Seven hulking, armoured figures entered the clearing, holding spears with wicked-looking blades affixed. Athgar went to draw his axe, but an arrow thudded into the ground beside him. He turned to see six more warriors lurking in the shadows of the trees.
One of the spear wielders held up his hand, an order for his warriors to hold. He then removed his helmet, revealing the face of an Orc. Ignoring both Athgar and Natalia, his gaze settled on Kargen.
“Who are you?” he demanded in the tongue of the Orcs.
“I am Kargen, Chieftain of the Red Hand, and this is Shaluhk, my bondmate.”
“What strange manner of speaking you have. From what city do you hail?”
“We were born in Ord-Kurgad, but that village was destroyed years ago. We now call Runewald, in the Kingdom of Therengia, our home.”
“This name means nothing to me. Who is your king?”
“I suppose that would be me,” offered Athgar, “although I prefer the title of High Thane.”
The Orc looked at him in shock. “You speak our language?”
“We all do,” replied Natalia. “Our people live side by side in peace and harmony.”
“Who might you be?” asked Kargen.
“I am Garag, First Glaive of Ard-Gurslag.”
“Greetings, Garag. May the blessings of the Ancestors be upon you.”
“Ancestors? Do not speak of them; they abandoned us long ago.”
“Can your shamans not contact them?”
“Shamans? They are the stuff of legends.”
“I am a shaman,” said Shaluhk, “and I assure you, the Ancestors always answer my call. Have you no healers?”
“Healers, yes, but they possess no magic. Rather, they are skilled in medicine.” His eyes flicked to Athgar and Natalia. “The punishment for outsiders entering our land is death.”
“Do not be so eager to kill your kin.”
“Kin? They are Humans!”
“They are members of the Red Hand,” replied Kargen. “Athgar is our master of flame, taught by the great master Artoch, and Nat-Alia is a master of water. Surely your laws do not pronounce a death sentence on fellow tribe members?”
“You have given me much to consider,” replied Garag. “Such decisions are not to be taken lightly. I shall bring you all back to Ard-Gurslag and present you to Urgash.”
“Is that your chieftain?”
“No. Our queen.”
“Then take us to see her, and we shall plead our case in her presence.”
“As you wish. This way.” Garag turned and walked away, his warriors falling in behind him. The archers waited for Kargen’s party to follow, then brought up the rear.
“Did you note their armour?” said Kargen, switching to the Human tongue. “It matches that worn by the warriors Shaluhk summoned at the Battle of the Standing Stones. Do you understand what that means?”
“Indeed,” replied Shaluhk. “These Orcs are from one of the lost cities.”
“How can you be so certain?” asked Athgar.
“The very name, Ard-Gurslag, means ‘Fortress City of Gurslag’ in our tongue. However, the term ‘Ard’ is no longer used, for we have no cities, or fortresses, for that matter.”
Kargen switched back to Orc. “How far away is the city?”
“We shall be there before the sunsets tomorrow,” replied Garag.
“And this queen of yours, Urgash, what is she like?”
“I do not understand your question. She is our queen and rules over us. What more is there to know?”
“Might I ask how long she has ruled?”
“Close to twenty winters. She inherited the Throne from her father.”
“You do not elect your leaders?”
“Elect?” said their host. “What strange method of governance is that?”
“Our leaders, myself included, are chosen by the tribe. Even our High Thane is chosen thusly.”
“Your customs are strange, but then again, we thought ourselves the only Orcs who survived the great purge.”
“You refer to the war with the Elves?”
“You know of it?” asked Garag.
“We do indeed,” replied Kargen. “The forest folk destroyed our biggest cities, driving our people to the far reaches of the Continent. We call it the Great War. My people are descended from those survivors.”
“And do the Elves now control the Continent?”
“No,” replied Shaluhk. “While they destroyed your cities, their victory cost them dearly. When Humans arrived on the Continent, the Elves were powerless to oppose them.”
“Humans are weak,” said Garag. “When they enter our lands, we execute them.” He glanced at Athgar and Natalia. “I am still undecided whether we should consider your friends tribe members.” He shrugged. “In truth, it is unimportant since I will not be deciding your fate.”
“If you do not speak with the Ancestors,” said Kargen, “who do you worship?”
“The Gods. Particularly Hraka, who gave us life.”
“I am familiar with him as he is the God of Fire in addition to creating Orcs.”
“You tell me what I already know.”
“That was meant to inform my companions,” declared Kargen, “not you.”
“My apologies, Chief Kargen. I meant no disrespect.”
“Pardon my saying so,” said Athgar, “but you’re awfully forthcoming for someone who captured us. I would think you’d be less informative about your city.”
