Chapter 7: Revenge

         Unaware of the danger facing his friends, Grom traveled a long stretch of cobblestone road. He left the castle early in the morning and pressed on until the sun rose and took its place high in the sky. Silence reigned over his trek, leaving him to the whispering thoughts in the back of his mind. Few travelers passed him on the deserted road, save for a horse-drawn cart carrying wooden crates marked with red and black lettering. The rider gave Grom a strange look when he rode past, but Grom failed to notice. His mind remained focused on hunting down the orcs that had murdered Anne’s father.

         When the sun began to make its evening descent across the sky, Grom deviated from the road and cut across a stretch of plains. The sun fell behind him and cast his shadow upon the ground, forming a dark path to follow. The flat lands soon gave way to hills and a dense population of trees. He traversed through the area, keeping his eyes and ears open for anything; however, he soon realized the ground stood undisturbed of any visible tracks or signs of travel.

         “Damnit!” Grom shouted, dropping to his knees out of frustration and exhaustion, “I knew I should have brought Prescott along. I’m terrible at tracking.”

         Grom freed the axe from his back and used it to hoist himself back to his feet. He forced himself onward a short distance until he discovered an old tree stump, its top covered with several nicks and deep cuts. He looked up at the sky and realized that night was ready to take its reign of the sky. Propping his axe up against the stump, he wandered off with hopes of gathering some wood. Finding firewood in an area hidden by nothing but tall trees proved easy enough, and he soon returned with an armload. Grom dropped it all in a pile and brushed the dirt from his hands. He lifted his axe and sorted through the pile until he found a nice fat log to set upon the trunk. Grom raised his axe over his head with both arms and swung it in a wide arc down onto the stump. The axe split the log into two pieces with an audible ka-thunk. Returning his axe against the stump again, Grom ran his palm along the smooth, splinterless edge of the wood.

         A fire crackled by nightfall, its warm glow spreading over Grom, who rested with his back against the tree stump. He finished the last bite of a chunk of bread before sprawling out on the dry, cracked ground. The leaves and branches overhead danced back and forth against the black backdrop of the sky. He fought to drive all thought from his mind, but no matter how hard he tried, dark images emerged. He saw the face of King Gregory as his sword slipped from his grasp and fell silently to the scarlet-colored carpet. He could hear the cries of the townspeople as soldiers brought forth the gleaming white casket in front of nobles and townsfolk alike. He saw Princess Anne.

         “Please do not cry, Anne. It pains me to see you like this,” Grom spoke to her, his words floating weightless in the thickness of the air. She stood with her back to him at the edge of a rocky cliff overlooking a racing river. The sound of the rushing water rose up the cliff to his ears, drowning out the pounding of his heart against his chest. Grom stood several paces behind her, holding out his arms. He went to advance toward her, but a sudden burst of wind arose like a wall, keeping him planted in his tracks.

         “I cannot bear this life any longer. The burden is far too great,” Anne whispered. The sudden gusts carried her somber words to Grom’s ears. As the winds died down, she lowered her head and gazed longingly toward the river and put far below. Strands of her shining blonde hair cascaded in front of her face like a veil.

         “Anne, please listen to me. I will avenge your father’s death,” Grom pleaded. The only thought that raced through his mind was his desire to take away all of her pain. He attempted to hasten to her and hold her, but once again another fierce blast of air kept him in his place. He fought to lift his legs against the barrier, but he lacked the necessary strength.

         He did not know if she could hear his pleas. Either way she remained fixed as if she were a living version of the stone statue in the front hall of Oneria’s Castle. The clouds overhead swirled and converged into a thick gray shroud that seemed to transform the shine of Anne’s hair into an ashen gray. The thundering of the rapids died away, and the river below receded to nothing more than a trickle. In its place a great billowing of heat and light rose from the chasm, and a raging river of flame emerged over the jagged, rocky pit. Although the sheer depth of the chasm stretched forever downward, wild flashes of fire emerged over the cliff’s edge and licked at the ground by Anne’s feet. The emphatic sound of the violent, crackling blaze replaced the once soothing sounds of flowing water.

