The Game of Fates (76 page)

Below
them, through the trees, the orcs came into view again.

“Ready!”
Kale called.  This time the entire group raised their javelins in unison.  Not
one of them ran.  Again, Kale waited until he thought the lead orc was in
range.

“Throw!”
he yelled, and as one almost ninety javelins scythed through the air, cutting
swaths through the lead ranks of the orc horde.

“Fall
back to Great Bow Hill!” Kale called, and all about him the outcast warriors
began to climb the hill, many of them slinging their shields over their backs
as they scrambled on hands and feet up the rough terrain.

Not
fifty steps up the hill the outcasts met the first of the Deep Gen warrior
groups repositioning to meet the orcs head on.  Like a flock of birds, the
entire warrior group flowed around them on either side.

“Mirrik! 
We’ve downed probably forty of them for you!” Kale called.

“Good!”
the warrior group leader called back.  “We’ll get the other five hundred then!”

Focusing
on the terrain that was around them, Mirrik commanded the nearly one hundred
and sixty warriors of his warrior group to move to the left until they came up
against a very thick stand of trees and underbrush.

Looking
up the slope, he saw Hemmet coming at the head of his warrior group.  Satisfied
that he had left enough room on the slope for Hemmet to move his warrior group
in next to his, Mirrik turned about to look down the slope and was surprised to
see the orcs already a javelin’s throw away through the trees.  Quickly, he
stepped backward into the front line of his warriors.

“Lock
shields!” he called. 

As
one, all forty kobolds in the first rank brought their shields together,
leaving no gap between them.  Behind them, the next rank of forty did the
same.  The rear two ranks, however, braced behind their shields as if preparing
to not be bowled over, letting their spears stand straight up and down.

Below
them on the slope, the lead orcs had worked themselves into a frenzy.  Seeing
the blood of their fellow orcs spilled about them, and seeing the object of
their torment run from them, drove those in the lead into an absolute blood
frenzy.  They were so close now that the Deep Gen warriors could see the whites
of their wild eyes.

“Lower
spears!” Mirrik called.  As one, the forty spears of the first rank were
brought to shoulder level and braced under the arms of the warriors in the
first rank.  The second rank brought their spears up, prepared to stab with
them over the heads of the first rank.

All
of this happened not a moment too soon.  The lead orcs smashed into the shield
wall with a tremendous force, impaling themselves on the spears of the first
rank, but smashing many a shield with their axes and clubs.  The orcs that came
behind them met much the same fate at the spears of the second rank. 

But
by the time the tail end of the first group of orcs reached the shield wall,
the damage had already been done.  Many first rank warriors were unable to
recover their spears, and so had to pull out their swords, all of which were
much shorter than the large weapons the orcs carried.  Some first rank
warriors’ shield arms had been broken by the axes and clubs of the orcs they
had slain.  The shock of the orc charge had done much to disrupt the small
kobolds’ lines.  Even a couple of warriors in the second and third lines had
fallen, victims to odd javelins thrown at random from the orcs as they had
charged.

“Reform
the line!  Move into the gaps!” Mirrik called as he yanked his own spear loose
from the neck of a dying orc.  All about him warriors from the second rank
moved forward where there were holes, while those who had been wounded from the
first assault struggled to get to the back of the formation, or lay senseless
on the ground where they had fallen.

“Lower
spears!” Mirrik called again, and not a moment too soon.  The cacophonous sound
of shields splintering, cries as metal ripped through flesh, and screams of
rage as spear struck home rent the air.  For several moments Mirrik was locked
in a struggle with an orc who was trying to pry his shield from his hands.  The
orc had picked the wrong kobold, however.  Mirrik was as strong as they came. 
In a moment the warrior next to him had driven the orc off with his spear. 
Reaching down, Mirrik again pried his spear out of the neck of another orc,
this one already dead.

All
around the front of his warrior group kobolds he had known for his whole life
lay screaming, gasping, or moaning in pain.  In front of his line, a number of
orcs were doing the same.  Blood flowed everywhere, both dark and bright red. 
Looking down at the ground, he could see that his feet were soaked in blood. 
One of his younger warriors lay face down in the dirt behind him, a javelin
that Mirrik had ducked skewered the whelp in this last charge.

Looking
over to the right, he saw Hemmet’s warrior group fighting through a small
number of orcs as they tried to move up in line with his warrior group.  As the
few orcs fell before Hemmet’s advance, the two friends locked eyes down the
line from each other and nodded.  There was a confidence there born of trust.

Looking
back to the rear, Mirrik could see the first line of another warrior group
coming down the slope through the trees to join them to the right, and off to
their left he saw Lord Sennak at the head of his warrior group rushing down to
come on line with the rest of them.

