El-Vador's Travels Page 6

  A keening howl from nearby froze El-Vador. He had heard wolves howl several times that day, but not so near as to be considered a threat.

  He was too deep into the woods to find his way back now, the pack would hunt him down long before he made it to the settlement or even the nearest Orcs.

  Taking a deep breath he refused to panic, running would do him no good at all. Wolves could outrun even the fleetest of foot when driven by prey that was so much meat.

  He moved with grim purpose instead, searching the woods for a suitable place to hold out against the inevitable pack. That was when he remembered that he had coated one of the arrows with the red liquid from the phial, what had he to lose from testing it now?

  Settling himself against a trunk he picked out the arrow and readied it, waiting patiently for his hunters to emerge.

  Eventually he caught sight of the first one as it bounded toward him, snow parting from the eagerness of its gait. A mixture of desire, hunger and excitement could be seen in its eyes as it drew closer, it knew that its prey wouldn't leave its sight and the long chase was at an end.

  The pack leader leaped. El-Vador let fly. The coated arrow sped forth with deadly intent, unerringly on target and hissing through the winter air. A conflagration lit up the woods as the arrow found its home in the wolf's hide, the beast seemed to twist in the air in agony as it was wreathed in crimson flames. El-Vador watched dumbfounded as the fire raced across the pelt of the wolf and grew brighter with each passing moment, going from red to yellow and now to an unbearably bright white that was almost impossible to see in the snow. Then the detonation hit, a vast booming noise that burst through El-Vador's ears and left them ringing. He stared down at his mangled hands and stifled a scream, then laughed instead as the yelping noises retreated from what was left of his hearing. The blood that stained him was not his own, the wolf had been torn apart by the arrow and its remnants were splattered over him like a gruesome trophy.

  The hunted turned hunter and loped after the retreating pack of wolves, he may not have another coated arrow but he could be perfectly deadly with those that remained in his quiver. He and his father would have plenty of meat tonight.

  'What in the blue hells happened to you out there?' his father demanded when El-Vador finally returned, his face a strange mixture of anger and concern.

  El-Vador recalled the explosion. Yes, he still looked as if he had been mauled by some great beast. 'Worry not father, the blood is not my own. I have been busy testing our new weapon.' he said smugly, setting down the few kills he had poached from the hunting of the remaining wolves.

  Cusband looked over the kills with obvious hunger, this had been an unexpected bounty. 'What happened when you let loose the arrow?' He finally asked.

  'It cooked the outer hide of the beast with flames before detonating its innards and leaving a crater in the snow the size of a small homestead.' answered El-Vador, recounting his story in full then to a disbelieving Cusband.

  After El-Vador finished his tale, his father was silent for some time.

  'This is a powerful weapon you hold,' the older Elf mused, 'one that was gifted to you alone.'

  El-Vador couldn't believe what he was hearing, he had not expected his father to talk of the beast even in vague terms. Cusband wasn't done speaking though.

  'You could destroy entire structures alone with such power. You would be an army of one for as long as the phial lasted.'

  El-Vador's chest swelled to hear his father speak of him so, if he was a one man army he knew exactly who his first victims would be. 'I will slaughter them father, drive every last one of them from our lands for good.'

  His father looked at him oddly then in appraisal. 'I no longer doubt that you would be capable of such an act.' he replied. 'Leave at least one alive to tell the tale to those who would encroach our lands in retribution for the loss you would inflict upon them.'

  He shook his head in slow wonder, then caught himself, as if realising it was his son he was speaking to. 'Let's go sort this meat out and cook ourselves a stew after you're done washing yourself.'

  'Agreed.' El-Vador said, for the first time since his mother had passed he found reason to smile.

  Mugrab's farm had done well enough considering the mountainous winter. He had a sufficient amount to feed himself with if he remained frugal and for that he was grateful.

  He ventured out to the fort that the young Elf had spoken of to see how large it had become since he had first passed it.

