Games of the Powerful
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Five days later found Brokk and Aelfdane and others still trekking westward through the mountains. The air is quite chilly but the sun shone bright in cloudless sky, its glowing orb a centerpiece on a table of blue making for a beautiful mountain day. Patches of snow lingered on the rocky ground mostly in shady spots underneath the fir trees growing in patches all along the mountains. The trail they are on is a narrow and winding, meandering its way up the side of a rugged mountain. Off to their right is a small valley they recently left warning the dwarfs there to flee the coming of the orcs. It is the same everywhere, disbelief, reluctance to leave then finally acceptance of the inevitable. Suddenly, the wind blew down the side of the mountain ruffling their hair and furs sending cold chills down their spines jerking the travelers from their private thoughts.
Instead of getting warmer as the morning progressed, the wind got colder rushing down the rocky trail whistling between the fissures and fir trees that grow alongside the meandering trail. Soon with their stomachs grumbling and the temperature steadily dropping, they found a small cave they could take shelter in from the wind and have a cold lunch. Keeping their weapons close they sat on the cave floor opening their packs digging for dried meat and fruit somewhere hidden inside them. Reluctant to stray too far from their weapons they kept them very close though the cave was uninhabited a mountain bear could choose this cave to make it home for the winter while they are enjoying their lunch.
“Brokk mah friend Ah dearly loove ye but Ah think when we get tae th' next valley Ah will part ways wi' ye an' return tae Llewelyn Forest. Ah have much tae dae before spring if Ah am tae gaither a large enough force tae even matter,” Aelfdane said reverting to the dialect of the dwarfs.
“Aye Aelfdane Ah tend tae think 'at th' city elves will be reluctant tae send any forces but Ah will leave 'at tae ye. Ah will heed south at th' next valley an' worn th' human villages oan mah way back tae Celedryl’s home. Dae ye remember when she was a wee lass chasin' th' wee lads about wi' a stick tae crack them ower th' heed?” Brokk asked, laughing at the fond memory.
“Aye Brokk I remember when she caught the one who insulted her mother calling her a stinking half elf. They had to stich his head for him. I remember the look on her father’s face at how proud he was of her,” Aelfdane said solemnly reverting to the common trader language.
“Quiet Ah hink Ah hear somethin' comin' up th' trail,” Norelia whispered from her vantage at the cave mouth. Quietly reaching for their weapons, they waited as she eased out of the entrance to look down the trail from the direction they had come. Quickly returning, she whispered to them, " tois orcs an' thee men comin' thes way." Easing back into the darker recesses of the cave, they hoped to stay hidden long enough to either learn why humans are traveling with orcs or to kill them if need be. They did not have long to wait when the group coming up the trail stopped in front of the cave peering in.
The inhabitants of the cave are very concerned seeing two orcs peering into the cave sniffing the air around them like two animals on the hunt for these are southern orcs very far from their hunting lands. Hidden in the patches of scraggly hair they could see the green and light-brown color of their leathery skin characteristic of the southern orcs. Anxiously shifting their feet as if they were anticipating entering the cave each held their huge double bladed axes and round shields with eight-inch steel spikes protruding from the center of them ready for instant use if needed. The red bearskins they are wearing get their name from their reddish-brown fur predominant to the southern red bear. Around their waist are crudely made leather belts with a filthy a bearskin loincloth.
“Rarg we do not have the time to hunt mountain bear this day for we have much to talk of with the others. Our masters grow impatient with past failures and wish to make up for them,” Hazarkan growled in impatience. This had been the fourth cave that the orcs had delayed them wanting to hunt for a mountain bear. Fortunately, for those inside the wind is blowing directly into the cave so the orcs could not smell them hiding there. Trying desperately not to hurl their stomachs from the stench of the orcs blowing in with the wind they remained frozen in place in the back of the cave.
“Your masters are not our master’s human,” Rarg grunted. The common trader language was not their normal way to communicate and it surprised the occupants yet again that an orc can speak it in a crude fashion yet entirely understandable. Their language is more like grunts, growls, and many hand motions not what they are hearing now.
They will be your master you stinking filthy orc. Hazarkan did not dare to say aloud what he was thinking more in fear of his master's anger if he should fail to bring the southern orcs into the fray. “Rarg a short way up the trail is a small valley where we must go to meet the others. When we slaughtered the dwarf village, we saved plenty of young dwarf meet in cold storage for you, even some young female dwarf we saved especially for you.” It took all their strength and training not to attack the murdering humans and their orcs friends. Even Aelfdane struggled mightily with his rage to refrain from attacking them.
“You are twice fortunate today human that I do not take your head for trophy. Do not expect a third time human if you hint at giving me orders again. Take me to this valley you speak of for I am hungry, it is a long walk from the Deepmoor Barrens and not enough food along the way,” Rarg grunted and growled as he spoke. Hazarkan is incensed his hand going to his curved blade at his side fortunately at the last second he controlled the urge to kill the orc. He is a not an imposing figure but something about his tall lean body suggested great strength and power. It could be his smoldering coal black eyes that matched his dark skin and hair that had the power to see everything about a person perpetuating a look of strength and power.
With reluctance, the orcs turned away moving up the trail with Hazarkan and another tall lanky man with long greasy hair that stuck to his head. The third a short thickly built man with a baldhead with grotesque tattoos across the top of his pate lingered behind to watch the back trail. Quietly hiding near the cave mouth, they peered out as Thrumbar threw a small rock on the trail near the cave entrance. Suddenly, alert for danger, the lone human with his sword in hand cautiously worked his way back down the trail toward them. The seconds passed slowly while they hid deep in the shadows of the cave mouth for the unsuspecting human to get closer to the entrance of the cave. They did not have long to wait as he neared the entrance they leaped out and pummeled him to the ground dragging him back into the cave. Quickly wrestling him to the floor of the cave, they tied his hands and feet with stout leather ties shoving a gag in his mouth at the same time.
The fear in his eyes told them all they needed to know about this cutthroat. Squatting next to him Aelfdane could see the fear intensify dramatically in his eyes suddenly smelling the acrid smell of urine as the cowardly cutthroat promptly urinated on himself. No one alive today has not heard what happens to anyone that has grievously wronged an elf, and this elf is about to give this murdering filth a firsthand lesson. Aelfdane slowly with great care pulled his dagger from its sheath at his waist watching the cutthroat closely. The tied up brigand promptly defecated on himself filling the cave with his stench. By now, the dwarfs are thoroughly disgusted with this coward of a human. Taking the point of his knife Aelfdane slowly dragged it gently across his throat pulling the gag from his mouth. An inhuman change suddenly came over the cutthroat his eyes turning a solid black he thrust his head upward impaling himself on the point of Aelfdane’s dagger. The blackness faded from his eyes as he died still impaled on the dagger.
Now they understood why the brigand was so fearful, he did not fear Aelfdane and his dagger as much as he feared something insidiously evil. Pulling the dagger from the victim’s throat Aelfdane cleaned it on the dead man’s cloths before sheathing it. “Brokk we must leave here now before they find us. The one capable of a dark deed of this nature is sure to find us and make sure we do not live to tell of it,” Aelfdane said peering out of the cave entrance to
see if anyone man or orc is near the cave entrance.
“Aye Aelfdane I must warn th' duke 'at his soothern borders arenae safe. If th' dark ones, can convince th' soothern orcs tae leave th' barrens an' attack from th' sooth th' duke will be hard-pressed tae stop them."