chapters [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31] [32] [33] [34] [35] [36] [37] [38] [39] [40] [41] [42] [43] [44] [45] [46] [47] [48] [49] [50] [51] [52] [53] [54] [55] [56] [57] [58] [59] [60] [61] [62] [63] [64] [65] [66] [67] [68] [69] [70] [71] [72] [73] [74] [75] [76] [77] [78] [79] [80] [81] [82] [83] [84] [85] [86] [87] [88] [89] [90] [91] [92] [93] [94] [95] [96] [97] [98] [99] [100] [101] [102] [103] [104] [105] [106] [107] [108] [109] [110] [111] [112] [113] [114] [115] [116] [117] [118] [119] [120] [121] [122] [123]
side story [The Tale of the Soup-maker]
appendix [a]
gallery [duma] [dale] [dale 2] [beryl] [ugarit] [ugarit 2] [ugarit 3]

Part Seventy-eight

Hwesta looked down on them, the glaring, mad red-haired Elf and the unconscious Eastman Apprentice Wizard they had long heard report of, and with them the battle-dazed Middle Kingdom Scholar, the bleeding Elder of the Green Elves of the West and three abominations of nature. He wished to slay them all, abominations first, starting with that thing that struggled to be female, daring a defiant look as she carried the brown-cloaked Apprentice. It disgusted him to look on her. It was foul work that had made such creatures from those who had been Elven and sickening that some sorcery had increased their methods of breeding.

"Kill them all," Hwesta spoke in his dialect. His Outcasts moved to obey.

He saw the red-haired one run to intercept the blows, to spare the thing and the Wizard she carried another moment. The abominations shouted gutturally behind them.

Dale went down, hurdling awkwardly over Ugarit and Tsuki and then rolling to the ground above them. Fei ran after him, and Gorghash along another path, and they met the swords carried by the Outcasts with their own as Dale righted himself. His armor had absorbed the blows that came toward Ugarit and Tsuki.

Ugarit dragged Tsuki, still unconscious out of the way. Beryl limped past them to join the battle. Duma hesitated beside Ugarit. "I would rather not see Dale or Gorghash tank for me."

It was Orc Slang, 'tank', but Dale had taught it to them. It described the action of an Orc who was, by choice or Chieftains orders one who went forward in battle knowing they would receive wounds, so that those behind might reach past and attack the enemy, without gaining damage. It was, he said, good strategy in sieges against fortifications or when training new Orcs, and that one behind need not be thought of as weak, only exploiting an advantageous position. Duma had allowed Dale to be his shield before, when he held his bow, but he expected moving Elves, even if mutilated and from a lost Host of the East, were much more difficult to hit with arrows than Men.

"Stay to my right," Ugarit said.

Duma understood the rest of the message. They were agreed to leave Tsuki on the ground and join battle. Guarding Tsuki or their rear did not seem wiser, as they would likely be overrun soon, either way. Joining Dale and the others now might just mean their enemies gained ground less quickly and maybe Tsuki might even recover to give aid.

They could hope. And even if they could not really hope, they could keep fighting, because there was little else to do except surrender, and that was again as bad as dying.

The moment Ugarit joined the battle, everyone knew of it. Each of the Outcasts within reach moved to strike her down, they were disgusted by her kind so. Gorghash was already reeling, as these Eastern Elves were trained in such art of combat that they could use an opponent's armor to their advantage and make precise hits against the armor that injured the flesh and bone beneath. Still, Gorghash did not fall, but threw himself back into the fray, desiring to take the brunt of the attack meant for Ugarit. She was not spared entirely, and stuck her enemies with her knives, even as blades and staves landed upon her armor, knocking the air from the hollow of her chest and bruising her limbs, so that she stumbled and gasped for breath. The blades might have found flesh, if Duma had not thrown his well-armored right arm between Ugarit and the Outcasts.

The move exposed Duma's side to the enemy, and though the leather armor deflected some weapons, a stabbing blade might pierce it, if thrust forcibly enough. Ugarit saw Duma wince and howled. Duma had been wounded, but he did not need rescuing. Growling, he brought his arm up and smashed the Outcast's face with his elbow spike.

