Iron Blooded

Draxus shifted beside me, alarm written on his features.

“Are we compromised?”

I watched the Orks for a moment longer before shaking my head. They weren’t moving with the urgency and intent I’d expect of a camp under attack, and the alarm hadn’t been sounded. That left only one option.

“It’s a scout patrol,” I whispered. “They don’t know we’re here. They’ll pass by us before heading West.”

I exchanged a look with Draxus and Kato.

“Lay low,” I hissed. “And do not engage unless I give the order.” I gestured to the men all around. Thirty of us in the grass. “Spread the word.”

Soundlessly Draxus slunk away, careful not to disturb the grass as he went. The other soldiers, many of my men, and some of the 3rd crouched down and heeded my orders to lay still.

Fifty paces away the Ork Patrol reached the edge of the grass. Their weapons were sheathed and they moved quickly. Five of them in all.

I lay on my stomach in the grass, watching their silhouettes approach in the moonlight. We were too exposed, and yet I couldn’t risk giving the signal with the Orks so far.

They were forty paces away. Then Thirty. I could hear the heavy tromp of their boots against the Earth and the grunts of their heavy breathing. Twenty paces.

A wind picked up, stirring the stalks of tall grasses. A soldier shifted somewhere nearby. As he moved, his boot struck another man's helmet.

My heartbeat throbbed in my chest. One of the Ork’s head jerked around his hand going to his weapon. I could see the gleam of his eyes in the moonlight as he scanned his surroundings.

He grunted something in his language to one of his companions who turned in a half circle, looking back the way they had come. His boot was so close that I could smell the stink of sweat and blood.

Slowly I drew the dark cloth from the blade of my sword, readying it for battle. The movement drew the eye of the Ork above. He looked down, his horn head tilting in surprise. I saw his eyes widen, and that’s when I gave the signal.

I exploded from the underbrush driving the tip of my blade through the hollow of the Orks throat with viscous efficiency. The only sound he had time to make was a gurgle as he slumped forward, drowning in his own blood.

I saw other shadows rise from the grass. Heard one of the Orks manage to grunt a warning and half draw his iron sword. His head hit the grass with a muffled thump moments later.

I guided the body of the dead Ork down to the ground, pulling my blade free with a squelch. Several feet away Draxus did the same. We waited in tense silence, listening for the sound of any alarm.

When none came I released the breath I’d been holding and slowly stood. The Ork that had been on watch at the camp entrance now lay dead, an arrow through one of his eyes. Astrid emerged from the darkness and nodded to me from beneath her hood.

“Close call,” she mouthed. “Sloppy.”

I arched a brow and she smirked. One of the other archers gestured to the edge of the camp, now bathed in the soft glow of firelight. I nodded and signaled to my men.

Hade tapped the shoulders of four men and led them down a nearby grassy slope. I watched as their helmets bobbed, disappearing in the tall grass. They would circle the camp, looking for any sentries or stragglers before we had the misfortune of encountering them.

I wiped the red stain from my blade with the strip of cloth and tossed it aside. Then, I sheathed it and drew Iron Fang.

We need to move fast to remain undetected. My men took their places along the grass line, only the tips of spears, and gleam of eyes visible. Astrid took point.

As we stepped into the ring of firelight she led the way, bow at the ready and arrow nocked. We moved to a group of dark tents, fabric flapping in the breeze. There was a cooking pot boiling nearby, water bubbling.

We moved past several Orks sleeping in the open on the bare grass. Their snores were cut short as we ended them, quickly and without mercy. Blood pooled on the dry earth, and with it went the life of my enemies.

Astrid skirted the edge of a tent up ahead. She was about to turn the corner when she froze, gazing at something I couldn’t see. I didn’t have time to wonder.

A cry cut through the air. Male and unmistakably human. A man begging for his life. Orks grunting snorting laughs could be heard, echoing in the night air.

We had found the Khan’s son.

I crept to Astrid’s side and leaned around the corner, Iron Fang clutched tightly in my fist. He was unmistakable. An Ork a foot taller than the others, with black horns that curved like that of a Ram.

Memories danced in my mind. Or blood spilled on the Earth. Of laughter and mockery. The Khan and his son had delivered a blow to humanity that day, in more ways than one. I intended to pay them back for every life lost in Ceris.

“Ser William.” The voice was low and urgent but I was loathed to look away. Not when he sat there amongst his followers, drinking from a horn of ale and laughing.

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A human was strapped to a board spread-eagled. His hands had been nailed in place, blood oozing from the wounds. He had been a soldier once, that much was evident in the stained livery he now wore. Blue and gold.. One of Lord Dacon’s men.

I clenched my fist at my side as I watched him take heaving breaths, his head hanging low.

“We can’t,” Said Astrid in my ear. She was right, I knew she was. But it didn’t hurt any less.

I forced myself to turn away.

“We find him,” I said. “And we kill him. Then we deal with his son.”

We slunk through shadows like thieves in the night, avoiding any Orks that we saw. A sentry passed by us, snorkeling and scratching at his chin as he walked. As we checked the contents of each tent in the central camp my heart raced faster.

We were running out of time. Any moment now one of the Orks might discover one of the bodies we had left behind. Or worse, the soldiers that now lay in wait.

I could feel the tension in the cloaked figures around as we drew back another tent flap and found nothing but a few low-level orks lying on their sides. I turned away, sinking my teeth into my lip.

Had I miscalculated? I’d assumed that Urksol, now wounded as he was, would be laid up in one of the tents surrounded by healers. Now I was beginning to fear he wasn’t here at all.

A thought occurred to me but I quickly dismissed it. If the Firebrand was dead, I doubted the Orks would have stopped to make camp. Even exhausted as they were, they wouldn’t have risked it.

