El-Vador's Travels (2 page)

Sarvacts
sounded very sure, though Gurgash suspected otherwise. He knew the
man could bellow like a bull and make himself heard across a mile of
battlefield, that didn't guarantee victory though. His cousin had
told him that it was all very good to make a load of noise and
bluster but ultimately actions were what mattered on the battlefield.
Was his Chief a man of action or was he leading them to their
inevitable doom? Sarvacts seemed obsessed with punishing and
destroying every last Elf, this was probably seen as an admirable
quality in a leader of Orcs. Gurgash suspected that such hatred could
be a weakness when it came to strategy.

'The
prancing little things shall be crushed under the weight of our
forces.' declared Sarvacts.

'If
they're so easy to overcome why are we the fifth company you've led
out here?' muttered Gurgash to himself, making sure he wasn't
overheard this time. It wouldn't do to end up floating down the river
as his Commander had suggested. He'd probably be dead soon enough,
may as well make it a dignified death for the sake of his family.

The
Orcs trudged up the mountainside and deeper into the Elven lands.

Steel
struck oak and splinters flew. The forester grunted in satisfaction
and with his axe still hefted in his right hand he sheered a branch
off the large log.

Nodding
to nobody in particular, he watched the branch topple into the grass,
leaving another log preened and ready for the mill. 'That will do for
today, El-Vador,' he said. 'We carry this final log over and leave it
at that.'

'As you wish, Father.' El-Vador replied, not sorry to see the back
of another hard day. Sweat ran down his bare chest. Though the day
was not warm, few days in the high mountains were warm, when pitted
against an oak with only an axe in hand you were prone to forgetting
the weather.

At
fifty summers, the forester's son stood on the border of maturity. He
was already as tall as some in the village and his own labour at
Cusband's side had given him a strength that few could match.

Yet
next to his father, El-Vador's relative prowess was nothing. Cusband
belied his slight Elven build with the strength of an ox. Although
his hair was now tempered with patches of grey, there was never any
denying who was firmly in charge of the logging when they roamed the
forests. His voice was a deep bass rumble, which made El-Vador's
unnaturally high treble seem insignificant and foolish when he dared
to speak contrary to his father.

From
the back of the house where the forester and his family lived, a
familiar pained voice called. 'Cusband! Come here. I need you.'

Cusband's
face twisted with his own pain, a pain he never would have shown if
wounded by sword or spear or arrow. 'Go tend to your mother, son,' he
said thickly. 'It's really you that Murina wishes to see.'

'But she called you,' said El-Vador, it was an old objection but he
made it every time.

'Go, I said.' Cusband set down the axe and folded his hand into a
fist that seemed much more menacing. 'Go.'

El-Vador
hurried away. He didn't want to receive yet another beating from the
man and loathed to subject his mother to any more emotional anguish.
It was the only way his father could function, asserting his physical
dominance over the boy long after it had stopped being necessary.
There was nothing that El-Vador could do about it either, he knew
that if he were to end his father they would probably starve and his
mother's heart would be broken. Assuming he wasn't cast out of the
village for such an act.

El-Vador
also knew that in spite of his outward strength, his father could not
deal with seeing his mother like this. Murina was a seer, one both
gifted and cursed with visions of the future that shortened her
health and lifespan remarkably. She had saved the village on numerous
occasions with her predictions of weather and the changing of
seasons. Somehow she innately knew when crops needed to be planted
and harvested to maintain an adequate yield for the village. For all
the importance placed on general practicality within village life she
was revered in spite of her infirmity and the pain it caused her
husband.

She
lay in bed, covered and warmed by the cured hides of wolves Cusband
had slain on hunting trips with the foragers. 'My son, my El-Vador.'
She smiled, though her sight seemed dim, another vision perhaps.

'What do you require, Mother?' he asked.

'Some water, would be nice' said Murina, her voice raspier than
usual. 'The visions, they parch me so.'

'I'll get it for you,' he said, and went swiftly to the pitcher on
the table near the hearth. He poured an earthenware cup full and
brought it to her outstretched arms.

