Seamus looked up at the dimming sky, frowning as he watched snowflakes passively float from the clouds above. He shivered, ensuring his scarf was snugly fitted around his neck and mouth.
“It’s only going to get colder,” Lowe’s voice sounded out, catching Seamus’ focus of attention. He looked at the gnome holding onto Miles’ shoulders. Lowe had his feet positioned at the edges and straps of the mercenary’s armor like he was using a horse’s stirrups. He obviously looked unhappy with the embarrassing way of travel, but Miles insisted on it this way. Lowe wouldn’t have been able to walk very far without worsening his wounds.
“I know,” Seamus responded to the gnome, his eyes moving to look at the path they were walking on. Lowe’s words weren’t supposed to be a mild observation but a dangerous reminder. It was well-known that nights in Northern Valenfrost were a hazardous danger, especially during Frost. While there was no danger south, mainly around Yorktown and Vindis, the island they were on currently bordered Northern Valenfrost. This made them susceptible to the dangerous cold.
‘Wait…’
Seamus furrowed his brow, his head swiveling to look at the berserker woman behind him. She was far back, still keeping her distance from everyone else. She wore warm-looking clothing, even wearing that fur cloak she had tied to her waist earlier. Still, Seamus wondered if it would be enough to keep her from freezing to death during the unforgiving nights of Frost.
Seamus was almost curious enough to ask but knew his signing needed some work before he could ask her any more questions. He was still rusty, it seemed, which was understandable. The berserker’s way of signing was something that Seamus never saw outside of his mother and a select few. He himself was one of those select few, but even then, Seamus had difficulty remembering the proper signs and gestures.
‘Where’d she learn such a thing?’
Seamus wondered for a bit before his focus returned to their path. He could hear the distant sound of a beach, the sound of waves washing up on gravel, and music to his ears. It was a fond sound that reminded him of an older, simpler life.
“Up ahead,” Lowe spoke, his breath coming out in a cloudy puff.
Seamus squinted through the trees up ahead, their greenish foliage obscuring whatever was ahead. He would soon find out, as he pushed through, the group following behind. Seamus raised an arm as he protected himself from the falling snow of the branches, his eyes peering at what was past the trees. He blinked, finding himself standing atop a small dirt cliff, the drop-off leading to a gravel beach. Seamus noted the nearby large rocks that bordered the beach, as well as a—
Seamus felt his cloak turn tight around his neck as he yanked back into the trees. He fell onto his ass, snow falling around him. He cursed silently, his eyes opening to search for whoever had pulled him. His voice died in his throat when he saw the grinning mask of the ex-chaos follower, a single gloved finger held to his wide smile.
“No loud noises,” Miles softly spoke, his head slowly nodding to the beach ahead. Seamus slowly turned to where the mercenary was gesturing, his eyes widening as he spotted the familiar shapes of lumbering orcs through the branches. Seamus almost smacked his forehead in shame. How could he have missed those oafs roaming around?
“Why are they here?” Seamus whispered quietly, moving to peer through the branches much more clearly. He could see that there were eight of them, all of them with decent armor if it could be called that. It looked more like pieces of iron and wood bound together with leather straps and good hopes. Seamus could even spot some other creatures, smaller than the orcs who paraded around the beach.
‘Goblins.’
Seamus recognized their lanky bodies under their custom-made armor that hid their recognizable heads and faces.
“Someone must’ve talked,” Lowe muttered in realization. Seamus looked back at the gnome, noticing how pale the man had gotten. He was about to ask if Lowe needed some water for his nerves but noticed how Lilith, the berserker woman, approached the trees. Her eyes glinted with a bloodthirst that Seamus quickly recognized. He quickly held out his hands, forming the signs necessary to stop her.
‘No No No. Please do not fight.’
Seamus did his best to discourage Lilith, hoping to all the gods that she would hold back her bloodthirst for once. While she seemed a capable fighter, Seamus couldn’t ignore that they probably wouldn’t survive another encounter with the well-armed orcs. The clearing attack only worked for the crazed woman because it had caused chaos among the captured men and the orcs, making it a confusing and chaotic battle. Thankfully for Seamus, Lilith understood his gestures, her eyes losing their dangerous glint.
“Good,” Seamus sighed a breath of relief. “Can we still get to the vault before the orcs do?” he asked, turning to the gnome beside him.
“Yes, of course.” Lowe shivered, his eyes squinting through the foliage. “It seems like these idiots only know the area, not the means of entering it.”
