Forging Destiny

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  The party had already spread back out. Tovak fell in next to Karn, who glanced over at him with amusement. He’d clearly seen Tovak almost go over the side of the log.

  Brund started off again, leading them in the direction of the steep ridge they had seen through the trees. Moving as silently and quickly as he could, Tovak picked out his own path as they forged their way through the forest. He did his best to listen and scan the surroundings, making certain to leave as little sign of passage as possible.

  As they neared their objective, through the trees, the steep slope of the ridge seemed to tower above them, almost ominously. Working their way up the lower reaches of the slope, they began to climb once again. The grade seemed to increase with every step. Tovak found himself breathing heavily as they worked their way through the trees.

  Finally, they came upon an extremely steep, rock-covered slope that rose up before them, like a veritable wall. Tovak looked up. He estimated the height from this point was at least five hundred feet to the top.

  Brund motioned for Benthok to join him. The two officers put their heads together for a long moment, then Brund made a sign for all of them to gather around. Brund took a knee and pulled out a waterskin. He drank deeply as he waited.

  “Alright.” Brund wiped sweat out of his eyes. “We’ve made it. Lieutenant Benthok will form a perimeter around this spot. Stay hidden and silent. Keep watch for any signs of the enemy. Corporal Taboth and I are going to climb up this ridge and reconnoiter the canyon and the valley. We’re also going to search for the easiest path for the entire detachment to take to scale this bitch of a ridge. We think we’ve already identified a likely spot, so hopefully it does not take too long.” He glanced up the steep slope. “With luck, I expect we should only be gone a couple of hours, maybe more. Certainly it will be dark by the time we return. That’s it.” Brund turned to Benthok. “I will see you in a bit.”

  “Good fortune,” Benthok said.

  Brund looked to Taboth, nodded once, and then the two of them removed their packs. They pulled out rope for climbing, picks, and other gear. Then, they started for the top. Tovak had to marvel at how easy they made it look as they began scrambling and scaling their way up towards the summit.

  Benthok watched for a few moments, then scanned the forested hillside upon which they stood. His gaze traveled from the left to the right.

  “I want a line with five yards of separation from each position,” Benthok said. “The pioneers will take the right side. Karn, Tovak, and myself will position ourselves on the left. Find a concealed position, stay alert, and remain within sight of each other. Remember, we are in enemy territory. Make no noise unless absolutely needed. We’re ghosts. Got that?”

  “Yes, sir,” they said in near unison.

  “Get to it.”

  They spread out along a staggered line. Tovak ended up in a clump of bushes, almost in the middle of the line, with a good view of the forested slope they’d just come up.

  Once in position, he took off his pack, got himself comfortable, and sat down, settling in to wait. The rest was more than welcome. His legs and back ached terribly from the last two days of hard marching, and it felt good to simply not do anything but sit.

  For over two hours, Tovak kept scanning the forest in search of any sign of movement. He ate a dodder, drank some of the water in his skin. His mind wandered a little as the boredom increased.

  He wondered if Jodin still lived or if he had already passed. Such thoughts were not happy ones and filled him with guilt. He forced them away. He thought on Thulla. He felt the strange urge. It was still there, tugging at him, encouraging him to climb the ridge after Brund and Taboth. He felt somewhat frustrated that he could not. The pulls were increasing in their frequency—and potency. He was becoming more convinced they were coming directly from his god. Where else could they be coming from?

  Tovak’s thoughts shifted to his Spirit Deck. It was tucked away in his pack. He felt no urge to consult it. He had not since he’d left the camp to rescue his comrades. He knew deep down he would no longer need it. Why he thought so, he wasn’t quite sure.

  A snapping branch out in the forest to his front broke him out of his thoughts. He rose slowly to a knee and scanned down the hillside. A terrible feeling of foreboding, like a chill wind, washed over him.

  The forest was silent, almost unnaturally so. He could hear no birds, or really anything else other than his own breathing. The feeling of foreboding intensified. Tovak unconsciously reached for and gripped the hilt of his sword, his eyes searching for what had made the sound.

