Reclaiming Honor

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  Tovak handed over the skin, which was about half-full. Dagmar drank deeply, then passed it over to Gorabor, who drained it before handing it back.

  “We need to pick up the pace,” Tovak said, “and put some distance between us and that camp. It’s half a mile to the murinok kill.”

  “Let’s get going then,” Dagmar said.

  They started moving again, working their way back through the canyon. With Dagmar’s injury, the pace was painfully slow. Tovak found himself glancing back repeatedly, searching for signs of pursuit. In his heart, he knew it was only a matter of time ‘til the enemy discovered the man’s death and their prisoners’ escape.

  “Where’s the rest of the company?” Dagmar asked, wincing in pain as he did his best to hobble along with Gorabor’s help. “Gods, it hurts.”

  “Yeah,” Gorabor said, “don’t get me wrong, Tovak, I am really happy to see you, but where is the company?”

  “Thegdol wanted to wait until morning and the captain’s arrival,” Tovak said, glancing nervously back once more. “So I thought I’d come instead.”

  “The sergeant’s gonna be irate when he gets his hands on you,” Dagmar said with a nervous laugh. “Though he will have to go through me to get a piece of you.”

  The sentiment warmed Tovak’s heart and he found himself grinning at the veteran.

  “I doubt you could fight off a gnome in your current condition,” Gorabor said.

  Dagmar gave another laugh, which degenerated into a coughing fit that wracked his body terribly. He stopped hobbling as he coughed. Tovak wondered if his injuries were graver than they appeared. There was nothing to do about it now. Their sole focus needed to be escape.

  “Probably right,” Dagmar said, when he’d recovered. They began moving again. “Those gray bastards are tough. Don’t ever turn your back on one.”

  A horn sounded, seemingly from a great distance behind them. All three glanced back up the canyon.

  “Oh, shit,” Dagmar said, and they picked up their pace. “They must have discovered we escaped.”

  “We have to move,” Tovak said. “Like the sergeant, they’re gonna be pissed too. I killed their leader.”

  “You what?” Gorabor asked, looking over. “The tall human?”

  “They were all frightened of him,” Dagmar said.

  “He scared me too,” Gorabor admitted.

  “Come on,” Tovak said. “Save your breath. We have to make it out of the canyon and to the forest. If we can do that, we stand a chance.”

  “You know,” Dagmar said as he hobbled along, wincing with each step while leaning heavily on Gorabor. He was sweating profusely from both the exertion and the pain. “I think I would have preferred it better had you convinced Thegdol to bring the company.”

  “I’ll try to remember that the next time you up and get captured by the enemy,” Tovak said.

  “There won’t be a next time,” Gorabor said, “if we don’t pick up the pace.”

  “So,” Dagmar said, looking between the two of them, “you both think I will get captured again, do ya? Once is enough, thank you very much. How about some help here, Tovak?”

  Tovak stepped over and took Dagmar’s other arm over his shoulder and, half carrying him, they managed to move a little faster.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  A horn sounded from behind them. Tovak turned his head and looked back. So too did Dagmar and Gorabor. He could see four figures, the closest of which was at least three hundred yards back. They were staggered out and running towards them at a steady, almost measured pace. A fifth had stopped and was blowing a horn repeatedly. Tovak felt ill at the sight of pursuit so close.

  “Goblins,” Dagmar said. “They are the scouts, the dogs to run us down. Orc infantry won’t be far behind.”

  Tovak knew without a doubt the goblin with the horn was signaling the orcs. He detached himself from supporting Dagmar and pulled out his dagger. He handed it over to Gorabor.

  “So you have a weapon,” he said as Gorabor took it.

  “What are you going to do?” Dagmar asked suspiciously.

  “Slow them down,” Tovak said and then pointed just ahead of them about twenty yards. “Around that bend is the murinok corpse, and just beyond that the forest. Make for the trees as fast as you can.”

  “I’m not leaving you behind to die,” Gorabor said. “How can you ask that of me?”

  “We’re staying,” Dagmar said.

