Nature and Blight Read online

  Chapter 6: Disenrollment

  The Siege (Blight’s Encampment)

  The fires were just starting, the sky turning grey as the sun began to sink behind the castle.

  “Sergeant?”

  “Yes, Brutus?”

  “How long are we going to be at this siege?”

  Savage had been considering the question for some time because, although the money was worth it, the company they kept left a lot to be desired. Ogres, Orcs, and Trolls were absolutely horrendous camping partners. They threw their waste wherever they wished, never showered so far as anyone could tell and made a ruckus throughout the night which caused the mercenaries in the rear to lose a lot of sleep.

  “Well, we know they’ve got a small contingent of soldiers and at some point their constitutions will run low. When that happens we’ll be able to storm the castle. I would guess Queen Nature is probably helping them stave off weariness but even she can’t hold out forever. If I had to guess we’ve probably got a little more than a week, two at the most, before their bodies succumb and we can talk about surrender.”

  Brutus nodded his head to indicate he liked the idea and went back to tending the small fire they had started at the forward observation post. Brutus knew Savage to be a good leader because he was one of the few who valued the lives of soldiers under his command. He would much rather have a show of force which would be so obvious to the other side hostilities would never even commence. Surrender was his preferred method of winning and since mercenaries got paid with victory they also felt earning gold without putting their lives on the line was a pretty good option. Both men were lost in their thoughts when the third arrived.

  “We’ve got a problem.”

  They listened as Deadaim described what he’d gathered.

  “I was at the command tent and saw Slicer enter. I snuck up and heard their exchange.”

  What came next altered the war.

  “They are going to kill us.”

  Deadaim went on to describe a bargaining process whereby Prince Blight and Slicer decided the price of life. Slicer’s men, the Elvin, were slighter in stature than Humans, infinitely weaker than Trolls, unable to take a single blow from an Orc, let alone an Ogre, and perhaps the most feared members in the Prince’s army. The Elvin were assassins. They were lithe and lean, silent and quick, with eyes adapted to their homeland allowing them almost perfect vision in the dark. They employed the ancient craft of surprise and were ruthlessly cunning in its employ. What Deadaim heard was Slicer’s plan to end the siege at any moment and the price agreed upon was the gold promised to Savage.

  “They have Elvin stationed at the gates, actually burrowed under dirt, waiting for the moment the gates are opened and when they do they’re going to slip in and kill the Queen.”

  The plan came with risk because the need was so. The gates Deadaim talked about could be opened and shut in a fraction of time. When they opened, the stallions of Nature’s Guard would rush out and the gates closed immediately behind them. It had been employed before and the speed of attack took a toll on the Prince’s army which was bloody in its impact. After the blitzkrieg the Queen’s soldiers would turn around and race back inside to, again, take up sentry. On every occasion Savage watched to see if he could spot a weakness. He couldn’t. Slicer did.

  “They’re buried under dirt in front of the gate?” Brutus asked

  “Yes” Deadaim answered.

  “Won’t they get trampled?”

  “Yes, but they only need one inside and he, in turn, will receive what was promised to us.”

  Savage thought it over. While he detested the loss of able bodies he could admire the planning. The Elvin were stealth attackers. They were undeniably the most gifted in their craft for they had the ability to remain hidden where others would be found instantly. Their reputation of death-dealing was widespread throughout the kingdoms but was generally deplored by those who reigned because, while they might be useful in removing a rival, they could also be employed against their own rule.

  “How can they breath if they’re underground?” Brutus queried.

  “They have these small hollow reeds which they poke through the dirt for air. They’re about the size of a straw.”

  Savage was dwelling over Deadaim’s information. If it were true they were in a lot of trouble. They were outnumbered on every side and while the mercenaries might follow him in battle they would also cut his throat for the promise of a few pieces of gold. His musing were cut short, however, by the sound of penetrating flesh.

  “Uh-oh, they’re coming out the gates right now” Brutus intoned.

  Savage turned to look and sure enough he could see the gates opening and the mounted soldiers of Mother Nature’s army charging onto the battlefield. They had been preceded, as always, by a hail of arrows as the ranks of Ogres, Orcs and Trolls were thinned by shafts shot true by those with the ability to repeat a volley every five seconds. The swath they cut in the ranks of the creatures allowed the soldiers, led by General Shield, the opportunity to reach deep into the opposing forces’ lines before encountering any resistance.

  “It looks like they’re going for the command post.”

