Fight for the Broken Land Pt. 02

At present time, there were already a dozen of them staring as he ate. He was trying to ignore them to the best of his ability but finally, their tiny black eyes broke him,

"Where's that slow-witted footman and my wine?" the magistrate barked at his chief of staff and then lost it completely. Throwing his empty mug at the sparrows. The sparrows only dodged and then settled down to stare. Then he tried to chase them off with his hands. Running over his table. The sight of a powerful official running around in his room chasing the small birds was hilarious but the head of staff stood in attention as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

When the magistrate was out of energy and gave up the chase the sparrows settled once more down. This time on the table and stared at the sweating man. With a defeated but determined look on his face, the magistrate addressed his aid,

"You have studied the old ways about the clan banners like I told you?"

And the chief of staff immediately replied that he indeed had done exactly as he had been asked.

"Then call the banners!" was the magistrate's simple order.

"But sir, it has not been done in centuries. Not since Richard the weak lost his crown and became the vessel of the Javerdels. Even if we know how it worked in the past there is no guarantee that it will still work." the aid protested.

Irritated by the sparrows the magistrate yelled at his subordinate,

"I am the magistrate of the North and I tell you to call the banners! So you call the banners! The clans will answer. And make sure to add a note that when this is all over the ones that do answer will get all the lands of those failing to show up."

The chief of staff hurried away to do the magistrate's bidding and left him to stare back at the birds.

To the best of the magistrate's knowledge, the secret society of the grey mages had died down with the last of them, Balior. But in his heart, he did not doubt that the sparrows were sent to him by the same lot.

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"How can you be so sure that they will come?" asked Damoran from his strange new friend and elaborated the line of his thoughts some more, "They have not responded anything to the government although several envoys have been sent to them. And the fact that the envoys have not returned has to mean only one thing - they intend to sit this one out and let the government and Bara-Ur weaken each other."

"What makes you think that they would sit this one out? Maybe they have joined the Bara-Ur?" came a reply and Damoran contemplated on it. If the northern clans would join the Bara-Ur then there was little doubt of the outcome of the civil war.

"But don't worry," continued Seth in good humor and tried to explain himself, "They will come. The magistrate of the North may have been thinking that he could sit this one out but like I told you, I sent him my own personal envoy and I'm pretty sure he will not turn that one down."

"But how can you be sure?" insisted Damoran still. He wanted to believe Seth especially since he was more than grateful for this man returning his sons but he did not understand how he could be so sure.

The evening was getting late and the boys slept safely in their rooms at Damoran's country castle. Damoran and Seth shared a drink and discussed their plans. Seth looked into Damoran and told him a tale of the failed rebellion and how the North did not show up to aid the king-of-the-common-men even though they had promised to do so.

Seth told him that the current magistrate of the North, despite his temper, was an educated man. And most probably knew very well what had happened to the magistrate who betrayed the rebellion. Sparrows sent by Seth's uncle Balior followed him for the rest of his life. Not letting him even sleep until he was so exhausted from it all that he had jumped from his tower to his death.

Damoran nodded and took a sip of the strong spirit they were sharing. He sure hoped that Seth was right about the sparrows.

----

A grand tent stood proudly erected in the middle of a field camp of the Bra-Ur army. Inside, a small band of orcs and men were gathered around a huge table full of maps. A thin man in his forties was pointing out routes and natural obstacles and was speaking about distances and days in which they would be reaching the next cities.

Suddenly there was a skirmish at the entrance of the tent. All the people around the map table turned to see what was it about. A sentinel orc was pushed into the tent and was immediately followed by a female orc pushing a dagger against the back of the sentinel.

"What is this?" rumbled the growling voice of Raz-ul. He was not intimidated by the sight even though it was clear the unknown female presented some sort of threat. As far as Raz-ul could see she could easily kill her hostage but then that would be it.

"Your dim-witted guards wouldn't let me in! So I had to help myself." informed the newcomer in a self-assured manner.