Nearby, Dale ran, swords swinging, through the formation of Outcasts, screaming curses, and single-handedly divided their force. Fei and Duma moved to fill the gap, to keep the enemy force split. Ugarit ducked under a spear and scampered after Duma. Beryl and Gorghash shifted position then, standing ground at the lower part of the slope, so that the enemy could not fully surround their party, nor reach Tsuki.

The battle was brutal. So long as the enemy attacked Ugarit one after another in turn and did not group to single her out for attack, Duma and Gorghash left attackers to face her knives, and so each of their party fought hard and took some wounds.

The Outcasts were well skilled in martial arts, but their specific training prepared them best for stealthy attacks. Here, in close combat, against a party who had faced them before and knew their nature, they had no more advantage than a group of Elves might have against such a party. Elves had perished at the hands of Orcs or Elves in the past, as some did now.

Fei, being a Man, did not fail in this battle. He showed the best of Men, an ability to endure and determination to go on fighting so long as there was hope of aiding a worthy cause. It came to a point when all were weary and positions had shifted so that foes were paired off in combat, as if in duel, some higher along the slope, or lower. Fei came to face Hwesta, the leader of the Outcasts. They were both armed with swords and Fei had lost his helmet sometime during the battle, and so their armament seemed roughly equal.

Dale had spotted Fei's struggle and wished to aid him, but Beryl also was in need. The poison was yet affecting him and Dale now engaged the enemy that had faced Beryl, as well as another. He could not get to Fei.

Fei had not trained long, but he had practiced against both Tsuki and Dale, who he was convinced were masters of the sword, as well as Laurel and her staff. Though short, this training had taught Fei to recognize many different movements and styles of combat and to defend and attack against each. Hwesta found the Man not easily defeated.

They fought on. The storm had abated, and only the Moon lit the mountain path, but it was enough that night for a Man to see a sword swinging before him.

Hwesta saw his fate. It came upon him suddenly, a fear possessing his mind. He would not live to see the dawn. He had come to the west, only to face this determined Middle Kingdom Man. A Man he would not have held enemy, except he was here, defending abominations. Hwesta was unable to maintain focus as fear overcame his mind, and when he failed to focus, death came with Fei's sword.

Hwesta slumped as Fei wrenched the sword from his gut. No one moved against Fei as he bent to catch his breath. There were yet a few of the strange Eastern Elves remaining, but they were surrounded then by Dale and the Orcs.

Fei saw that Beryl and Tsuki lay some distance down the slope, but the others stood and fought. Even if wounded, it did not seem they had lost one of their party in this battle.

Those few enemies that remained were soon dispatched. Fei had not seen before, because he had been so focused on his own battle, but Dale and the three Orcs were covered near completely in brilliant red Elf blood. Duma was laughing.

Dale did not move. He stood where the last enemy within reach had fallen to his sword and stared up at the stars that were visible now the snow had ceased falling. Ugarit threw her arms about Duma's neck and the sound she made seemed happy, if Orcish. Gorghash embraced Ugarit also, so that the three stood together in some embrace, only because both males tolerated the other for Ugarit's sake.

Beryl was conscious when Fei reached him, but barely. He also was watching the Orcs. The battle had been necessary, but it truly disturbed Beryl to see Orcs or children covered in Elf blood. Duma's laughter sounded a little mad, more what one would expect of Dale.

Beryl would worry about the young Half-Orc later, but for the moment, he slipped into unconsciousness.

Fei called to Dale.

The Elf fell to his knees and drew snow from the ground to scrub his hands and face.

"Tsuki and Beryl are both unconscious. They live, but barely. What can we do? Go on and face the Wizard?"

"If the Wizard has fallen, we must all make attempt to stop the Wizard and find his weapon!" Gorghash insisted.

"The poison does wear off," Dale said quietly. "The spiders were the same found in the Green Wood, and were summoned and controlled by the Sea. The poison itself is not lethal to Men or Elves, but dangerous in that it leaves one in a state near death, yet fresh, long enough for the spider to bind the victim and choose its time to feed."

"How long?" Ugarit asked.

"The Wizard is important, but if we can face him and his minions with a stronger force in short time, that is wiser than rushing to face him without Tsuki and Beryl. We rest and wait. Wait until they both are recovered."

"It is smart to tend wounds when there is time," Ugarit said.

