El-Vador's Travels (13 page)

The
explosion sent them flying across the rough ground, their attackers
had taken them entirely by surprise. Where had they been hiding? A
blaze struck up nearby, the light and heat was greeted by Orcish
screams.

'Stand your ground men, it's only...'

The
Commander didn't have chance to finish his sentence, an arrow
protruded from his chest. Gurgash watched from the ground as flames
licked over his superior's skin and coated him in light. He let out a
roar before another explosion blew him to pieces. What manner of
weaponry was this?

More
explosions came from all around him, Gurgash looked over to find Harg
and found that he was lying next to him. He watched the frantic
gesturing of his cousin's hand.
Stay down
. Well, he wasn't
planning on trying to fight against whatever it was that was
assaulting them.

From
what little Gurgash saw, there was no resistance at all. Orcs simply
fell where they stood to be wreathed in flames or were blown apart
from the nearby explosions of their comrades.

Then
it was over, the screams died off into the distance and became
occasional rather than constant. Silence blanketed the battlefield,
punctured by the sound of flames softly licking ineffectually at the
smouldering grass of craters left from the assault.

'What do we do now?' asked Gurgash, completely overcome and panicked
by what he had just witnessed.

'We go into the woods,' said Harg. 'At least then we'll be out of
sight should they return, perhaps we can reach one of the farming
communities and warn them.'

Slowly
rising to their feet, Harg and Gurgash wordlessly observed the
carnage that had been wrought upon the landscape. Great seething
chunks of earth lay upturned by the explosions, charred body parts
were scattered in seemingly random directions right up to the tree
line.

Gurgash
started retching again as his cousin dragged him into the woods.

Two
Orcs stumbled out of the forest at the edge of Mugrab's fields. The
farmer threw down his hoe and snatched up his pike. The intruders
were in no condition to offer him a fight though, in fact they looked
on the verge of collapse. All the same, he kept his pike handy, they
may well be deserters.

'Who are you?' he asked sharply. 'What are you doing on my land?'

They
did not answer him immediately. They both stood there in an apparent
state of exhaustion, as if they had travelled many miles at great
haste. At last, the younger one managed to find words, 'We were
attacked by the Elves, they killed everyone.'

Mugrab
felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. 'How many of them
were there? Are they headed this way?'

'We
don't know.' said the older one. 'They were headed for the fort south
of here, no doubt they will start scouring the forest and the farms
in time.'

'If you're going to save yourself, you'd better do it now, or you're
doomed. It may well be too late already.' added the younger one.

Mugrab
looked around his farm. He had always thought he'd stand here and die
on his feet fighting invaders, now that he had been warned ahead of
time that prospect seemed altogether pointless. He could always
settle somewhere else if he fled now, while if he stayed with the
land there would be no chance of survival. He noticed the columns of
smoke rising from places he couldn't account for, that was
confirmation enough for him. The Elves were burning the fort down and
he needed to get out of here.

He
nodded to the two Orcs. 'Thank you for the warning, there's a farm a
little further south of here with a serviceable wagon, warn them of
the danger and you'll get your way out.'

On
the very edge of hearing came a scream of grief torn as if from a
wounded animal facing death.

'Thank you for the advice.' the older Orc said, his ears twitching
at the sound of the scream. 'We'll be on our way south then, no doubt
those who are left will regroup at the stronghold with the rest of
Sarvacts' men.'

'Fare well with your journey,' said Mugrab. Above the uproar of the
explosions, a bell began to ring, loudly and insistently. 'I may well
see you there.'

'You mean you're not leaving?' asked Gurgash. 'You'll be killed for
certain.'

Mugrab
answered with a shrug. 'I can't just pack up and leave instantly,
there are a few errands to attend to before I depart.'

The
two Orcs began arguing about something but Mugrab was already in
motion. He jogged back toward his farmhouse and made a mental note of
the few possessions he could take.

