The Orb of Wrath (The Merchant's Destiny Book 1) (18 page)

When they finished, they put out the fire, collected the tents and loaded them in the mule. Erion explained about the amulet and that he felt that he didn't remember having that option. Then he made a small demonstration that left everyone surprised. He used the occasion to take a quick look around and orient himself in the right direction towards the depression where the cave was located. When he returned to the earth he shared with the others what he had seen.

“We're on a large island, as we imagined. Most of the island is covered by this forest, but the land in this area and beyond, to the south west, is more rugged, like a hilly area. The rest of the island looks plainer. I've also seen a walled city in the distance, to the east; but it's far, perhaps a day's journey,” said Erion.

They began walking. They were all fresh and rested, but had to be cautious. Ithelas and Samar led the way and Thost brought up the rear, with the brothers at the center of the group. The foliage of the forest didn't let them see very far and it was an added difficulty in trying to orient themselves. They walked for about three hours until they reached an area where the ground began to descend. They followed the slope; the cave should be in the depths of the depression.

Finally, they reached the slit. They had reached the edge of a kind of basin. The slope was much higher from there. Climbing equipment probably wouldn't be needed to descend, but not by far. They had to make some decisions.

“I don't think that the mule can go down here; certainly not with that load. Even without it, I don't think it can go down. Also, I'm not sure it we can take it through the cave, if it's very deep,” Erion said.

“It's true. I think we'll have to leave it here,” Thost admitted.

“We have to pick up what is essential and leave the rest behind,” Samar said.

“We should find a place to bury or at least hide what we're not going to take and release the animal. This gives it a chance to survive,” the cleric said, supplicant.

No sooner said than done; they sought a place where there was a large rock with a small crevice. They unloaded the equipment and released the mule. The hardest thing was coming; they had to decide what to take and what to leave behind. It was too much equipment to be able to carry it all; especially through such rough terrain.

The tents occupied a lot of space and though they were comfortable, weren't essential. It was the first thing they placed under the crevice. They carried a lot of torches, possibly more than necessary. Mithir recommended each taking one and leaving the others behind, and they did. The food and especially the water weighed a lot, but seemed indispensable. However, Ithelas told them to take only a small canteen each and some cornbread. He would take care of the food and water. Erion remained quite puzzled, but Mithir gestured him not to worry, because Ithelas knew what he was doing. Thus, they continued reviewing the inventory and left some things, but kept most in their backpacks. It's hard to leave something behind when you do not know if you'll need it. When they finished storing their belongings under the large rock, they placed a few sticks and stones in front to cover the opening and then two large branches that hid it perfectly.

They made their way back into the slot and began the descent. The slope was steep but there was plenty of vegetation such as small trees and some bushes, where they could lean to make a controlled descent. They continued down laboriously for half an hour. With the exception of a few slips and a scare, they reached the bottom of the slope without incidents. They had not yet reached the deepest area of the basin when they saw a large opening in front of them with an almost vertical drop. Fortunately, it was not very high, perhaps twenty steps. Erion fixed a rope in one of the nearby trees and descended, with great skill, running the rope and giving small jumps down with his feet on the vertical wall. In less than a minute he was down. As the end region of the slit was completely dark, they could hardly distinguish it. The rays of the sun were not vertical enough in this time of day to reach that part of the "basin".

“Everything alright?” Ithelas asked loudly.

“Yes. No problem,” Erion replied.

“Can you see the cave?” asked Thost

“Yes, I think so. I see an entry,” Erion said after a while.

They all took turns to go down. Erion lit his torch and they could see better where they descended and where they stepped. Thost was the last one down and soon everyone was gathered around Erion. They followed him as he walked to the opposite side of the wall to the entrance of the cave. They had found it.

CHAPTER 2: THE SOLDIER, THE GNOME AND THE WIZARD

The troops walked at a good pace on the way to the coast. Onaisour looked back feeling, for a moment, homesick for the place they had left the previous week. They had almost reached Kashgar, a small fort near the border. According to the colonel, they would then follow the Linde road to a place halfway between the border cities of Nubyshev and Comagne. They were probably a little more than a day's journey from their destination. By nightfall the next day, they could stop and finally get some rest.

They had left their headquarters in Kiyats a week earlier. His muscles were numb from the cold weather and his feet were really sore. Luckily, they had gotten new boots at the previous season so, unlike what happened to some of their colleagues, they didn't have to worry about the stones of the road getting into their footwear through the holes in the sole.