"I think a cave is there," Gorghash said pointing off the path.

"Looks right."

"You can trust Orcs to find a cave or hollow in mountains, even when they have not been to the area before," Dale explained to Fei. "I will carry Tsuki. Go on. Beryl will not be a large burden; Elves are lightly built."

"He is wearing much armor!" Fei grunted, as he lifted the Elven warrior.

Dale did not change his mind. He would be the one to carry Tsuki.

Below the mountains, within the Silver Wood, battle was still waged. Dawn approached, and though the Golden Flower had not shown herself over the mountain peeks, the sky had gone from moonlit silver to black and latest to violet. Ti was sensed by all that some change in the battle might come with dawn. It was evident that the Rómendar had night vision equal to the Orcs. If there had been time for contemplation, the Elves of the wood might have wondered whether their ancient ancestors possessed such vision, before the Sun and Moon appeared in the sky and they spent so many days awake and observing the world.

The Orcs, either by western blood or protective garment would fight on in daylight, but it could not be said yet whether they would loose an advantage in sight. The Winter sunlight was not so strong as that of summer, but snow had fallen on the ground and bare trees all through the night and there was sure to be a glare off its surface. If goggles they had fashioned after the pair made by Marduk and Dog worked, many Orcs might overcome the glare of sunlight and retain excellent ability to track movement within their field of vision. It was a skill that they had great need of, against a camouflaged enemy.

The Southmen cared little for camouflage and for the moment rested their bodies and their horses. They had ridden many charges through the night, driving the Rómendar toward areas where Elves or Orcs might defend or attack. Gwindor's plan was that they must leave the enemy some small avenue of retreat, a means to return to the east without further warfare. If allowed to move south they would have access to kingdoms of Men as well as to the path into the mountains taken by Tsuki and his companions. It thus seemed sensible to allow the Rómendar only to move north, where they might eventually retreat to the narrow strip of land between perilous marshes and tall mountains and from there reach open land and the east. That way could also lead to the north, where Gwindor's father and his kin ruled, but messengers had already been dispatched to Elven Kingdoms, warning of the recent dangers, and Gwindor was confident his people in other Woods would also resist the Rómendar.

Though the strange Elves of the East must be allowed access to the path north, they must not be allowed to move northwest such that they could surround the settlement within the Silver Wood or reach the River. This movement had been prohibited by the charges of the Southmen riders and some portion of the Elven archers.

The south was similarly defended. Elven swords fought along an arc through the wood, defending the route to the river and heart of the settlement, and when possessing the advantage, driving the Rómendar south, then east, then north, until they were in range of the Orcs along the trench.

The Rómendar would be driven toward the trench or allowed to retreat north. Some had raised doubts, fears that the Rómendar would simply mass and overrun the trench, but those in command had eventually agreed that if such a charge came, the Rómendar would be broken by the attempt and any small number that came into the settlement could be dispatched by the bows of the females guarding the homes.

The Orcs had provided, with supplies granted them by the Elves, a number of war machines, including catapults and bolt throwers. Tsuki had left, in Lenaduiniel's care, directions in making various explosive and incendiary devices which could be thrown by hand or catapult into an enemy force. These were to be used as a last resort, but the Elves might resort to such if a charge threatened to break their other defenses.

The battle was near a day old and some had been pulled from defending to form reserve forces. Now, some rested, while others defended, and when those on the front line became too wounded or exhausted to continue, the reserves took their lace and allowed them to rest as the reserves.

Those not actively involved in defense also continued to work to the point of exhaustion. Those possessing knowledge of Elven Healing or Orchish wound patching or antidote making now had several young followers each, hearing their methods as they worked them, so that they might later use them, if there was need. The wounded were pulled from the lines when it was possible, and mended if possible before being sent again into battle.

There had been fatalities, and some had been wounded beyond speedy repair, but the majority of wounds were yet patched quickly on the field so that defenders might remain to continue the fight. Still, this was hard work, and unwelcome. Elves who patched Orc wounds felt unclean as Tenders of the Dead and wished they might soon perform rituals of purification or be considered tainted for the rest of their immortal life and go mad. Elven warriors wept to have Orcs patch their wounds.

