El-Vador's Travels (45 page)

Except that to his growing concern, the expedition into
the woods did not return to the plains from which they had set out.
Furthermore there was no sign of their searching through the woods,
and from personal experience El-Vador knew that even the best of the
Orcish scouts were no woodsmen. He should have detected them long ago
in his roaming through the trees, instead he had found nothing in
spite of being hot on their scent.

Irrespective of what had come of them, the Elf knew that
their not reporting back to Harg would point in his direction,
damning him entirely unintentionally. The Orcs may not be friendly
with the trees but a concerted effort to smoke him out would work.
Having seen the eyes of Harg, El-Vador fully expected the man to tear
every tree from its roots in order to find him.

He needed to sink deeper into these woods and uncover
what had happened to the ill-fated scout party before evading Harg's
inevitable sweep of the land. He knew that while he cared not for the
scouts sent to discover him, their fate could well be his own if he
did not uncover their deaths and discern the cause.

Up ahead, as if the woods had anticipated his questions,
came a high-pitched sobbing noise made from the throat of something
sentient.

Choosing caution above curiosity, El-Vador slinked
forward as silently as a shadow and came upon a small clearing in the
trees. The horror within was enough to make him retch.

The bodies were strewn haphazardly amongst the branches,
barely recognisable as Orcish in origin such were the rents that had
been torn in them. A few reddened remnants seemed congealed together
in blood to form a torso, others suggested that they had once been
heads or bits of face.

When he finally swallowed down the reflexive gagging,
El-Vador's keen sight pin-pointed the form from which the sobbing
issued.

She was a slight figure, bent over on her knees upon the
forest floor and weeping into the earth. She had not noticed his
arrival, and in spite of the terrifying display that surrounded him,
El-Vador's weapon dipped slightly upon sighting such a helpless
victim.

He did not know how this Orc had come to be a part of
the frontal scouting party, or if there was indeed other
circumstances surrounding her mysterious presence. There was only one
way to discover the answers he required, and that was the question
the eye witness to this brutalisation.

As he called out to her she spun suddenly, as if the
voice of another human being had jolted her out of the transfixion
upon the massacre.

'Hello?' she called back tentatively, her hair twisted
nervously in bloodied hands.

El-Vador emerged from the trees and the girl's eyes
widened, clearly she had been expecting an Orc to rescue her.

'You are not of my kin.' she stated factually with the
impetuosity of youth.

The Elf did not drop the bow, but it was no longer
sighted upon her. 'I am not of your kin. How came you about this
massacre? Why is one so young so far from her home?'

It was a strange feeling then, almost a pang of regret
in the knowledge that it had been he who had destroyed her home, and
quite possibly her family in the process.

'I live here in the woods.' she smiled at him,
completely unafraid at the prospect of an armed stranger appearing
before her.

It would seem that El-Vador had not destroyed her home.
Yet.

'You came upon these Orcs by chance then? Know you what
became of them?' the Elf asked.

The girl nodded vigorously at him, all sign of previous
tears strangely absent now that she had someone to keep her company.

'The beast of the woods got them, I could hear it from
my house, oh the screams were horrid!'

'Beast of the woods?'

The girl's nodding continued unrelentingly. 'He lives
out in the great cave and gobbles up any strangers that stray too far
into his domain. I witnessed the last of them being torn asunder, it
was such a terrible thing to behold. It is not the first time I have
seen the beast though.'

'What does this beast look like? Should I have any fear
of it striking me if I venture deeper?'

The girl shook her head now, as if unwilling to describe
the depravity of the beast's visage. Given the gruesome display she
had witnessed the ending of, El-Vador couldn't blame her.

'The beast will not harm you.' the girl finally replied.
'It has been sated by the blood of strong soldiers and need not feed
any further.'

A pang of warning shot into El-Vador's head. 'How do you
know the habits of such a beast?'

The girl shrugged. 'My father told me, he knows how to
keep the beast away from our home.'

'Then perhaps your home is where you should be heading.
Other Orcs shall find the remnants of these and afford them burial
rites, as is their wont. I must venture deeper into the woods now.'
he offered her a smile. 'You will be seeing me again though.'

So there were Orcs living within these woods as well as
those in the burrow, perhaps these ones belonged to a more isolated
community that El-Vador could exploit for the benefit of his power.
He just need let the girl leave and then venture out after her, using
her tracks to lead him to their homestead.

'Stop.' the girl commanded, as the Elf made his way to
depart.

'Under what authority do you hold me within this grove,
little girl?' El-Vador asked, a smirk playing upon his lips at the
audacity of this sheltered creature.

'I have seen it in your eyes, Elf.' the girl said, her
voice sounding different now. 'You believe that you can simply take
their lives to feed your power. You are mistaken, and you are not the
only one capable of doing so.'

With a wave of her hand, El-Vador felt his arms
constricted, then his balance fled him and he came crashing to the
soil not far from the dead.

'No, Elf.' the girl said, clearly not sounding anything
like the little girl that she claimed to be. 'You will be coming with
us now, as it has been foretold.'

El-Vador had one last opportunity to look up at the
crimson cowl of the approaching figure before a further wave of its
hand caused him to lose consciousness entirely.

I
have left behind one legacy in the hearts of many, an imparting of
the vengeance from my own heart directly into others.

T
he makeshift salvage teams worked
through the day, attempting to form some sort of entrance into the
collapsed burrow in the hopes of discovering survivors. Harg didn't
have the heart to tell them that they were far too late, he suspected
that most of them knew and were simply digging out of frustration and
lack of anything else to do but wait for the last scouting party to
return.