  It did, indeed, appear to be the case but Savage wasn’t so sure. The command post was too far in the rear to make a successful return if they reached it. While the soldiers of Nature were exceptional in their craft they were not invulnerable and there was no way they could navigate back through so many creatures without sustaining unbearable losses. He felt it was a ruse. That thought, and the knowledge of what Deadaim supplied, caused him to look away from the action to where the gates were closing. What he saw brought both confusion and clarity to his mind. The clarity was in the form of a figure slithering into the gates right before they closed. He probably would’ve missed it, for it was done so quickly, if not for what brought his confusion. As the Elvin glided like smoke through the gate’s opening it came into contact with two little beings also using the gate only in the opposite direction. When he noticed the Midglings bump into something, gather themselves and race out the gate he also saw death moving inside the castle’s walls. He then made a decision.

  “Deadaim!”

  “Yes, Sergeant?”

  “Warn the castle they have an assassin inside!”

  Deadaim nodded his head, reached into a pocket, pulled out a parchment, wrote the warning, wrapped it around an arrow and started scanning for the one he knew would be providing aid to the soldiers of Mother Nature.

  “Brutus!”

  “Yes, Sergeant?”

  “We are resigning from this army immediately! Gather the supplies and bring them back here!”

  Brutus was off before Savage got all the words out and the Sergeant formulated the best way to both escape and possibly, if luck were on their side, exact a little payback on the Prince who would have them dead.

  He waited as Deadaim found his target and released the steel-capped wooden missile.

  “Deadaim!”

  “Yes, Sergeant?”

  “Two Midglings fled the castle. Find out which way they were headed and wait for us at the rendezvous point!”

  Deadaim also took off before Savage finished issuing his orders which left him standing there for a second deciding which group of the unwashed creatures he was going to throw to the wolves. When he caught sight of the Troll Toodrake his mind was made up for him.

  “Toad!”

  The Troll turned to see who dared use the name in his presence.

  “Savage” he hissed back for he hated the mercenary as he hated no other.

  “Tell you’re Orcs and Ogres to get between the Queen’s soldiers and the castle. When they retreat you will have your taste of flesh as reward.”

  The Troll despised the Human, loathed everything about the man but he followed his orders because the Prince demanded so. The Prince was despair, the Prince was destruction, the Prince was death. He was also the son of King Rot and even though the Troll Toodrake thought he
could possibly defeat Blight in battle he was under no illusions about the Prince’s father. King Rot would have his head on a platter for merely questioning his son’s orders. So, though he wished to sever Savage’s throat with his battle axe he could not do so as long as the Prince allowed him command of the army.

  “It will be done” he hissed.

  “Good! And do it quickly you green skinned amphibian!”

  Troll Toodrake had no idea what an amphibian was, it wasn’t necessary, he held enough intelligence to understand Savage would never part with a compliment in his direction.

  As Toodrake was both following his orders and dreaming of skinning Savage alive the Sergeant was wondering if maybe the Troll himself would be foolish enough to actually enter the fight.

  “Sergeant!”

  The sound of Prince Blight’s voice was not one he wished to hear.

  “Yes, Your Highness?” he said with false sincerity as the Prince strode up.

  “I want you and your men to meet me in my tent after this business with the attacking forces is over!” Blight said, indicating the fighting happening a ways to the front.

  “Yes, Your Highness” Savage responded and knew then the words Deadaim heard were true.

  In the time Savage had been in his employ the Prince had never called anyone but him to consultations. The Prince believed in separation. He actually believed in his separation from the rest of the troglodytes who called the land their own but since he needed some of them he was willing to relent and allow them the pleasure of hearing him speak. When the Prince asked to see not only him but also Deadaim and Brutus the Sergeant’s fears were confirmed; they were indeed in a lot of trouble.

  He headed back to the forward post and found Brutus waiting for him.

  “We need to get out of here in a hurry.”

  Brutus nodded his head and began to leave but stopped because he heard a trumpet’s blare from the center of the battlefield.

  “It sounds like General Shield feels he’s done enough damage for the day.”

  “Give him a second. He’s about to inflict a little more than anyone expected” the Sergeant replied.

  “Huh? What do you mean by…? Hold on. Are those Ogres moving to block off his retreat?”

  “Yep.”

  “Don’t they realize they’re right back in the same kill zone?”

  “Probably not.”

  “The Queen’s archers are going to tear them apart.”

  “Yep, I do believe you’re right.”

  “What kind of fool would place them back in the very place their comrades were just butchered?”

  “That would be me.”

  “Oh? Oh! Nice work!”

  “Thank you very much. Now, you might want to get a move on because this slaughter is going to end rather quickly and the Prince will be wondering why we aren’t attending to his wishes.”

  Brutus again nodded his head and the two mercenaries slipped out of camp under cover of dusk while the archers of Mother Nature took bulls-eye practice on creatures stupid enough to inhabit a location where the distance was known by those with bows and the experience of previously clearing it only minutes earlier.