remained near the campfire. All they had to do was charge into the darkness and then he would be in trouble. He would be hard pressed to take on six orcs, at night, with just his sword. They could see well in the dark and he could not. The bright fire would hinder their night vision, but provide Tuvallis with just enough light to see.
Tuvallis made it to
the first tree when he heard a shout, followed by louder growls. He nocked one of the arrows and quickly leaned out from the tree trunk. He knew he had been spotted as three orcs were running towards him with sword and shield.
He released the shaft and it took the lead orc in the chest, launching it backwards to its death. Tuvallis then spun and grabbed the second arrow, quickly stepping to the other side of the tree and releasing that shaft into another orc who was not more than ten paces away. That beast took the shaft in the throat and went down quickly.
Tuvallis knew that the third orc would be on him in seconds, so he leaped into the brush toward the last tree. In the darkness, however, he did not see the downed log before him. He hit it squarely with his right foot causing him to pitch violently forward while he frantically spun his body to avoid landing on his bow. He spun to his back and tried to get his feet underneath him, but the third orc was already upon him. Tuvallis had a hard time seeing, and he could not pull his long sword from its scabbard from his prone position.
The orc swung its sword down just as Tuvallis kicked out violently with his right foot. He hit the orc solidly in the knee, hyperextending it and causing its swing to veer to the right. The orc’s blade spun and glanced off his thigh, inflicting a shallow but painful cut. Luckily the blade had spun in its hand, and most of the contact came from the flat of the weapon and not its edge.
The orc howled in pain and dropped to its good knee where it met Tuvallis’s second kick. This time its head snapped back and the beast toppled over while Tuvallis frantically scrambled to his feet and ran toward the last tree.
The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 03 - Glimmer in the Shadow Page 3
