Braxis squawked in anger and turned north toward the plateau. The feathers on the back of his head ruffled in irritation. Alexander said “It seems Braxis and I are going to check it out. Let’s move a force up there. Lorian, take five hunters with you. Leave the rest down here to guard the caverns and monitor the forest. Sasha, you figure out the rest. I want at least half of our fighters to remain down here in case this is just a diversion. Silverbeard, open portals to Stormforge and Broken Mountain, and let them know what’s going on. Don’t ask for aid, just inform them.”
“This be Harin. I hear’d ye. I be at Greystone Manor and can run ‘n tell the capt’n.” The dwarf apprentice’s voice came through guild chat.
Alexander responded. “Thank you Harin. Please be sure and tell the king we can handle it. We’ll call for aid if necessary.”
Bodine’s voice came through next. “I’ve redirected the wolves and birds toward the north. They’ll be able to find the orcs no problem. I’ll keep you informed.”
Alexander looked down as they flew over the keep. The inner courtyard and outer fields were abuzz with activity. Small figures running around in preparation for battle. Just as Braxis was clearing the top of the escarpment and moving above the massive trees, Jeeves spoke again.
“There are now two hundred and thirty orcs moving south. The lead orcs are stopping at the village. Several have entered the buildings and seem to be searching.”
Alexander looked at his map, then down at the forest below. They were just passing the garrison tower. He waved down at Bodine and Regina, and several of the farmers and carpenters who had retreated into the tower upon hearing of invaders. “Regina, please coordinate with the farmers to bring as much of the livestock as possible inside the walls. We don’t want to be feeding the orcs if they come this far south.”
Braxis continued northward as Alexander studied his map. The river ran in a diagonal across his lands, from the northwest to the southeast. The bridge between the tower and the village was approximately 5 miles north of the tower, and 3 miles south of the village. He pointed his hand toward the bridge and said “Braxis, can we go that way?”
The gryphon gracefully tilted his left wing down a bit and followed Alexander’s direction. In just a few minutes the river and the bridge were in sight. Braxis descended below the treetops and coasted along the river to the bridge. Alexander looked carefully into the tree line north of the bridge. Where once there had probably been a road, there was now just forest.
The bridge was indeed made of stone. The river here was about three hundred feet wide, and the bridge was a much larger construction than Alexander had expected. In his mind he’d pictured the little thirty-foot long bridge that spanned the creek south of Dire Falls. This one was maybe three hundred and fifty feet long, with thick stone pillars rising up from the water and melding into the arches that supported the span. Its stone walls were thick, and the top surface was wide enough for two large wagons to pass with room to spare.
Alexander gathered all of that in the short time he had as Braxis passed over. Then they were on their way north once again. Back above the treeline, Alexander tried to scan the forest for any sign of movement. Other than several large elk moving southward, he saw nothing.
“Jeeves, where are they now?”
“They have apparently decided to camp in the village, Alexander. There are now three hundred and ninety of them, and no new ones have entered sensor range for more than a minute. Several have started campfires within the village. The last several are moving slowly, and two have died as they walked.”
Alexander and Braxis continued northward and slightly west toward the village. Braxis apparently knew where it was. This was, after all, his territory for the last several centuries. As they approached the village, he increased their altitude. Alexander assumed it was to stay out of bowshot. Orcs were extremely strong, and their bows could fire arrows nearly as far as a centaur’s bow.
Braxis moved into a circling pattern as they reached the village. It had been overgrown with trees in the years that it lay in ruins, but the buildings created enough gaps in the growth to see hundreds of orcs milling around. Several were using axes to cut down trees within the village and reduce them to firewood. Others were already roasting whole elk and bear carcasses over large fires.