         “Please step away from there,” Grom again pleaded to her. When he tried to get to Anne again, a new searing wind, fueled by the inferno below, held him at bay and burned his face like a brand. He cried out in pain and panic. “Princess Anne!”

         “Grom,” Anne whispered. She turned to face him, lifting her head. Tears streamed from her eyes and down her beautifully tortured features. She lifted her arms out to each side and tilted her head back. She rocked back on her heels, and her hair blustered and blazed around her like the frenzied chaos below.

         “Anne! No!” Grom yelled to her. Gathering firm his might, he fought against the blistering whirlwind and struggled to grab hold of her. Fingers stretched to touch her arm, but she slipped just out of reach. Anne’s feet teetered backward over the edge, and her hair spiraled like a swirling storm as she plummeted toward the flame.

         “Goodbye.”

         Her body faded, taken hostage by the engulfing flames.

         “We grab anything else?”

         “I no can carry pretty sharp thing.”

         “Quiet! We no want him wake up!”

         Grom’s senses returned, and he realized that the high cliff and river of fire existed only within his own dark nightmares. He opened his eyes just wide enough to see three small figures standing around him. The light from the fire had dwindled to only a few small embers among a pile of ash. One of the three creatures grabbed for Grom’s money pouch attached to his belt. He felt scaled fingers fidget with the string securing it, and he snatched the sneak by the wrist before it could thieve his money.

         “Iee! Let go! Let me go!” the creature squealed and pulled to get away.

         “Gizbin, we run!” one of the other creatures yelled to his companion.

         “What about pretty things?” the other asked, grabbing the last of Grom’s food and stuffing it into a ratty leather sack.

         “Who care? Run!” the creature said and made a mad dash into the dark woods. His companion, Gizbin, lifted up the bag and ran after him.

         “Cowards! You all leave Kravitz to die!” Grom’s captive howled and snarled, continuing to try and free himself with wild jerks. Unable to escape, the beast brought its neck down to bite at Grom’s arm, but the dwarf saw it coming and grabbed the creature by the throat with his free hand. It let out a high-pitched scream and gasped to draw air into its lungs.

         “Tell me why I shouldn’t snap your little neck for trying to take a sleeping dwarf’s possessions,” Grom said.

         “Me . . . sorry,” the creature managed to sputter between nervous twitches and tugs.

         “Sorry?” Grom repeated, loosening his grip a little. Kravitz nodded his head and took a labored breath. Grom leaned closer to the convulsing humanoid. Its face was small and protruded out in a large mouth filled with yellow, jagged teeth. Light green scales covered its entire body, resembling some sort of humanoid lizard.

         “You’re a kobold,” Grom said to the trembling creature. It no longer tried to break free, focusing more on trying to breathe and somehow stay alive. “What’s your name?”

         The kobold pointed to his throat. Grom loosened his hold, and the kobold doubled over, gasping and dry heaving. He looked up at Grom with his beady black eyes and opened his monstrous mouth, “Me Kravitz.”

         “Tell me Kravitz,” Grom began, “Why were you and your friends trying to steal the few things I have?”

         “We scavengers. Our home destroyed by orcs, so now we have nothing left,” Kravitz said.

         “Orcs?” Grom questioned with a persistent glare. The kobold stumbled backward on quivering legs and nearly jumped out of his scales when he fell against a large stone. Grom grasped his shoulders and held the quaking kobold in place. He knelt down and stared the kobold dead in the eyes. “Tell me more. When did this happen?”

         “Our leader Edwin protect us. He use magic to defend home, but he disappear and orcs take everything from us. They say they look for something, but we not have what they want,” Kravitz explained.

         “Did they tell you what they were looking for?” Grom asked.

         “They not say. They only kill,” Kravitz said.