"And why should they let a stranger walk into my command tent, bitch?" asked annoyed Raz-ul taking a step closer. Getting ready to kill the female from the slightest of provocations. When the incomer realised she was speaking to Raz-ul himself she kicked the guard away and dropped to one knee,

"M'lord, Great leader of Bara-Ur, victor of Takagiwa plains. My name is Nefiri and I have come to bring you a message from my master."

The more the female spoke the more interested Raz-ul became of her. And not just what she was saying but also what she looked like. Lean and strong orc woman wearing a light scouts outfit that revealed a great deal of her body. Her leather top could have been a bikini top and she wore her bow on her back so that the bow-string beautifully buried itself between her ample breasts.

She was kneeling in front of Raz-ul and there was a certain mischievous expression on her face. Her eyes twinkled and she was outrageously flirting with the big orc while telling her story. An approving murmur came from the Bara-Ur leaders as they learned that the woman brought the best of news to their camp.

"Rise, woman. If what you say is true then you are more than welcome." But then Raz-ul's face hardened and he had something on his mind, "The only question is, can we trust you?"

Nefiri was about to answer but Raz-ul silenced her with an upright hand and a chilling word,

"Priest!"

And from the dark corner of the tent, the black priest emerged. Raz-ul asked him if there was any way to be certain of it. Nefiri wished to look away from the priest's hollow eyes but forced herself to look back anyway.

The priest studied the woman and spoke,

"This council of elders you mentioned. Were you there when it happened?"

She confirmed that she had seen it. The priest's pale hand reached out and caressed a gold medallion on her neck and asked further on if she had been wearing the same medallion when it had happened. When she confirmed that also the priest smiled.

"Put her to the table," was the priest's next command. Nefiri was not ready for this and fought against it. But Raz-ul and the others quickly subdued her and forced her on her back onto the table.

Then she could see the black hood of the priest looming above her. Taking hold of her medallion he started to chant. Staring her in her eyes in an upside-down position over her face.

The necklace of the medallion was burning her skin and the priest's eyes were an empty abyss. Suddenly she felt extremely cold and scared and whimpered. But the men held her still. The priest's gnarling voice did not help her at all,

"Yes, I see a gathering. The Andurian half-breed is there asking, no, pleading for their help." then he paused and looked deeper into her,

"I see a one-eyed warrior chieftain. Kilroy is his name. Just like she said," he confirmed them all. Then with a growing level of satisfaction, "Oh yes, it is so! He wants to see an orc on the throne! Just like she said!"

A minute later Nefiri rinsed her bad feelings down with a long sip of strong arak-spirit from a goatskin bottle. She had been released and Raz-ul clapped her on the back and told her she had done well. He did not apologize for anything but with few words, he told her that he had to be sure of her. And that the treatment from the priest could not have been avoided.

Then Raz-ul was checking her figure again and Nefiri saw it.

"You may ride back to your one-eyed master and tell him I'm looking forward to meeting with him." then looking more at her he smiled. A smile that probably was supposed to be charming but to any human would have looked distorted. Then he made his move,

"But maybe you would like to spend the night first, resting, eh?"

Nefiri did not flinch. It was evident what Raz-ul wanted and she had no objections,

"But of course, m'lord." was her immediate reply. Raz-ul barked an order to everyone at the tent to leave them and as soon as they were alone he charged on Nefiri.

The female orc with her proud and confident looks had aroused him terribly. And when she had surrendered and whimpered on the table as the priest probed her mind it had only excited him more. She was an ally now so he probably would have had to restrain himself if she had said no but since she was willing they were good to go.

Soon they were doing it like orcs. They kissed and ripped their clothes off and just when Raz-ul stuck his hard cock between her thighs searching for her sex she bit his lip hard. Hard enough for her teeth to sink in and draw blood.

Raz-ul gasped from the sudden pain and withdrew. Nefiri was grinning. Her eyes taunted him, "I thought you would be tougher."