One
of the Orcs came over to them. 'Harg has gone south to the farm,'
said the youngster. 'I'll be watching over you until we leave.'

Mugrab
looked up at the young Orc in wonder. 'Are you so eager to die, lad?
What difference does it make to you if I live or die?'

Before
the Orc answered, a cry came from the forest, several Orcs came
lumbering out of it toward the farm house. For a minute Mugrab
wondered if they were not attacking in some state of madness, then he
saw the fear in their eyes. One by one they fell, pierced by arrows
that flew from the woods. Mugrab's gaze went there but he could see
nothing. Finally the last Orc fell and silence washed over his
resting place. Where was the Elven army that was supposed to burst
through into the clearing?

Then
he saw it, a solitary figure stepping out to inspect the dead Orcs.
He squinted and shook his head in disbelief, there was no mistaking
it for anything else. El-Vador had come to his farm once more.

Life is cyclical, as are consequences. All things travel in
circles to those who have experienced enough of life. I know there
will come a time eventually when my actions will catch up with me.

E
l-Vador
stared at the two Orcs as they froze beside the farmhouse. They had
been expecting an invasion force, a massive army of Elves lusting for
vengeance, they did not know there was only him.

Unlike
the other Orcs he had slain in a red haze, he had the time to
recognise their faces. One was the Orc he saw regularly on sentry
duty near the settlement, the other his feet had deliberately guided
him to.

'I
told you to leave.' El-Vador said. 'Instead it has come to this.'

They
were speechless, seemingly waiting for him to say more and decide
their fate.

'You
are a stubborn Orc, Mugrab. I have given you many opportunities to
flee this place and you have taken none of them.'

He
turned to the sentry. 'As for you, of all the Orcs I have seen on
watch you never gave me a bad look, never said a bad word and always
stayed out of my way. I appreciated that even as I planned to kill
you.

'If
you try to harm this simple farmer, I'll kill you if I can,' the Orc
replied.

El-Vador
shot him through the heart as he advanced on the farm.

Mugrab
was transformed by the incident. 'Come then, foul wolf!'' he snarled.
'Slay me in cold blood and be done with it.'

'You did not lift a hand to attack my settlement. I offer you this
one chance to leave with your life spared. Take it now or I shall end
your life.'

Mugrab
sighed 'Have it your way lad, and pray you will never see my face
again.' said Mugrab. 'For if you ever do I swear on my ancestors that
I shall end you for what you have done this day.'

El-Vador
wished they could have parted on better circumstances, yet he knew
that this man was an intruder into his lands and it had always been
destined to end this way. 'Go,' he said. 'Lest I change my mind.'

The
farmer grabbed a bundle of possessions and hauled them off to the
south, to the stronghold that El-Vador had yet to sack.

As
evening greeted the mountain skies El-Vador crested a final hill and
stared ahead.

The
stronghold was a vast collation of rocky surfaces and dark panels. It
was not that which made him pause though, the town that had grown
around it was the issue. Below him Orcs swarmed in an endless green
sea, completely oblivious to their fate.

Vengeance
was the only thing that burned in him, yet vengeance would do him no
good if he had no practical plan to exact it. Knowing that, he
hunkered down low, hugging the surface of the hill so that the
sentries wouldn't spot him.

He
lay there for a time, not knowing what to do that wouldn't result in
getting himself killed. The Orcs he had seen looked vigilant, as if
they were expecting an army rather than one person assaulting their
defences.

His
thoughts were interrupted by a horn blaring from one of the hills
beyond. It was greeted by a chorus of roaring voices and then the
first of the Elves crested the hills and started charging down into
the town below. El-Vador couldn't believe his eyes. Here was a force
of Elven warriors that had come to liberate his people, but from
where? They came at the Orcs from all sides, surrounding them and
pouring down in great numbers. Spurred on by his people's unexpected
charge, El-Vador slipped out of hiding and made his way down the hill
and into the town.