'Thank you. You're a wonderful...' Murina broke off the sentence and
her eyes flashed a milky white. Her body seized in place and the cup
of water fell from her hand.

He
quickly took the cup from floor where it had landed and waited for
her lucidity to return.

She
eventually beckoned the water forward, drinking deeply from what was
left of the cup. 'There is not long now my dear, sweet boy. Your
destiny awaits you sooner than you can imagine,' she broke off again,
they could both hear the sound now. 'It is now time for you to go and
discover it.'

Running
feet pounded closer to their house now, a fearful voice yelled out to
anyone who could hear. 'The Orcs have come!' it said hoarsely 'The
Orcish army have come to Elven lands once more!'

'The Orcs!' El-Vador's voice crackled with ferocity. 'They will pay
for this. I will make them pay.'

They
were old words, words he had heard his father and the villagers say
many a time. He knew not exactly what it was they had done, it was
enough to know that they were evil. Finally he was of an age to do
something about this looming threat that had plagued his family and
village his entire childhood.

Murina
eased down to the pillow once more. 'You have to go, my son. You have
to go now.'

He
stared at her a final time. 'Mother...'

'Go.' she whispered to him, her voice fading. He rose then, knowing
that this was her wish. He needed to depart and quell this Orcish
threat once and for all.

Cusband
was already armed. El-Vador joined his father where the crowd had
started to gather thickest, expecting the worst. Other Elven warriors
came spilling from their homes carrying bows and steel with faces
that were grim. As one, they began asking the scout for information
on their numbers and position.

'I
will tell you all I can,' he said, 'though not with any gladness in
my heart.' He was a strip of a lad in the prime of his youth. He must
have run a long way, in spite of this he was not breathing unduly
hard.

'Their
numbers are vast,' he said. 'Orcish champions, and archers from the
Goblin marshes, a whole swarm of them, I tell you. This is no raid or
incursion. They've come to stay, unless we drive them forth.'

A
series of conversations flowed through the crowd, until finally
Cusband raised his voice. 'We will not drive out these Orcish swine
alone, not if they have come with an army. We will need to gather
forces from several villages.' He looked around at his comrades. 'Can
anyone spare themselves to venture out and raise an army of their
own?'

'With Orcs loose in the Elven lands, we can,' declared a set of
twins in unison. 'We are both fleet of foot and sound of sinew, you
shall have an army.'

'Let the folk there know we've been invaded, if they've not already
heard. Tell them to spread the word to other settlements beyond them.
When we strike the foe, we must strike with all our strength.'

The
twins nodded gravely and immediately set off down the road toward the
next settlement.

'A
wise decision.' said another one of the Elves. 'And since they have
gone in that direction, I will go out to the north-west. I have
family from those parts. I will have no trouble finding kinsfolk to
guest with when I get there and even less raising a fighting force.
We shall meet again, and blood our swords on Orcish throats together
as one.'

With
that for a farewell he bounded away, his feet flying at a pace that
would eat up the miles.

The
rest of the Elves stayed in the street. A dark purpose had gripped
them and would not relinquish its hold until the invaders were
expelled from their land.

Cusband
set a large hand on El-Vador's shoulder. 'We must build barricades,
you and I. We will be very busy throughout the night.'

'Yes, Father.' El-Vador nodded, not knowing what else to say.

When
they walked to the mill, they found El-Vador's mother standing there.
El-Vador exclaimed in surprise, she seldom left her bed these days.
Cusband might as well have been nailed to the doorway, the way he
stood when confronted with her. El-Vador started toward Murina to
help her back to the bedchamber. She held up a bony hand. 'Wait,' she
said. 'Tell me more of the Orcs. Are there many of them this time?'

'They have come in greater numbers than ever before.' said Cusband.

Murina's
mouth narrowed, as did her eyes. 'You will fight them.' It was not a
question, she might as well have been stating that the earth beneath
their feet was cold.

'We will all fight them. Everyone from the surrounding settlements,
all who hear the news and can come against them with a weapon to
hand.' said Cusband. El-Vador nodded, but his father paid him no
heed.

