Chapter 5: Orcs

I ran with the others, keeping up as best I could with the chainmail weighing me down. I wished I’d had a chance to train in heavier armour, and if I survived this, I was going to make sure Shave let me practice more.

I took stock of my surroundings as we approached the woods on the other side of Slowbend. The camp was slightly southeast of the town, and the woods were northeast, across the stream. There were two cobblestone bridges that crossed the stream, but the town had no walls or natural fortifications.

It was just a village with thirty or so houses made of wattle and daub, with painfully flammable thatched roofs and weak wooden doors. If the orcs made it through to the woods, I doubted there was much the villagers could do.

Even though this seemed like just a straggling group of orcs, I wasn’t sure what to expect. It was better to be safe than sorry.

When we entered the forest, Shave took the lead. Everyone around me had taken up their preferred weapon, and I got the sense that we weren’t planning on fighting in a tight formation. There wasn’t going to be a shield wall today. That was probably why they let me take part.

A horn sounded, a rising pitch, and the lieutenants gave a distant whistle.

“Fan out!” Shave ordered, and the five men in our squadron spread out. Ticks, who was beside me, cast me a glare, then gave his axe a quick flourish and adjusted his shield. On my other side, Romance held his shield and short sword at the ready.

At that moment, I wished I had a shield of my own, but there was no time to doubt. I kept in position, which wasn’t difficult. We paced through the woods side-by-side, making a thin line one man thick. The other men kicked aside shrubs and thornbushes with their leather gaiters, but I only had boots, and I had to step lively. I made myself another promise. If—no, when—I survived this, I was going to find some gaiters of my own.

We were awfully quiet as we passed through the woods. I glanced at Romance and asked, “Have you ever fought orcs before?”

“Five times? No, six,” Romance replied. “They’ve been making a few more incursions down south lately. Rumor is, they’re trying to open up a new front. It’s only been small batches so far, but it’s bound to get worse.”

“Are they strong?”

“They’re the weakest creatures. They’re the backbone of the armies from the Bane-lands.”

“Not goblins?” I asked. Goblins were always supposed to be the weakest.

“You’ll find goblins in the mountains. They’re weak, but they’re less twisted. Less malleable to the effects of vorghul.”

“I don’t know what that means—”

“Keep quiet,” Ticks snapped. “And pay attention.”

I fell quiet for a few seconds, keeping my head high and my eyes peeled. The canopy overhead was thick, but thankfully, the trees seemed normal. Green deciduous leaves, thick trunks. There were a few pines scattered about, but not too many—not enough to make traversing the path impossible.

So I didn’t incur any more of Ticks’s wrath, I kept my voice soft when I asked, “How do we know how strong the orcs are?”

“Shave has high Perception, and he got himself a knowledge Skill for [Insight]. He can see how powerful all our enemies are…at the cost of one Presence.”

“Won’t that mean he can’t resonate any other Skills for the rest of the day?”

“He’s our sergeant. We’ll protect him.”

“Most orcs are the equivalent of Irons, anyway,” said Shave, armed with his own spear and shield. “But it doesn’t hurt to check for greater threats.”

“Does everything in this world get ranked?”

“All non-magic creatures stay at Copper-equivalent their entire lives. But orcs were created with magic. They’re stronger than the average man. Now listen to Ticks and be quiet.”

I nodded furiously and tightened my grip on my spear. If only we could just pick up the pace.

And then I heard the fighting, and I took that back immediately. Metal clanged, Dupes screamed in my own voice, and the coppery scent of blood wafted through the woods. A horn sounded, but this time, we didn’t change our positions. An orderly formation was our greatest strength.

Beneath it all, a gurgling sound ripped through the woods, which often pitched up into a screech and made my gut curdle. Was that from the orcs?

When the first orc burst out of the forest, I barely noticed. It hit farther down the line, and a different Dupe cut it down with a precise and measured sword swipe. We continued onward, and I couldn’t get a good glimpse of its body without glancing over my shoulder, which I refused to do. If I took my eyes off the battle, that could be the end of me.

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Finally, Shave took off his helmet. Similar to other resonance skills I’d seen, a shimmer of air enveloped his head. After a few seconds, he pointed a finger outward. “Thirty orcs ahead, spaced through the trees. They’ve broken through the 5th’s lines and are coming toward us now. All Irons.”

I couldn’t see any sign of the other battle, but after a few seconds, I stopped looking. Shave pulled his helmet back on and retreated to the rest of the line, and we surrounded him. But just because he’d used his Presence didn’t mean he was useless, and he took a fighting stance beside me.

Just in time for orcs to pierce through the woods.