After two complete circuits, Braxis continued north. Alexander asked him where they were going, then felt silly when the gryphon squawked his reply. After a moment, Alexander returned his gaze to the forest. He could see one of the dead orcs Jeeves had mentioned. It had two massive arrows protruding from its back. As they continued north, he spotted more of them that must have been outside Jeeves’ range. They were all dead, some with missing limbs or ghastly wounds. Others sporting arrows like the first he’d seen. He opened guild chat. “There are maybe fifty dead orcs scattered around in the trees north of the village so far. The farther I go, the more I see. I think something drove them south into the forest. I also think maybe Braxis is taking me there to see who’s chasing them.” The gryphon squawked and nodded his head.
Looking up, Alexander could see the northern edge of the forest approaching. The moment they cleared the tree line, Alexander gasped in surprise. Below him was an army! Braxis let out a roar that shook Alexander’s bones, and dove toward the center of the army. What had been small figures on the ground quickly became an army of minotaurs. Massive humanoids with hooves for feet and the horned heads of bulls. On Io, the minotaur nation was neutral. Some tribes were friendly toward men and elves, and some tribes not so much. In the field around the minotaurs and for as far as he could see to the north, bodies littered the ground. Both orc and minotaur. Though many more of the former by far.
Braxis continued his dive, headed straight toward a large canvas tent surrounded by man-cows in thick armor and wielding double-bladed axes. He roared again, landing in a clear spot where a campfire was being built. As he came to a stop, he folded his wings and looked back at Alexander expectantly. Alexander, still in a bit of a stupor from finding this army at the border of his kingdom, shook his head to clear it. He called out. “I am King Alexander of Elysia. My lands lay mostly within the forest to the south. Is there a leader among you I could speak with?”
He had no idea if the minotaurs surrounding him had any understanding of what he’d said. Apparently Braxis wasn’t sure either, because he squawked loudly in the direction of the tent. A moment later, a black-furred minotaur stepped out. He was easily two feet taller than any of the warriors around him. His shoulders were as wide as a rhino’s, and the tips of his horns were easily four feet apart. He stomped toward them, one hand holding an axe that was larger than Alexander himself.
“I am in charge here!” His baritone voice bellowed across the distance between them. “I am Molgo. Leader of my people. What business do you have here?”
Alexander swung his leg over and slid off of Braxis. He took a few steps toward the massive minotaur chieftain, who looked even larger now. “I am King-” he was interrupted as Molgo slammed his axe into the ground, burying the blade deep. “Yes, yes, King Alexander, I heard all that. WHY are you here?”
Alexander took a breath to compose himself. He had a feeling that backing down in front of this tribe would be very bad. So he straightened his spine a bit and shouted. “Several hundred orcs just invaded my kingdom. I came to find out where they came from. Along the way I discovered nearly a hundred of them dead and dying. I take it you are responsible for that?”
The chieftain grunted. “We are. They made the mistake of attacking our city. We have driven them for a full day and night across the plains. Many of our brothers and sisters have gone to the green pastures above. But the orcs have lost ten for each of ours lost.” He thumped his chest with one fist and the warriors around him let out a thunderous bellow.
Alexander waited for the noise to die down as he considered what to say next. He decided on diplomacy. “I am sorry you have lost so many. And I congratulate you on your impr
essive victory!” This led to a less enthusiastic but still bone-rattling cheer. He waited once again for silence. “But you have driven what is left of their army into my lands. My kingdom is large, but my people are few. We will defend our land and destroy the remaining orcs, but we are not all mighty warriors such as yourselves. Many of my people will perish in the fight.”
The chieftain took hold of his axe and yanked it free of the earth. Placing it in a harness on his back, he said “Come to my tent. We shall drink, and talk.” Alexander followed after a momentary hesitation. The looks from the warriors on either side of the path Molgo was making did not look at all friendly. Though, he really had no basis for comparison. Braxis squawked once and settled himself down on his belly. A minotaur from the crowd tossed him what looked like an orc leg, which he immediately began to gnaw on. Much to the delight of the warriors.
Following Molgo, Alexander stepped inside the tent to find several more large minotaurs in impressive armor standing around a table. On the table was a map. Alexander immediately activated his recorder and peered at the map, trying not to look too curious. He’d review the footage later.