  The journey had not been the kindest he had faced but he struggled along regardless, knowing that the terrible conditions would keep any Elven retribution from striking him. He didn't dare hope that they were all as merciful as the first one he met had been. It was the wolves that Mugrab was more concerned about, he couldn't afford an armed escort and was taking a real chance in these conditions.

  As if his thoughts had conjured them, a number of what looked to be Orcish warriors came round a bend in the road directly ahead of him.

  One of them gave him a wave of mutual respect, another decided to engage him verbally, 'Still on your feet I see, farmer.'

  'That I am, soldier.' replied Mugrab, nodding at the rest of the well-armed group, they must have thought him foolish for travelling alone. Then again, perhaps he was.

  The soldiers clattered onward past him and before he knew it he was alone once more, not that it bothered him. He continued forward with measured strides, using the trampled snow of the soldiers to his advantage. So did his ox, with slow, patient and uncomplaining strides.

  The small fortification he had left behind had now sprawled out into a reasonably sized settlement, the fort in question had been completely rebuilt and expanded upon with additional fortifications and several barracks to serve the swelling numbers of troops in the area. Whether the Elves liked it or not their occupiers were here to stay, it gave him confidence in his venture out onto the frontier, to have so much military might within a few days walking distance.

  As the farmer came into town, he saw an Orcish champion following a page who carried new reigns for a horse, elsewhere there was hubbub of activity all centred around equipping and maintaining the steadily increasingly number of champions in the area and the grunts they held command over.

  Mugrab made his way through the makeshift settlement, purchasing bits and pieces for the return journey and hoping to coincide his venturing back into the wilderness with an armed escort of some kind.

  He paused briefly as a group of soldiers led manacled Elven captives toward the stronghold. They must have been dissidents that could not live under Orcish rule, now they would suffer for it with slavery for the rest of their days.

  Mugrab continued to shop in spite of the unsettling scene, he was a practical man and knew how the world worked, he realised the Orcs and Elves couldn't come to any agreement without one conquering the other. Casualties of such conflict were unfortunately inevitable.

  Eventually he tired of acquiring new things and decided to wet his beard. Striding inside the nearest tavern he ordered a mug of ale.

  When the Orc finished that first mug of ale, he bought himself a second, when that was done he left the tavern, he couldn't afford to get drunk at a time like this. He had his supplies and now he needed to be getting home before the dark settled over the land.

  By the time the dark greeted him he was within a mile of his own land, that was when the attack came.

  An arrow hissed past his face and thudded into the tree to his left. He clutched his staff and stared in the direction from which the shaft had come. He saw nothing and cursed his poor eyesight.

  There was no sense in standing still and waiting for the next arrow, he moved toward the sound with his staff hefted in the hope of scaring the brigand out of the woods.

  El-Vador emerged from the trees, a sardonic smile upon his face. 'You seem like you want to die, walking straight toward bow fire like that.' he said. 'If I had been you I would have made for the trees, less likely to get
struck by a second arrow.'

  'Why do you shoot at me?' asked Mugrab. 'I thought our quarrel was over.'

  El-Vador only smiled. 'If our quarrel was not over, my arrow would not have missed you.' then his smile faded. 'You still have not left my lands yet.'

  'You're right, I haven't yet.' Mugrab said. 'We've had this conversation already, either shoot me and be done with it or leave me to my farming.'

  Only after he had spoken did he realise the finality of what he had just said.

  El-Vador studied him for a time, weighing his words. 'You do not fear death?' he asked at last.

  'Fear it? Of course I do.' said Mugrab. 'It's putting up with the uncertainty of not knowing whether you're going to kill me or not that's irritating me most.'

  The smile was back on El-Vador's face. 'You are an impatient man.' said the Elf. 'I will not shoot you.' Mugrab relaxed somewhat, that still didn't explain why the boy had been tailing him though. Then the Elf added. 'No, I won't shoot you until the time for vengeance has arrived. You need to leave these lands before then.'

  Before Mugrab could respond, El-Vador had vanished into the woods.

