Epic Fantasy Contest - Rough Draft

“Why do you read that trash?”

He lifted his hawk-like nose up from the leather skinned scroll covered with crude markings he had retrieved off the body of the orc he had slain earlier that day to regard the soldier across the fire.

“It helps me speak their language better. And it helps me understand them better.”

“What’s to understand about an orc? They’re big, dumb, and smell bad. That’s about all there is to know.” Laughter broke out around the campfire.

Another soldier chimed and said” Yeah, but the sarge here don’t mind the smell. Specially when he’s rollin in the hay with them orc women.

“Yeah sarge. Tell us what it like. Is it true what they say about those orc females? You know, that they…”

That’s enough of that kind of talk came a voice from the darkness beyond the fire. We’ve a treaty with the orcs . They are to be respected just like any other ally. A tall man wearing the silvered breastplate of a battalion commander stepped into the light of the campfire. The lounging soldiers immediately stood and came to attention.

Which one of you is sergeant ZZZ ?

The hawknosed man answered. “That would be me sir.”

The battalion commander stared at the sergeant for a moment. “Is it true what they say about you? That you were raised by orcs.?”

“Partially true sir”

“Very well then. Report to the commanders tent. We've an assignment for you. Oh, and sergeant?

Sir?

“Pack your gear. You’ve a long journey ahead of you.”



The Sgt. Entered the commanders tent and came to attention before an ornate gilded field desk behind which the southern armies commander examined a letter in the bright candlelight given off from the scented beeswax candles strategically placed about the tent in golden holders.

The commander glanced at the battalion commander standing beside the desk with his arms folded. Him “Is this him?”

The battalion commander nodded.

“I’m told you speak the orc language fluently. In fact, I’m told that you’re pretty much an orc that looks like a human. What do you say about that?”

The sergeants face flushed with blood. “There’s some truth to that Sir. I do speak the language of the northern orcs fluently. But you have to remember that there are many dialects. I have a great deal of trouble talking with the orcs that were driven out of the east by the dark elves. And you also must remember that…”

“Well, from the contents of this letter, you only have to deal with the orcs from the North.” The commander threw the letter on the desk. “I have no love of orcs Sgt. If I had my way, we’d march on the North and wipe them out and be done with It is. But I also have my orders.”

“Here’s the situation. There’s trouble in the North, and Central command wants me to send them anybody who can speak the orc language. Of the twenty thousand men in the southern army, that means you.”

“What sort of trouble Sir? it’s been 40 years since the treaty was established.”

“The letter talks about orcs burning homesteads on the nortern frontier and a new orc leader come to power.

A look of sadness crossed the sergeants face. A new orc leader. Then Glendrag must be dead. Does the letter say who the new leader is?

The general glanced at the document. Some young buck named Rannon. Heard of him?

The seargeants hand went to his side as if a fingering an old and forgotten wound. Rannon. He looked to the floor.


“I asked if you’ve heard of him Sgt.”

“Yes. I know him.”

The tent was silent. The generals eyes remained expectant.

“The Sgt.cleared his throat. In human terms you might say that he was my cousin. Although the relationship is … more complex than that.”

“The general’s face hardened. Well then, I hope you are prepared to bury him. He is soon to be one dead orc.” The general scribbled some notes on the bottom of the letter. “Take this to the capital.” Him

~





Hero waited while the relay attendant removed his saddle and mounted it on a fresh horse.

“Where you headin?” asked the attendant.

“The Capital. Coming out of the South Army Grounds.”


“You’re not a messanger I’ve seen before. New on the job?”



“Not a messenger. Just a traveler.”

The attendant’s eyes widened. “Really. They must want you in the capital pretty bad. I ain’t never seen anyone less than a captian him use the relay system for pure transportation.”

The hero mounted the fresh horse. “Yeah, I guess they want me pretty bad. How far to the next station?”

“About three leagues. Slow your horse down a bit when you get the Creek. they get skittish crossing the soft bottom.”

The hero nodded his thanks and spurred the new horse forward.

As he rode his mind drifted. What a disaster he thought. Glendrag dead and Rannon in his place.

Rannon. Volatile Rannon.

He fingered the scar on his left side. If but for Rannonyou would he have ever left the North? Left Glendrag?

He smiled sadly.

Poor old Glendrag. Though he had had 50 orc wives and slew them all for being barren, still none had given him an heir. In the end, old Glendrag only had his adopted human child to call heir.

Was it his fault the northern orcs now had Rannon as leader?

