Rana - The old man was not happy. I've said those words before, but this time the old man was actually an old Dwarf. And not happy was an understatement.
A stared into my last quiver of arrows. Three narrow sticks trimmed in feathers and metal separated us from being overrun by the murderous band that destroyed the old Dwarf’s life’s work. The very idea that I have managed to keep us alive this long would make Floki proud and maybe a little jealous. Its not in my nature to despair, but the feeling is creeping into me like the draft in this old keep.
Only a few days ago I was hunting with Ekror, the second half-orc I have come to know recently. We were ranging near the western border of the ranch when we encountered an entire village of displaced orcs. From our hiding place we could see the temporary structures and the families gathered around a number of cattle carcasses. Those once belonged to the rancher.
Ekror had me practice techniques for moving in the uneven moors, pushing me to move faster and quieter. I was wishing for thicker souls in my boots until they started to weigh more than my legs under the constant soaking the rain was giving us.
He was a quiet teacher, with a subtle sense of humor. I could tell he liked me in the way a farmer is proud to pull a prize potato from the ground. Was he this patient with my brother? I didn’t think so.
Ekror didn’t talk about the orcs, his half-kin. How had he come to live on the outside? Am I so different around my own kind? He put his hand on my shoulder to signal that we were pulling back.
We were nearly to the middle ranch when he heard a horse crossing our path. Duchess, as I had recently learned she was called, rode up out direction with a number of stragglers behind her. Her tall drawn features were a mask of conflicting emotions. I couldn’t read the look on her face.
What were they all doing out here?
Ekror seemed to understand the implications and immediately took action. His instructions were clear. Keep the ranchers safe and away from the building. He would return soon with any other survivors. Through the slate sky a column of ash climbed from the buildings that had given me shelter and warmth only this morning. Ekror vanished into the grey.
The six of them stood without talking. Their cloths, coverings on a laundry line, absent their owners. It was Duchess that broke the silence. “Beauford, Viggo. they won’t be joining us.” Her boots were stained with red, a crust of blood that wasn’t hers on her hands and sleeves.
“They were good men, reliable men.” Said the old dwarf Russetin.
I didn’t know his first name, only that this was his land and these were his people. The pride that usually swelled him to proportions beyond any dwarven measure were gone. Before me was his other self, how I would imagine him if he were a panhandler on the streets of Hlofreden.
The rain had been falling for days, patting and splashing in a relentless staccato. Added to the percussion came a sound with which I was intimately familiar. A shaft landed in the mud nearby then Haws cried out. Through the mist and drizzle I could make out a number of figures approaching. We were taking fire. I knew that we were clear to move south, since I had just com from that direction with Ekror. West was not a viable option, that would take us nearer to orc territory. The remaining choice was to head east, toward the maze, That when I saw more movement from that direction. South it was.
The occasional thud of an arrow kept us moving. The two young ranch hands were helping Haws to keep moving. The arrow in his leg was impeding his movement and his was crying out more from the pain than made sense for the severity of the injury.
We crossed familiar landmarks for a time, then on into the unknown. Russetin and Duchess confessed they had been out this far a few times, but they were not exactly sure where we currently where. The drizzle painting the whole of the landscape with a gray brush.
We had to stop too often to allow the men to rest from the exertion of nearly carrying Haws. The orcs were closing the distance. I measured my arrows. Giving the orcs cause to question their bravery. We were losing the light and would soon hand the advantage to the orcs.
We reached a place the old dwarf called Scatter Oak Ridge. The incline was too steep for the horse in these wet conditions. We had picked up a stray from the barn fire and now had a pack horse to add to our dilemma. We divided up the supplies from the packs. A weeks rations split among seven people wouldn’t last long. I hadn’t realized my hunger until we were rationing out the food.
I wasn’t sure if Ekror was following us, maybe he was on the other side of the pack of orcs that was following us. I needed to let someone know where we were headed. The others assured me that Duchess was the best rider in the group. I figured she and one of the young ranch hands might have a good chance of outdistancing the orcs and getting back to town.
After a somber goodbye those of us that remained, pressed south on foot. We came to the edge of a short forest of trees. The warren of animal trails and natural tunnels was an unsettling option for travel. As I debated other avenues we came under fire once more. “Into the woods!” I shouted over the hammering rain.
We filed through the trees while the branches tore at our clothing with the aggression of inmates reaching through prison bars. This little forest harbored a secret. Spiders much the shape of beach crabs, but many sizes larger. Their natural ability to hide made them nearly impossible to spot until they attacked. Without hesitating I reached deeper and deeper into my quiver. When we finally cleared the labyrinth, I had only a handful of arrows remaining. Our pursuers were making as much noise as we had in crossing the woods. We would need to move quickly or risk getting caught out in the open. To the east I heard approaching footfalls, more orcs. Damn, If my luck didn’t change soon I might be donating my equipment to the local orc marketplace.
The run across the open ground found us agog to inspect a number of stone totems so large as to defy reason. These massive stone monuments were taller than any building in Hlofreden, and seemed to cracked with energy. Hell, even we crackled.
We found out the power of that energy while climbing up the hillside to a ruined keep that overlooked The Rift. The old dwarf reached out a hand to aid Haws and gave him such a jolt I though Russetin had finished what the orcs started.
I realized that we could not defend ourselves on the trees near the keep and that we needed to go inside the structure no matter the risk. That was a day ago. The orcs took up a position on the hill. They keep probing our defenses.
I sent my last arrow into one of their braves as he was attempting to climb into the tower. I tried to climb down and search him for supplies, but a hail of arrows greeted my every attempt.
Our rations are nearly gone, but that wasn’t as unsettling as the tremors that shook the keep at odd hours.
Where was Ekror? Had Duchess made it back to town? My brother should be visiting the ranch soon for training. Surely he would come looking.
