Black Metal: The Orc Wars Read online

  The crowd was silent, knowing better than to cheer or boo at such crucial moments. Reygoth and Ghalik walked out into the circle, each standing next to his chosen warrior.

  “It seems that we trolls are fated to follow you greenskin,” stated Reygoth with an uncommon air of respect, something it seemed quite difficult for him to allow to surface, “Your warrior represents you well. It seems then that you are welcome to this camp. Who are you?”

  “Ghalik. In my language that word is both name and title. As to my warriors, they are the Gor-Angir,” the wizard informed him calmly.

  “What is it that you seek?” Reygoth asked as Ghalik turned and gestured for his warrior to move forward and make camp.

  “In short, vengeance. But this talk can wait. First let us cool the warfires between our people. We make peace with each other, then we will decide upon who to make war first,” Ghalik answered as he and Reygoth walked towards the center of camp, where a makeshift throne had been erected. Undoubtedly for Reygoth, but now the orcs were throwing down groundcloth and supplies at its base. There was no mistake who was in charge now.

  “Let us find that cunning little goblin Ca’tic’na. Then we will hold a war council. The three of us have to find how best to sell our lives in the annihilation of our enemies,” the old wizard uttered as the ascended his new throne.

  “If you behave badly the evil troll Reygoth will come get you. He’ll use your skull for his porridge bowl and crack your ribs for the marrow. When children are good they will be lords and ladies in the court of the High King, and wear the finest of silks and eat all the sweets they desire.” --- common tale of warning to children throughout the lands

  “Ma-Gur, awaken,” called a voice through the blissful haze of well-earned sleep. The sleeping orc would normally have ignored it, yet the urgency in the voice stirred him. The young orc opened his eyes to find Okada standing near him, his eyes still faintly glowing red from their contact with the killing spirit.

  “What is it?” muttered the rising warrior as he strapped on his boots and collected his weapons. His leg and side still pained him greatly, but he refused to show the on looking ranger as he stood to join him.

  “Ghalik. He is in council with the goblin and troll leaders. He says that each leader is bringing two of their own warriors. It seems we have earned his attentions,” stated Okada as the two orcs hurried towards Ghalik’s throne area.

  Ma-Gur silently walked alongside the smaller orc. Why had he been chosen? Of all the other better, more experienced warriors, why him? Okada was an obvious choice, he was the best hunter and pathfinder the tribe had produced for centuries. Why a young and relatively unproven fighter?

  As if seeing the questioning look on the younger orc’s face, Okada answered, “He sees something in you. That’s why you were chosen.”

  Okada immediately came to a halt, pointing his long finger at Ma-Gur’s broad chest.

  “But don’t you think he means to further your glory. Ghalik is what is best, and worst, in all of us. So yes, be proud of his attention, it speaks highly of you. But always remember that he is using you for his own purpose. Even though his is the greatest of all our leaders, he is still an orc, and so are you,” Okada rasped.

  Then, calmly as if nothing had been said, Okada turned and continued walking. Leaving Ma-Gur standing alone in confusion, “Come on little brother, we don’t want to keep him waiting,” the pathfinder chuckled as Ma-Gur hurried to catch up.

  They walked in silence the rest of the way. Shortly they emerged into the throne area, now the hoard point for all of the extraneous possessions of the three groups. At first the trolls were unhappy about the command to give up their extra belongings, but soon were shown the wisdom and gain in everyone sharing commonly. Now everyone was well fed and armed. Goblin hunting and foraging parties returned often, loaded down with game and ruffage. While troll and orc construction crews cut down trees and hewed them into useable logs which were piled up for some as yet undisclosed purpose.

  Ghalik’s wisdom and authority had turned a refugee camp into a military outpost, and the morale of all three groups had increased significantly. All three races seemed united towards a common goal, everyone felt as if great things were on the horizon.