That meant he had to be here somewhere.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

I turned to Astrid, seeking her eyes in the semi-darkness.

“We’re thinking like humans,” I told her. “We’re looking for him in the wrong places. Orks value strength, right? Without it, the Firebrand would be treated as little more than a common soldier.”

Astrid bit her lip in thought then nodded. One of the other Archers waved a hand to get our attention and pointed towards a tent set apart from the others. A few moments later the murmur of rough voices drifted across the camp.

Though I couldn’t understand their raspy language, I could sense the intent behind the words. There was anger there, and maybe a little impatience. Moving from shadow to shadow, I rose from my crouch to peer around the edge of the tent.

Two Orks stood, arguing amongst themselves. One, the larger of the two, cut a hand through that air and pointed at the tent. The other shook his horned head but fell eventually silent. After a moment he grunted in agreement. I saw the other Ork turn for the tent entrance. Saw the gleam of metal in his fist.

“Stay put,” I told the Archers. I tapped Astrid’s shoulder and pointed to the Ork now standing guard twenty paces away.

“Can you take care of him?” Astrid nodded and pulled an arrow from the quiver on her back. At the same time, I stayed low, slinking around the side of the tents in front of me until I had a clear view of the entrance flap.

I’d have one chance to make the distance, and I had to pray I wasn’t seen. I held my breath, waiting between heartbeats. Then I heard the twang of a bowstring and I sprinted forward.

The Ork twisted in surprise at the sound of the bow and the movement caused the arrow, aimed at his throat, to miss its mark. Instead, it stuck him in the collar bone and the Ork made a growl of pain. I was on him in seconds, ducking under the massive hand that tried to grab ahold of me, and slamming my knife into his unprotected armpit. Once, twice, three times.

He fell with a rattle of armor that made me clench my teeth. Movement flickered at the tent entrance. I looked up in time to see a hatchet flying for my head. I dove aside, landing hard on my elbows. The Ork from within the tent had returned. He took in the scene in one glance and lifted his head back, lungs expanding to release a bellow that would raise the alarm.

This time Astrid’s arrow did its work. It punched through the side of his neck and clean through, whistling as it passed into the night beyond. The Ork gurgled, his cry nothing more than a wet rasp.

I gripped him by the horns, savagely wrenching his neck until my muscles strained with effort and I heard the meaty snap. I lowered his lifeless body to the ground. Chest still heaving I turned towards Astrid.

I could see the shine of her eyes in the darkness. She nodded to me and I nodded back. I had to do this, and I needed to do it alone. Readjusting my grip on Iron Fang, I ducked through the flap of the tent.

It was the stench that hit me first. Of rot and sour sweat… the smell of the dead or dying. This was not an Ork Khan on the mend. Urksol was dying, and he did not go well.

The Ork lay in a pile of rags, Mighty chest rising and falling like weak bellows. His tusks were yellow with crusted spittle and his sallow eyes watched me as I entered. There was little reaction other than a slight shift of his red shoulders and a coughing sound.

I realized moments later that it was a laugh.

“The Irony of the moment is not lost on me, Blue Shield,” he said. “One of your kind saving me from an assassin only to kill me yourself? What luck.”

He hacked again, and spit dribbled down his chin. It was red. I glanced down and in the candle light, I saw the state of his wound. Urksol should have already been dead. The stump of his leg below the knee had blackened and maggots gnawed the eroded flesh.

I grimaced, unable to hide the disgust on my face. Urksol only grinned.

“Have you lost your nerve, human? Are you spineless after all?”

I stepped further into the tent and let him see my face. Let him see the cold resolve in it as I approached. He let his head fall back.

“No,” he rasped. “No I see it in your eyes. You’re a killer, aren’t you? A killer of Orks. And one day, you’ll be a killer of men. Mark my words.”

I pointed the knife at him, watching as his eyes flickered across the blade.

“I want only one thing from you,” I said. “And that’s information.”

The Firebrand grinned.

“And why should I give it to you? What’s stopping me from burning this tent down, you along with it?”

It was my turn to laugh.

“You have no Mana left. You’re spent, and your power is tied to your vitality. You could no more conjure a fireball than I can.”

It was a guess but at the shift in the Khan’s eyes, I saw I had guessed right.

“No,” I said. “I offer you what you don’t have now. A clean and swift death at my hands. Unless you prefer to rot?”

Urksol drew his lips back from his tusks and rasped a sound, closing his eyes.

“So you’re a fool,” he said. “You offer me death. I’m already dying. The threat of your blade doesn’t sway me, and I don’t desire a clean death.”

“Oh no?”

I strode forward, forcing a smile to twist my lips. I flipped Iron Fang in my palm and made him watch as I lowered it towards his wound. The tip sank into decayed flesh and the Khan let out a soft groan of agony.

I held his gaze.

“I don’t threaten you with death,” I said. “If I wanted to threaten you I would leave you here at the Mercy of your fellows. Then I’d kill your son. Without him to defend you what do you think they would do to you? All those Tribes that you subjugated? All those challengers you broke in the circle. Do you think they would have mercy on you?

I twisted the knife and Urksol hissed through his nose.

“Or do you think they would cut off your other leg and make you… what was it you said? Crawl like a dog?”

When the Firebrand's dark eyes opened again I saw in them something I never had before. True fear.

I had guessed right, now I only had to drive the point home.

I wrenched the knife out suddenly, raising it with vicious intent.

“Wait,” growled Urksol, anger and fear warring within his tired gaze. “Damn you Blue Shield, wait.”

I waited, glare cold.

“A swift death, and I die with my blade in my hand. A true warrior.”

I waited a few long moments before nodding. Then I sucked in a breath.

“You came to Ceris for a reason, you and your Host. I want to know why. I want to know what it was you were seeking.”