The hunting had gone surprisingly well. They had only just exited the camp when Sam spotted a deer and stung it with an arrow shot. It wasn’t a clean kill, but it slowed the deer down enough that a single orc should be able to run it down. Luke volunteered for the job and disappeared into the thick underbrush.
Now that the hunting was out of the way, the group slowly made their way towards their clearing. There were many such clearings around the camp. Sometimes, a battle went too long and started a wood fire. Other times, the camp needed wood to make a new hut. This clearing was just close enough to the camp yet far enough away that visitors, orc or human, weren’t common.
“Alright, everyone. I’ve been thinking. When we win, why do we win? When we beat the humans, how do we do it?”
“Because orcs are stronger. An orc warrior can take 20 untrained humans, and every orc male can become a warrior,” Dax said. It wasn’t a surprising answer. Superior strength, training, and bravery were the only tools orcs used.
“And when the humans win, why is that?” Adam asked.
“Because of numbers,” Sam said. “If they have 25 humans for every orc, they might swarm to pull us down. They're like mice. Strength doesn’t work against large enough numbers of foes.”
This was another stock answer, and everyone nodded along. Adam clapped his hands once, hard and loud, and startled them out of their agreement.
“No! Or, at least, not only that. Think about it: for all of history there have been more humans than orcs. And for all of history our strength was enough to balance them. Why not now?”
“The humans have better weapons?” Dax chimed back in.
“They do. But swords and armor shouldn't change things. A crude shield or a club in our hands is just as good as a well-honed sword. They make better use of our advantages.”
The group looked perplexed. No more proposals came forth, so Adam sat down on a nearby stump.
“You have 20 humans in front of you, you knock them down and the fight is over. You have 30 humans in front of you, and maybe you win, or maybe they swarm you. You have 40 humans, you hold them back with big swings until help comes. But when do you get caught? When do orcs die?”
Dax’s eyes lit up, “Flanks. When they come from the side.”
“Exactly. And they always know where we will be - because orcs always move forward. The strongest stay in front and we move forward until they decide on a new direction.”
“What about the archer?” Sam's hand shot in the air.
“Half of us have to stay behind to guard you,” Dax grumbled.
“But we have to do that,” Sam’s face blanched. “I can’t fight off a dozen humans with my bare hands. I’m no good with a sword or club.”
Adam walked over to his pack and pulled out the stack of parchment he had spent the night working on. Untying the string that bound it, he looked at Sam and smiled.
“I think I have a solution for that.”
--
Adam, the brothers, and Sam had been practicing for a few hours before Luke made his way back. By the time he returned, Luke saw a tightly bundled group moving in formation back and forth across the clearing. At the front of the group were Adam to the left and Max to the right, who stood far enough apart to make a gap - a gap through which Sam was continually firing arrows.
Mostly. At that moment, the group swerved slightly to go around a stump, and one of Sam's blunted training arrows grazed Adam’s arm.
“Sam!”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“You have to anticipate the terrain. And the humans won’t always do what we expect - you can’t rely on always having the same gap to shoot through,” Adam turned to look at Dax. “That goes for you, too. Right now, you just have to follow along, but the humans will be doing everything they can to get past us. You have to keep on your toes, push them back, and guard Sam.”
After seeing Dax nod, Adam turned to Max, who grimaced.
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“And I think you know, already, that you go around obstacles on the same side. If you don’t, the humans can split us apart and go right for Sam. And then we don’t have a Sam. Do you want to not have a Sam?”
Sam began a series of sentences expressing how very much he preferred to keep having a Sam, and everyone sighed. Adam cut him off.
“Remember, this isn’t about force. It isn’t about scattering. It’s about hitting them fast, causing chaos, and destabilizing them. It’s about making them scared of what’s coming next.”
Approaching, Luke cleared his throat. Adam turned and grinned.
“You’re back! Ready for some fun?”
--
“Remember!” Adam shouted across the clearing. “The idea is for us to guide you into Dax’s spear, or to hit you with one of Sam’s blunted arrows. You can do whatever you want - just don’t let that happen.”
Luke nodded and regripped his sword. Swords were relatively uncommon weapons for orcs. Humans had invented them to make strength less important, since it only took a bit of power to cut or stab in a way that could threaten an enemy. But Luke appreciated them for their versatility.