  Another twig snapped off to the right. It was accompanied by the rustling of brush and fallen leaves. Motion drew his gaze. Among the shadows along the route they’d come, he saw movement through the trees. His heart began to pound in his chest. Someone or something was out there.

  He focused on the movement, trying to pick its shape out of the shadows and shade from the canopy above. And then he saw it … well really saw them. He blinked several times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. He almost laughed out loud and then remembered they were to remain silent.

  Dain.

  Three of the six-legged creatures were slowly moving through the forest. Their tannish-gray coats of short fur made it difficult to see them at first, but then they passed out of the shadows into a more open area, where the sunlight filtered down to the forest floor and fully illuminated them.

  Relieved, Tovak blew out a breath and chided himself. Dain. He’d gotten worked up over a few foraging dain. He started to settle back down, but then froze as he realized that the feeling of approaching danger hadn’t abated. In fact, if anything, it had intensified.

  He could feel a presence—dark, malevolent—out there, somewhere nearby. He recognized the feeling. It was the same thing he’d felt in the enemy’s camp. He found himself full of the same loathing and a desire to eradicate whatever the source was. And it was getting stronger with each and every heartbeat that pounded away in his chest.

  He turned, almost as an afterthought, and gave a low bird call to catch Benthok’s attention. A few yards away, he saw the lieutenant shift slightly and look his way.

  Using finger speak, Tovak signed insistently that something was coming.

  Benthok signed back, pointing at the creatures to their front. Dain.

  Tovak emphatically shook his head.

  Not the dain, he signed.

  The lieutenant locked eyes with Tovak, and after a long moment, gave a nod, then shifted his gaze back out into the forest, searching. A moment later, the lieutenant was looking back at him in question. It was clear he had not seen anything.

  Enemy near, Tovak signed. Even though he’d not seen them, he felt certain they were out there, somewhere.

  Benthok gave him a curt nod, then signed back. Ready sling.

  Tovak turned his gaze back to the forest. He still saw nothing, but like a dark cloud hanging over him, the feeling persisted. He realized he’d been holding his sword hilt in a white-knuckled grip. Releasing his hold, he drew his sling. If an enemy was coming, the sling had range. He loaded a single lead shot into the pouch, and while he did, he glanced back towards the lieutenant.

  Benthok disappeared through the brush and had moved near the next position. Word of what was happening was beginning to spread. The lieutenant was seeing to that. Tovak looked to his right and saw Karn glance his way before turning his gaze back to the forest before them. The corporal had clearly not missed the exchange. He had drawn his sword and laid it by his side. In his hands was his sling.

  With the feeling of darkness growing with each passing heartbeat, Tovak focused his attention back towards the dain and the forest beyond them. It almost felt like his hair was standing on end. The creatures had moved another dozen yards, but then came to an abrupt stop and looked downslope. All three had raised their heads and were turning their ears back and forth as their red tails stood up straight and quivered.

  As one, they bolted.

>   All three leapt forward together and took off through the forest, their six legs scrambling wildly as they bounded and ran, as if in flight from a deadly predator.

  Now Tovak was certain there was something out there and it was close. He held his breath, his heart pounding, as he searched the forest for any sign of movement.

  Nothing.

  What were they running from? He could see nothing. He strained, searching the shadows. He spotted movement. First, a single orc appeared downslope, moving stealthily from tree to tree, and then there was another close behind.

  They stalked like predators on the hunt—slow and calculating. A third stepped from behind a tree, then suddenly there were more. The forest seemed filled with the enemy. Spread across thirty yards, they moved through the trees in threes, covering and watching for one another, while at the same time scanning the forest. Tovak counted nine and then off to his left a ways, thirty yards distant, spotted more. There were eighteen of the enemy, spread out over about thirty yards.

  Wearing light leather, with identical chest plates, bracers, and greaves, they appeared to be tracking something. Tovak hoped it was the dain, but he suspected it was otherwise. The enemy had picked up their trail.

