But out here, something about Katrina rubbed her wrong. And it was absurd that Katrina would contribute that something to anything as petty as jealousy. Wasn’t it?
30
Allister De’Lenard watched as the small contingent of warriors left the village of Thornbriar. Only the one leading them seemed to be unburdened by whatever battle they were going into.
Allister was thankful for the diversion, though, as he wanted to get a better look at where the Thorn Callers made their home. The HoloFae that was after the heart might even have something in the village that Allister could use to persuade him to give it up.
After a quick search of Miriam’s home, he had discovered the HoloFae being manipulated by Zannith was, in fact, her son.
Because of this, Allister no longer relished killing him. He would, of course, if it came to that. But perhaps it could be avoided. Allowing him to show a last act of kindness to Miriam.
Neither Tobias nor any of those riding with him noticed the dark outline of the assassin as he stood beside a tree on the edge of the road that led to Grey Ridge. The small company of Rangers silently made their way to what most of them figured would be their last battle.
Only Tobias sat tall and proud in his saddle. Unwavering in his conviction to drive the Orcs from Agnar once and for all. As they rode through the forest, the signs of the Chimera poison were everywhere.
The bodies of small game and birds littered the forest floor and the surrounding woods that were once teeming with life. Now stood in stark silence as the Rangers passed.
The rains had already started for the season, and the poison was being spread more quickly than ever now. But this was not Tobias’s focus today. Today, it was all about the battle.
From atop Grey Ridge, an Orc sentry came hurriedly into the ruins where Zannith and Gru’Kar were discussing something in private.
“War Chief, a company of Thorn Callers, is headed this way. They appear to be ready for battle.”
“What?” Zannith asked, looking somewhat astonished as he and Gru’Kar headed outside to see for themselves.
The entire forward camp now rose to the alert, as the horns of battle began to sound from the sentries on watch.
Gru’Kar peered down the path at the Rangers, who were winding their way steadily towards them and began to laugh.
“That’s no company, its stragglers looking to die today. Surely that cannot be all they would send against us? Do they take leave of their senses?” He asked as the rest of his Orcs began to laugh with him.
“You may be closer to the truth than you realize. I recognize the leader as the one who took command when the old one died.
I wonder if it was him that first entered the room where the old man had been? If so, the present I left him is working far better than I could have hoped.”
“Present? What present mage?” Gru’Kar asked curiously.
“Just a simple dementia spell. Something to keep them off their game for a while,” Zannith said as that wickedly cold smile creased his lips.
From the path coming up to the ridge, Gru’Kar heard the shout for a charge followed by the pounding of the horse’s hooves on the ground.
“Get up you sons of ogres, the enemy is rushing to their deaths. Let’s not hinder them from reaching it!” Gru’Kar shouted, hoisting his massive battle-ax above his head.
To the Rangers rushing up the path, the sounds of Orcish voices cheering on the ridge was like thunder. Growing ever louder as they crested the top and barreled into the ruins of the old keep.
Immediately upon entering the courtyard, Tobias and the others realized just how much of a mistake they had truly made. Hundreds of angry Orcs awaited them there.
They lined the courtyard and the ruins of the keep’s walls like the pickets on a fence.
Before Tobias could order a retreat, two large wagons were shoved across the pathway, covering the only exit there was.
Zannith, with a flick of his wrist and a word of power from his lips, dispelled the magic that had been afflicting Tobias since his discovery of Max’s death.
At that moment, clarity began to return to Tobias’s fog-laden mind. All the memories of what has transpired since that fateful night now flooded him from all sides.
He saw the faces of friends that had died by his hand, followed by those of his brothers and sisters that he had driven away in exile.
The swift river of emotions flooding him, caused him to reel in the saddle and fall to the wet earth beneath his horses’ feet. As he struggled to rise, all around him, the air was filled with the sounds of bowstrings mixing with the screams of his brothers in arms.
When he did finally get to his feet, he was met with the grinning face of Zannith and the hard stare of the Orc War Chief.
“What’s the matter Ranger, seen a ghost?” Zannith asked with more than a little satisfaction at the sudden paleness on Tobias’s face.
He never had time to respond, as Gru’Kar’s ax came down in a blow that severed one shoulder clean from his body as it drove him to the ground.
As Tobias lay there in the last seconds of his life, all he could see was his fellow Rangers being cut down with ease by the overwhelming numbers of the Black Boar Orcs.
When the battle was over, not a single Ranger was left alive. And none had escaped their fate. Gru’Kar stood in the center of the courtyard, with his ax held above his head in triumph.
“Hear me warriors of the Black Boar Tribe! With the death of these Rangers, there is none to stand in our way of conquering the rest of this shit hole forest.
Once the poison has run its course, we will build our own kingdom here. No longer will we be a nomadic tribe.
And when Tribe friend Zannith has what he needs, we will set our sights on even larger conquests. All Orc tribes will bow to us then, I Gru’Kar promise it.!”
As the cheers of the Black Boar tribe echoed through all of Agnar, Zannith Daltorea turned and headed back inside the keep’s interior.
It will be far more than Orc tribes that will bow to me War Chief, he thought as he smiled to himself.
Allister immediately recognized the echoing roar that now spread through the forest and sent the animals scurrying for safety. It was the sound of victory.
Knowing that the force he had seen leaving the Ranger village was not nearly large enough to make such a noise, he could only assume they were not the ones cheering.
Which meant they would not be back anytime soon. It was a good thing too. For try, as he might, he couldn’t find a way past the bramble wall that surrounded the village.
He was considering giving up when the thorns and thistles all suddenly began to crumble and break apart. Allister could only guess that whatever magic had initially been used to summon them, was now fading with the Rangers.
Once it began to diminish, it did not take long for the entire wall to be reduced to little more than thick twigs — another sign the Rangers had indeed met their end.
With little effort now, he cut his way through what remained of the brush and made his way into the village. He saw no signs of life but kept his sword at the ready just in case.
All around him, the village showed signs of trouble, as he walked its empty streets. Houses left open and shops unattended. Even the forge was cold, showing no signs of a fire in days.
He made his way to the main house and stepped up on the porch. As he neared the door, his nose became filled with the smell of death and blood.
Drawing his sword, he pushed open the door and let the sun's light flood into the empty house. Through the doorway, he could see a large stain of dried blood pooled near the entrance. A quick look around also revealed where it had come from.