Shields were the main weapon for orcs. Getting hit by an orc's shield bash would shatter a human's bones, while dropping the shield on a downed enemy would burst heads. More importantly, the shield could help an orc close the distance by defending against arrows and javelins.
Luke knew all that, yet it felt different standing in front of two orcs with mounted shields. It looked like a wall. Adam had explained that he wanted Luke to try to hit Sam. It wouldn't fully simulate a real battle but would do for now, especially since they needed to add Luke to the formation later.
The squad began their charge and moments later, Luke cut through them like a knife through butter.
Luke weaved through the arrows from Sam easily as he approached the group. He knew Sam’s speed well and moved out of the way at the right time. As the two groups neared each other, Dax’s years of ingrained instincts took over; he surged ahead of Adam and thrust his spear at Luke. With a spin, Luke pivoted out of the way, and shoulder-checked Dax to force him out of position. With that, he leaped to the side and clobbered Sam with the flat of his blade. Adam sighed.
“Dax, you can’t rush ahead like that. I can’t block a moving enemy if you are in the way. Wait until I engage him, then strike.”
“Got it. Sorry, reflexes. It won’t happen again.”
Then it happened again. And again. And again. A lifetime of indoctrination into the charge-first-think-later battle style of orcs made every nerve in Dax’s body want to maximize his mobility on the field - to hit hard, fast, and then to hit again. He was used to making his own opportunities, not waiting for them.
Adam was frustrated enough by Dax that he also ended up making a mistake of his own. He broke formation to bash forward at Luke. But changing direction with a shield was much harder than moving with a sword, and Luke danced out of the way, absolutely flattened the unprepared Dax and knocked down Sam for the fifth time that day.
On the right, Max could only watch as Luke slipped by the left side of the formation with ease.
“Not for me,” Sam groaned. “The game isn’t to hit you, it’s to knock me silly. I can’t even get up right now.”
--
Out a player, Dax, Adam, and Max lined up again. Without Sam to protect, they were much more nimble, and Dax was even able to keep his legs in check this time.
It made no difference. Adam had chosen Luke as the antagonist because of his thoughtful nature. And Luke could find holes in the formation constantly.
Luke was fast and mobile while Adam's formation wasn't. He'd feint at Adam and lure Adam to plant or push his shield. Using the opening, he went right for Dax. Or, he'd step right and force Adam to stumble back while Max rushed forward. Off balance, the formation would splinter with a few blows from Luke.
While Luke wasn't doing damage, he managed to neutralize their offense. This was the worst possible version of events. If the four acted independently, they would have demolished Luke. Rather than helping, the formation stiffened them up and Luke ran circles around them.
After several minutes, Luke eased up on the attack.
“Adam.”
“What?” Adam said, preparing a shield bash.
“This isn’t going anywhere. I know you have hopes for this but… is it working?”
Adam stopped in his tracks. It wasn’t. And it was getting worse, not better. To his right, Max was drenched in sweat and behind him, Dax's breathing could be heard for miles around. The worst part was that noticing this kind of thing was his job, not Luke’s.
With frustration in his eyes, Adam dropped his shield.
“We can take a break. Thanks.”
—
Food washes away fatigue for orcs. After a half hour of banter and a significant amount of the deer, the group was starting to look much better again.
“Alright, you snaky bastard,” Sam said, pointing at Luke. “Let’s see if you can dodge these arrows now that my fingers don’t feel like they are about to fall off.”
The rest of the group stood up and locked into formation. Even without moving, something about it felt different to Adam. Better. Tighter. More connected.
That was a very good sign.
—
Luke was able to avoid the formation for exactly two more minutes. He’d hit, and the group would threaten to engulf him like a school of fish. He’d circle, then learn that a coordinated group could turn faster than he could make a loop around them.
And then, for the first time, they began to move forward on him.
He moved to his left and got caught by Max's charge. Slashing at it, he saw Adam's shield also closing in. He ducked, and Max's shield was in front of him again. With his left leg, he kicked at the shield and barely pivoted away from Dax's spear strike.
By now, he was out of movement options. He brought his sword up to parry Sam's arrow. Taking advantage of a quick lull, he stepped back, trying to open some distance. After two steps, his heel caught a rock and soon after, Adam's shield bash sent him tumbling.
The formation stood in shock for a moment before collapsing to the ground in relief. It had worked. The tactic was possible, especially once they added in Luke.
They were still laughing and smiling as they reached the borders of the village, hungry and looking forward to some well-deserved rest.