Arrows
arced out from the town toward the attackers. Some of them landed
true, cutting an Elf off mid-spring with devastating efficacy. They
did little to thin the ranks of the assault and it wasn't long before
the Elves had reached the centre of the town. That was when the true
fighting began. On they came, roaring out their hatred of the Orcs
that had tried to take their land, feeling exactly as El-Vador had
and nothing like the docile Elves he had lived with under occupation
for so long.

Steel
met steel in a horrifying clash while archers kept shooting from
inside the Orcish buildings in the hope of thinning the numbers. The
Orcs had expected an assault and their response was swift and
effective, more Elven bodies fell to their arrows and blades and as
El-Vador fought his way through the town he began to wonder if the
tide had turned.

He
kept his distance from the majority of the close combatants,
preferring instead to exhaust his supply of Goblin arrows that he had
acquired from his assault of the fort.

It
was nothing like the hunting he had previous experience of, it was
all a surreal blur of motion and passion that took a toll on his body
that he didn't dare to think about.

An
Orc sprang forward too close for El-Vador's bow to be of much use, he
discarded it briefly and parried a thrust from the Orc's spear with
his hunting knife. He came inside the creature's defences and slit
its throat as he would have any animal. Hot blood gushed out to greet
him, splattering his face and momentarily blinding him.

The
heat seemed to grow and when El-Vador cleared his sight he realised
it wasn't from the blood. The Elven warriors had taken it upon
themselves to set the town ablaze, now the Orcs were fighting a war
on two fronts. Either they died defending their homes or died from
the flames that consumed them.

Smoke
quickly thickened the air, El-Vador momentarily forgot about fighting
in the struggle to breathe.

He
found himself in an open space that was relatively clear of smoke
then, before him stood the vast stronghold of the Orcish occupation.
He knew that Sarvacts would be in there somewhere, as would his
captive Pixie. It was the first time he had considered her since
hearing of her capture, more of an afterthought in the heat of
battle.

The
stronghold doors were shut and guarded by Goblin archers on a walkway
above who shot at any intruders, Orcish or otherwise. Apparently
Sarvacts was planning to outlast the Elves by forcing them into a
siege. His people were not a warring race and would struggle in that
situation, they had not accounted for his phial though.

As
he drew back a coated arrow, the gates of the stronghold groaned open
and out charged the Orcish champions on their horses.

In
an instant of clarity, El-Vador knew what he must do. He loosed an
arrow at the legs of the charging beasts, which sent out a horrible
squeal as it buckled and tossed the rider before being run down by
its companions.

This
in turn gave El-Vador the chance to ready another arrow and send it
flying into the flank of another horse. Already skittish after
hearing the screams of one of its kind, the horses were absolutely
terrified by the panic of another.

That
was when the explosion hit.

Great
chunks of armoured Orcish flesh and horse were flung up into the air
beyond the gate, all pretence of a charge was abandoned by the
champions as a third arrow calmly thudded itself into another steed,
the retreat was sounded as El-Vador had suspected. That was when they
galloped straight back into the second explosion.

Fighting
down the urge to retch, he waited for the final combustion and then
watched as the hungry flames consumed the flesh of the former
champions and their mounts.

Stepping
through the dying embers, El-Vador made his way into the stronghold
in search of Sarvacts.

Soldiers
rushed toward him as he entered the gates, they were too slow. An
arrow pierced the arm of one and as he staggered on, El-Vador kept
his distance. His companions had strayed too close to the blast and
soon they were corpses being lapped in fire.

An
archer spotted him from a distance, El-Vador rushed toward him before
he could draw aim. Like a striking serpent's fang his hunting knife
shot in and out of the Goblin's beady eye.

Now
other Elven warriors began to storm the stronghold, seeing that the
gates were wide open and not caring about how the champions had been
dispatched.

As
they had outside the stronghold, the Orcs fought with desperate
bravery. An Orc led the rallying cry and stabbed at him viciously
with a spear. El-Vador side-stepped the attack and lunged in with his
hunting knife, gutting the opponent.