  El-Vador stood on a hilltop now, watching the cattle attempting to graze through the snow without much luck.

  Something flew past overhead. El-Vador did not pay much heed. There was no use in shooting at birds from such a great distance, a waste of an arrow. It was then that the flying thing soared down to the earth and landed upon one of the cattle. It let out a howl that sounded nothing like a bird.

  Whatever the creature struggling to lift the cow into the air was, it was no bird.

  Its huge wings were black and pitted with corrosion, while a pair of pointed ears pricked up above its fiercely glowing red eyes. When it snarled, it showed a mouth full of teeth like razors and knives.

  Stringing his bow in response was the matter of a moment. Letting fly took even less time. His arrow was straight and true, and sank to the fletching in the flying thing's chest.

  It dug deep and yet the creature kept flapping, completely ignorant of El-Vador's attack and still trying to take off with the distressed animal. El-Vador shot again, none of these arrows were coated, he was too close to the settlement to use such weapons and didn't think he'd be needing them. The second shaft landed by the first, sinking just as deeply. No normal living thing could have withstood such an attack without even noticing.

  'What manner of beast are you?' cried El-Vador. He drew closer now and took aim at one of the creature's wings, the arrow finally caused it to pay heed to him.

  The foul stench of it made him retch, he shot another arrow directly into the creature's skull, it slumped over dead and dissipated into nothingness.

  Having driven off the demon, and with the cow still standing, he returned to the hill top to muse over what he had just seen.

  'This was a test,' a familiar basso voice rumbled as if from inside his head. 'When next you are out in the world, you shall have the phial with you and when you are next attacked you will use it.'

  'And if I do not?' asked El-Vador, not appreciating having his head invaded.

  There was no further response from the creature he had met in the cave. Shaken, El-Vador returned home.

  V

  They say that to defeat your enemy you must first know him as you know yourself. I believe this is erroneous, you need not know your foe so completely. You merely have to understand enough to overcome any opposition they could present.

  Chief Sarvacts hated the cold of the mountains. He had been brought up in and soldiered in hotter climes and being stuck out here in the harsh permanent winter of the mountainside brought a chill to his bones that he couldn't seem to shift.

  Almost everything that had to do with the Elven lands left Sarvacts cold. He had sent word to his superiors that he had claimed the lands and was hoping for them to send out a new Commander to take it from there. No replacement had been forthcoming. Apparently they wanted him to remain out here forever for his crimes, a fate better than some he could imagine but still lacking in many other ways.

  There were reasons, good reasons, why Sarvacts had been sent beyond the Orcish frontier, why he was unlikely to ever be welcome in civilised lands ever again. He spent most of his time brooding over that, his temperament was foul even for an Orc and the result had been this permanent exile. Could he really have done anything differently? His one solace was that he doubted it, he had been driven into action and no force on this world could have prevented his slaughter. It was that same attitude that had won him these lands from the hated Elves.

  It was too late for worrying over such things anyhow, he had made his bed when he was soaked in the elder family's blood, now he just had to make the best of a bad situation.

  Sarvacts tried throwing himself into the administration of the lands his soldiers had seized from the Elves. For a few weeks he had bellowed a stream of directives that his scribes had hastily written down for the various commanders throughout the mountainous region. Then that burst of activity also slackened. The various commanders knew enough to keep their men alert and well fed and healthy without Sarvacts' telling them to do so. Though none of them told him quite so bluntly, Sarvacts was not an unintelligent Orc, he knew when his interference would be more a hindrance than anything else.

  Having said that, if he chose to ride forth to investigate whether the garrison commanders were doing all they said they were to keep the lands safe and under control, none could gainsay him.

  And if, on that tour, he chose to inspect and investigate certain other matters, who could gainsay him?

  No one at all.

  Gurgash was taking his turn at sentry duty outside the Orcish fort. Everything there was quiet, which suited him down to the ground. If the Elves got used to the idea that they had been beaten, they were less likely to retaliate against the poor grunts posted here.