         Grom turned his back to the creature and walked over to retrieve his axe. He stepped back toward Kravitz, who squealed and flattened himself against the rock. Grom grabbed hold of his scaly arm, jerking him to his feet. A menacing grin flashed as he brought his axe close to Kravitz’s horror-stricken face.

         “No kill me! Kravitz tell truth! Kravitz no hurt anyone and no steal no more!” Kravitz sputtered, flailing his free appendages wildly.

         “I’m not going to kill you, but you have to do me a favor in return for my kindness,” Grom said.

         “W-What you want?” Kravitz asked, his body beginning to shake.

         “You are going to lead me to these orcs,” Grom said.

         “No, no, no! We must not go near the orcs!” Kravitz cried.

         “I don’t think you understand,” Grom said, “You don’t have a choice.” He took a step back and secured his axe to the strap across his back. Kravitz looked up at Grom with fearful eyes that watched him gather the remainder of his possessions that survived the kobold’s pilfering. He let out a disgruntled groan and nudged Kravitz with his boot.

         “We have to?” Kravitz asked, pulling his ragged cloak around him.

         Grom nudged him again and again until Kravitz scrambled up and shuffled forward. Grom followed him, leaving behind the final orange flickers of the campfire.

         The cool night air surrounded the two as they traveled. The kobold, turning occasionally to see Grom a few paces from his tail, led the way. The two journeyed about the forest throughout the late hours of the night, neither one speaking a word to the other. As the first signs of morning light grew over the horizon, they arrived at the sudden incline of a steep hill. The combination of the sheer slope and a lack of a full night’s rest wore at Grom, who struggled to find proper footing along their ascension. He dug the handle of his axe into the ground with each step and used it as a makeshift walking stick. Kravitz, on the other hand, leapt and darted up the hill toward the top with little difficulty. Grom pulled together what strength remained in his weak and sore limbs and forced his way to the crest of the hill. He let out a heavy sigh of relief and returned his axe across his back once more. Surveying the stretch of land, he saw only trees amongst the landscape; Kravitz was no where to be found.

         “Damnit! The little bastard got away,” Grom grumbled to himself. He trudged onward, keeping an eye out for the mischievous kobold. The farther he traveled, the more he realized that Kravitz had slipped off. “Great, now I’m completely lost!”

         Grom collapsed to the ground and rubbed his temples. He felt like lying down and taking another rest, but his eyes opened at a sudden, sharp pain in his arm.

         “No time for sleepy,” Kravitz said, poking at Grom’s arm with a clawed finger, “You very slow. We move quickly if we get to orcs. Darkness our friend. Darkness almost gone! We easier to see if we wait until nasty sun rises.”

         “I was sure you had run off just now,” Grom said, scratching at his tangled beard.

         “You want go to orcs. I show you way there,” Kravitz said. He scurried ahead of Grom, who lumbered up and followed him through the path in silence once more. Although the shadows of nightfall were fading, the overhanging branches allowed little of the rising light to guide their way. Either way, Grom’s eyes worked well in the darkness. A flood of memories returned all at once, crashing down on his tired mind. Thoughts of life in the mountains rode on top of the waves like a shaking raft. Visions of fellow members of the Greystone Clan emerged, great miners of their mountainous home hidden to the south of Oneria. Grom envisioned the pleading of his parents to stay and work alongside his kin; the words of his parents reverberate over and over again in his mind. They begged him to stay and take over for his aging father, but Grom had different ideas of what he wanted to do with his life.

         “Have the orcs given you trouble before?” Grom asked his companion in order to break the silence and his thoughts of home.

         “They try to bully us around, but we had Edwin to protect us,” Kravitz said.

         “Who exactly is this Edwin?” Grom asked.

         “He our leader. He great blue kobold who cast protection spell to keep home safe. Anytime orcs come, they no could enter our village,” Kravitz said.

         “So what happened to this Edwin?” Grom asked.