Steam was coming out of Raz-ul's nostrils and in his angry lust he grabbed her hair. Violently bending her over to the maps on the table and penetrating her hard from behind. His cock opened her up mercilessly and it was her time to gasp and wince.

The whole table shrieked under them as they were copulating with force. Raz-ul had had a human lover for years but now that he was fucking a female orc he didn't have to hold back. He liked it. Pulling her hair and a thumb in her ass he came deep in her and collapsed on top of her.

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A pack of wildebeests grazed on the green hays seventy miles from the capital city of the land. The beasts lifted their heads now and then to watch for predators but did not mind the two great war hosts looming on both sides of them on the horizon. A quarter of a mile separated the animals from each army and for the time being, they saw no reason to change their daily routines.

Damoran was riding a huge white stallion and had selected a shiny golden helmet with a screaming red plume on top of it. Some of his men had pointed out that he would be a sitting duck in a gear like that but he would not budge. It was as if he wanted to be seen.

Before he left her Sataya had confessed that she had never seen anything so dazzling as Damoran in his uniform. His armor made him look like some parading warrior emperor from the old days. Yet even she had asked him if it would be the right choice for the real battle. Wouldn't something more functional and orcish be more fitting instead?

From his horse, Damoran was using his telescope and estimating Bara-Ur troops. For a moment he considered offering the telescope to Seth beside him. But then he remembered that the last time he had tried to do that Seth had informed him that he was quite capable of seeing without the mechanics of the silly tube.

Damoran could not be sure if it was yet another skill of his friend to see far or if he was just messing with Damoran's head. It was evident that Seth was a more than capable mage but he also refused to discuss the limits of his powers. What he could or could not do. Damoran found it a little annoying since it would have helped a lot if he had some idea how Seth might be able to help with the battle somehow.

The mage was full of contradictions. He had been a reliable friend and Damoran would owe him forever for helping his boys. On the other hand, he was also an impish jester and juvenile ladies' man whenever the opportunity presented itself. Lastly, he had made Damoran swear not to tell the government or the other generals about his magical capabilities. Not even when those could help them against the black priest.

Last night when Damoran had heard the worst possible news about the enemy numbers he had snapped to Seth that maybe he shouldn't be there counseling him at all if he was not willing to put himself on the line with the others. And that the black priest had cast a misery spell of some sort on top of Damoran's troops at the Takagiwa plains - so at least one side was getting the dearly needed magical help.

For once Seth had gone all serious and taken his friend's shoulder. He reminded him that the northern clans had come, just like he had promised. And when he felt that this was not enough for Damoran he had, somewhat reluctantly, told Damoran not to worry about the misery spell. That he would help and counteract when the time was right.

After the loss at Takagiwa Damoran was not entitled to lead the whole grand army. A noble knight Sir Elliot Dome had been appointed to the overall responsibility of it. And since the magistrate of the North had brought one-third of the infantry his place was right next to Dome. When Damoran and Seth had introduced themselves to the magistrate a sole sparrow had flown onto Seth's shoulder. The magistrate had frowned at the sparrow and excused himself as quickly as possible.

It was only because Damoran's father-in-law had insisted on it that he had a commanding post at all. Damoran had been appointed to lead the cavalry. Some other representatives of the government had spoken against this and went as far as saying that the son of the famous orc general lacked the skills his father once had.

All the personal humiliations did not bother Damoran at all. He thought that those were the least of his problems. The bad news was that their fourteen thousand strong infantry and two thousand men cavalry were dwarfed by the troops Bara-Ur had been able to raise.

If the scouts and spies were right, thirty-five thousand men waited for them on the other side of the valley. A thin comfort was the fact that some eight to ten thousand of them were slaves. Forced to march in front of the other soldiers. But such an amount of men would still be difficult to encounter.

The core units of the enemy would be the religious zealots of the black priest and then the well-equipped Percy army from the West. The latter had allied themselves with Bara-Ur at the first possible opportunity after hearing how the government's men had been defeated near the Dechelon. Finally, there were the orcs. On top of the original hundred or so orcs, three to four hundred orcs from the East, led by the one-eyed Kilroy, had also joined Raz-ul's forces.