“I have no reason to hide our existence. Either the queen accepts you, or you will be put to death, in which case, the knowledge dies with you.”
“Hardly the most reassuring of answers.”
Garag stopped suddenly, causing the entire column to halt. He turned, then moved to stand before Athgar. Their eyes met, but neither blinked.
“You are no ordinary Human,” said the Orc. “Others of your race have come to this land, but there is something different about you.” He paused, tilting his head. “You do not fear us.”
“I am a member of the Red Hand and a master of flame. I am also a Therengian.”
“I do not know what that is.”
“It was a great kingdom,” explained Kargen, “ruling over a large portion of the Continent centuries ago.”
“Why would that be of interest to us?”
“In the Old Kingdom, as we now call it, Orcs and Therengians worked side by side, something we do again in the Kingdom of Therengia reborn.”
“Again, you talk of Therengians. Are they not Humans?”
“Look at Athgar again, and you will notice his grey eyes. It is a mark of his race.”
“I have met few Humans before; how am I to understand such distinctions?”
“Yet you know what they are.”
“Of course,” said Garag. “We keep records of the past. Your intrusion onto our land is not the first, although it is the first to consist of Orcs.”
“Wait a moment,” said Athgar. “Did you say you’ve met other Humans?”
“I have. When I received my first command, my task was to patrol our land. One day, we ran across signs of intrusion—footprints, abandoned firepits, that sort of thing. We were responsible for tracking down the intruders and punishing them for their crimes. After two days of searching, we found them. They put up a valiant fight, but in the end, we defeated them.”
“Why kill them? Why not take them prisoner?”
“To what end? The security of Ard-Gurslag relies on keeping its location secret. We will not risk outsiders discovering our city.”
“But when people disappear without a trace, it inspires others to search for them.”
“You have not lived our history,” said Garag, “so I will forgive your ignorance. We survived two thousand years by hiding our existence. Would you have us expose ourselves to the threat of attack once more?”
“The Great War has ended,” said Kargen, “and with it, the threat of an Elven attack. The woodland folk are scattered, much as we are, and no longer pose a threat to you.”
“And what about these Humans? Can you honestly tell me they would not see us as a danger and invade our lands?”
“You are set in your ways, so I will not argue the point. Hopefully, your queen will be more accepting of change.”
Garag grinned, baring his teeth. “I would not hold much hope for such if I were you. She is fair in all things yet is not one to ignore precedence.”
“Meaning?”
“The death penalty for outsiders is part of our history. I doubt she will abandon the practice, but you are more than welcome to try to convince her otherwise.”
Kargen switched to the common tongue. “It seems our hosts are likely to be inflexible when it comes to killing outsiders.”
“A pity,” replied Natalia. “I’d prefer not to demonstrate my magic to prove a point.”
“That point being?”
“That we deserve to live.”
They travelled late into the afternoon, then Garag called a halt. Being surrounded by ancient, armoured Orcs left them feeling uneasy. Shaluhk had used her magic to conjure warriors of the past, but those were indistinct and ghostly in appearance, while these warriors were living beings.
They kept to themselves, not engaging with their Orcish hosts. Had they wished, they could have escaped into the forest, but Athgar held out hope they could reach an understanding with the queen.
“Garag,” said Shaluhk, reverting to her native tongue. “How much farther to your city?”
“We shall be there before dark. It lies atop a big hill, surrounded by three sets of walls, each higher than the one below. You will know it once you set eyes on it.”
“I am surprised we have not seen it yet.”
Their host chuckled. “You will not see it until you are almost at its gate, for magic protects it.”
“What sort of magic hides a city?”
“You would have to ask Morgal; he looks after such things.”
“Morgal? Is he an Enchanter?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“We came across a rope bridge with a spell of preservation cast upon it.”
“I know the bridge of which you speak. It has not been used for centuries and is not Morgal’s work.”
“But you have now confirmed he is an Enchanter.”
Garag grinned. “You are clever, I give you that. Are all shamans so gifted in the arts of deduction?”
“It varies from tribe to tribe, but in addition to being healers, we shamans are neutral arbitrators. As such, we must know how to sort truth from lies.”
“An interesting skill which would be useful in the queen’s presence.”
“Are you suggesting your queen would lie?”
“The queen? No, but the elite of our society are another matter. There is an old saying that a lie is easier to bear than an unpleasant truth. I fear that concept has been taken to heart by many with the monarch’s ear.”
“Has she no bondmate to aid her?”
“He died some time ago, a victim of his advanced years. It is not our practice to bond with another.”
“A custom we share,” said Shaluhk.
“Then you know the heavy burden such a loss brings with it. Our queen is alone, surrounded by those seeking to enrich their positions and influence.”