  The weather was mild compared to the long, hard winter they had faced. The sunshine that poured down on him actually offered him some heat, it was a pleasant change from the clouded snowstorms that consisted the daily weather not a month ago.

  'I told you that you wouldn't get bored of not getting killed, didn't I?' said Harg. 'Sentry duty may be dull but it's better than facing cold steel every day.'

  Gurgash nodded at his cousin. 'I have no complaints, it doesn't look like they're going to strike back.'

  'Stay vigilant.' Harg warned. 'There may yet be some uprising now that the winter has ended.'

  Gurgash looked down at the snow, this wasn't winter any more? The land seemed in the grasp of a perpetual winter.

  A horseman emerged from the woods to the south on a large Orcish destrier and trotted toward the encampment.

  Eyeing the charger made him slow to give heed to the man aboard it. When he did, he frantically stiffened to attention. 'Harg!' he hissed to his cousin. 'Is that Chief Sarvacts?'

  Harg peered out at the rider and straightened up immediately as if in answer. Chief Sarvacts' craggy features were unreadable as he finally reined in. For reasons unknown to Gurgash and Harg he had come alone, without pomp or retinue. He pointed to the settlement ahead and looked at Harg in askance. 'This is the first Elven territory we captured, is it not?'

  Harg was the senior sentry and forced to answer. 'Yes Chief, it is,' he replied succinctly, looking as if he wished someone else could speak for him.

  Sarvacts gave them both an odd look as he swept his gaze over them. Harg had done nothing wrong, and had spoken with all respect. Even so, Gurgash was expecting Sarvacts to lash out and kill his cousin in a single strike, so malevolent and unpredictable were the rumours spoken of him.

  Yet the Orcish Chief did nothing of the sort. 'Very good. I plan to ride ahead into the settlement, inform your commanding officer that I will be doing so but not to send any forces to escort me. I aim to know in full the lands first hand.' Sarvacts seemed to add the last sentence as a chilling afterthought. 'If for some reason I do not ride out of this settlement aliv
e, tell him to kill every Elf that still lives in these mountains.' He charged his horse forward at a gallop toward the Elven settlement.

  'By Undrug's axe!' muttered Gurgash after Sarvacts was suitably distant and out of earshot. 'I thought he was going to end us then and there.'

  'It wouldn't surprise me.' said Harg, his words were nonchalant but he seemed shaken at having encountered the Chief.

  Gurgash watched the Orcish Commander ride into the settlement. He breathed a sigh of relief when the first Elven huts hid Chief Sarvacts from view. If he could not see Sarvacts, Sarvacts could not see him, either. Simply having him out of sight eased a tension in him he didn't like admitting to.

  El-Vador watched wordlessly as a rider on horseback trotted into the settlement, this was no ordinary visitor, his monstrous steed was almost as high as an Orc at the shoulder, which elevated him into a position that caused all to crane their necks. The rider stared down at him now, slowing his steed as he approached.

  When he spoke, he startled El-Vador by using Elven. 'Get out of my way or I shall run you down.'

  True to his word, the Orc urged the horse forward when El-Vador didn't yield his position. He leapt aside at the last minute, narrowly avoiding being trampled by the giant horse.

  Even so, shame at giving way to an Orc stirred feelings of anger and reinforced his captivity. He gave chase to the rider, the champion as their fellow Orcs called them, and yelled out in Orcish after him. 'Just who are you? What do you want with us?'

  Hearing his native tongue made the Orc rein in. He gave El-Vador a second look, much more chilling than the first. 'I am Chief Sarvacts, Commander of all the Orcs in the Elven lands, and I have come to see how this settlement prospers under the rule its local Commander.' he answered, and paused to find out whether El-Vador understood. El-Vador did, he was fluent in the Orcish tongue now. Seeing as much, Sarvacts asked, 'And who are you to call after me with such an impudent tone? Why should I not simply slay you where you stand?'