         “He vanish! No kobold know where he go to or if he come back. With no Edwin, smelly orcs get in and destroy everything. Few kobolds escape axes and swords of orcs. Me and few escape. Rest killed,” Kravitz said, lowering his head.

         “Then it seems we’re unlikely partners on similar paths,” Grom said.

         “What you mean? Why you want find orcs?” Kravitz asked, raising his head cautiously at Grom.

         “These same orcs took away someone who was very important to me. For that they will pay a price far worse than anyone could ever imagine,” Grom said.

         “What you do when we find them?” Kravitz asked.

         “I don’t know yet,” Grom admitted for the first time. The thought of what to do once he found the orcs never crossed his mind until now. Would he really be able to take on an entire party of war-ready orcs? He remembered the destruction that was wrought upon Oneria from their past attacks, and the vivid, unshakeable image caused his blood to boil as it coursed through his veins.

         Kravitz turned away from Grom and fell silent. He led on through the dark forest, keeping along a straight path. Grom tried his best to stay focused on Kravitz and the walk ahead of him; however, images of Anne and his nightmare arose and forced their way inside of his mind. He knew that he had to avenge King Gregory’s death and track down the orcs, but he wished now that he had an idea of what he would do once he found them. His mind had raced since Kravitz uttered his seemingly innocent question. The cowardly kobold had a point–what could he do against an entire group of blood-thirsty orcs? Even with his friends at his side, he failed to save King Gregory. He snarled and thrashed his head from side to side. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, his thoughts always returned to the night of the king’s murder. Every time he fought to forget, the blood-covered axe cut into his mind.

         “We getting closer,” Kravitz said, rustling Grom from his thoughts. He stopped and knelt down, running his hand along the grass. The kobold’s examination of the ground reminded Grom of Prescott in a way. They shared the same slow, methodical search for a single bent blade of grass or print in the dirt.

         “How do you know? How can you be so sure?” Grom asked, watching the curious creature skulk along the ground.

         “Kravitz know much about woods and grass,” he explained, “Kravitz walk for many days in forests and have many animal friends that keep Kravitz safe.”

         “Hmph, you’re like a smaller version of Prescott,” Grom mumbled to himself.

         “What you say?” Kravitz asked.

         “Nothing, I didn’t say anything. Can you tell which way the orcs went?” Grom asked.

         “They pass by here not long ago. The ground has many footprints, so me think they must have a camp nearby,” Kravitz said, pulling himself up from the ground.

         “Then we’re on the right track,” Grom said. He clenched his fists together and took a step forward. Stopping dead in his tracks, Kravitz snatched hold of Grom’s arm, shaking his head back and forth.

         “We must not rush to death,” Kravitz pleaded.

         “Listen, all you have to do is show me where this camp is. Once we find it, you can scurry off back to find your other cowardly friends,” Grom said. He yanked his arm away from Kravitz’s grip and started walking again. Kravitz whimpered and hesitated a moment before running back in the lead.

         It didn’t take Grom long to realize that Kravitz had indeed told the truth. The trees around them disappeared into a clearing, and the ground dropped down a few steps before them. The low rumbling of a fire replaced the silence of the forest. A wall crafted from large wood logs stood in the distance ahead. The rectangular enclosure surrounded a land of dry, arid soil occupied by several dozens of tents. Smoke rose from a crackling bonfire in the middle of the camp, and Grom could make out a few distant figures moving around outside the safety of the makeshift wall.

         “I think we found what we were looking for,” Grom said.

         “You ask and Kravitz find you evil orcs. Kravitz do what promised,” the kobold said. He stumbled backward, marveling at the stretch of the land below.

         “Well, I can’t just sit up here forever,” Grom said, reaching back for his axe. As he pulled it free and gripped it with both hands, Kravitz started jabbing at his arm again. Grom growled and turned around, swinging the blade of his axe dangerously close to the kobold’s face. “What the hell is it now?”

         “You no can run in like that! Sun already waking up! Best if you wait here until dark again. Too risky to go now! You be caught and killed!” Kravitz yelled, retracting his trembling clawed hand.