Suddenly,
from down the slope the first of the ogres came crashing through the trees. 
All warriors’ attention was riveted to the front as the massive beasts beat
their way through the underbrush.  First one, then a second, and before long a
whole group of fifteen ogres stood looking along the slope at the kobolds of
the four Deep Gen warrior groups as they came on line and formed the shield
wall in front of them.

Not
one of the Deep Gen warriors was under the delusion that the next phase of this
battle was going to be anything but bad.

T
rikki lay flat behind the bush,
her simple earthen-colored dress and make-up of mud and splattered leaves
helping her to blend in with the dead leaves, rocks, and foliage of the mud
around the tiny little stream bed.  Up above her, on the berm-like hill, the
raucous voices of orcs and the earth-shaking steps of ogres could be heard as
the large creatures smashed through the underbrush and pushed over trees in
their movement up the hill.

Probably
twenty-some in that group
,
she counted to herself. 
That’s two groups of orcs, total of about fifty
among them, with fifteen ogres coming up behind them.
  Most outcasts
weren’t that good at counting, but she had learned the value of money early,
and that had spurred on her studies.

Suddenly
the last of the large group of ogres disappeared up the hill, and the next
group of creatures had yet to catch up.  There was a moment where the area was
clear, and she took full advantage of it.

Grabbing
her spear and holding onto the sword by her side, Trikki sprinted through the
underbrush and down the slight slope that existed on this side of the berm-like
hill.  In a few moments she found the small trail that paralleled the berm from
a distance and began climbing up the slope to where she knew the rest of the
scouts were doing the same thing she was, and beyond them Lord Karthan’s many
companies would be coming, guided here by Trallik, her love.

As
she ran along up the trail, to bring word of the advanced forces of the orc’s
right wing, Trikki thought about the past few days.  It had been a time of much
change for her and for her new lifemate Trallik.  They had gone from outcasts
to scouts, from slaves to free, and she had gone from depending on others to
take care of her to killing her first kobold… and several more after that.  The
marks on her soul had changed her, perhaps more than her time with Sultry’s
Family.

No! 
She would not think of such things anymore.  Sometimes the weight of her past
was too much to carry, but she had started a new life, and she would not look
back to who she had been. 

They
had brought with them enough wealth to start a new life, and once this little
war was over, that’s exactly what she intended to do.

Ahead
of her on the trail she saw the object of her affection.  Trallik was
conversing with Billik, an elite warrior from the Honor Guard that had been put
in charge of Lord Karthan’s scouts, and thereby her and Trallik.  In a matter
of several steps she was up with them.

“What
did you see?” Billik asked.

“About
fifty orcs, followed by fifteen ogres, then a break in the line, but certainly
a lot more coming behind them,” Trikki reported.

“Were
any of them on our side of the hill?” Billik asked.

“No,”
Trikki shook her head.  “They were all up on the hill.”

Billik
smiled a satisfied smile.  “Good work, Trikki.  This is perfect.  I’ll pass the
word to Lord Karthan.  You too get back out there and keep watch as the tail of
this line of the orc horde passes.  As soon as you think its past, you find me
and tell me.”

“The
tail?” Trallik asked.  “Why wait until they all go by to hit them?”

“Lord
Karthan’s orders, Trallik,” Billik answered.  Then, with a twinkle in his eye,
he continued.  “I think he wants to catch as many of them as he can in his
little trap.”

“It’s
about time you showed up for the fight!” Mirrik growled, mostly to himself. 
Lord Sennak was walking along behind the line his four warrior groups had
formed leading his warrior group, the fifth to reach the fight, off to the left
where the line ended.

“Alright,
now, lads,” Mirrik called.  “Loosen up the ranks a bit!  Remember, don’t let
them hit your shield, it’ll probably kill you if they do!”

The
four-rank thick line of Deep Gen warriors shuffled about a bit, pushing the
line out to where it touched the warrior groups to their left and right.  In
front of them the ogres began yelling incoherently, slamming the ground with
their fists and the hafts of their weapons, and in general working themselves
into a frenzy.  It was hard to think, much less get any commands out. 

Looking
around, Mirrik could see that many of his warriors were scared almost out of
their wits.  He turned back around to face the ogres. 
Well they should be!
he thought. 
Most of us, if not all, will be dead very soon.

When
he had started this march he had accepted that he would die this day.  It was
easier that way.  Then if he lived it would be a pleasant surprise.  Looking at
the massive beasts with their axes like tree-trunks with metal mill-stone sized
blades on them, Mirrik began to give up any hope of living.

All
of a sudden, the large ogre in the middle raised his axe and charged.

“Go!
Go! Go!” Kale yelled.  They had reached the piles of javelins up at the base of
Great Bow Hill quickly enough, but grabbing two each had tangled many of his
outcast skirmishers up with each other.  One certainly couldn’t call the
outcasts a bunch of mindless followers.  They were entirely too independent, a
trait that wasn’t such a good thing when it came to getting a group of them to
do a simple task in turns.