‘Good. Then we can still get to the vault.’
Seamus watched as the orcs kicked dirt and gravel around, moving huge rocks around as they searched the beach and treeline. Thankfully for Seamus and his group, the orcs were a suitable distance away from their hiding spot.
“Where is the vault?” Miles spoke, his gloved hand pulling down a branch.
“In one of the dirt cliffs… There’s a hidden entrance,” Lowe answered, his small hand running through his gray beard. “We should be able to reach it without those brutes seeing us.” The gnome gestured towards their left, away from the direction of the orcs.
Seamus took a breath of the frosty air before finally sighing.
“Alright then. Let’s not waste any more time.”
----------------------------------------
James cursed under his breath as he dropped behind a stump, hoping to any god who listened that he wouldn’t be spotted. He heard the large footsteps of orcs walking in the distance, accompanied by the rattling of chainmail and loose pieces of armor. James could hear them grunt at each other, talking about something related to food.
“How much longer till we can eat the rest of those, uh… prisoners?”
“Not sure. Maybe soon? Blood-Irk did let us have some early. Some of them made for some tasty stew in the camps.”
“Don’t like stew. Maybe he let us eat those new prisoners?”
“That elf and human? Mmm, maybe. I would like to roast them up on a spit.”
Their conversation slowly grew distant, and before long, they left. Leaving James with a queasy stomach and an urge to gag.
“We should hurry,” James muttered, looking over at the nearby cluster of tall grass.
“Then let us be on our way,” Bjorn’s voice spoke out, the dwarf emerging just a second later. Both men continued their trek, sneaking behind the tents that were at the edge of the orc’s encampment. They were growing near the port where the prisoner’s tents were supposedly at.
James could swear he could hear screams in the distance, in the direction of the smaller camps the orc had previously mentioned. Still, Bjorn had dismissed those worries, explaining that it was simply a trick on his ears.
‘I really hope it is…’
James frowned as he peered out from under a scarred vern tree. He could see the port from a short distance, the orc’s longships floating passively through the waters. James surveyed the area some more, his eyes spotting a large tent. He squinted at the two orcs nearby, recognizing one of them as one of the pair escorting Edmund and Archibald. He then noticed two small armored creatures by the orcs, their helmets shaped like a bird’s skull.
“Goblins,” James muttered, watching the two small creatures poke at each other with their spears, laughing about something. “Is that the tent?” James asked in a low voice, looking back to see Bjorn catch up to him. The dwarf peeked from the same spot as James, his eyes narrowing.
“Yeah, that’s where those brutes took the kid and that elf. Uh… Edward and Arcibland, right?” Bjorn asked.
“Edmund and Archibald,” James corrected, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at Bjorn.
“Eh, same thing.” The dwarf shrugged, his hand moving to grab his ax. “So, how are we going to take them out?” James muttered, looking back at the two orcs and goblins, who seemed to be the only things standing between the prisoners and the two men.
“I got this,” Bjorn simply said, rotating an arm as he stepped up. “Just hide nearby and—” Before the dwarf could finish, a loud explosion sounded out from north of the encampment, causing the ground to vibrate a little.
James turned to the source of the loud boom, his eyes focusing on the rising pile of black smoke, its darkness making it stand out in the orange-tinted sky.
“Oh right,” Bjorn muttered. James turned to see both orcs and goblins run off in a panic, shouting out to their brethren as they hurried off, more orcs joining up with them as they ran.
“Haggard,” James added with a grin.
‘Caelus’ balls… Do you think Haggard survived that?’ Faust asked, his voice sounding genuinely worried.
‘He’ll be fine,’ James assured the spirit.
“That crazy bastard,” Bjorn chuckled. “Alright, let’s get on to freeing our boys, eh? We don’t have long.”
“Agreed.”
Both the young man and dwarf mercenary made their move, hurrying to the tent ahead.
Once James entered through the flaps of canvas, the smell hit him. The inside of the tent stank of a disgusting stench, which stunned the young man for a solid couple of seconds. The interior was unmistakably foul, unbearably humid, and, unfortunately for James, too dim for him to see the orc currently swinging a rusted ax.
James felt someone shove him to the ground, just in time for him to watch as the axe-head missed the spot his head occupied a second earlier.
“What the fuck?!” James cursed instinctually, his eyes widening as he reached for his sword. He watched as Bjorn blocked a second swing from the orc guard, his shield sparking as the rusted ax made contact.