For the moment, the entire operation had been very strange. Whenever they could they avoided the main roads. Contrary to the usual, they did not stop to spend the night in the cities through which they passed, not even in the outskirts.  They always camped in a forest, as if they were hiding. When a sergeant dared ask the colonel about this matter, he bluntly replied that the troops needed the exercise and contact with nature. The tone left no doubt that they should not ask about it again.

When the troops left their barracks, they said in the city that they were going to practice in the forests of the center of the County, and that they would return to their jobs in just over two weeks. However exercises like these never required more than four or five days. What was even stranger, as they came out of their barracks and entered the roads, the flag holders were ordered to put away all the insignia and join the troops as any other soldier. Finally, when they crossed the border with the mark of Mositus, the colonel addressed them at the first break they took. He told them where they were going and said they were going to help their Mositus brothers, who were awaiting an orc attack. He also said that, at the risk of being accused of treason, they should not discuss with anyone that they had participated in this mission when they returned home. Everyone should keep the history of the troop exercises within the Kiyats County. They were also not allowed to question the origin of the other soldiers who they were going to find once they reached their destination.

Onaisour couldn't remember ever having a mission even remotely similar to that one. He had heard stories of the Hawks, the elite troops of the County, which had made inroads in the past in other areas, even in the realm of Fugor, always moving in secret. But those missions were always in small groups of no more than ten soldiers; He had never done anything like that for such a numerous troop.

Onaisour was already a veteran soldier; that year was his twentieth season in the ranks of the militia of the Kiyats County. He hadn't known another job other than being a soldier but, although he had fought in some skirmishes, at that time he hadn't participated in any major war. The threat of the kingdom of the orcs on the border of the marks was permanent and the counties lived a bit calmer, being far away from the border. 

His companions were clearly nervous. A large-scale confrontation with the orcs would undoubtedly be a very dangerous episode. The orcs were tall like a man but much stronger; they were also ruthless, treacherous, cruel, brutal and were no less skilled with weapons than a professional soldier. They were responsible for terrible stories; and when a little boy in Bor was told a scary story, it was often starring an orc. In the collective subconscious of the Kingdom, the orcs represented everything bad and everything that you had to fear in the world.

At the beginning of the Second Age they had conquered all the territory that Bor occupied today and had enslaved men, treating them with the utmost cruelty for almost a millennium. Only a long and terrible war, which lasted many centuries and was completed by King Turin, returned their freedom. King Turin founded the kingdom of Bor, as it was known today, and had been the greatest king in the history of that country. He had also been a brave and skillful warrior and an amazing leader. The weapons and armor of King Turin were the most famous relics that had existed in the Kingdom, although they had been lost long ago. The legend said that they were objects of great power; especially the sword, that Turin had gotten into the lair of a dragon showing great courage.

The memory of the stories of King Turin comforted, for a moment, Onaisour's heart. Their ancestors had managed to triumph over the orcs and he was a professional soldier; he was going to give it all he's got. Freedom and the welfare of the Kingdom could rely on that troop.

“For Oris, for Turin, for Bor!” Onaisour cried, surprising the soldiers who were at his side a bit.

“For Bor!” said the entire troop at once, including the officials and the colonel himself.

It was a thunderous cry that echoed in every heart that headed to the war. The colonel was happy that a soldier had spontaneously shouted the slogan of armies and militias of the kingdom of Bor. It was their most sacred phrase; the one that the officials used to encourage their soldiers just before going into battle; the one that the troops repeated at the end of the solemn ceremonies during peacetime. The Colonel made a mental note of the soldier who had shouted the cry, and decided he would sit him on his right, a place of honor at the dinner that night, so everyone could see. Behaviors like that should be rewarded, especially in this time of need.

*******

Every evening, before dusk, the magician went to his study, a luxurious crowded room of very old books and furniture, and sat at his crystal ball. Every night he invoked its magic and through the ball, checked carefully the bird's eye view of leagues and leagues of the frontiers of the Kingdom. What he wanted was to be visible from a great distance, even at the height of the flight of a hawk. In this way he could cover large amounts of territory in a short time.

One afternoon, when he was beginning to get impatient, he saw a large troop formation, training and taking positions on a hill. They were carrying lots of heavy equipment, including catapults and crossbows. They had units of archers and soldiers and, though less numerous, also cavalry. There were transport and logistics units that accumulated numerous carts in the rear. Most of these troops were equipped to travel long distances relatively quickly. He could also guess a complete unit of sappers. A few of them had begun to dig trenches.

Everything indicated that the troops were making forts on that hill. Given the number of archers they had, they would need long lines of trenches, which would be a lot of work.  But with a unit of sappers, they could solve it in a relatively short time.