The Rómendar were divided, though it appeared to their foes that they were one group. Forhrondo and Khyarhrondo disagreed on how they should attack. They had previously planned for eventualities, including battling the Abominations back into their mines and hiding from western Elves or open battle with Elves, but they had not, until quite recently, imagined, much less planned, that they would ever face an alliance of Elves, Abominations and Men. They had thought, as they had been told by the Blue Wizards, that the Abominations were the true threat in the west, with their rapid breeding and chaotic organization of violent Clans and Bands. They had believed they could easily drive such foulness into their pit and that the Wizards would purify the world of them and that then, the west would fall.

Elven decadence and staying from the most ancient ways was destined to fall, they had believed.

This alliance they faced caused debate among them. Their two Lords were in disagreement on the better strategy. Khyarhrondo thought that they must wheel around and aim the main of their force at the south and push at once push the Elves north and toward water, and gain access to the rear of the defensive trench. Forhrondo insisted this put them at too much risk of being surrounded themselves and that the plan was not viable and instead they should concentrate their force at the trench, sacrificing few to bring many into the heart of the settlement, and from there push the enemy to the river.

They agreed they wanted to push the enemy toward the river, or at least eventually across it, but they could not agree how this was best accomplished. With each Lord commanding his own Clan of Rómendar, neither had the force to make their plan succeed, for each strategy had the best chance of working when all the gathered Rómendar moved together.

Khyarhrondo continued small exploratory charges against the southern border of the Elven settlement, while trying to sway Forhrondo to his way of thinking. Forhrondo planned to kill Khyarhrondo and then command the full force fo the Rómendar to follow his plans.

Annavala was among the Rómendar, though not with any of their organized battle gangs. She was trying to reach her Lord and kin, Khyarhrondo alive, and this meant avoiding Forhrondo's followers as well as the Western Elves and Abominations. Forhrondo was aware that Annavala opposed him. Though the Outcasts had gone to the Sea, they had been among Forhrondo's people and he had heard their reports. Forhrondo had many sources of information and understood that the Priestess, now with her Master, had acquired some perverted sympathies for the abominations and that Annavala was perhaps more friend than guard to the Priestess. He had ordered his followers to prevent her from rejoining Khyarhrondo, even if they must take her life.

It was perilous, trying to reach her Lord, with Elves, Orcs, as they called themselves in perverted pleasure in appropriating an Elvish term, and even her own people wishing to take her life. She had cursed herself already by slaying other Rómendar, when they challenged her. Annavala no longer cared. Her Lord was important to their people, and she only a servant of her Lord and people.

The simple fortification of spears and shields planted in the cold ground was within her sight. There, the two Lords met and directed their followers, beyond range of Orcish war machines and arrows. Annavala knew she must reach that place alive. So long as her Lord was there, Forhrondo could not openly slay him.

Marduk was above the trenches, keeping his Orcs in line. This keeping of reserves was not ordinary Orc battle strategy. Marduk could see the plan was smart when the Elves explained it, but now some Orcs that fought taunted those behind them. It made those on the line determined to prove they were willing to earn scars, but it also made those in reserve willing to slay fellow Orcs to prove their worth, rather than wait and direct their attacks on the strange Elves.

The Chieftains now had to walk behind the trench and whip those who made taunts and dared to fight fellow Orcs.

The sky was full of light now and red in color. There were long shadows of trees on the blood-spotted snow cover on the ground. Dog was near, wearing cloak and goggles as well as his armor. Some other Orcs had similar covering, or wore mud on their skin. There was mud enough to be found in the trenches.

There were Elves among them too, armed with spears and wearing pale cloaks that blended with snow or shadows. Some Elves were clothed differently, in light, close-fitting armor. They were retrievers, designated to be those that ran lightly over ladders and planks to the other side of the trench to fetch salvageable arrows and spears from amid the corpses. This was necessary now. Even if they were to fell trees, it would take too long to craft new spears, longer than it took the retrievers to dart among corpses. Marduk had since selected some Orcs to be retrievers. They were often those who had threatened other Orcs.

"There is something happening there," Dog said.

Marduk looked out into the enemy force. He could see the enemy clearly in the pale light. There was a swirl of motion near the place they had decided must be a post for their Leaders. "They fight among their own people?"