  Slowly, the orcs moved forward, silent, menacing. And then, one last figure emerged from amidst the trees. At the rear strode a lone orc in black leather armor and a helm that hid the upper half of his face. The helm had six obsidian stones—two large and four small—set above the eye slits, reminding Tovak, almost uncomfortably, of one of the large spiders, a krata.

  The instant Tovak laid eyes on him, that familiar surge of revulsion and hatred flowed like red-hot steel through his veins and threatened to consume him.

  He knew, without a doubt, he was gazing upon the enemy’s leader. He had no evidence this was a correct assumption, but he felt it right, true, and the helmet seemed to confirm it. He clenched his fist, holding the sling, and fought the urge to attack. His breath came in short pants as he struggled to resist the impulse. His heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest and his pulse pounded in his ears. Tovak forced himself to calm down. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, then let it out slowly. The intense feeling subsided.

  The enemy’s leader, following the line of orcs that was spread out and advancing up the slope, stepped into a shaft of sunshine, and Tovak saw the faintest hint of black flames licking over the orc’s body. It was only a flicker here and there, but it was definitely present, tracing along his arms, up his chest, and over the crown of his foul-looking helm.

  It was nearly all Tovak could do to simply crouch there, hidden in the foliage, and remain still. He watched and waited. The urge to extinguish the fire burning within the blood of the leader—for that’s what he thought must surely be happening—had returned with a vengeance at the sight of the black flames. The orcs at the head of the group moved past where the dain had been moments before.

  Tovak held his breath as one of the orcs approached within twenty feet of his position. The leader froze in place, made a hissing sound that was part whistle, and dropped into a low crouch. The other orcs immediately stopped and crouched low, searching the area around them.

  The leader turned his head, first downslope and then slowly up the hill, as if he was searching for something. When his gaze came even with Tovak’s concealed position, he stopped searching. He seemed to be looking straight at Tovak, staring intently at the brush that concealed Tovak from view. Tovak was certain he couldn’t be seen, but he felt as if the leader somehow saw him. Tovak felt a cold sensation slither down his spine. Or was it that the orc sensed him?

  But how?

  The leader drew two evil-looking, serrated short swords, one from his hip and one from behind his back, and as he did, the rest of the orcs pulled out their long, curved blades. The leader hissed out an order in the guttural language of his people, and the enemy continued moving slowly forward, searching the underbrush.

  I’ve doomed us, Tovak thought as the orcs drew closer. He did not understand how, but the enemy leader could somehow sense him. He just knew it.

  “Slings … cast!” Benthok’s shout broke the silence and almost immediately the cracks of slings sounded on the air.

  With a bang, the nearest orc fell backward, a lead ball having hammered into the creature’s helmet. It crashed to the ground, kicking violently amidst the brush. There was screaming and shouting and roars all around.

  “Slings!” Benthok shouted again. “Keep it up, boys.”

  Tovak stood, aimed at the leader, and made a powerful cast. The sling cracked on the air from the force. The orc saw the throw and dodged, throwing himself aside. The bullet missed and hammered into a tree downslope.

  The orc leader screamed out an order and pointed one of his swords forward. The orcs charged towards the Dvergr. Tovak pulled out another bullet, considered making another cast at the leader, but an orc was charging right for him from ten paces away. He shifted his aim and, with a sense of desperation, let fly as hard as he could. Again, the sling cracked on the air. The bullet flew true and hit the orc hard in the upper thigh. The creature went down in a tumble.

  Lead shot whistled through the air. Several more orcs dropped in rapid succession only a dozen yards away, roaring in pain. Tovak loaded another shot and took aim once again on the leader. He cast and the shot flew true, hammering into the leader’s shoulder, spinning him partially around mid-stride. The enemy leader recovered almost instantly and kept on coming, moving upslope towards him. Tovak couldn’t believe his eyes. But there was no more time for thought. The time for slings was over.

