“Anyone who’s hurt, even a scratch, you know which of us has healing potions! Poisoned blades, remember? A dirty sword cut can kill you just as dead or cost you an arm! Those of you who haven’t eaten, do that now! Rest of you, let’s finish searching the dead brutes and get the bodies out of camp, and as for any orcs still alive—well, you know what to do. Let’s get it done!”
She turned to look for Jerdren. “Jers, do we have someone on guard?”
He nodded.
“Good. I’ll help M’Baddah clean wounds. You finish searching those creatures, if you don’t mind.”
“Didn’t realize you were squeamish, Eddis,” her co-captain said. His glance flicked toward the filthy pouch under her toe.
“I’m not. I’m being practical. It’s poorly tanned hide, and now it’s soggy with orc blood. You put that in your pack, and the whole thing’ll smell like rotting meat in a day or so. I’m letting the worst of the mess soak into the dirt before I pour out whatever’s in there and count it, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh.” He blinked. “Didn’t think of that.”
“No, you were thinking of gold and gems. Remind the other men, will you?”
“Good point.” He turned away as Mead came back into camp. “What’s still out there?” he asked.
“They are gone,” the elf mage said. “Still running, as far as I can tell, but at this hour I have only charms to assure me of that.” He pulled his book of spells from its leather shoulder bag.
“That’s good enough,” Eddis said. “You’re exempt from cleanup, of course. You’ve got your own important task.”
He merely nodded and settled close to the fire on his blankets once again, book open.
Blorys had come in and was watching her, she realized. “Let me worry about cleaning cuts, Eddis. Your arm is hanging limp, and I can see the pain in your face whenever you move it. Go, get M’Baddah to fix you up.”
She nodded and he smiled suddenly. “You paid attention to what I told you back in the Keep, didn’t you? I just happened to turn when you took down that last monster, and when you could see he was still a threat, you didn’t try to finish the job yourself. Sensible swordswoman, that’s you.”
Eddis could feel her face redden. “Sensible swordswoman wouldn’t be out here, fighting nasty creatures twice her size. But thank you.”
“Of course. Stay sensible, swordswoman. Get M’Baddah to tend to that arm, will you?”
She nodded and watched him walk over to help Jerdren pull the dead orc from the fire pit. His words warmed her. Sensible, hah, she thought. Well, see you stay that way, Eddis. Because by this time tomorrow any of you—including Blorys—could be very dead. A wise swordswoman would think of any fighting companion as sword-fellow and friend, but nothing more.
7
It took time for the men to haul the massive bodies away. By the time Jerdren and the others returned to the camp, their provisioner had a fire going once more and the last of the porridge reheating. The men who’d been on guard when the orcs attacked ate as the others began packing up their blankets or retrieving what unbroken arrows and other weapons they could. Mead turned the pages of his book. Eddis sat cross-legged on her blanket, counting out the contents of the orc’s purse Jerdren had tossed her—most of the weight came from copper pence and a small bar of silver that gleamed wetly in the early morning sun.
There were also two odd little bundles of sticks and string. M’Baddah, who sat close by bandaging one of the injured, looked them over carefully and suggested she give them to Mead.
“I think they are fetishes, but he may know what they are used for and if they are dangerous for us to keep.”
“I didn’t think of that,” Eddis said. She dropped them atop the dust-coated bag and wiped her hands on her breeches.
It was quiet for some moments, except the crackle of the fire, and the faint groans of one of the spearmen who’d received a nasty crack on the back of his head. Fortunately, his helm had kept him alive.
Jerdren came back into the clearing and knelt at the fire to pour hot water over his bloody hands. None of it seemed to be his blood. He blotted them on his shirt and grinned at Eddis.
“There’s one way to work up an appetite!”
“Not my favorite,” Blorys replied. He’d come up behind her and settled down next to her. “Arm better, Eddis?”
She nodded.
“Good for your reflexes, a fight like that,” Jerdren said. His grin faded. “We need to talk. The few orcs we left alive ran, and from what I saw, I’ll wager they’re still running. Maybe it was just our bad luck to pick a place to camp where we’d cross paths with ’em. Still—is it possible there’s a hold of those brutes around here?”
The Keep men eyed each other. “There’s no rumor of a hold,” one said finally. “Now and again, hunting parties’ll see prints that might be orcs or other such creatures. And they’ve been seen at a distance—but only a few of ’em at a time. Fewer than we fought here.”
“But you don’t send patrols eastward, do you?” Jerdren asked. “And you don’t hunt this far into the wilds, so would you even know?”
“I would know if there was a hold close by,” Mead said. He was stowing his book in its case as he came up to join the others. “I tested this area for evil before agreeing we should camp here, if you recall, and I made sure none of the orcs we fought last night had followed us.”
“Oh, right.” Jerdren rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It just seems odd, as much wilderness as there is, that they just happened to wind up where we are.”
“We didn’t travel that far last night, and we weren’t exactly being quiet, this morning,” Eddis replied dryly. “And there’s the fire. With this wind, they could probably smell the smoke for a long ways. But if you ask me, it doesn’t matter if these orcs were part of last night’s bunch, or if they’re a completely different troop.”
“It might matter,” Jerdren said. “Because if there are bands of ’em wandering around out here, that just might mean we’re close to a den. We aren’t out here to battle orcs. They’re big and nasty, and cursed few of ’em carry what I’d call a decent pocketful of coin. Besides, if there’s orcs all over the place here, what chance is there we’ll find that band of robbers in the same area?”
“I’m not arguing with you,” Eddis said.
One of the spearmen looked up from his pack. “I’m remembering something,” he said. “About two years ago, there was a company of men rode in from the east, early in the year. They told us they’d had one fight after another—orcs and all manner of other creatures—some distance from the Keep, where the road runs through heavy woods, down in a long, deep ravine. They broke free, finally, but half their number were dead, and most of their pack horses were gone, too.”
“That long ravine is at least another day’s ride from here,” another said. “Up where the caves are, or so it’s said.”
“Caves?” Jerdren sat up straight and suddenly looked very interested. Blorys sighed quietly.
The Keep man shrugged. “Back when Macsen was still lord of the Keep, men went farther from the walls, and all this around here was peaceful. None of us here have ever seen the caves. There’s always been stories, though, about a great run of caverns where monsters of every kind live.”
“Oh.” Jerdren waved that aside. “No robbers there, then. That’s too far a distance for the men we’re seeking, anyway.” He came partway to his feet and looked around. “We just about ready to move on?”
“Nearly,” M’Baddah said. He was rubbing salve into an armsman’s cut fingers, while Mead tended to the man with the aching head.
“Good.” Jerdren broke out his map. “Anyone got an idea where we are? I mean, we re obviously somewhere in this area.” He pointed at a place well within the woods, where they came down close to the road.