Khyarhrondo had heard Annavala call out for him. He saw that others tried to keep her from coming to him. They were, she realized, using force enough to kill, and she was resisting with equal force.

He went out to her, determined to rescue his granddaughter and learn why Rómendar would dare attack her.

Annavala screamed for her Lord to return to the command post, but he continued toward her.

Forhrondo did not move. His followers knew what they were to do.

"Bring planks! I want that one captured! Bring that one to me!" Marduk commanded. He snapped his whip over the trench and a ladder was raised across its length. Marduk went himself, with other loyal Orcs.

Forhrondo's followers saw the Orcs charge. These were clearly not those ordered to steal weapons from the fallen, but warriors. One among Forhrondo's followers took up an Orc arrow from the ground and put it to his bow. He aimed for Khyarhrondo.

Annavala fought mercilessly with her spears, stabbing and slashing Forhrondo's followers as they came at her. They attacked with less ferocity now, and she feared this meant she had failed. They no longer need silence her, for they knew her Lord would soon die. "No! Assassins! You will die!" she screamed.

The arrow struck Khyarhrondo in the chest, and then another found his gut, another his eye. He was dead then, and fell.

The Orcs came upon Annavala quickly and lifted her bodily. Several of their number fell to Rómendar spears, but the surviving Orcs quickly cut their way back to the trench and the ladders and planks were all drawn back as soon as they crossed, so that the pursuing charge of Rómendar only found spears and arrows, as they had in past attempts.

"Load the machines!" Marduk ordered. He had taken a wound to his right shoulder. The spear thrust had pried away his armor and torn flesh.

Lucky held Annavala, screaming and struggling in his grasp, and true to his name, he had avoided injury.

The catapults and bolt throwers were loaded with metal balls and bolts and soon fired. The artillery shot over the trench and Rómendar in the distance fell.

"Wound-Patcher to the Chieftain!" Dog called. When they said 'the chieftain', it was known they spoke of Marduk.

"What should we do with it?" Lucky asked.

"You will not defile my body! Abominations! I will die first!" She tried to draw Lucky's belt knife, but Dog whipped her hand.

"Send her to the Lady for questioning. She is female. They will know how to make her answer."

"No! No! You cannot!"

"If they can understand this strange language," Dog said.

Marduk growled that Dog would point out a flaw in his orders.

"They will call old ones to decipher her language and learn of our enemy, no doubt," Dog said then.

"I think one of the Chieftains among them had another assassinated, and she was attempting to stop the…overthrow." Marduk knew Elves had a clever word for such shifts of leadership, but he could not think of the word.

Alqua saw the Orcs bring the prisoner from the platform, where she remained in attendance to Lenaduiniel. She gestured for her Lady's attention. "Let us go below. Run to Caratathren and Gwende, tell them to join us and return. We may need more to watch a prisoner. Alqua climbed down the ladder first. Lenaduiniel strapped the baby carrier to her shoulders and then gathered her bow and some scrolls. Her whistle and dagger were already tucked in her belt, from which her quiver hung.

Alqua ran quickly, and so as the Orcs approached with Annavala prisoner, the female Elves were already running to join Lenaduiniel in the ground level of her brother's house.

The Orcs explained in slow guttural speech that Marduk had claimed this prisoner and gave her over to the Lady of the Elves for questioning and that it was suspected she had knowledge about a change in leadership among the enemy, which Marduk was smart to understand would be good to know. Marduk said it was better females question the female; they should know how to make her answer without hearing false information she might give a male in exchange for release.

Lenaduiniel dismissed the Orcs quickly, making sure to comment on how wise Marduk was and promising she would pass along information learned from the prisoner. She recognized that this was the one Duma had seen, for the resemblance to the sketch Ugarit had made and Duma's description was so very close. Lenaduiniel kept her eyes on the Prisoner. She had very pale eyes, this one, paler even that either of Lenaduiniel's brothers, and among elves their eyes were considered very blue and light.

"All here?" Lenaduiniel asked, without removing her eyes from Annavala. She heard the responses and moved toward Annavala. She found several small weapons and what might be rations or poisons on the prisoner and removed them. She did not keep these, but set them nearby on a low stool carved from a fallen tree trunk.