No heir to Glendrag or not, the orcs would never have accepted him as leader. And he would always have been in battle as orc after orc challenged him for leadership of the tribes. Rannon especially would not have tolerated a human as leader of orcs.

He laughed bitterly. It might be different if he faced Rannon in battle now though. If there was one thing he had learned in the king’s army, it was how to slay orcs. Sad to say he had a natural talent for. A natural talent for killing a people he once called his own.

He pushed his way through the merchants and travelers waiting before the city’s main gate, ignoring the angry gestures from the crowd. Presenting his orders to the guards at the gate he asked, “Which way to Central command?”

A burly guard eyeballed his uniform, dirty and torn from the brutal two-day ride, before pointing down a broad Central Avenue stretching the length of the city. “The large golden domed building at the end of Main Street.”

He nodded and rode through the crowded street, the only one on horseback, ignoring the cramps and aches of his legs, and noting signs of war preparations about the capital. Soldiers marched with keenness in their step, pages hurried to and fro with messages, and the acrid smoke of burning charcoal from blacksmith forges drifted through the air.

At the golden domed building, housing the military elite of the kingdom, he again presented his orders and was ushered into an opulent room filled with men arguing.

“I tell you again majesty, we should order our northern forces to strike before the orcs gain momentum.”

“ Majesty, I council against this course of action.”



Where is the spear of RRR housed?

The clerk pointed towards the hallway leading so. There in the hall of relics. But we close in 5 min Sir.

XXX nodded and proceeded south. 5 min. Is all I need.


He passed under the rocky bones of a wingless dragon, past the armor of the first King of kingdom, until he stood before a wood and glass case holding a red shafted handle tipped with enormous iron spearhead..


Hello old friend. Do you remember me? I was very little when we last saw each other.


XXX drew his sword from the scabbard and decided and crashed the pommel into the glass case. Shattered glass glittered from the museum floor and from behind him came the squeaky voice of a frightened clerk. What you doing?.. You can’t take that.

XXX with drew the Kings medallion from under his mailed shirt. The kingdom has needed this more than you.

In the far-off distance a jagged mountain chain rose above a flat plain yellow with the promise of a rich harvest of grain to feed the hungry mouths of the populated South.

I frown crossed the soldiers face.. How much grain did the North produce? The crops would be the first to burn if war broke out.

The soft sound of silk robes rustling broke into his thoughts. Anything you recognize Sgt.?

He pointed to the largest mountain towards the end of the chain. The one of the double peak. That’s Mount Blank. I know every outcrop, every crevice.. It was my boyhood home..

The two horsemen directed their mounts along the Main Street of the frontier town towards the fort around which the town had grown.

Soon they found themselves in the captain’s office before a gaunt and haggard man slouching behind an ornate desk oddly out of place in the rustic surroundings.

As the captain read the orders the scholar had passed him his face flushed red and his voice became angry.

“They must be mad. The country is on the verge of war and what does the capital choose to send me? An army? A militia? No. A scholar and a lone Sargeant, and an orc lover at that. Yes I know you are Sgt. You haven’t been gone from these parts so long that your memory has faded.”

The sergeants face remained impassive. But from under his mail shirt, he removed the Kings medallion and placed it in his open palm under the gaunt man’s nose. “Recognize it?”

The reddish hue drained from the captain’s face and he whispered “The Kings medallion. In the hands of a mere Sgt.” He buried his face in his hands. “What is to become of us?”

“I asked if you recognize this captain?”

“Yes, I recognize it. What would you have of me?” A tear fell from the corner of his eye. “Sir.”

“You can start by telling us the details of what happened and how you have managed to set the North lands into an uproar.”

The captain raised his hands, sighed, and began.

“It happened a fortnight ago. We saw a red glow in the North just after dusk and I sent a troop out to investigate. When they arrived at old man Tupper’s ranch they found the place in flames and saw orcs riding off towards the North. They gave chase but lost them in the darkness. They pulled this from old man Tupper’s body.” The captain reached into a drawer in the ornate desk and brought out an orc arrow.

The scholar examined the arrow. “Yes. Yes. Definitely orc. And see the markings here. He pointed to the bands painted just below the feathers of the shaft. Definitely the northern tribes. Odd though that they should start raiding after all these years. Any theories captain?” The scholar passed the arrow to the Sgt.

“Theories? What’s to theorize about an orc?”

Really captian. Even a simple soldier such as yourself must realize that that every action has a cause.You see, orcs are like an animal. Poke an animal and it bites. Somehow you have managed to poke these orcs. Now, if we can fiqure out how…


The sergeant examined the arrow as the two continued to talk. True, it had the proper markings of the northern tribes, but something about it did not seem right. His face became puzzled.

