The Orb of Wrath

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  Erion was surprised that the impression of vertigo this time was even greater than on the previous occasion. He didn't know if fatigue had to do with it, or perhaps the weight of the young girl on his shoulders. He knew that the effect would not last, and he closed his eyes, was patient and waited. Soon after, he could feel the reassuring sensation of ground beneath his feet. He opened his eyes. They were in a forest next to a large river. He felt cold. They had left that hot and humid tropical climate behind. The vegetation and the landscape made him feel at home. Although he was a bit puzzled. Undoubtedly, they were not in the same forest from where they had left, close to the mansion on the hill.

  The rest of the group was there and looked at each other wondering where they were. It was late in the afternoon. Everyone started to pick up some clothes from their bags for warmth. Ithelas was visibly shivering.

  “I see you're back. All of you,” said a voice behind them.

  They turned and saw Phoroz, the dark elf, their client, with his distinctive red eyes. He was accompanied by a strange gnome fully dressed in hunting clothes, which would enable him to camouflage well in the field. Samar noticed that he also wore a cloak woven by her people.

  “Yes. Where are we, if I may ask?” asked Thost.

  “In the Mositus mark. That is the Calen River. Across it lays Fugor, the kingdom of the orcs,” Phoroz said.

  The group was too exhausted to digest news like those. After all their efforts they were now just steps away from the most dangerous country in the world of Oris.

  “Do you have the box?” asked the dark elf directly.

  “Here it is,” Ithelas said, after grabbing the object from his bag.

  A big smile lit up the face of the sinister character. Erion was sure that this was the first time he saw him smile. He didn't remember seeing even a grimace of a smile in any of the previous occasions when they had met.

  “You've succeeded! Fantastic!” Phoroz said as he handed the box to the gnome.

  He bent down to give some instructions, almost in whispers. The gnome saved the box in a bag on his back and ran toward the river. They saw a small canoe he had hidden on the shore. It was so small it couldn't even carry a man. With large strokes the gnome began to paddle toward the opposite shore.

  “He's going to the kingdom of Fugor!” Mithir exclaimed surprised.

  “Right. But you don't have to worry about it. You have already done your part beyond all my expectations. Now we can only cross our fingers,” said the elf with a slightly more friendly tone than they remembered having heard before. “Who is that girl?” he asked.

  “She was captive in the vampire's castle,” said Samar.

  “She's lucky. You saved her from the horror. Well, we're not fine here. Follow me,” Phoroz said.

  They walked a few steps behind him. Finally the elf stopped and asked them to stand close together forming a circle, shoulder to shoulder. Then, the dark elf introduced himself in the middle of the circle and, after saying a few words, saw how a ring that he was wearing begun to shine. After a while they were elsewhere. It had happened without the vertigo they had felt after going through the portal; simply, suddenly, they were in a different place. It was the outdoor patio of the mansion on the hill.

  “Here are your fees,” Phoroz said, giving Thost a bag. “I have included a little extra because I need you to do me a favor. I want to buy one of your horses. I must go immediately to the capital. I have to be there before dawn.”

  Thost went to the barn, grabbed a brown horse with white spots and handed the reins to the elf.

  “Here you go. It is a docile and fast horse. It will serve you well. Anyway, I think you'd get there faster using your ring,” said the knight.

  “Yes, but I can use it only once a day. So, I have to ride,” said the elf.

  “Okay, but the capital is far away. Even with a fast horse you won't get there until tomorrow afternoon,” estimated Thost.

  “Not when you feed it this sugar,” he said, putting his hand closer to the horse's mouth. “Don't worry, it will not suffer. I know how much you appreciate your horses.”

  Phoroz mounted the horse and said goodbye with a wave of his hand. Then he rode at high speed down the hill.

  CHAPTER 11: THE PRELUDE TO THE BATTLE