In addition, she was able to fully supply each remaining Ranger – only 39 of them now – with an additional Wyvine, so that they now had a pair of helpers to help with their culling. Not that there was much culling going on, because all 4 Dungeon Cores were quiet, without a single Monster peeping out of any of their entrances. That could mean any number of things, though; the Cores could be biding their time and building up an even larger army in order to break the siege the Elves and Dwarves were forcing on them, or they could be hoarding all of their Mana in order to upgrade their Core Size again, or any number of other things she probably couldn’t even comprehend.
Any insight on what they could be doing?
“I have no idea,” Winxa replied. “Tactics was never really my specialty, and in my experience the minds of these Dungeon Cores can range from slightly delusional to highly paranoid and beyond. It would be hard to predict what they would do even if I had an idea, and even if I did…well, I’m not sure if I’d be able to share that information with you.”
That was probably true, as the Dungeon Fairy would suffer from a severe smackdown by the Creator. It was unfortunate and unfair to Sandra and inordinately cruel to Winxa, who was only doing her job, but that was the way it was. There was no changing the circumstances and they had yet to find a way around it.
There was movement in her Area of Influence, however, though it was in a completely different place from where her attention had been over the last few days. It seemed as though the Orcs might actually be willing to bargain.
* * *
The sun was getting low in the sky when Perchunk ran towards her as Furbrea was emerging from the supply hut, a small assortment of meat, fruit, potatoes, and bread in her arms that she was bringing for everyone to cook for that night’s dinner. They had practically gorged themselves the first night after all of the food and other supplies had been delivered, until they all fell asleep satisfied but slightly ill from the quantity they had consumed.
Now, they still ate healthily – with better fare than many had ever partaken of in their lives – and Furbrea regulated the amount that was used every day to allow their supplies to last longer, but no one complained because they were always full enough without being uncomfortable. With the quantity of fresh food at their disposal, it was tempting even for her to gorge on what they had, but after a few days of knowing that it was there and available at any time, the desire to eat as much as she could faded. Since the Elf had followed through with her side of the bargain, Furbrea had little doubt that the supplies would keep coming.
As long as there was something to show for it on their parts, of course. Which was quickly becoming an issue, as nearly a week had passed since they had sent out their younger, heartier members still in their village to find Warbands that were interested in trading some of their members for better equipment. Furbrea had expected at least one of them to be successful by that time, but as the days passed with nothing to show for their efforts, she had to conclude that they had failed. Either those that they sent out abandoned their tasks, were killed somehow, or none of the Warbands they encountered believed them.
“There appears to be a Warband coming, Furbrea!” Perchunk shouted as he ran towards her, barely stopping himself before he crashed into her.
Finally! “Here, ‘Chunk, take these to the central fire for me.” She handed the food to Perchunk, who dropped a few of the potatoes on the way, but Furbrea ignored that as she hurried herself through the village from where she saw the young Orc coming from. It was the most likely explanation of where he had seen the Warband – if it were a Warband, of course – so she didn’t bother to ask; there were only three directions they would come from: North, west, or northwest. If she didn’t see it coming from one of those, it was easy enough from the edge of the village to see the other directions.
Sure enough, the boy was right; coming out of the north was a group of Orcs running down the beaten path leading to the nearest village close to Orcrim’s eastern border with the dungeon forest. It was hard to count how many of them there were because they ran in a disorganized mass, but she put them somewhere between 25 and 30; a decent-sized warband, definitely not the biggest, and certainly not the smallest she had seen. Furbrea also didn’t see anyone she immediately recognized, so whoever had told them about the deal was—hopefully—still spreading the word out there.
The Warband came to a stop outside of the village, and the largest of the bunch – who was undeniably the Warband Leader – walked through the others with him to address her. Furbrea didn’t recognize him or any of those with him, though that wasn’t surprising; there were probably only a few hundred members of Warbands that she might recognize from over the years, because Warbands typically rotated through the same territories year after year, though sometimes they changed it up if they needed a new challenge and moved somewhere else. Then there would inevitably be the arrival of another up-and-coming Warband that would take their place, and the cycle inexorably went on from there.
“Are you Furbath?” the Warband Leader grunted out impatiently, not even the least bit out of breath from his run from…who knew where.
“No, my name is Furbrea, but I’m going to assume that you’re looking for me,” she said automatically, before she realized that she was being a little too flippant with the other Orc – which wasn’t always the best when meeting a new Warband. She could see that her response made a few of the regular members of the Warband mutter and stare at her for her insolence, but fortunately the Leader only laughed.
“Fine, Furbrea it is,” he said, a smile lighting his face up. “I was told you may have a deal here that would benefit us. If it’s true that you have better-quality weapons here, then we need them. We can’t go a day without breaking another one of our iron swords, and it seems like they just get worse in quality every month and it’s led to some close calls that I’d rather avoid.”
Furbrea immediately took a liking to the Leader; he seemed genuinely to care for the members of his Warband, which was always an admirable quality she could get behind. Some Leaders led with an iron fist and led by fear, others with the promise of a decent challenge or their vaunted reputation, but in her opinion the best Leaders were the ones where their members wanted to follow them.