  At the center of it all stood Ghalik, next to his newly claimed throne, dressed in wolf skins against the cold. By his side stood Reygoth and Ca’tic’na, each accompanied by two warriors from their own tribes. As Okada and Ma-Gur approached Ghalik nodded and gestured for them to take their places amongst the ranks of the other warriors. Everything was arranged to both physically and symbolically represent the hierarchy of the camp. On the throne sat Ghalik, below him on the supporting raised dias stood Reygoth and Ca’tic’na, and below them on the ground stood the six warriors.

  “Now that we are all here, I would like to begin,” Ghalik stated as he waved a hand for all to be seated. Reygoth and Ca’tic’na had small unassuming chairs of their own, the warriors were forced to sit on the ground.

  His voice rising above the tumult of the bustling camp, Ghalik spoke, “We have joined our forces, what once were three groups of displaced people are now an army. Our numbers may pale against the might of these allied armies that harass us, but the trolls are strong and the goblins cunning. We orcs are the bridge between, we have strength and cunning enough to fight on both fields. The glue that holds us together is the enemy. Their attacks have made this alliance, so let them choke on it.”

  “Now we have an outpost, a sanctuary from which to strike. Which brings me to Ca’tic’na and his goblins,” rasped the old wizard.

  Upon hearing his name the goblin leader stood and turned to face Ghalik. Of those non-goblins assembled the orcish wizard was the only one able to understand the little man. The goblin began speaking, his chirping voice full of excitement as he spoke with Ghalik. The old wizard relayed the goblin’s words to the rest of the group, translating Ca’tic’na’s rapid speech as quickly as he could.

  “Ca’tic’na says that in their time on the borders south of here the goblins discovered that the human and elf forces have been receiving aid from a nearby dwarven fortress, Ameran.”

  The revelation caused an outraged rumble deep in the throats of some of the warriors. It was well known that the dwarves kept to themselves, preferring to quarry their stone and smelt their precious metals than to get mixed up in the affairs of the outside world. Their involvement now was testament to their greed or intolerance for the ancient races, either of which condemned then in the eyes of all gathered around the throne that night.

  “He says that they have been supplying the crusaders with weapons and supplies, as well as free passage through their lands. It will not be long before they begin adding detachments of troops to the crusader armies,” Ghalik translated.

  “What are we going to do about it? Everyone knows that when battle comes the stone men go to ground. How are we supposed to fight them, invade their stronghold?” snorted Reygoth as he folded his arms across his chest disapprovingly, his ego still bruised from the loss of his throne.

  “Yes,” Ghalik uttered as he looked hard at the group, his confidence and determination radiating about him.

  Reygoth was still unconvinced.

  “How?”

  “My ranger Okada is going to go with a goblin hunting party into the dwarven lands. Their mission will be two-fold. First they are going to pick out a few good raiding opportunities like villages or supply lines. While word is sent back to inform us they will continue on towards the stronghold. Hopefully they will be able to locate a weakness that we can exploit,” explained Ghalik as he smiled toothedly, “Then we attack.”

  “But do we have sufficient siege equipment?” Reygoth questioned, still reluctant to go along with Ghalik’s seemingly mad scheme.

  “Every stronghold has a weakness, just like every suit of armor. Once we find that weakness, there will be no siege. We will see just how far too ground the stone men can go when we begin raiding their
lands. Perhaps we will be able to draw them out, then take the citadel while the majority of their warriors are away. If we bide our time whilst our scouts bring us information, we can win,” Ghalik responded, his enthusiasm for the plan showing in his gleaming eyes.

  Reygoth said no more, apparently satisfied for the moment with Ghalik’s answer.

  “You warriors were assembled to listen to this war council. Go now, and tell all of what you have heard. If all of us know our mission then all will proceed as planned,” commanded the Ghalik as he descended from his throne, “Okada, take your rest while you can, the goblin’s will wake you when all is prepared. Now go.”