         “They may find me if I just sit here and wait. What the hell do you expect me to do?” Grom yelled back.

         “I help lead you down there,” Kravitz said, lowering his voice to a whisper, “We go quietly and find way to sneak inside.”

         “And then what? We stand around like idiots and wait for the orcs to jump at us all at once?” Grom asked, struggling against anger to keep his own voice down.

         “Entire place made out of wood. Wood old and dry and it burn good. We get inside and I use spell to move big fire to burn place down. When orcs confused, we escape,” Kravitz explained.

         “Since when could you cast spells?” Grom asked, narrowing his eyes a bit.

         “Edwin teach Kravitz few spells! Must trust Kravitz!” Kravitz pleaded.

         Grom looked down at the poor, shaking creature. He glared into Kravitz’s eyes and then turned away. “Fine, I trust you. Why can’t you just cast the spell from here and save us from having to sneak in?”

         “I can only do spell from close by. Please, we hurry down there and find way inside both quick and easy,” Kravitz said. Before Grom could respond, Kravitz crept down the hillside. Grom clenched his axe in one hand and followed.

         They slipped along the terrain, staying as close to any trees or vegetation that they could find. The night sky gave way to the emerging sunlight, which peaked up over the top of the wooden barrier below. A wave of gray clouds rolled in from the same direction of the rising sun, which formed a slight cover from the intensity of the glow and giving the unlikely traveling companions a little added concealment. As they approached, the wall seemed to grow higher and higher into the darkening sky, and they stopped and crouched down behind a tree stump at the bottom of the hill. From their position, Grom had a clearer view of their surroundings. This stump and all the others along the ground appeared to have once been a wide-trunked oak. The once great stretch of forest, which now resembled a graveyard, had been chopped down in order to construct the towering walls around the orc’s encampment. Grom turned to Kravitz and saw a shimmer of sadness in his expression. Both dwarf and kobold ducked down as a burly figure walked along the edge of the wall. It carried a hefty, wooden-handled mace, which it smacked against the palm of its hand as it patrolled the area.

         “That guard don’t look very welcoming, but he appears to be the only one I see,” Grom whispered. Taking in a deep breath, Grom stepped around the security of the stump, but Kravitz tugged at his beard before he made it more than a few steps.

         “Many other orcs watch. At least five at front and back gate,” Kravitz said.

         “Then how the hell are we going to get inside?” Grom asked.

         “Look there,” Kravitz said, pointing toward the wall.

         “What? It’s just a wall,” Grom said.

         “No, no, no! Look closer! Where guard walk by just now!” Kravitz said, thrusting his hand and pointing over and over again.

         Grom strained his eyes, focusing on where the guard had stepped. At first he saw nothing, but then he noticed the spot where Kravitz motioned. A small split, a gap big enough for a small animal to squeeze through, in the wood at the base of the wall. It seemed that some sort of creature had indeed snuck in at one point, because small piles of dirt rested on either side of the freshly dug tunnel.

         “That would work if I were about a hundred pounds lighter and two feet shorter. How am I supposed to fit through there?” Grom asked.

         “It easy! You trust Kravitz. We wait until guard come around again and leave, then we have few minutes until he come back,” Kravitz said. He dug his claws into the wood of the stump and waited for the guard to re-emerge around the side of the wall.

         “You had better be right about this,” Grom grumbled. He suddenly realized how silly he felt putting his trust in a kobold, one that tried to steal his things the night before no less.

         They both sat poised and silent. After a few minutes, the same guard with his mace in hand marched around the corner and along the wall again. As soon as he slipped around the corner and out of sight, Grom and Kravitz dashed toward the wall and left the safety of the tree stump behind. Within moments, both dwarf and kobold knelt by the wall.

         “There’s no way either of us are getting through there!” Grom growled.

         “Be quiet and watch,” Kravitz whispered. He reached into his ratty brown cloak and pulled out a small stick. Grom saw nothing special about it, and he thought it looked more like a fallen branch from a young sapling than anything of use.