“Yes, we have much better weapons for you,” she said, confirming that with a quick glance at their weapons. They were barely more than bars of metal banged into a semblance of a sword by some crummy Blacksmith somewhere; she remembered that even Kelerim, despite not having much practice at it, had produced iron swords of better quality without even seeming to try.
“Excellent! What do you want in trade? Are there monsters around here close to your village? Is there another ‘band threatening you? The one who told us about the weapons wasn’t specific in what was required.”
Well, that isn’t good. She sighed softly, now realizing that her job was going to be even harder. “Here, come on in and wait by the central fire. Have you eaten yet?”
“No, we’ve been on the run since this morning to reach here today. We have to get back to our territory tomorrow, so we couldn’t afford to stop. We have our own rations, though; from what I’ve heard, this outpost has essentially been abandoned, so we don’t want to take any away from you.”
Ah, a Leader with a heart and respect, even better. Though, that might make it a little more difficult to get him to part with some of his Warband. “Don’t worry, we have plenty to go around. In fact, you’ll probably eat better tonight than you have in some time. I’ll be along with some more soon.” She waved towards the central fire, where the rest of her people were already cooking their own meat, which smelled excellent even from the edge of the village. They didn’t need any other prompting after smelling that, so Furbrea went and got more food from the supply hut, rushing back as soon as she filled up a sack with a large enough quantity to feed everyone with a little extra left over.
She also brought with her two swords from the supply hut, one tha
t was for the regular members of the Warband and one that was for the Leader himself. As soon as everyone had eaten – and thanked her and the other villagers heartily for the food, with exclamations of delight over the presence of a variety of fruit – she brought the weapons out and laid them across her knees as she sat near the fire with the Warband Leader – who she had yet to learn the name of, though that was soon to be remedied.
“Thank you for this bounty, Furbrea,” he chuckled after stressing her name, obviously making light of his mistake earlier. “I haven’t had an apple in…well, at least a dozen years, and this was better than that one, I can assure you. It almost tasted like it was freshly picked, but I can’t see any apple trees around here. Or orange trees. Or peach trees.” He mimed looking around as if searching for them with a smile before he turned back to her and frowned. “I just realized that I didn’t introduce myself; my name is Palzerk Gorerender, and this is my Warband.” Palzerk then introduced all 28 of his Warband by name, though Furbrea struggled to remember any after the first few. She was usually great with putting names to faces, but over the years some of her memory tricks didn’t work so well anymore.
“Thank you, Warband Leader Palzerk, and welcome to Grongbak,” Furbrea said, bowing slightly at the waist before continuing. “As for the fruit, as well as the other food, it comes from the same place as these weapons.” She handed the one meant for the rest of the Warband to him first, to gauge his reaction, while keeping the other one close to her for the moment.
“This…this is certainly steel, and high-quality steel, as well. This almost looks like monster loot to me, which is nearly impossible; there’s only one dungeon that I know of that drops steel from their monsters, though it’s a rare drop. You’d need to kill dozens of them for just one of these swords, though there are only a few that can actually work the metal left in Orcrim.” He examined it a little closer, before grunting and passing it to the Orc on his left, who also exclaimed over it and smiled at what he was holding.
“Where did you get this? I’ve seen a few steel swords over the years, though none of them appear that finely crafted. Do you just have the one? If that’s all you have, I’ll trade whatever you want for it.”
She handed him the other sword, the one meant for him, before she answered. “No, we have enough swords for your entire Warband, though this one would be yours as the Warband Leader.”
He was as suitably impressed with the new sword made of some unknown metal, marveling at how much lighter and stronger it seemed compared to the steel sword. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that this is made from titanium, but from what I understand there aren’t any sources of titanium in all of Orcrim. The only examples I’ve heard of titanium are in some of the larger Warlord houses, and they guard them jealously. The story is that their families received them hundreds of years ago from the…” He stopped as he looked at the sword in his hands and then at her with a questioning look in his eyes.
She nodded, knowing where he was going. “The Elves, yes. This is where all of this is coming from.”
There was silence from around the central fire as everyone took in that information. There was a natural distrust of the other races that was instilled into all of the Orcs, though it wasn’t necessarily hatred – just an aversion to working with them. Regardless, it was the truth and she wasn’t going to hide it from them and what they were getting themselves into.
“The Elves have masterfully crafted weapons, delicious food, and powerful spells to aid, but what they don’t have are enough of them to stave off their eventual destruction by the dungeon monsters becoming more dangerous every year. They want to trade these weapons – and even some improved chest armor if you are interested in it – in exchange for help.”
“Help?” Warband Leader Palzerk asked suspiciously. “What do you mean by that? We can’t leave our territory undefended to go fight their battles, or else we’re the ones that will be in trouble.”