  Okada did as he was bidden, giving Ma-Gur a knowing look and disappearing into the camp. Ma-Gur stood and walked purposefully into the orc encampment. As he neared the fires of his comrades he could see that word of his involvement had spread quickly, and everyone was waiting for news. Remembering Ghalik’s orders he raised his hands in greeting, then began his retelling of the meeting and informing the Gor-Angir of the old wizard’s scheme.

  No questions were asked of Ma-Gur when he was finished speaking. All present had heard him clearly in the nighttime silence. The plan was simple, yet it hinged dearly upon the success of Okada and the goblin scouts, so an anxious energy crept into the encampment.

  As the night wore on many warriors, and not just orcs, could not sleep. Their thoughts were with the orc ranger and his goblin raiders, who stole away in the dead of night. There were ten goblins all told, silently gripping their spears as they stealthily blended into the night. Okada was not the woodsman that the goblins were, yet was as accomplished as any orc possibly could be in the stealthy arts. He too crept out of his shelter, shouldered his stolen elvish bow, and followed the fast paced goblins into the night.

  For nearly five days life at the outpost went on as it had on the day before the hunting party’s departure. Food was secured, wood was gathered, and weapons were cared for. Ghalik had revealed his purpose in having so much wood and food stored, he intended for the army to live on their nourishment and warmth once the dwarven stronghold was taken. His rationale being that the dwarves would likely poison their supplies before the invaders could stop them. The old wizard had also conscripted a large number of the more nimble fingered goblins to begin making coils of rope. The more coils, he insisted, the less time that will be lost moving the army should rope be required.

  The barely suppressed anxiety was worked out as everyone went about their tasks, until near dusk on the sixth day. A cry went up from the sentries as one of the goblin scouts from Okada’s party came running into the camp. By the time the goblin reached Ghalik’s throne the entire camp had dropped what they were doing and hurried to listen. As they gathered round they could see the goblin making his report in the chirping language of goblin kind. Total silence fell as Ghalik stood to face the crowd.

  “They have found all that we had hoped for and more! The land is ripe for our vengeance!” bellowed Ghalik. The crowd descended into roars of excitement, but were quickly silenced by Ghalik’s booming voice.

  “But the enemy is upon us! Another force of crusaders comes at us from the east. We must pack and move quickly, lest our fire be quenched before it is given the chance to brighten!”

  “The scrolls tell us that in the ancient times vast armies of orcs marched across the land that one day would become this blessed Empire, and that walls crumbled before their mighty siege engines even as the knights of the age broke upon their spears. We must be thankful, my esteemed colleagues and noble lords, that the might of the greenskin has waned, and the great hordes of old plague us no longer. The modern orc is a simple reaver, belonging to scattered tribes across this great land, and pose no significant threat. Our pogrom will be as swift as it is just.” --- Ellarion Teague, former Grand Scribe, excerpt from his first speech in office

  The six elven rangers skirted the circle, staying to the tree line as they made their way. Carefully they emerged from the forest and into the ring of ancient stones, their arrows knocked and bows at the ready. Keen eyes took in the scene before them as their breath came out, cloudlike in the morning chill.

  The camp had been abandoned, and hastily at that. All about the area were the deep ruts from sleds or wagons, gouges left in the earth by heavy vehicles. Tracks of troll, goblins, and orc could all be seen. The path they had taken was fairly obvious, the underbrush around what seemed to have originally been a game trail hacked and churned as the horde passed through it.

  The elves gathered together in the center of the stone circle, signaling to the other six elves waiting in the trees, sending them back to the main body of troops with a report of what had been seen. The rest of them began talking in hushed tones, discussing the terrifying implications of the abandoned camp. Apparently troll, orc, and goblin had formed an alliance of some kind. Aside from the fact that most of the goblin tracks were in the back of the fleeing column it appeared that it was a bloodless alliance. The elves wondered at the danger such cooperation amongst the ancient races would pose to the world if it spread to other enclaves of these creatures. They would be facing thousands, insurmountable foes for sure. Hearing the Iithsulian force drawing near, four of the elves stayed behind to relay the new plan. While the other two moved up the new trail to pursue the fleeing horde.