“Why
don’t you take the first half with you right now,” Kale’s brother suggested. 
“I’ll follow behind with the other half once we get them re-armed.”

Kale
shook his head.  “You’re a life-saver, brother.”  Moving to the group of those
who had already gotten their javelins, he called out.  “All who have their
javelins, follow me!”

Almost
as one almost fifty outcast warriors began streaming down the hill along
makeshift trails and over whatever obstacles were in their way.  As they
started to run, they could hear the ogres begin their yelling and pounding.

“Hurry!”
Kale yelled at a pair that were trying to move through a thicket more carefully
than time allowed.  “Move it now!”  The pair of outcasts got the message and
barged through, coming through with many little scrapes, but with the group.

Not
much further down the slope Kale could see Lord Sennak at the front of his
warrior group, leading them down the line to the left.  In a moment more the
rear ranks of the thick line of Deep Gen warriors came into view.  They were
tensed, but not yet in battle.

Behind
him, the many feet of his outcast skirmishers crunched along the forest floor,
though no one could hear anything but the frenzied roaring of the ogres below.

Kale
could now see the front ranks of the Deep Gen line.  They weren’t more than
forty steps from the rear of the line.  He and his warriors could see the ogres
beyond, froth coming out of their mouths as they roared and pounded the dirt
with their massive weapons.

Suddenly,
the massive brute in the center of the ogre line raised his axe above his head
and charged at the Deep Gen line.  As one the ogres followed his example and
rushed forward toward the kobold line.  All through the warrior group that
stood in the ogre’s way warriors braced for sudden, brutal, violent death.  All
along the kobold line, warriors waited to die.

“Form
up!” Kale called, though none of his warriors could hear him.  Holding out his
arms, he brought the first several on line, and the rest began to extend the
line out in either direction as they came up.  With a hand motion to the front,
Kale and his skirmishers raised their javelins as one and ran forward.

The
ogre had now arrived at the front line, with several of his companions only a
couple of steps behind him.  With a mighty swing, a handful of kobold warriors
were smashed, their bodies flung lifelessly through the air to land in pieces
among the warrior group to their right.

“Let
fly!” Kale called out, and as one almost fifty javelins scythed through the
air, striking many of the ogres.  The long, narrow tips of the javelins pierced
much of the thick leather they wore, piercing many holes in their thick hides. 
Nearly half of the ogres were able to brush off the javelins without any real
effect, but the other half bled much.  Best of all, the massive ogre in the
middle had taken a javelin in his gaping mouth, the long stick poking out
through the back of his throat as he stumbled about in surprised agony.

“Ready!”
Kale yelled over the din of combat.  He was heartened by the effect his
warriors were having, and especially by his especially good hit on the biggest
ogre.

“Throw!”
he yelled, then heaved his own second javelin at the massive ogre in the middle
yet again, this time lodging it under the beast’s arm in its ribs as it
stumbled about.

Three
of the ogres were down, and the massive ogre who had led them was one of them. 
All down the length of the Deep Gen line the stout underdark warriors had
gotten past their initial panic and had begun to move about, trying not to mass
where the ogres could easily strike.  Several moments after impact what was
left of the lead ranks of each warrior group had surged forward with their
spears only, dodging between legs to stick spears in thighs, jumping up to
stick the Neanderthal-like ogres in their bellies, causing several of the
massive brutes to reel back after their initial assault. 

The
blows that had done the most damage to them, however, were mighty thrusts by
their strongest warriors into the ogres’ soft groins.  Already a pair of them
had fallen to the ground in pain this way, after which each of them had been
swarmed by the little kobolds with their metal tipped sticks.  All down the
line the rest of the warriors were doing the same thing, swarming about them to
confuse the massive brutes and to avoid giving them too tempting a target to
hit.

Behind
Kale came his brother and the other half of the skirmishers.  Kale held up his
hands to stop them from throwing, however, as there was no way to keep from
hitting the Deep Gen warriors.

As
they watched, the Deep Gen warriors began to turn the tide of battle.  Another
ogre went down, then another, then a pair.  Soon, nine ogres had succumbed to
the swarm tactics of the nimble Deep Gen warriors with their spears, and the
rest were wounded; bleeding profusely and confused by the chaos of it all.

First
one, then another ogre began to run.  Seeing they were almost by themselves,
the last four ogres all turned to run at once.

“Ready!”
Kale called.

“Throw
far, warriors!” Kale’s brother urged them.  “Past our line!”

“Throw!”
Kale commanded, and as one fifty more javelins scythed through the air,
bringing down two more of the massive beasts just as they cleared the swarm of
deep gen warriors.

All
up and down the line the underdark warriors cheered.  They had survived their
greatest challenge so far without breaking and running, though not one of them
would have imagined that they could.  The exuberance of life swelled up in each
of them and they danced on the corpses of the huge ogres like children playing
on little hills.