The magician went to get his spell book. He reviewed and revised multiple pages until he found what he needed: a spell to transform the ground.

*******

Phoroz roamed the streets looking for a tavern called "
The Happy Pony
". It was already dark when he finally found it. The elf hated taverns. But it was there where they had told him he would find the person he was looking for: Kurbus the gnome.

He didn't have much time. He should perform the errand quickly and return to the court. Vargarr had asked him to undertake a number of tasks for him while he was absent from the capital. The lieutenant didn't like to be away from Deepcliff for several days in the row, because it was the center of power where important decisions were made, and where his enemies and allies constantly made plans. These maneuvers were very important and Phoroz knew that his master would be gone almost two weeks. At least this was what he had expected. So Vargarr had distributed various tasks among his closest circle of men, among who was Phoroz.

Fortunately, Phoroz had a valuable ring of teleportation, allowing him to go almost anywhere in the Kingdom in a blink of an eye; although he could only use it once a day. So he had reached Knocas, a small town on the edge of the Mark of Calen, near the border with the kingdom of orcs and the Mark of Golsou, when that same afternoon he had been doing some errands for Vargarr in the capital.

Having no time to lose, he came in and went straight to the bartender who was working behind the bar.

“I'm looking for a gnome. He calls himself Kurbus,” he said directly.

“And who is looking for him, if I may know?” the man asked.

“No. You can't know,” the elf unceremoniously snapped.

The innkeeper was embarrassed. He didn't expect such a response. This guy gave him chills with his red eyes and dark skin. Some would have labeled the dark elf, even, as unnatural. He had seen some of them in the past, but fortunately hadn't had to deal with them often. The hairs on his neck stood on end. The man decided not to tempt fate and, looking down without saying a word, pointed to a room at the back of the tavern.

Phoroz said nothing and just headed there. He could hear a huge uproar. He didn't know if a group of men was having fun or if they were fighting. Peering into the room, he saw a group of about eight people, all with large drinks before them. Four of them were badly singing a song; or at least it seemed that they tried. The other four appeared to be engaged in a heated argument. Phoroz soon realized that they were all pretty drunk.

In the group of the arguing men, there was a gnome of about a step high that seemed to fight with everybody else at once. He reproached them while the veins of his neck were swollen, red with anger. The others retorted, with no less intensity, and seemed to be all against him. The dark elf could not understand the details of the discussion, but it appeared to be related to determining who the best jousting knight champion in the Kingdom was.

Then one of the men who had argued for a moment lost control of his bowels, because a fart sound echoed through the room. All the people arguing stopped and suddenly began to look at one another very serious. Then, to Phoroz's surprise, the gnome burst into a loud laughter and moments later everyone in the room accompanied him. They all laughed and laughed. Given the precarious state in which they were in, one of the men fell from his chair with laughter, and kept laughing on the floor, making no attempt to get up. Several of them had tears running down their faces, because of their decided and convulsive laughter. Phoroz didn't know if the gnome was redder now because he was laughing, or moments ago when he was pierced with anger.

The elf had to wait a while for the tempers to calm down, it did not seem appropriate to interrupt this moment of fraternization. Furthermore, he feared the reaction he might receive if he did. When he saw that he had stopped laughing, like asking for a truce, Phoroz approached Kurbus and addressed him with great respect, presented himself and asked for a moment to talk to him. The gnome then tried to persuade him to sit with them and drink a large jug of beer, since they all were welcome there. The elf had to politely refuse four times before Kurbus stopped and agreed to sit down with him a few minutes away from the room.

With a relaxed mood, Phoroz said that he had heard of Kurbus' good qualities and his good knowledge of a part of the territory beyond the border, within the realm of Fugor. Mentioning this, the gnome's face became very serious. It was as if the level of alcohol had descended suddenly, because from that moment his tongue stopped jamming as he talked and sounded sober.

Phoroz described the details of the mission they had for him and the reward he'd receive. Also, that they had little time and that they should leave together in the morning. The elf gave the gnome a gold bag with the advancement of his fees. Kurbus hefted the bag, assessing whether it was worth the risk and, after a moment's hesitation, left the bag on the table, right in the middle.

“I need to know more. I want to understand why I need to do this. Not every day people ask me to enter alone in orc territory. What is the real purpose of this mission? What are you going to get if I'm successful?” asked the gnome seriously.

Phoroz was thoughtful. Kurbus's request was fair, but put him in a bind. He had been asked to keep all the details limited to a minimum. After hesitating for a moment, he decided to tell the gnome the truth.