They had until sundown before he sent out the remaining
fresh forces that he had prevented from digging. The previous
scouting party had returned with its full complement recently and no
news of the Elf in spite of a thorough sweep of the plains. That left
the group he had sent into the forests, which admittedly was one of
the furthest destinations from these acrid plains. Something deep in
his gut, perhaps some old warrior's sense he had accrued over the
years of campaigning, told him that there was a reason they hadn't
returned.

Signalling to his guards, Harg mounted the large
destrier and they took off in the immediate direction of the faint
greenery beyond, the blood-red sun sinking before them as they
thundered across the plains at high speed.

They made good time, and had travelled some distance
before the dwindling rays of light were replaced by the greenish
tinge of their night vision. At this rate of eating up the flat
plains they would reach the woods by nightfall and discover for
themselves where the scouting party had vanished to.

The steed reared underneath him, causing him to lose
control and fall heavily upon the dirt of the plains. Rolling to a
halt and protecting his head as best he could, Harg looked up at the
offending beast and realised that he wasn't alone in doing so.

The entire company had been involuntarily dismounted
from their animals, who panicked and galloped in circles with froth
streaming down their lips.

Harg searched the night sky for anything that could have
caused such a reaction, a predator or some previously unsighted
ravine ahead. Then he noticed the figure in the distance, slowly
closing in on their location.

It was swathed in a red robe with the cowl firmly
concealing them from all sight, and seemed to glide effortlessly
across the plains as if caught on a draft of wind that simply wasn't
there. An unnerving feeling grew in the pit of Harg's stomach,
causing him to empathise with the plight of the horses. There was
something entirely unnatural about the movement of this thing.

As it drew closer, he noticed the body in its arms and
almost let out a yell of triumph at the sight. It was cradling the
Elf almost effortlessly before it. Had this mysterious arrival come
to fulfil the task of the scouts?

He finally blinked his eyes and refocused them once
again on the form as it drew close. He had half expected it to
disappear like so many of the other dreams and for him to rouse
himself once again in his saddle or beside a camp fire. Instead he
stared about him at the transfixed warriors he had gathered together,
all of them gazing ahead at the new arrival without so much as
blinking. They certainly saw as he did then, this was no ghost or
trickery of the mind, however surreal the sudden appearance had made
it seem.

Harg knew that he must act, he couldn't be allowed to
look as dumb-founded and off the pace as his fellow soldiers,
otherwise his example would lead to a rout in the face of this
supposedly supernatural event. He was so close to getting his hands
upon the Elf, he couldn't allow this one being to prevent that.

'Who goes there?' he called out, striding toward the
figure with a confidence that he didn't feel.

The figure did not reply, instead it continued its
drifting in their general direction. The aura of cold about it caused
an involuntary shiver to run up Harg's spine, sending further
warnings ringing inside his head.

Involuntarily he took a step back before he realised
that he had faltered in front of his kin. Shaken, he forced himself
to resume his slow walk toward the creature. He needed to keep
pressing forward in the hope that this newcomer would halt when
confronted with him.

'Identify yourself or I shall be forced to harm you.' he
finally offered the thing, though he knew that an attack on the
creature was the last action he wanted to take. There was something
inherently wrong about all of this, he had just lost the entire
burrow, he couldn't afford to lose his remaining people to any
further threat.

It ceased its gliding as it came within a few feet of
the obstacle that was the Orcish General. Harg felt an odd sense of
relief at the ceasing of movement, though he couldn't place exactly
why this thing was less of a threat when immobile.

'You desire this.' the cowled figure hissed at him,
thrusting its burden at him without any apparent effort.

Harg gave it a perfunctory nod. 'The Elf is responsible
for much death among my people, he must be brought to justice for his
crimes.'

'No.' the quiet voice replied simply. 'There is much
potential in this one, we shall be taking him.'

The Orcish General ground his teeth at the strange thing
that had taken to ordering him about, he did not much like its tone
but he knew better than to act unknowingly. 'Under whose authority
shall you be taking The Elf away from us?'

It turned its head to him now and he suppressed a
shudder, he also noticed that the Elf was now clutched almost
protectively to its chest. 'You have not heard of the Scarlet
Brotherhood, Orc?'

The name stopped him cold. The Scarlet Brotherhood, the
secretive and arcane wing of sorcerers that some members of the
council were members of. They were not just Orcs, they were conjurers
from all races brought together in pursuit of some ghastly power.

Yet something within him resisted even the power of the
creature before him, he had suffered too long at the hands of this
Elf to simply allow the miscreant to be carried away clear of his
harrowing plans for retribution.

'I can read your heart, Orc. Your ambitions may be
tempered by fear for now, but do not let your thirst for vengeance
interfere with the Brotherhood's plans.'

Harg knew that he should listen, knew that he was making
a terrible mistake. The disgrace of the destroyed burrow, the defeat
in the mountains, the subsequent shameful retreat and now to be
pushed about by this force beyond his control. It was too much, and
he would rather be damned for being honourable than live knowing he
had failed yet again.

Looking back upon his men, he saw the resolute distaste
upon their faces as well. They were waiting for his command, and
judging from their expressions they had already guessed what it would
be.

'Attack!' he roared, hefting his axe at the cloaked
figure and mounting the final charge, regardless of what the council
or brotherhood or anyone thought of his actions.