Black Metal: The Orc Wars (7 page)

“No castle stands sufficiently guarded, no hearth properly defended, no family protected, so long as the orc roams alive and free. Rob them of steel and they will fight with empty hands, take the heads from their shoulders and their children will fashion them into maces. We have to kill them all.” --- Sir Blaine Hightower, slain at the Battle of Meeting Stone

The goblins were running hard, without a care for stealth or silence they plowed through the underbrush at incredible speeds. Their wilderness skills giving them an added advantage along with their short stature. They were able to follow obscure game trails at speed and not be impeded by hanging foliage that would have stalled taller creatures. There were only a handful of them left now, though they had begun the day with many more.

The outset of the day had seen them scampering about the forest, laying a myriad of traps and snares along the fleeing horde’s main trail, as well as the smaller side trails the elves were sure to take. Their small force had been chosen by the big orc leader to be a rearguard. Though all who knew of the order understood that rearguard meant ambush party, at least that was what the word meant in goblin. So after several hundred yards of trail had been trapped the goblins hastily concealed themselves at the entrance to the trapped area. Some perching in trees, others squatting in makeshift blinds, others still were hidden amongst the underbrush.

They knew that the force they were about to attack not only outnumbered them, but had an advance scout troupe of elves. Elves and goblins have long been dire enemies, each representing the more primitive and wild natures of sentient beings. Yet the goblins were an ancient race, bound to the earthen roots of the past so deeply that it was whispered by more radical thinkers that the goblins were likely not just an ancient race, but the First Race. The elves, always a prideful and aloof race, were threatened by this assertion in ways that only such elegant and powerful creatures could be. The very idea of the short greenskins being the rightful keepers of the forest ruined the stoic composure of the graceful race. It was a blood feud that had lasted for centuries. The majority of the world’s wild places held by the elves who professed harmony with nature, and the northern lands occupied by goblins who simply were the land. Even then they had to share the north with ever increasing numbers of human settlers, orcs, and even dwarves. Only against elven enemies did goblin warriors do battle without fear or the coercion of leadership.

And so it was that the goblin bushwhackers waited patiently in their hiding places, their pulses racing as the smell of elf registered from downwind. Soon the smell was accompanied by sounds, far to slight for humans or even orcs to detect, but loud enough to be heard by the keen ears of the goblins. As they waited silently eight elves came into view, spread out across the wood so that no single ambusher could take them all at once. They walked with bows at the ready, their eyes scanning the forest for signs of any threat.

It was unclear if the elves noticed the goblins before or after the attack, for almost simultaneously the elves gasped and began to launch arrows into the forest while the goblins surged from their hiding places and hurled spears at their foes. The bushwhackers began to go down clutching arrows to their breasts as the elves rapid fired their sleek projectiles. The battle was short-lived however, as a shower of barbed spears rained down upon the elves from every direction. Within moments all of the elves lay dead, unable to dodge the multitude of thrown weapons.

Yet the battle was not quite over, because four more elves materialized out of the woods, firing arrows with deadly accuracy as they came. There was a brief exchange of fire when the goblins recovered from the counterattack and hurled their remaining spears. Two of the elves went down, their lithe bodies contorted in pain as the goblin spears pierced their flesh. The remaining elves stood resolute as they dropped their bows and drew their long knives while the goblins closed in, their wickedly curved shortswords held aloft.

As the goblins rushed the elves a great commotion sounded. The bushwhackers were too busy fighting to notice that the knights and their footmen had now caught up to the elves. The two elves fought valiantly, claiming several lives as they danced from opponent to opponent, but were both laid low by the sheer number of goblins they faced. Before the green skinned rangers could celebrate their victory however, the humans were upon them.

Shouting battle cries and waving their weapons the men of Iithsul charged. The goblins, knowing they were outmatched, scattered and attempted to flee into the safety of the woods. Some were killed in the charge, but most of the survivors made it into cover. The situation soon became a running battle as the human warriors fanned out and gave chase. They were able to move quickly because of their long stride, but the goblins were able to move faster in the tangled underbrush. The main body of surviving goblins eventually outpaced the humans and escaped into the forest. What stragglers there were soon fell to the blades of their determined pursuers. The human pursuit from that point on was significantly slowed as they began to fall dead to the traps and snares placed by the goblins to cover their escape.

The goblins had been running since then. Now the sun was beginning to set, and they were exhausted. They knew that the humans would not be far behind, so they must warn the army of the pursuing foe. The goblins crossed a stream running red with what could only have been blood, avoiding the burned bridge as they opted to ford the shallow waters. They crested the hill to find that they gazed down into a small village.

As they carefully approached they could see the horde’s camp at the top of the hill across the valley. Form the wisps of smoke rising from the town and the smell of burnt flesh, it took little imagination for the goblins to deduce what had happened. Expert trackers that they were, it took only a small effort to see the story of the raid in the kicked up dirt and the corpses of the fallen. Like most settlements in these parts this village was no doubt one of the supply towns for the dwarven stronghold. Growing crops and raising livestock for the dwarven larders in exchange for protections and well-crafted dwarven metals. There were no walls or gates to the town, it must have been a slaughter.

The goblins felt no pity as they moved through the village, which had been picked clean of plunder. No doubt several of the warriors in the horde would be sporting dwarven weapons and armor. While they were disappointed not to have had a chance at spoils, they did get to kill some elves, and most goblins were simple folk with simple pleasures.

The goblins could see that Ghalik had put all of the harvested wood to use in their absence. Now that the army possessed all of the wagons, carts, and mules of the burned village below, there was no need for the sleds. So the wood had been split into planks and lashed together with rope, which consequently they noticed a group of goblins still weaving even more coils of. These lashed planks were currently being used as makeshift walls in various parts of the camp, placed so that they would impede an advancing foe but not cut off the horde’s escape.