  “Neither of you is in a condition to put up much of a fight. Listen, there’s no time to argue,” Tovak said. “I’m only going to slow them down. I will be right behind you. Now . . . move. Before it’s too late.”

  “You better be right behind us,” Gorabor said.

  “I will be,” Tovak said.

  “Don’t make me regret beginning to like you,” Dagmar said as he once again leaned on Gorabor’s shoulder. “We will meet you in the trees.”

  “Count on it,” Tovak said, putting as much conviction into his tone as he could muster. He pointed. “Now go.”

  With that, Gorabor and Dagmar began moving. Tovak watched them for several moments, then turned to face the oncoming goblins. The first had closed the distance to two hundred fifty yards. The lead goblin slowed to a jog as it saw him turn to face it.

  Tovak began slowly backing up towards the bend, thinking how he wanted to handle what was coming. He pulled his sling out and opened his bag with the lead shot inside. He drew out a bullet, glanced up, and saw that the first of the goblins had picked up the pace and was now less than two hundred yards away. Nerves overcame him, so much so that as he put the shot in the sling pouch, he fumbled slightly and dropped the bullet. Tovak cursed himself.

  “Stay calm,” he said. “Just stay calm.”

  Instead of picking the shot up . . . he reached for another and fell back several more paces. He made sure not to drop this one, for he knew his life counted on what was coming next.

  Tovak took a calming breath. He let the range close, slowly backing up towards the bend in the canyon. When the lead goblin was seventy yards, he stopped, focused on his target. For a short sling, it was a long shot. He cast, throwing hard to make sure the bullet had the velocity to injure. The sling cracked loudly, echoing off the walls of the canyon.

  The shot missed, landing a foot to the left and behind the creature. The lead ball kicked up a spray of dirt into the air. The goblin, seeing him reaching for another shot, began to sprint. It also began to weave and dodge as it came on, making the next cast that much more difficult.

  Tovak put the bullet into the sling pouch. The distance closed to fifty yards. He took another calming breath, focused his mind on his target, and cast, this time with less force, for the goblin was much closer. The shot flew true, impacting the goblin in the upper left leg with a meaty thwack. Screaming like a wounded beast, the creature went down in a tumble of arms and legs. The goblin just behind it slowed, as if it were suddenly having second thoughts. That gave Tovak time for another shot.

  He cast, and as he did, the goblin threw itself to the side and rolled. The shot missed. He considered taking another throw, but the next goblin was at least one hundred yards behind the one he’d just tried to hit.

  Instead, Tovak took advantage of the situation. He turned and ran. Ahead, he saw Dagmar and Gorabor round the bend in the canyon, hobbling out of view. He glanced back and saw the goblin was back on its feet and racing after him. Tovak sprinted harder. As he neared the bend, he decided that once he was safely around the corner, he would turn and engage the goblin in single combat. He tucked the sling into his belt and pushed for all he was worth.

  Rounding the corner, he saw Gorabor and Dagmar fifteen yards ahead. They were glancing back at him.

  “Run,” he shouted and slid to a stop, just around the bend and so close to the rock face he could have touched it. Turning, he yanked his sword out and prepared to strike. A heartbeat later, the goblin rounded the corner at a breakneck pace. As it saw him and the poised sword, i
t screamed madly and tried to stop. But it was too late. Tovak swung with all his might. The blade slammed home against the goblin’s neck, cutting the scream short. The swing, combined with the goblin’s momentum, took the creature’s head clean off. Green blood fountained up into the air as the head went flying and the body slammed into the ground.

  Breathing heavily from his run, Tovak spared a glance behind him and saw Dagmar and Gorabor had reached the murinok. The third goblin came around the bend a few yards away. Tovak’s head snapped back around. The creature immediately charged him, claws like daggers extended for the kill. Tovak dodged to the side, ducking and swinging his sword low in a desperate bid to strike it. The edge of the weapon bit into the goblin’s thigh. Squealing and crippled, the creature went down to one knee before collapsing onto its back. The goblin cradled its bleeding leg with both hands.