The orc roared, moving to take another swing. “Tear you to shreds, I will! Dwarf stew I’ll make of you!” The brute shouted, his swing coming down a second later. Bjorn dodged it, his demeanor calm and his face maintaining its composure as the orc’s ax struck the compacted ground. Bjorn prepared his counterattack immediately after, his ax swing aimed at the orc’s exposed head, which had lowered during his initial swing at Bjorn.
“Power Strike,” the dwarf chanted out, his ax’s edge gaining a red hue as the rest of his body radiated with heat like a furnace. The ax tore through the orc’s skull like a melon, splitting it open as oily blood splattered over the once clean ax and the dwarf who held it.
James watched as the orc instantly slumped over before his body fell to the side. The young man had barely gotten his sword out, his eyes fixated on the scene that had played out in front of him. Bjorn sighed, holstering his ax as he stepped away from the growing pool of dirt-infused blood.
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“Would’ve liked to entertain him for longer, maybe save my castings, but we’re on a tight schedule,” the dwarf grumbled.
“Got it,” James mumbled, staring at the grizzly scene.
“Who are you, people?” A soft-spoken but deep voice rang out in the dim light of the tent, catching James and Bjorn’s attention.
James turned to the source, frowning as he forced his eyes to squint through the weak light that shone through the tatters of the tent. There was an assortment of cages, all varying in material and size. James’ eyes widened as he saw the blood that stained the bars and ground, some of it seeming newer than most. There seemed to be people in the cages, most of them either asleep or passed out. Well, until one saw James and Bjorn.
“Hey… Hey!” one prisoner shouted, a blond man with a recent scar over his face.
“People! Oh, gods help us!” another shouted, this one a gnome with a makeshift eyepatch. This started a chain reaction within the prisoners, leading to them shouting out to James and Bjorn.
“Alright, alright! Calm down!” Bjorn stepped up, raising his hands as he spoke out in a loud and bolstering voice. “We’ll get you all out. Just calm down and keep a low voice. We don’t know when those orcs will return, and we want to finish this quickly and orderly.” The dwarf turned to James, gesturing towards the cages. “You get the ones on the left. I’ll free the ones on the right.”
James nodded at that, moving to the cages on the left side of the tent. Using his short sword, he broke the weak locks on the cages. Each prisoner he freed thanked James with tight hugs and multiple ‘thank yous,’ the former piling up more than what the young man was comfortable with. Still, none of the prisoners he freed were the source of the deep voice. Nor were any of them Archibald or Edmund. In the end, Bjorn and James freed about seven prisoners, a mixture of mostly humans, with a couple of gnomes and one dwarf.
“Where the hell are Archibald and Edmund?” James asked, looking around the dimly lit tent.
“This isn’t right,” Bjorn muttered, his eyes squinting through the faint light.
“I can tell you where your friends are.” The deep voice rang out again, catching James and Bjorn's attention. “The elf and that other human, yes?”
James turned to where the voice was coming from, his eyes squinting as he peered through the darkness, which hid the source in the back of the tent’s interior. He located the source, focusing on a dark metal cage in the back of the tent. James slowly stepped to it before feeling a hand on his arm.
It was the scarred man from earlier, his eyes full of fear as he shook his head. “Don’t go there, you don’t want any business with that monster!” He warned.
“Quite a rude thing to say, is it not?” The deep voice then asked, followed by a chuckle. “I won’t bite if you’re worried about that.”
James gently pulled his arm away from the man, holding up his sword to show the man he wasn’t unarmed.
“I’ll be fine,” he assured him before moving his focus back to the back of the tent. James approached the cage, doing his best to peer into its darkness. “Where are they?”
“You will have to release me if you want to find out,” the voice replied.
“What makes you think I won’t?” James entertained.
“Simple. You asked about your friends before making any attempts to free me.”
“Can you at least tell me why that man called you a monster?”
“Ah, stereotypes, I’m afraid. I can assure you, though, that I am nothing like he assumes me to be.” The voice sounded smooth and handsome. It was almost like it was coming from a charismatic adventurer. It creeped James out even more.
“Why would he assume you to be a monster?” He asked.
“I suppose it would be best if you saw for yourself,” the mysterious person sighed. “Take that sharp sword of yours and cut this disgusting tent. Let in some light and fresh air so you can see.”
James took the strange prisoner’s advice, using his sword to slash open the nearby fabric. The setting sun’s light poured into the humid tent, a chilly breeze rushing in to replace the disgusting air. James raised an eyebrow as he looked back at the lit cage, his eyes focusing on the hulking figure in it.