“That is a trait common amongst the Human realms. Athgar and Nat-Alia have dealt with it on many occasions.”
“Then perhaps it is good we found them.”
“Earlier, you introduced yourself as First Glaive—is that your rank or a title?”
“Both,” replied Garag. “The First Glaive commands the muster of Ard-Gurslag, although it has not marched in nearly two thousand years.”
“Muster?”
“Yes, every able-bodied Orc is expected to train once a ten-day in either polearms or bows. This responsibility is ingrained into the minds of all Orcs at a very young age.”
“Have you no hunters?”
“We do, but likely not as many as your people. We farm the land, which provides us with more food than hunting ever could. Beneath the city lie the food caverns.”
“You grow food underground?”
“In the abandoned levels of the mines, illuminated day and night by our Enchanters’ magic. If the queen permits it, I shall arrange for you and your companions to be shown the wonders of our city.”
“That would be most appreciated.”
“We have rested long enough,” said Garag. “We should be on our way.”
As the journey continued, the Orcs of Ard-Gurslag quickened their pace, becoming more animated, talking amongst themselves about loved ones and favourite pastimes.
They stopped on a treeless hill that gave them a commanding view of the countryside, a rare thing with the preponderance of trees nearby. Despite claims they were close, there were no sightings of the Orc city, roads, or any other signs of civilization.
Athgar suspected they would camp here for the night, then continue on to Ard-Gurslag in the morning, but to his surprise, they halted only long enough for Garag to form his warriors into a proper column. The First Glaive then took the lead, heading back into the forest with the rest of his detachment following in pairs. Kargen and Shaluhk came next, with Athgar and Natalia bringing up the rear.
“This is confusing,” said Athgar. “Where’s the city? Could it be underground?”
“Doubtful,” replied Kargen. “If these Orcs are anything like the Red Hand, they’ll enjoy the sun on their skin. I suspect it will be more a case of hiding the city in plain sight.”
“It is true,” added Shaluhk. “According to Garag, they use an enchantment to mask the city from its enemies.”
“How does one mask an entire city?” asked Athgar. He turned to Natalia. “You’re the expert. What do you think?”
“There’s an enchantment that allows people to blend into their surroundings, but I’ve never heard of it being used on such a massive scale.”
“How does that work? Do they paint the walls of the city green to make it look like trees?”
“No,” replied Natalia. “Blend is an interesting spell. As an outsider, you would see the blended object as belonging amongst its surroundings, thus drawing no further interest. I know it’s a tough concept to get your head around, but I assure you, it works.”
“That would be useful in a battle.”
“It would, but only for a short duration. Any acts of aggression nullify its effects, including casting spells. We learned all about it at the Volstrum as part of our training as battle mages.”
“Yet,” said Athgar, “the students there were Water Mages.”
“True, but blend could be used to infiltrate a camp with the intent to murder one of our own; thus, we learned techniques to counter it.”
“Which are?”
“A detection of magic does the trick.”
“How would that work?”
“If observing a blended individual, to my eyes, they would glow with a pale light, assuming I cast a spell of detection.”
“But no one else would notice?”
“No,” replied Natalia. “Hence the danger. Thankfully, Enchanters are rare, so it’s seldom a possibility.”
“If you cast your spell of detection now, would you be able to tell if the city was blended?”
“Most likely, but it would be risky. Our hosts are already mistrustful of Humans. If they see me casting, they might react with violence.”
“Best not try, then,” said Athgar.
“On that, we are in complete agreement.”
As the warriors synchronized their footsteps, the forest parted to reveal an immense wall with a gatehouse in the middle. Athgar was stunned. The city before them was easily as large as Ebenstadt, consisting of three sets of walls, each progressively higher on the hill upon which Ard-Gurslag sat.
“Walls within walls,” muttered Athgar. “I’d hate to have to attack this place. It would be next to impossible to conquer.”
“Look,” said Natalia, pointing to the top of the hill where a massive tower rose above the rest of the city. “That must be where the enchantment is held.”
The group halted as Garag waited for the city gates to open. He disappeared into the guardhouse, then returned, ordering his warriors to continue marching.
“The towers on this lower level are all red,” noted Athgar.
“Likely the type of stone used to construct them,” replied Natalia.
“But not the walls? Could it be another enchantment?”
“If you’d asked me that two days ago, I would’ve said unlikely, but it appears the traditional rules of magic don’t apply here.”
“Tradition rules?” replied Athgar. “You taught me there’s no such thing.”
Natalia looked at her husband and smiled. “I learned that from you. The one thing I’ve discovered about magic these last few years is there are no rules. If you can imagine it, you can conceivably bring it about through magic.”
“Then let’s hope this queen of theirs doesn’t imagine us being executed.”