  Knowing there were still two more of the creatures, Tovak left it writhing on the ground. He ran after Dagmar and Gorabor. Something thwished past his head. He glanced back and saw one of the goblins had a bow and was nocking an arrow. Putting his head down, he sprinted as fast as he could for the murinok shell and dove behind it, landing hard. A heartbeat later, an arrow smacked down into the dirt, just where he’d been.

  Tovak dropped his sword, took up his sling and a lead shot. He jumped back up, spotted the two goblins advancing. They were less than twenty feet away. He threw, aiming for the one with the bow.

  It was an easy shot and the bullet smacked the goblin square in the forehead with a solid-sounding crack. The force of the blow knocked it backward and to the ground, where it lay twitching. The last goblin charged. Knowing he would not have time for another throw, Tovak dropped back down behind the murinok shell and picked up his sword. As he did, he stole a look to his right and saw that Dagmar and Gorabor had almost made it to the trees.

  “Run,” he shouted again, then dashed after them. He heard the goblin’s pounding feet. A look told him it was overtaking him. He stopped, whirling about, sword held at the ready.

  “All right,” Tovak shouted at it, dropping into a combat stance, “it’s just you and me, you bastard.”

  The creature came to a stop about five feet from him. It appeared wary, cautious.

  “You have good cause for concern,” Tovak shouted at it. “I took down your buddies and you’re next.”

  It stood there, simply eyeing him. This was the first time he’d gotten a close-up look at a live goblin. The creature wore leather chest armor and baggy pants. Its skin was green and smooth. Strange runes and tattoos ran up and down its arms. The hands and feet had black claws that appeared retractable. They also looked razor-sharp and were at least four inches long.

  The face was hideous and alien, with a small nose that had been pierced with a ring and beady red-pupiled eyes. An ugly scar ran from the creature’s left cheek back to its pointed ear. Tovak could read the intelligence in its gaze as it considered how best to get to him.

  Tovak wondered how Dagmar and Gorabor were faring. He wanted to look back to see they’d made it to the trees, but he dared not take his eyes off the goblin, for he knew the moment his attention wavered, it would attack.

  Instead, it was the goblin that glanced back, behind it and up the canyon.

  “Oh no,” Tovak breathed as he followed the creature’s gaze.

  Coming around the bend was a group of orcs. There would be no running now. The goblin turned back and opened its mouth in a wicked grin, filled with long yellowed teeth. Knowing his fate was sealed, Tovak charged, lunging forward with his sword and catching the creature off guard. He stabbed it in the belly, just under its chest armor. The goblin fell back and to the ground, clutching at its stomach.

  Tovak took several steps back. The orcs were less than thirty yards away. There were at least a hundred of them. More were coming around the bend. Seeing him, they slowed from a jog to a walk and began spreading out.

  Tovak’s breathing was labored from his run. He wiped sweat from his eyes. He had pushed his body almost beyond endurance. His legs shook from the strain and his arm trembled as it held the sword. It was over. He knew that. He had freed his two companions, who he hoped would make it to safety.

  Tovak understood he wouldn’t. Today, this morning, his life would end and so too would his quest to reclaim honor for himself and his family. The only question now was how dearly the enemy would pay in blood for his life. And Tovak fully intended to make them pay.

  “Come on,” Tovak shouted at them. “Come and get me, you filthy bastards.”

  The orcs came to an abrupt halt. They suddenly seemed less eager than they had moments before. In fact, several began taking steps backward.

  “Can’t bear to face me, huh?” Tovak shouted at them, his voice trembling slightly with exhaustion. “I killed your leader. And I’m ready to kill you too. Bring it on.”

  “I think you’ve done enough for today, lad,” a firm voice said from behind.

  Tovak blinked and looked back around to find an officer in heavy armor with a green patterned cloak and sword drawn, striding confidently up to him. Behind him and emerging from the trees was a line of heavy infantry, all with matching green cloaks, carrying shields and spears. Behind them was yet another line of heavy infantry. A standard-bearer walked between the two lines. The standard fluttered in the breeze. It was green and featured a silver war hammer. A full company of strikers was emerging from the trees. They began beating their spears against their shields in a rhythm that seemed to shake the very air.