Lenaduiniel then said, "Do not let her leave us." She untied the bindings the Orcs had put on the prisoner. She had been a prisoner herself and she knew that what you were not forced to do while captive was always worst. From her prisoner's reaction, she believed she had been a prisoner before.

Annavala remembered very well the bindings the Outcasts had put on her. In a way, there had been comfort in knowing she could do no more to escape and that her continued captivity was not her own fault.

"Caratathren, speak to the prisoner in the most ancient dialect known to you. We shall see if she understand the words before we try any other approach."

Caratathren complied and said, "You are a prisoner of Lady Lenaduiniel in the Silver Wood and you will not be harmed, if you cooperate with her designs. Tell us your name."

Annavala looked to Caratathren, the red-haired one. Red hair was rare also among her people, but not absolutely unheard of. She looked then to each of the four female Elves of the west and could perceive differences in their features and coloring that likely marked the diverse bloodlines that had developed in those who had marched west. Caratathren was most tall and slender and had slightly more pronounced points to her ears, and her skin was not quite so fair, but darkened, as if burnt by many ages lived in open daylight. Gwende had the brown hair and grey eyes that were common among the enemy and seemed perhaps more heavy in build, though she would have seemed willowy to Men. Alqua was rounded and pale-haired and possessed of bright blue eyes and pale, golden-cast skin, which might have seemed only white to mortal creatures, and the leaf-like shape of her ears was nearly rounded. Lenaduiniel was possessed this rare golden coloring, though her skin was rosier than it was gold, and her figure was more alike to Caratathren and her ears quite sharply pointed. Lenaduiniel had the distinction of having holes in her ears.

Annavala determined that Alqua was not only from a bloodline far removed from her own, but also removed from that which Caratathren or Gwende were descended. Lenaduiniel was likely of mixed blood. She was somewhat related to Gwende and Caratathren, but there had clearly been some intermarriage with Alqua's people by her ancestors and perhaps intermarriage with yet another line in her more immediate ancestry. She also smelled unlike the others and looked on Annavala with quite a different expression.

"You have been defiled by abominations."

Caratathren gasped. "It is not her own child!"

"Do you understand her words?" Alqua whispered.

Lenaduiniel understood some words, but from Caratathren response, she knew what Annavala must have said. She also knew that she had not positioned herself such that Annavala could have seen Tashmetum. "I was captive…and I escaped and gave my captor a scar in remembrance. You were a prisoner before. What is your name?"

Annavala understood enough. The outcasts had been made to imitate the western speech, but the Lords had also been taught the manner in which it was spoken, enough to recognize it, and Annavala had often been near her grandfather in such lessons. She gave a slight nod. She was in the heart of their settlement and without her spears. Even if she slew all these four, she would have to cut her way through abominations and heavily armed Elven warriors to reach her people…

There was no place for her among them now. Her Lord was slain. She was without kin or friend, even among her own people.

Lenaduiniel unrolled a scroll and Annavala saw her own likeness upon it. She reached out to tear her captured image, believing it an ill omen to be captured so, and that perhaps some enchantment kept her here so long as Lenaduiniel held it, but the scroll was removed from her reach and rolled again.

"You understand many of our words. This image was made by the description of one you seem to call 'abomination', an 'Orc'. He saw you with a girl of the east. A Priestess. Do you recall?"

Annavala remembered. Before she had been captured by the Outcasts, before Setsugekka had been captured, they had seen that strange abomination who tried to protect the Priestess from Annavala. There seemed no harm in speaking. There was truly no where else to go, and if she answered, perhaps they would give her information that would allow her to escape. She could not return to her people and live, but perhaps she could have vengeance.

"I am Annavala. I know. I was there and saw him, the abomination that protects young females rather than spoil them. She left with that one. I saw her again, without him, and she was sent to her Master."

"The Wizard. The Sea."

They knew. It did not seem a guess spoken to hear confirmation, and if it was, Annavala did not really care. "Yes. The Sea. Deep Blue. He is her Master."

"The Orcs who took you say you know of a change in leadership among your people."

Annavala did not speak.

"What was your part in the change in leadership?"

"Why do you make alliance with foul creatures?"

"Because, if we do not, many creatures in the west will be killed, Orcs and Elves and others, because of what the terrible weapon the Wizard plans to use."