“You’re an orc,” James muttered, unsure what he expected. This orc looked different from his brethren. His dark green skin bordered on pitch black, while his head wasn’t as misshapen as the others. Even his underbite was less noticeable as well.
“I am,” the orc stated, his eyes looking up at James with amusement.
“Why would your own kind lock you up?” James questioned, his eyes wandering to the steel lock that held the orc’s cage.
The orc shrugged, sighing as he mocked a frown.
“Politics. I disagreed with them, and they disagreed with me.”
“How so?” James prodded.
“Blood-Irk, the brute who runs this camp, wants to raid and pillage southern Valenfrost purely out of want and greed. I, his former advisor, had suggested we do the opposite. I wanted our tribe to establish trade with merchants and form a symbiotic relationship with your kind. Unfortunately, as you can see from outside this tent, Blood-Irk had… different views about humans.” The orc gestured to the rest of the tent.
“So he imprisoned you for wanting to be peaceful?” James prodded.
“Well, he wanted to exile me, but...” the orc sighed, following it up with a dry chuckle, “Exile wasn’t ideal for me. To make a long tale short, I failed in my initial incursion against that brute, got most of my own followers killed, and now my surviving companions and I are up for tonight’s feast. The same goes for your friends and whatever humans are with them.” The orc looked up at James. “So, young human, are you still willing to free me?”
“Hmm.” James closed his eyes, rubbing his chin as he focused on his thoughts.
‘He’s a filthy orc. Trusting him is a mistake,’ Faust’s voice rang out, letting James know of his current opinion on the matter.
‘He knows where the two mercenaries are. As for trusting him, he really has no choice but to help us,’ James mentioned.
‘What do you mean?’ Faust inquired, a curious tone in his ethereal voice.
‘He has nowhere to go. The orcs in this camp already want to have him killed and eaten, and I doubt there are any other humans here who will truly trust him. Especially after what Blood-Irk has done to them,’ James pointed out.
‘What if he steals a longship and gets the hell away from here?’ Faust argued.
‘Do you really think anyone in Valenfrost would help an orc?’ James countered. ‘Judging from their reputation, I doubt he has many options besides freezing to death. He also seems reasonable enough to make a deal with.’
The Centurion was quiet for a moment.
‘Are you really going to trust him?’ Faust muttered after a few seconds.
‘I will… at least for the time being. We can deal with the long term after this is all done.’
Without waiting for the spirit’s approval, James opened his eyes. He could see how the orc stared at him with a confused look.
“I’ll free you,” James voiced, leaning closer to the cage, his hand extending to the orc before him. “But you must swear to help me and my friends after I free you, got it? No running away, no unnecessary killing, and certainly no eating any and all humanoids.” James narrowed his eyes, staring into the orc’s green orbs. He watched as the prisoner pondered the words a bit.
“Do we have a deal?” James asked.
“Would I be able to take my own companions along with me? I can promise they won’t trouble you or your friends. I’ll even have them follow the same terms you offer me,” the orc proposed.
“Of course, just as long as I can trust you and your companions not to be as barbaric as your other brethren,” James said. The orc grinned at James’ response, his open hand reaching out of the metal bars.
“Then we have a deal,” he agreed, enough for James to shake his hand. “I never really liked human flesh. I’d rather prefer the taste of fish and greens.” The orc’s words sent a chill down James’ spine, but the young man shook it away.
“Can I ask for your name?” James asked, watching as the orc raised an eyebrow.
“I am Silas. I’m not one to use a last name.”
“Alright then, Silas, I’m going to need you to scoot away from the lock. Don’t want to stab you while I try to break it.” James stood back up, his sword aimed at the cage's lock. Before he could attempt to break it, however, a hand tapped his side for his attention. James turned to see Bjorn right at his side, his head shaking.
‘Ah… I forgot about him.’
James cringed a bit as he realized the dwarf hadn’t had the chance to give his say on the matter.
“You’re going to chip your blade like that. I can take care of this,” Bjorn waved James off, stepping up to the cage with his shield still equipped. With little warning, Bjorn smashed the edge of his steel shield into the lock, almost as if punching the stubborn piece of steel. The lock finally gave in after a few more good bashes, dropping to the dirt. The cage slowly creaked open, with Bjorn stepping back as the orc emerged from the tight space.