The scholar’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Something troubling you Sgt.?”


“The arrow. Something about it isn’t right. It looks like an orc arrow, but it doesn’t feel like an orc arrow, if you know what I mean.”

“I’ve seen many orc weapons seargeant. I have a collection you know. I can assure you it is genuine.”

“It’s too finely made. I’ve never known an orc craftsman to spend so much time on a single arrow. The head is wrong. It’s in the style of the orcs, but it’s too well finished. It’s too finely sharpened.”

“And what makes you so knowledgeable about orc arrows Sgt. came a newcomers voice. A musical feminine voice. He looked up from the arrow towards the owner of the sweet voice standing in the door frame of the captain’s office. An elf magess. Breathtakingly beautiful.

Long silver hair framed a black face lit up by the fire of two red eyes. The black robes of an elven ambassador announced her office as the long slender staff in her hands announced her profession.

The sergeant held his breath for a moment. Had he ever seen a woman as beautiful? No, not even the maids standing outside the pleasure palaces of the capital looked as such a one as this.

“Gentlemen”, said the captain.”May I introduce Lady Aston, the representative of the dark elves here in Trademeet. Lady, this is scholar and Sgt. Newly arrived from the capital.”

“And investigating our troubles I take it.” Her musical voice echoed its silvery notes off the wooden beams of the captain’s office.

“Indeed,” said the scholar bowing low before the magess.

“Then we are well met. For that is what brings me here to the captain’s office as well.” She regarded the captain quizzically. “So. What have you decided? Will you act or not?”

The captain splayed his hands as if trying to fend off a blow.”Nothing has changed lady. I will not march against the orcs without orders from the capital.”

“You are too timid captain. As I told you at our last meeting, if you do not act the dark elves will. The passage to the northern seas cannot remain closed. March against the orcs and I can promise you 10,000 Elven swords within the week if you but decide to act.”

A cunning look crossed the captain’s face.”Well, actually, the decision is no longer mine to make lady.”

“How so? Are you not the commander of the King’s forces in the north?”

“Yes, and no.” He pointed to the Sgt. “So long as he bears the King’s medallion I am bound to obey his commands.”

The magess looked at the Sgt. And the solid red of her eyes seemed to glow brighter for moment. “Do you mean that a mere seargeant could declare war on the orc nation.”

“So long as he holds the King’s medallion. Yes.”

The sergeant rolled the arrow he was holding between his thumb and forefinger. “I do not think his Majesty meant for the medallion to be used in that fashion, but rather to aid in our mission.”

“And what mission is that Sgt.?” Her words seemed like the tones of a bell and he wondered for a moment if there was some sorcery behind it

“We’re going to talk to the new leader of the orcs to determine why they started raiding again after so many years of peace.”

“Hmm, would you mind if I accompanied you? The dark elves have a keen interest in seeing this matter resolved.”

The sergeant inclined his head towards the scholar. “It’s his decision. He is the one in charge of this mission.”

The scholar bowed low. “My lady. It would be our pleasure to have you along, though we cannot of course guarantee your safety.”

The seargeant looked at the scholar as if looking at a simpleton. Under his breath he said, I doubt very much that lady needs any guarantee.





The group approached the pass cautiously, scholar riding at the head of the column. The scholar lifted his hand to stop the column when the group was within shouting distance of the orcs guarding a makeshift barricade thrown across the pass.

As the scholar began to talk in the orc language a frown grew on the sargents face.

“What’s wrong?” asked the magess.

“For a man who has spent his life studying orcs, he speaks poorly. His accent is very strong, and some of his words don’t really make sense.”

The magess seemed to study the puzzled orcs, now beginning to finger their weapons and argue amongst themselves. She changed her grip on her staff, as a soldier might adjust his equipment before battle. “I think you had better take charge of this sargent.”

“Yes, I think your right.”

He walked to the wagon at the rear of the column and drew a long slender bundle from the wagon’s bed. He shook the burlap wrappings from the spear, mounted his horse, and with the weapon held upright galloped towards the pass.

As the orcs saw him approach they ceased their arguing, their eyes rivited almost hypnotically to the giant iron spearhead, weaving silver arcs through the air as it fell and rose to the rthym of the galloping horse.

He reigned in the horse between the orcs and the scholar.

“What are you doing?” asked the scholar.

“Saving your life.”

In the orc language he asked, “Who here knows this spear. Who here knows me?”