  Tovak dropped the sling and drew his sword. He stepped through the bush as several battle cries filled the air. Four of his comrades rushed forward, meeting the nearest orcs and engaging them. The harsh clash of steel on steel rang on the air.

  An orc rushed Tovak. The creature moved between Tovak and the enemy’s leader. The attacker raised his blade high and slashed down with a mighty blow, aimed for his shoulder. Tovak raised his weapon in a two-handed grip and parried. Metal clanged like a hammer upon an anvil, and Tovak’s hands stung painfully from the impact. With no little amount of effort, he shoved the orc’s blade aside, stepped in close, and shot a hard kick into the orc’s knee. There was a wrenching crack as the bone in the knee shattered. The orc crumpled to the side, shrieking in pain for only an instant, before Tovak’s back-swing cleaved down deeply into the creature’s neck with a gush of hot, green blood.

  Tovak spun as he yanked his blade free, sensing the leader’s approach. He didn’t even need to look; he could feel the dark presence coming for him. He spun to face his enemy, who was advancing with another large orc at his side. Tovak could see the black, smoky tendrils clearer now. They were licking around the leader’s body. A wave of intense loathing filled him. A battle cry erupted from Tovak’s throat.

  “Barasoom!” Tovak shouted.

  He charged straight at the two orcs, fully intent on killing both of them. One of the pioneers dashed in from the side, slashing at the leader and drawing his attention. The second orc advanced straight for Tovak, with murder in his eyes.

  As Tovak charged forward, he saw the leader block the pioneer’s swing with one of the short swords. The pioneer drew back and slashed again. The leader parried and then drove the pioneer back with a series of thrusts and parries that put the pioneer on the defensive.

  And then the leader’s companion was on top of Tovak, blocking his path and view, roaring as he made a sharp thrust with his curved blade. The tip darted in towards Tovak’s face. Tovak smashed the weapon aside. The orc stepped back and swung again, with lightning speed, aiming for Tovak’s head. Tovak ducked and parried as he took a step forward. He drew back his blade and thrust. The orc side-stepped this strike and then came at Tovak with a flurry of crisscrossing blows that drove Tovak back. The orc’s speed was like nothing he’d ever faced before. He was barely able to block each blow.

  The pioneer engaging the enem
y’s leader let out an ear-splitting scream of agony and staggered backward, clutching at a gash along his upper arm. The distraction almost cost Tovak his life, as the orc facing him reversed his swing and came at him from the other side. Tovak blocked at the last instant and felt the tip of the orc’s blade scrape against his helm.

  Then Tovak saw the opening. He smashed upward with the hilt of his sword, driving the blunt cross guard into the orc’s mouth with a crunch of shattered tusk, tooth, and bone. The orc staggered backward, clutching at his ruined mouth.

  Tovak side-stepped and swung down, his blade slicing into the thigh and cutting straight to the bone in the orc’s leg. Blood sprayed into the air as the orc roared in terrible agony. He staggered on the injured limb as he made a desperate swing at Tovak’s body, to ward him off. Tovak easily blocked, then struck.

  The orc had just enough time to look surprised before Tovak, in a powerful move, muscles straining with the effort, drove the point of his weapon completely through his light armor and deep into his body. The orc shuddered and, in apparent astonishment, looked down at the blade that had pierced his chest. A heartbeat later, he shuddered, his eyes rolled back, and his arms dropped to his side. He started to topple backward, threatening to pull Tovak with him. Tovak yanked his blade free with both hands and let the orc finish his journey to the ground.

  As the orc passed from Tovak’s view, he saw the leader standing over the now disarmed and helpless pioneer, prepared to deliver a killing strike. The sight of it filled him with terrible rage.

  “Koin’Duur!” Karn shouted from the right. He was charging directly at the leader. “Benthok, there is a Koin’Duur here.” Karn crashed into the leader and assailed him with a series of fast slashes. His zjain was a blur as he struck again and again, driving the leader back and away from the wounded pioneer.