“This is much better. You do not know how cramped it was in that fucking cage.” Silas groaned as he stood up, his arms stretched above his head as he straightened himself out. Silas wasn’t much taller than the other orcs but was still twenty centimeters taller than James. He also wore dirty, baggy clothes that stunk of mildew and death. James had to resist the urge to pinch his nose in disgust. Silas swept a large hand through his long black hair, which was messy to the point where it resembled coarse fur.
“So, my young friend, would you mind telling me you and your short companion’s name?”
“My name is James, this here is–”
“Bjorn,” the dwarf grumbled, crossing his arms as he turned around. “Now that we’re done with introductions, we should start on our way to Arcibland and Edwards.”
“It’s actually Archibald and–”
“I don’t give a shit. We’re running out of time, and I really don’t think running through the forest at night time is going to go very well for any of us,” Bjorn stated, his hand already reaching for his ax.
“Or we can take the longship in the port,” Silas said. Bjorn stopped in his tracks before suddenly turning to James and Silas, his gaze focused on the orc.
“The hell are you suggesting?” The dwarf asked.
Silas stepped up, his hands behind his back as he raised his chin nobly.
“Your friends and my companions are held in one of the longboats. They, along with more humans, will be butchered and eaten tonight. We can save them all, but it will more than likely alert every orc in this camp, no matter how subtly we try to take it. I suggest we take the longship, take ‘care’ of any orcs in the way, and sail off.”
James looked at the orc in surprise, unsure if Silas was related to the brutes he had seen that day.
‘His mannerisms and way of speaking are odd. Not only that, he seems to actually have a sensible plan.’
The young man turned to look at Bjorn, who seemed to rub at his beard in thought.
“That’s not a bad idea. Do you know how to work a ship?” Bjorn asked.
“With my companions, I could,” Silas answered.
“What about Haggard?” James pointed out to Bjorn, remembering that the man was still in the encampment.
“Am I right to assume that this Haggard was the one who had caused that explosion earlier?” Silas asked, raising an eyebrow at James.
“Yeah...”
“If that explosion was caused by what I think it is, he will be fine. Eh… that is if the orcs focus their attention on the fire.”
“Fire?” Bjorn asked, stepping up to the orc.
“I can explain later. For now, we must focus on the longship holding our imprisoned companions.” Silas stepped up the slash James made in the tent’s fabric, holding up a loose piece to showcase the outside world.
Once his eyes adjusted through the light, James could see the port nearby, where crude-looking longships docked neatly together.
“Do you see that ship? The one painted all black with no crap nailed onto it?” Silas pointed out. James focused on the ship the orc was gesturing towards, seeing that there were still a couple of orcs aboard the vessel. “That’s the ship your friends are on. I suggest we move in as quickly as possible. Quietly or loud. Whatever you think is best.”
Silas turned to James, who was still pondering his options. Before James could make a choice, however, his ears picked up the sound of distant yells and screams, which were clearly human.
James could feel his hand tighten into a fist, his teeth gritting as he turned to Silas.
“Can you fight?” The young man asked, hoping the orc could put his bolstering muscles to work. Silas grinned at that.
“I can. In fact...” Silas turned to the tent's entrance, where the dead orc guard lay. “I guess I can use his gear for now.”
“Good, because we’re going to go in fast and rough,” James stated, his feet moving to turn him to Bjorn. “Any objections?” he asked. The mercenary smiled at James’ words, but his features soon faltered.
“As much as I want to bash in skulls, we have the other prisoners to look out for.” Bjorn gestured to the freed prisoners, who were still grouped up.
“Don’t worry about us,” the scarred man from earlier spoke up, stepping forward with the remaining humans. “We want in on this fight.” James could see how the other two humans, a woman, and another man, stepped up to the scarred man’s side.
“I want in as well!” The single other dwarf spoke out, his face in rough shape. “Those bastards need to pay for what they’ve done!”
“Same with us!” one gnome spoke out. “I’m ready to pay any price, so long as I help take those bastards down!” The prisoners then all declared their opinions, their voices overlapping one another as they spoke about their readiness to fight.
James raised both hands to quiet them all down. It worked, as their voices died down once James had stepped up. Once they were quiet, he surveyed them all, noting their determined faces and clenched fists. He also noticed their ragged clothing, most of it covered in dirt and dried blood. He sighed, his gaze moving to meet that of Silas.
“Silas, is it possible to get our hands on some weapons? Maybe an armory?”
The orc grinned at James’ question, his eyes moving to the tent's entrance again.
“Luckily for you, young James, there is a tent nearby that can help with that.”