An old orc came out from behind the barricade blocking the pass. He put his gnarled hand on the shaft of the spear and reverently bent his head. “I know this spear.


———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

The scholar bowed low before the giant orc and began. “Oh great and mighty Rannon, we come in peace.”

“Silence dog.” The great orc leveled his eyes on hero, then let his gaze drift to the long weapon the sergensarted rading t held upright. “So, you have returned little cousin.”

Hero nodded, returning the fierce gaze of the orc cheiftan with eyes as calm as the glassy inland sea of Ratock. “Yes cousin.” His eyes swept the camp, taking in the assembled warriors, heavily armed and painted for war. “Why have you raided the little peoples homes. Surely you knew it would bring their wrath upon our people.”

“Our people.” The great orc laughed, a hideous stacato barking that seemed to echo about the mountianside. “Puny human. You were never one of our people. But for Glandregs protection I would have slain you long ago.”

“Put aside your hatred of me Rannon. Talk with these people and renew the treaty. I’ve been to the south Rannon. Iève seen the armies of the humans. They will destroy you. Glendrang knew this. He suffered them to take his spear and cross our lands to the Northern sea. Follow his example or be destroyed.



Rannon lay dead on the ground, a pool of green blood growing outwards from the river of blood flowing freely from his chest.

Hero looked down at the prostate form as the surrounding orcs began to thump the butts of their long war Spears rhythmically against the rocky ground and cheer.

Hero. Hero. Hero. The words pounded in his brain as he sucked in great lungfulls of air and his eyes took in the cheering orcs and astonished humans.

His eyes went to the beautiful elf magess and suddenly the world was silent. Frozen. As if time itself had stopped.

She stepped from the motionless crowd as if stepping from a painting hanging on some artists easel and walked towards him.

“What’s happening? Is this your doing?”

“Of course. She smiled. It’s a simple spell really. I can teach you perhaps. Would you like that?”

“I’m no mage. Why have you done this?”

No, of course not. And to answer your second question. We need to talk.”

He remained silent.

I’ve watched you closely throughout this affair. You handle yourself almost like an elf. She approached close and let her long slender fingers brush his cheeks. “Perhaps you have some Elven blood in you from some far-off ancestor.”

His pulse quickened and he felt the attraction from earlier grow stronger. Almost irresistible. More sorcery? No. He would know if his will was being manipulated.

As if reading his mind she said, “No, it is not sorcery what you feel. Your heart is responding to what your subconscious already knows.”

Puzzlement reigned on his face.

“You long to belong hero. To find your place in the world. Deep within, that’s all you’ve ever wanted. You couldn’t find it with the orcs, you were always human. With the humans you were always the orc lover. But come with me. Join us and you will be welcomed with open arms. Take your orc army and attack the new kingdom from the North. The elves will attack from the East and together we will annihilate this upstart race. Join with me.

Her arms were about his neck and he could smell the sweet scent of mountain flowers from her silver hair. Well? She was right. This is what he always wanted.

“If I’m not to your satisfaction, another more pleasing can be found. Perhaps you heard of the prowess of an elven lover?”

For a moment he was tempted. Did she not speak the truth? And she was pleasing to the eye. Perhaps…

“Was it you then who burned the homesteads?”

Of course. It was an easy thing to weave a spell to disguise my warriors as orcs and leave false evidence behind to blame the orcs. Though you were clever enough to see through the ruse of course.”

“And if I had not seen through the ruse?”

“War of course. The orcs and humans would have ground against each other as millstones grinding wheat. And when both were sufficiently weakened the dark elves would have marched and the Eastern kingdoms would have been subjugated.”

“And now? With me in control of the orc tribes”

She smiled. The same. Though the task will be even easier now. The war was always in doubt before. The cursed humans have an unnatural talent for being unpredictable.

“Well? What is your answer? Life with me or would you rather grovel in the dirt with your orcs? What is your answer?”

He looked at the frozen faces of the orcs until his gaze rested on one old orc. Barely able to stand, useless in battle, he held onto his war spear with both hands using it as a cane. Scarred from many battles, diseased now from age, still he stood, his eyes aglow. Perhaps for the first time in a score of years..


Suddenly hero moved and the great war spear of Glendang was through the chest of the elf magess. The frozen tableau moved again and the hero held up his hands for silence among the astonished crowd.

The elf mage doubled over and fell to the ground beside the still form of Rannon. As the light faded from her eyes she riveted her glare on hero and said “you could’ve had it all. Now you’ll never belong anywhere, to anyone.

“Hero shrugged his shoulders. Perhaps. But at least always belong to myself.”