  Tovak blinked, wondering if he was seeing things. They weren’t Second Section’s skirmishers. This was a line unit. Where had they come from? Tovak’s exhausted brain was having difficulty comprehending what was happening.

  The officer stopped at Tovak’s side, his eyes on the orcs, and patted him on the shoulder. “I believe we can handle it from here. Time to take a break, eh?”

  “Yes, sir,” Tovak said as the first line of infantry moved around and past them and then the second line also.

  “Fifth Company, halt,” the officer shouted as he left Tovak and stepped up behind the two lines of strikers. “Dress your lines, boys. Tighten it up. Let’s look smart for the big bastards before we begin murdering them.”

  Tovak saw a second company of strikers, wearing blue cloaks, emerging from the trees. The orcs gave a roar of defiance as Fifth Company continued to beat the inside of their shields with their swords.

  “Captain Greng,” a second officer said to the first as he approached Tovak and pointed towards the orcs, “it looks like we might have a fight after all. They seem to be up for one.”

  This new officer wore elaborately etched armor and a red cloak. His helm sported a red crest. He had a rugged look about him and a confidence that spoke of a familiarity with command.

  “It seems that way, sir,” Greng said and then gestured towards his front. “More of the enemy are arriving.”

  Tovak turned and saw another hundred orcs joining the first group.

  “Thank you for bringing them right to us,” the officer in the red cloak said to Tovak. “That was good thinking.”

  “Yes, sir,” Tovak said, not quite knowing what to say. It seemed better to just agree with him.

  “Captain Haenth.” The officer turned, looking back on the other company of strikers that had emerged from the trees. He was addressing their officer, who marched before his company and next to his standard-bearer. The second company’s standard was blue with a large black dragon skull.

  “Sir?”

  “Would you kindly align your company next to the Fifth, on the right?”

  “Yes, sir,” Haenth replied and then snapped a series of orders to his company, altering their advance to shift over to the right.

  The officer in the red cloak turned back to Tovak.

  “That”—the officer hesitated a moment before continuing—“was one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen, son. Your stand gave us time to form a line of battle. Captain Struugar is l
ucky to have you in his company. I wish I had ten of you.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Tovak said and was abruptly overcome with emotion. He had succeeded and survived. It scarcely seemed possible that he’d been delivered from certain death. He would live and so too would Dagmar and Gorabor. Tears sprang from his eyes and he gave an involuntary sob as he reached the end of his emotional rope.

  The officer laid a hand on his shoulder. “Move to the rear and rest easy, lad. Your part in this business is done.”

  Tovak cleared his throat but could not speak. He suddenly felt foolish and embarrassed for losing control in front of this officer. He wiped at the tears with the back of his forearm.

  “Yes, sir,” he finally managed.

  “There’s no shame in tears,” the officer said, seeming to understand Tovak’s thoughts. “Even the bravest cry now and again. Chin up, for you earned Legend this day. I am sure by nightfall you will be the talk of the warband.”

  The orcs gave a massed roar. The officer turned his head in that direction and looked for a long moment. The enemy were forming a battle line with three ranks.

  “Now,” the officer said, “if you will excuse me, I do believe I have a battle to fight.”

  The officer stepped away, leaving Tovak alone. Exhausted, he realized he was still holding his bloodied sword. He stuck it point-first into the ground. He wiped at his tears again, this time with both hands.

  “You did it, you damn fool.”

  Tovak turned to find Thegdol striding up. Behind him, at the tree line, were a handful of skirmishers from Third Section, along with Corporal Karn. With them was Dagmar sitting on a rock, next to Gorabor. Dagmar shot him a huge grin.

  “Not completely,” Tovak said, feeling a stab of guilt. “I couldn’t save Staggen. They killed him before I got there.”

  “I heard,” Thegdol said.

  “If I’d have been quicker,” Tovak said, “I might have saved him.”

  “I’ll hear none of that talk,” Thegdol said. “You did all that could be done, and against the odds you managed to save two comrades. No one could have done better, son. Take comfort in that.”