Furbrea shook her head. “No, they don’t want you all to come. Their offer is for a portion of your Warband to help them for a year at the rate of 1 member for every 3 that is fully armed and armored. After the year is over, those that are being used as…mercenaries…to help them can return back to Orcrim if they want to, or they can re-enlist to fight for another year, giving another 3 members of a Warband the same weapons and armor.”
Now it was the Leader’s turn to shake his head, reluctantly handing Furbrea back the sword. “I’m sorry, there’s no way I would do that to any of my Warband. I respect what the Elves are willing to do, and I even trust them to return our people after a year, but I won’t sell my people—”
“I’ll do it,” one of the Warband members said abruptly from across the fire. Furbrea couldn’t remember her name, but she stood up and stared at her Leader as if daring her to deny her choice.
“Perceine, I won’t have you or any of my Warband—”
One after another, every single member of the Warband except for one stood up and proclaimed that they would do it, prompting a silence from everyone else as they comprehended what was going on. “Palzerk, we need these weapons if we are to survive long enough to grow stronger, and I and every member of this Warband—” Perceine continued into the silence, though she looked disappointedly at the one member that hadn’t stood up, “well, nearly every member, are willing to give up our lives so that you and those with you can succeed. You deserve to be a Warlord one day, we all know it, and this could be what starts you on that journey.”
The Warband Leader was silent for a few moments as he looked at his Warband rebelling against him, though they were doing it for him. “I don’t know. These would definitely help us, but I don’t want to throw your lives away. For all I know, the Elves will want to just use whoever helps them as meat shields that can be used up and thrown away, and none of you might even survive for that full year to come home.”
“That’s a risk we are willing to take. Plus, I’m sure it will be a challenging adventure.”
Furbrea cleared her throat loudly, hating to interrupt the touching scene. “One piece of information I think that might help you make your decision. I get the feeling that those that become mercenaries for the Elves might be even better equipped than those that stay here. From what I understand, they need us to help them fight and will do whatever they can to ensure any that help stay alive. It would be a bad investment and deal, otherwise.”
Whether her words convinced the Warband Leader or not, he gave in shortly thereafter. “Fine. I agree that the swords and possibly this armor will be a huge help, so if that’s what you all want to do, I’m not going to argue. Perceine, since you were set on this first, I’ll let you choose…six others, which should cover the price that needs to be paid. Unless I count in that total, as well?” he asked, looking at Furbrea.
“No. From what I understand, any Warband Leader that agrees with this deal gets their sword for free.” She wasn’t absolutely sure of that, but it seemed reasonable.
The Warband member known as Perceine – or should I say “former” member? – quickly picked out 6 others, which didn’t include the one that hadn’t volunteered earlier. That one didn’t say anything, though Furbrea could see his eyes on her, Perchunk, and Gorbal as they left the campfire to go to the supply hut for their weapons and armor. Normally, she probably would’ve waited for the next day, just to ensure that they didn’t run off with the equipment in the middle of the night without “paying”, but Palzerk and the rest of the Warband seemed honorable enough that she didn’t have any concerns. Except for the one that was now staring at the supply hut.
Everyone was pleased at the new swords they received, and even the armor was acceptable. “It’s a little bulkier than I’m used to, but I can tell already that it will protect me much better than these scraps I’m wearing,” the Warband Leader said after he tried it on and adjusted it. “You’re right, they’re very well made, and I think they’ll last for quite a while. It’ll probably take us
a little while to get used to them, but I also believe the tradeoff in speed will be worth it for the extra protection.”
“I’ll be sure to pass that along to the Elves. We’ve prepared the barracks and some of the other huts for you and your Warband for the night, because I remember you said you needed to leave first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you, Furbrea. I for one would appreciate that, especially as I’m so full after that meal that I could use a nap,” he chuckled as he stood up, patting her on the back as he passed by with his other hand holding his new sword as if it was now permanently attached to his body. She caught him before he and the others could leave.
“Just a warning because I don’t want anyone to get hurt. The supply hut is off-limits to anyone not of this village, so I would advise you not to let anyone enter it.” She eyed the member that was stealing glances at the hut. “The Elves left a…security system in place that would be advisable to avoid.”
“Understood,” Palzerk said to her before raising his voice to the others. “We’re sleeping here tonight before we leave in the morning. That said, I don’t want to catch anyone messing with the villagers or going anywhere that they don’t belong. If I catch you messing around, you’re out of the Warband. In fact, you’ll be lucky if I don’t just kill you, but I can be merciful.”
With that, everyone went to their respective sleeping areas and Furbrea and the others spent a few minutes cleaning up before heading to sleep themselves.
She woke up abruptly in the middle of the night and sat up, a scream ringing in her ears. Furbrea thought it might’ve been a dream before she heard another one – just as it was cut off abruptly and the sound of wood splintering shattered the silence of the night. She was up and out of her bed in a flash, flying through the door and halfway to the supply hut before she was fully awake; she instantly recognized the direction the scream and sounds of splintering wood came from, and she had a fairly good idea why it happened.
The Crafter's Darkness: A Dungeon Core Novel (Dungeon Crafting Book 4) Page 37