The chieftain grunted, and the others quickly left the tent, each saluting before turning away. He sat down on a large stump, and motioned for Alexander to take a seat as well. Finding no chairs or other stumps, Alexander declined. Molgo grunted in acknowledgement, then began to speak. “We received the notification of your new kingdom. I congratulate you. Our people’s history speaks of that forest being abandoned since the great demon war. We do not like the forest, and have rarely ventured inside. We are more comfortable in the sunlight of the open plains.” He pointed to the map, inviting Alexander to take a better look.
The area was immense, many times the size of the combined kingdoms of Elysia, Stormforge, and Broken Mountain combined. He could see the plains began at the edge of his forest, extending north for easily a hundred miles, and similar distances east and west. A mountain range seemed to ring the entire thing. There were a few rivers, and a marking near the center that Alexander thought might be a city. He pointed to it. “This is your home? Your city?”
Molgo nodded his massive head. “Greensward. My people settled there after the wars centuries ago. The ones who did not return to the mountains. It has been our home ever since.” He ran his finger from the city southward to the edge of the forest. “I am sorry we were unable to finish the damned orcs before they reached your lands. It was not our intent to drive them there. Their clan leader sacrificed thousands of his people to slow us down and enable him to escape.”
Alexander nodded his head. “No apology is necessary. Can you tell me more about them? About him?”
Molgo settled back on his seat. “Their clan leader is Borag. He is smart, and without fear. Also without mercy. He kills for the thrill of it, and respects only strength. Borag has long coveted our city. His own people live scattered in tribes across the plains and in the mountains. He works to unite the orcish tribes under his banner and drive us from the city, so he can occupy it himself.”
Molgo took a long breath. “Before he rose to command, my people and his coexisted on the plains. Even traded. The orcs are not farmers, and they came to us for vegetables and grain. They provided us with metal ores from their mines. There were occasional skirmishes. Orc bandits raiding our farms or caravans. Our warriors hunting them down in return. I believe if you could kill him, his people would disperse again.”
Quest Received: Borag’s Bane
Kill Borag the Orc Chieftain to break his hold over the orc tribes.
Reward: Variable experience; 10,000 gold; increased reputation with Molgo’s tribe.
Bonus Reward: ??
Alexander said, “We have many healers among my people. I saw you have wounded among you. It may take us a few days to prepare our assault on Borag and his people. I could send some healers to you, as a gesture of friendship.”
Molgo nodded his head. “We wear our battle scars with pride. But many of my people’s wounds will claim their lives. I would be a fool to refuse help that may save them.”
Alexander checked his inventory. He had nearly a hundred of the common health potions and a bag of sugar. He said, “If you will give me a small tent to work in, I can create some potions that will help those most gravely injured.”
The minotaur stood, towering over Alexander. He motioned toward the stump and the table with the map. “You may work here. I will leave you to it. And thank you.” He crossed the interior in three large steps and exited the tent, leaving Alexander to his work.
He quickly removed the potions and sugar cubes. A quick count told him he only had about fifty cubes. Taking his knife in hand, he carefully cut each one in half. Putting his knife down, he took a half-cube in hand and took a deep breath.
Fitz had warned him not to cast spells. He was hoping the slow and relatively minor flow of magic needed for this enchantment wouldn’t kill him. Closing his eyes, he began to push the healing magic into the sugar. He could feel the resistance that Fitz described, so he pushed a bit harder. A dull ache developed in his stomach, but he could feel the magic flow into the half-cube. When he sensed it was full, he set it down and gathered another. Then another.
After maybe thirty of the cubes had been enchanted, the pain in his gut was reaching a level that was beginning to make him sweat. In hopes of easing the pain, he took a few minutes to slip the enchanted sugar into the potion vials and give them a good shake to dissolve the sugar. When that was done, he resumed the enchanting. By the time he reached sixty of the half-cubes, he was panting for breath and tears ran from his eyes. He took another break to finish the next thirty potions.