  “No castle stands sufficiently guarded, no hearth properly defended, no family protected, so long as the orc roams alive and free. Rob them of steel and they will fight with empty hands, take the heads from their shoulders and their children will fashion them into maces. We have to kill them all.” --- Sir Blaine Hightower, slain at the Battle of Meeting Stone

  The goblins were running hard, without a care for stealth or silence they plowed through the underbrush at incredible speeds. Their wilderness skills giving them an added advantage along with their short stature. They were able to follow obscure game trails at speed and not be impeded by hanging foliage that would have stalled taller creatures. There were only a handful of them left now, though they had begun the day with many more.

  The outset of the day had seen them scampering about the forest, laying a myriad of traps and snares along the fleeing horde’s main trail, as well as the smaller side trails the elves were sure to take. Their small force had been chosen by the big orc leader to be a rearguard. Though all who knew of the order understood that rearguard meant ambush party, at least that was what the word meant in goblin. So after several hundred yards of trail had been trapped the goblins hastily concealed themselves at the entrance to the trapped area. Some perching in trees, others squatting in makeshift blinds, others still were hidden amongst the underbrush.

  They knew that the force they were about to attack not only outnumbered them, but had an advance scout troupe of elves. Elves and goblins have long been dire enemies, each representing the more primitive and wild natures of sentient beings. Yet the goblins were an ancient race, bound to the earthen roots of the past so deeply that it was whispered by more radical thinkers that the goblins were likely not just an ancient race, but the First Race. The elves, always a prideful and aloof race, were threatened by this assertion in ways that only such elegant and powerful creatures could be. The very idea of the short greenskins being the rightful keepers of the forest ruined the stoic composure of the graceful race. It was a blood feud that had lasted for centuries. The majority of the world’s wild places held by the elves who professed harmony with nature, and the northern lands occupied by goblins who simply were the land. Even then they had to share the north with ever increasing numbers of human settlers, orcs, and even dwarves. Only against elven enemies did goblin warriors do battle without fear or the coercion of leadership.

  And so it was that the goblin bushwhackers waited patiently in their hiding places, their pulses racing as the smell of elf registered from downwind. Soon the smell was accompanied by sounds, far to slight for humans or even orcs to detect, but loud enough to be heard by the keen ears of the goblins. As they wai
ted silently eight elves came into view, spread out across the wood so that no single ambusher could take them all at once. They walked with bows at the ready, their eyes scanning the forest for signs of any threat.

  It was unclear if the elves noticed the goblins before or after the attack, for almost simultaneously the elves gasped and began to launch arrows into the forest while the goblins surged from their hiding places and hurled spears at their foes. The bushwhackers began to go down clutching arrows to their breasts as the elves rapid fired their sleek projectiles. The battle was short-lived however, as a shower of barbed spears rained down upon the elves from every direction. Within moments all of the elves lay dead, unable to dodge the multitude of thrown weapons.

  Yet the battle was not quite over, because four more elves materialized out of the woods, firing arrows with deadly accuracy as they came. There was a brief exchange of fire when the goblins recovered from the counterattack and hurled their remaining spears. Two of the elves went down, their lithe bodies contorted in pain as the goblin spears pierced their flesh. The remaining elves stood resolute as they dropped their bows and drew their long knives while the goblins closed in, their wickedly curved shortswords held aloft.

  As the goblins rushed the elves a great commotion sounded. The bushwhackers were too busy fighting to notice that the knights and their footmen had now caught up to the elves. The two elves fought valiantly, claiming several lives as they danced from opponent to opponent, but were both laid low by the sheer number of goblins they faced. Before the green skinned rangers could celebrate their victory however, the humans were upon them.