On his spying glass, Damoran could see the battalion of eastern orcs creating a strong right wing of the army of Bara-Ur.

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The young boy's mustache was nothing but a few thin hairs but he had let them grow long as he had seen the older men of his unit do. With a sword in his hand and all the troops around him, he felt excited. It would be his first battle and he was already imagining all the wealth he would carry back to his home village from the capital when the battle was won and the war would be over.

Through the grassy field, their opposition had been approaching them for a while but he realized it would take time for him to see any action. The slave units were in front of him and although he knew the fighting morale of such units was low they would still slow down the enemy. Eating their stock of arrows for hours.

Not far to his right, there were the orcs. Some of his comrades had told him to get to the front or else the orcs from the East would have all the fun. Maybe they would kill all the enemy soldiers before he would have the opportunity to engage them at all. In his mind, looking at the orcs, he thought that they sure looked fearsome and was glad that they would be fighting on the same side as he did.

Soon the front rows had engaged in the fight and the boy could now see the confusion and despair of the slave units. Some of the slaves tried to turn back but there were the Bara-ur elite forces in their black armor and with their nine-feet spikes making sure that anyone who turned was killed fast. He shrugged. The whole purpose of the slaves was just to wear the enemy down so that his unit could kill the tired soldiers when they got to the point where they were standing.

Then he could see something new. A huge host of cavalry was cantering sideways behind the enemy line. They had been on the enemy's right flank but now they were moving fast to the middle. And then curving ninety degrees they charged into the strongest part of the Bara-Ur host. The boy was not a military tactician but he was pretty sure a charge like that would soon be engulfed by the huge numbers of their own infantry.

Strangely enough, it seemed that this was exactly what the attacking party wanted. In a thin spearhead formation, they were crashing in and the boy thought he understood. It was a desperate suicide plunge to go after the leaders of Bara-Ur in the middle. The golden armor of the charging cavalry's leader glinted in the sun and the boy had to give him credit for his courage.

Then he heard a horrible scream from only twenty-some yards away from him. He turned to see what was going on and the single cry had turned into a cacophony of screams as his fellow soldiers were dying. The eastern orcs of the right flank had unceremoniously started to cut through the Bara-Ur soldiers and the boy could not understand what was happening.

In seconds the orcs reached where the boy was standing and the last thing he saw was an old orc with an eyepatch. Landing a heavy blow with his warhammer into the young boy's head the orc looked almost sorry for the boy's doom.

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No matter how much Damoran cut through the enemy infantry they did not stop coming. He had never really thought about it but killing hundreds of men was not just a question of skill and violence but it required endurance as well. The hooves of his stallion and the rest of their rides thunderously drummed the earth but momentum was failing.

Maybe even fifty rows of soldiers still separated him from the enemy leaders. He did not like to think about it but they were so deep in the enemy line that if Kilroy had deceived him there would be nothing that could save them. With a sideways glance, he could confirm that the orcs on the right flank had not budged.

At least Seth had not let him down. With his shiny armor, most of the enemy arrows were pouring down on him. Each archer wanted to be the one to knock down the flashy enemy officer on his white horse but as the arrows reached Damoran they encountered an invisible wall of resistance. It did not stop them fully but slowed them down just enough to make them more or less harmless against Damoran's and his horse's armor.

This would not matter at all if Kilroy would not turn. The speed of the cavalry had nearly stopped and Damoran refused to think the unthinkable. Then he could see it. Kilroy and his orcs had done exactly as Kilroy had promised. He remembered their secret meeting after the council of elders in the city far away in the East and smiled. The old orc's word had been iron. The shockwave that went through the Bara-Ur army was devastating.

The men in front of the orcs were fleeing. Causing the maximum amount of havoc and panic to the other soldiers in front of them. The slave units ran in any direction that seemed to be the safest and after the surprise attack from the orcs, quite many of the slaves decided to challenge the remaining Bara-Ur's side of the battlefield.