A call went up form the sentries as the bushwhackers returned. They were quickly ushered to Ghalik’s now portable throne. He sat in silence, with Reygoth and Ca’tic’na on either side of him, as he listened to their chirping report. Upon hearing of their pursuit he frowned, but beyond that did not seem worried. When they were done he thanked them, gave them permission to select spoils from the leftovers in the community wagon, and had food brought to them. He then gestured for Reygoth and Ca’tic’na to accompany him as he walked into the night.

“So are we going to fight them?” asked Reygoth as he walked alongside the old wizard.

“I have yet to decide that. On the one hand we could carry on as we have, raid the next village and wait for Okada’s return. But if we do that this new threat will surely put us between themselves and the dwarves,” Ghalik grumbled as he looked out over the burned village.

“Perhaps we could do both,” Reygoth suggested, “We could leave a small force of trolls and orcs here to ambush the humans while we take the rest of the horde and press on.”

Ghalik thought to himself for a moment, turning the idea over and over in his mind. He discussed it with Ca’tic’na in a rapid exchange of the goblin tongue. After a few moments of silence following the exchange, Ghalik stopped walking. The look of his face betrayed the fact that his decision had been made.

“We will leave a detachment of orcs and trolls here while the rest of us move on. They will hide themselves in the remnants of the village. Should our enemies enter the town our forces will do battle there. If they skirt the village to hasten their pursuit, our warriors will have them in a vice, and sooner or later we will turn and fight as they are cut down from behind,” he explained as he once again began walking, this time back towards the camp, “Reygoth, select a third of your warriors and have them assembled at my throne as soon as is possible. We will lay the trap tonight, just in case they have advance scouts who can see our fires.”

Within the hour Ma-Gur found himself at the head of a force that was nearly a third of the entire horde. At first Reygoth chaffed at the idea of the trollslayer being in command, but a few wise words from Ghalik about Ma-Gur’s popularity with the orcs and prowess against the late troll champion would do well to ensure that he was obeyed. And so it was that the strike force carefully bedded down in the ruins of the village.

The rest of the army was up and moving just before dawn, packing up supplies and heading off into the hills to pursuer their raiding campaign against the dwarves and their allies. The strike force awakened to the commotion of the moving horde, then strained their ears against the silence left in its wake. For long hours they waited, orc and troll, impatient for the fighting to begin but disciplined enough to stay in cover.

It was just around noon, when the sun was at its zenith, that the sounds of hoof beats and marching could be heard. The hidden warriors tensed as they heard the sounds come near. It was working, thought Ma-Gur as he listened to the humans enter the village. Only moments now until they were far enough into town that they could be bushwhacked. Armored horses moved into Ma-Gur’s field of vision, close enough to touch. He quickly and silently emerged from the broken doorway he had been hidden behind, and attacked.

The knight never saw it coming, the orc’s heavy blade cleaving through his leg and into the horse’s flank. As his led separated from his body he toppled off his dying horse, only to be pinned by its dead weight as it landed on top of him. The knight next in the column was just able to deflect Ma-Gur’s blow with his shield, but was soundly unhorsed by the powerful swing of an ambushing troll’s stout club. The knight landed in a heap as the survivors of the initial attack struggled on.

Ma-Gur felt as if there was something the matter, in spite of the one-sided battle raging around him. Using the powerful muscles in his arms he lifted himself onto the only partially destroyed roof of the building he had been hiding in. As he gained a purchase and steadied himself he looked out across the town and the hills from whence the enemy had come. Ma-Gur was surprised and shaken by what he saw there.

Only about a third of the enemy forces had moved into the village. The majority of the knights had remained in the open alongside their supply wagons while the footmen escorted the scant few knights that had moved in to investigate the village. Ma-Gur cursed as he realized that they hadn’t been completely fooled, but true to his nature, put them out of his mind and leapt once again into the battle below.

The battle was swift and brutal, the human numbers had been reduced heavily during the initial assault. Yet they fought with the determination and tenacity that came with the knowledge and understanding of victory or death. Casualties on both sides were mounting, but in the close quarters fighting that was so common in cities, the pure brutality of the orcs and trolls was telling. Soon it was over, the humans killed to a man.

Ma-Gur was quick to reassemble his troop around the town square, knowing that he must act quickly.

“The humans must know by now that we are a threat, but they do not know how few we are compared to them. We cannot engage them in the field or their cavalry will run us down. But if we spread out over the village, perhaps we can fool them into thinking that our entire army resides here,” he spoke as he pointed in the direction of the Iithsulian force.

“What would that accomplish?” bickered a gangly-armed troll, “Other than show the humans that we would rather hide than fight.”

His statement was echoed by many of the troll warriors, even some of the orcs, who were obviously wondering the same thing.

“If they think the whole army is here, then they will concentrate on fighting us, and not pursuing our brothers,” Ma-Gur answered, the red in his eyes bristling at the implied challenge.

The young orc stood defiant as he gazed menacingly at the assembled warriors, silently daring them to debate. He had managed to maneuver them into a position that would make any who did not go with his plan seem like fools for wanting to fight in the open or cowards if they fled. This realization sunk in as the thunderous sounds of hooves signaled a movement in the enemy ranks. Ignoring the sound Ma-Gur held his eyes fixed upon the crowd, entering into an unspoken test of wills with those less inclined to follow his lead. For a moment all that could be heard was the sound of the moving forces outside the town, then one troll who stood at the back of the gathering spoke.

“Enough of this! Reygoth and the greenskin wizard chose him to lead us. They would not have done that without good reason. I say his wisdom is sound!” shouted the troll as he shouldered his mace and walked towards the sound of the enemy’s position.

“Maybe we were left behind to die,” argued the first dissenting troll.