'Please Mother, go back and rest,' he said. 'The battle ahead is one
that is beyond you.'

He
guided Murina to the bedchamber and helped to ease her down into the
bed.

'Thank
you, my son,' she whispered. 'I am pleased that I laid eyes on you
once more, you're a blessed child, if unruly. I hope that I have
prepared you well enough and that you do not hold your father's
actions against him. They were necessary, though you may not see it
now.'

El-Vador
thought nothing of her words at that time, usually such kindness
would cause his eyes to water and his heart to break. These feelings
were muted by the visions of blood and slaughter filling his head, of
clashing swords and cloven flesh and fear that he may not be able to
defend all that he held dear from the Orcs. So much so that he failed
to note the tone of finality in her voice, that this parting would be
the last time he would speak to his mother.

Gurgash
swung an axe, not at an Elven neck but a sodding tree. He paused for
a moment, leaning on the weapon and eyeing his blistered palms with a
grimace. 'I'm not a damn wood-worker, I came here to kill.' he
grumbled, though he was having second thoughts about rushing into
battle.

His
cousin Harg was attacking a pine not far away. 'You really expect
someone else to do the grunt work?' he asked. 'This is a soldier's
life, we don't just kill all the time you know.'

Gurgash
had no answer to that and resumed his task once more, he had spied
the Commander coming their way. He didn't even know his name but
looking busy when the commanding officer was around was something all
Orcs learned fairly quickly regardless of how new they were to the
army. He was fortunate in a way that he had Harg to guide him through
the initial part of joining the force, who knows how many beatings
for mistakes he'd have received otherwise.

Gurgash
started trimming branches. As soon as he got back from this skirmish
he was never warring in a forest again. He'd do his draft time out
here and it'd be straight back to the darkest caves he could call
home. Harg could be the pride of the family all he wanted, Gurgash
knew the truth about his vocation now.

'Faster you swine!' roared the Commander. 'We need a palisade wall
up and functional before those dogs launch an attack at nightfall.'

'Where are they anyway?' asked Harg. 'Aside from that one we shot
dead in flight I haven't seen a single Elf.'

'Maybe they're as sick of the trees as I am.' Gurgash said gloomily.

The
Commander eyed him with disgust. 'They'll be here, wait and see. I'd
warn you that they could attack at any time but that's not how they
work. They'll be waiting until it gets dark, waiting and watching and
gathering as much intelligence on this force as they can. Then
they'll strike when they're ready, and when they think we're not.'

Harg
grunted. 'Aye, you'll find no argument here boss.'

'They're
sodding cowards.' complained Gurgash, hacking at the wood in
frustration. The forest rang with the sound of axes, apparently he
wasn't alone in thinking that. 'Chief Sarvacts brought us up here to
fight the Elves. So why don't we fight them, instead of chopping
lumber?'

'Chief Sarvacts is no fool,' said the Commander in warning tone.
'He's many things to many people but he's no fool. The Elves may be
cowards but they're damn tricky ones at that. When they finally
strike you'll be happy you have a fortified camp,' he gave Gurgash a
dangerous look, then growled. 'Last warning, badmouth the Chief again
and I'll end you myself.' With that he stalked off to harass some
other poor souls.

Gurgash
started splitting the wood harder, it wasn't Elven necks he was
thinking about now, something a little greener and a little less like
a phantom from the trees had sprung to mind.

'I
wouldn't want to attack a camp like this.' said Harg. 'I just hope it
doesn't come to some drawn out stalemate because of it.'

Gurgash nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak. It wouldn't
do to try and live off this sodding land, he just wanted to get here,
kill some Elves and go home having done his time.

A
lanky Goblin straightening the stakes of the palisade overheard their
conversation and decided he was going to add to it, 'I wouldn't want
to attack a camp like this either, but that doesn't mean the damned
Elves will leave us alone. The difference between them and us is
they're tricky like Harg said, and they'll find a way to outsmart the
Chief. It'll be our necks on the line for it too, wait and see.'