         “What the hell are you going to do with a twig?” Grom asked, angered by the kobold’s foolishness.

         Kravitz ignored Grom’s words and held the stick out toward the ground below the wall. He uttered a few words in a strange tongue that Grom had never heard before. Grom kept his axe close to his chest, ready to lunge at the guard if he came strolling around the corner and spotted them. Kravitz remained focused on the ground and sputtered a few more words of the strange language. Grom opened his mouth to suggest they turn back, but a bright green spark flew from the end of the stick.

         “You have got to be kidding me!” Grom said in amazement.

         Kravitz waved the stick in a circle, and dirt flew from the small crevice in the ground like some invisible dog stood there trying to unearth a forgotten bone. The hole grew larger until it was just wide enough of a gap for Grom to squeeze himself through. Grom’s face fell in bewilderment as he stared at the magic at work. Kravitz tucked the stick away inside his cloak and waved his hands toward the opening. “Shoo! We must hurry now!”

         Grom set his axe on the ground and got down on his hands and knees. He hesitated for a moment, but Kravitz continued waving his hands frantically. He reached his arms and head through the hole, letting out a grunt as he pushed and forced his way through. Kravitz’s head darted from side to side, afraid that any minute that unfriendly guard might wander around the corner and see him standing by Grom’s wiggling backside. Grom clawed at the ground in front of him and pulled with all his might, but he couldn’t quite get through. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Kravitz gave Grom a shove and muscled him through to the other side. Grom crawled to his feet and dusted himself off. He looked to the opening and reached a hand back through, grabbing for his axe. His fingers tried their best to grasp it, but they fell just out of reach.

         “Kravitz, hand me my axe,” Grom whispered through. He waited for a response, but none came. “Kravitz?”

         Grom dropped down again and pushed his head through the hole. He saw Kravitz run as fast as he could away from the wall, back up the hill, and into the woods. Grom pulled himself back inside the orc camp and growled. “Damn coward.”

         “Intruder!” a voice bellowed from behind him. Grom crawled to his feet and twisted around in time to see three large orcs running toward him. He held up his hands in defense and caught the handle of the first orc’s mace. He placed a hard kick into the orc’s knee and sent him falling onto his side. He turned to face the rest of the group, but the largest of the two remaining foes dove and tackled him back onto the ground. He struggled against his larger adversary and cracked him in the forehead with his own skull before he could be pinned down. Blood sprayed from the beast’s nose and landed in thick streams on Grom’s face; the blow allowed him enough time to break free of his grasp. Unfortunately, the last of the three orcs charged in to help and grabbed hold of Grom’s waist, driving him back to the ground. The first orc that had been unceremoniously dumped to the side helped lift Grom up, and the two secured his arms. As the larger orc pulled himself upright, he flashed a set of yellowed teeth and let loose a horrific laugh that sent forth another spray of black ooze. Grom looked up at the cackling orc and thrashed his arms in a battle to free himself.

         “Don’t be so anxious, dwarf. Struggle like that and you’ll end up worse than I left you the last time we met. You don’t want to end up like that man your village called a king, do you?” the orc said with a grunt and a slight smirk.

         “You bastard! Let me go!” Grom screamed, kicking his legs at the beast and trying to strike at him in any way possible. “I’ll kill you! You’ll pay for what you’ve done, you beast!”

         “On the contrary, dwarf, you’ll be the one to die tonight,” the orc said, turning away from him. He wiped his hand along his besmeared face and spat up a mixture of phlegm and blood onto the ground. “Restrain him for now. We’ll see what information we can get from him before we take his life.”

         The two orcs dragged Grom away, but Grom’s eyes remained fixed on the largest of the three. He saw the sharpened, blood-stained axe strapped across his back, the same axe that took the life of King Gregory. He could do nothing to resist the two overpowering brutes, who pulled him inside one of the tents and bound him in chains until later that night.

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