Still not recovered, he took a moment to update everyone in guild chat. He felt guilty for not speaking up sooner. “So… I found a minotaur army just north of the forest. They’re the ones that drove the orcs onto our land. Killed most of them before they got here. Long story. Anyway, the minotaurs are friendly. Or at least, not hostile. I’m helping them out a bit. Got a cool quest.” He took a moment to share the quest with his people. “I’m making them some health potions, then I’ll be back. Pretty sure this is not a diversion, but keep our scouts on alert just in case.”
“You’re doing WHAT?” Sashas voice had a scolding tone even in guild chat. “You know you’re not supposed to be using magic, dorkboy!”
“I’m being careful. It’s an easy spell. But yeah, it hurts a bit. I’m almost done. Really hoping Fitz figures out a cure for this. Speaking of Fitz, see if he can convince the other gryphons to fly some healers up here. These minotaurs have some seriously wounded people. Or even better, if he can teleport to Antalia and get Martin and his people, then bring them here; by tracing my amulet…”
With a ragged breath, he picked up another hunk of sugar and began again. By the time he’d completed another twenty-five enchantments, he was sobbing with pain. Pushing through, he picked up another one. This time as he cast the spell, he felt a familiar twisting in his gut. Taking another break, he mixed the enchanted sugar in the potion vials. Looking at the table a couple minutes later, he whispered to himself “Fifteen more. You got this. Think about all the mangled cow-people out there, who need them.”
He lifted another cube and began the enchantment. He had to push harder now, and the pain made him cry out. Still he pushed through. As he was finishing, Molgo burst into the tent, axe in hand. “Are you under attack?” he looked wildly about the tent. When he saw Alexander sitting at the table, sweating and gasping for air, his head tilted to one side. “What ails you?”
Alexander held up one of the completed potions. “These will keep your most seriously wounded alive, until the healers can get here.” he panted.
Molgo took the potion gently and examined it. His eyes widened.
Rapid Restoration Potion
Single Use: Restores 5,000hp
“These… will indeed be a great help.” He said. He looked with concern at Alexander. “It pains you to make
these?”
Alexander nodded. “It is difficult. Making so many has caused some… discomfort. But I have only a few more to make. I will manage. Would you like to distribute these while I finish?” He pulled an empty cloth bag from his inventory and scooped the completed potions into it. Molgo took the bag and left without a word.
Hoping the extended break had eased the blockage, he lifted another cube and began again. The pain was immediate and intense. Still, he pushed through, grunting as he started another half-cube. Then another. By the time he reached the last few, he was groaning quite loudly from the pain. His hair and clothes were drenched with sweat, and his hands were trembling. No stranger to pain, this was beyond what even he thought he could endure.
He reached out and took hold of the last bit of sugar. Closing his eyes, he took a few ragged breaths, then pushed the spell. Gritting his teeth, he cried out in a hoarse scream as he pushed the last of the magic into the sugar. He felt dizzy, and nauseous at the same time. He dropped the sugar and struggled to his feet. Stumbling out of the tent, he stepped to one side and emptied the contents of his stomach into the already blood-stained grass. Surprisingly, that actually eased the pain a bit.
Straightening up and wiping his mouth, he saw dozens of minotaur warriors staring at him. Some were smirking at the perceived weakness of the puny human losing his lunch. Others looked concerned for him. Molgo stepped out of the crowd and instantly crouched in front of Alexander.
“I see you have paid a high price to heal my people. We are grateful.” He took a knee and bowed his head slightly. Instantly, every warrior in sight took a knee and bowed their heads deeply. There was a low, rumbling hum, that grew in volume until it vibrated the wood of the tent poles. It stopped when Molgo returned to his feet. He assisted Alexander back into the tent, and to his seat.
Alexander promptly finished inserting the sugar into the remaining potions. He handed them to Molgo, who bellowed for a guard to come and get them. The warrior took the bag of potions with a nod of respect toward Alexander, then quickly exited. Just as he left the tent, Fitz appeared with four healers from Antalia.
Defenders of the Realm Page 7
