Urgon peered out from behind the tree. Off in the distance, he could make out a campfire, a crude affair made from green wood and leaves, sending a plume of thick smoke skyward.
Clearly, whoever it was, lacked experience in such matters, so he watched, waiting for its owner to emerge from the lean-to that sat nearby.
He thought back to Zhura and their own primitive lodgings. They had come to the hills a couple of ten-days ago, determined to keep an eye on the village. They had encountered little, save for wildlife, but now he wondered if their luck had not just run out.
He spotted movement, and then a figure emerged from the lean-to. Urgon chuckled as he recognized young Gorath, although perhaps young was no longer the case, for it appeared his protégé was undergoing his ordeal.
The thought brought on a moment of panic, for quite possibly, this Orc might stumble across their presence. He had no idea how long Gorath had been out here. Had the young Orc already discovered them? He must find out. Urgon moved closer, staying as quiet as he could. The lean-to looked like it had been patched together in the fading light of day. That likely indicated the young hunter had started out only yesterday.
Urgon thought back to his own ordeal, but the threat of running into another mountain cat was slim. Gorath would likely spend his days hunting and trapping, with little thought to anything else except survival, but what would he do should he find evidence of Urgon and Zhura? Would he turn aside, content to remain apart for the duration of his ordeal, or would he decide to investigate?
The rules were quite clear regarding interference. The youngling must survive on their own wits for a ten-day. That did not preclude meeting others, only prevented them from lending assistance. Urgon, throwing caution to the wind, emerged from behind the tree. Gorath jumped to his feet, his hand going to his knife.
"Did you think me a wild animal?" called out Urgon.
The young hunter relaxed, although surprise showed on his face. "Urgon? I did not expect to see you here, so close to Ord-Dugath."
"I have been here for some time, but what of you?"
Gorath flushed. "I am on my ordeal. By rights, you should not even be talking to me."
"Nonsense. Although I am forbidden to help you in any way, there is nothing that says I am not permitted to talk to you, providing it is about anything other than survival."
"Then speak, for I am in no rush to go hunting."
"How fares the village?" asked Urgon. "Has much happened in my absence?"
"Agrug has kept us all training in weapons."
"And when shall he muster the entire tribe?"
"Soon," said Gorath. "I hope to complete my ordeal before they leave for Eastwood. It is one of the conditions of my accompanying them."
"So they march soon. It is as I feared."
"What will you do?"
"I had thought to confront Agrug," said Urgon, "but to do so with him surrounded by those Humans might prove unwise."
"What if you waited until they march?"
"Will the Humans not be accompanying you?"
"No," said Gorath. "The plan is for the horde to march by themselves."
"The horde?"
"The Human term for the gathering of our people. In any event, he has something special in mind for us."
This intrigued Urgon. "Which would be?"
"I wish I knew. Agrug has few confidants, and I am not counted amongst them. He often speaks of everlasting glory and how we shall play a decisive part in the coming weeks."
"Weeks?"
"A Human measurement of time. A week is a grouping of seven days."
"Seven? Why such an odd number?"
Gorath shrugged. "That is a good question. They all have ten fingers as we do, but maybe their ancestors were not so blessed?"
"It matters little," said Urgon. "This horde of which you speak, will it be the entire tribe?"
"As many as can be mustered. Only the elders will remain, along with the younglings, of course."
"Would that include Maloch?"
"Of course. Why? Is there a message you wish me to convey to her?"
"There is, as a matter of fact. When our people leave for Eastwood, I would be amongst them, but Zhura will need looking after."
"Doubtless Maloch would see to her well-being," said Gorath, "as would Kurghal."
"My sister is not marching with the horde?"
"No, she flat out refused, saying it was not her place to abandon her duty to the elderly."
"Then get word to them both."
"And where should they meet Zhura?"
"Here," said Urgon, "where your shelter now stands. Do you think they could find this spot?"
"Easily."
"Good, then all is settled. It only remains for me to join the tribe when it sets out for Eastwood."
"You mean to challenge Agrug directly?"
"Of course," said Urgon. "How else would I claim the position of chieftain? Why? Is there a problem?"
"He surrounds himself will loyal allies. Getting close might prove difficult. It might be easier if your identity was concealed."
"And how do you propose I do that?"
Gorath grinned. "A helmet would hide your features."
"A helmet? Orcs do not wear such things."
"They do now, although it took a Human smith to craft ones that would fit our heads. Many of our warriors wear them."
Urgon scowled. "We are hunters, not warriors. Fighting in this manner can only lead to disaster."
"Once the tribe is on the warpath, there is little you can do to stop it. Orcs are used to following orders, Urgon. To convince them to do otherwise will prove fruitless."
"But I must, for our very survival demands it."
"Many die in a war. It is only natural."
"It is not the war I oppose so much as the aftermath. Mark my words, Gorath, once this earl has what he wants, he will turn on us. That is the true disaster here."
"How can you be so sure? Perhaps he only has our best interests at heart?"
"Agrug’s words swayed many,” said Urgon, “but he is in this for his own enrichment. As for the Human earl, I do not trust him.”
“Why not?”
“He plots against his chieftain.”
“Is that not what you are now proposing?” insisted the young Orc.
Urgon was struck dumb, entirely at a loss for words as the statement sank in, but then reason took over. “You have learned much in your young life,” he continued, “but I do this not for personal gain, but for the good of our people. If this earl was not so determined on turning against his own chieftain, I might agree with Agrug’s choices, but my gut tells me otherwise.”
“So other than take word to Maloch and Kurghal, what do you want me to do?”
“Upon your return, find me a helmet.”
“It will be difficult to get it to you.”
“Then carry it with you,” said Urgon. “When the horde marches, I shall find you amongst their number.”
“And then?”
“And then we shall gather our allies and seek out Agrug. I mean to end this once and for all.”
The horde was easy enough to spot, for they raced across the terrain like an army of ants. Urgon, despite his misgivings, found the sight inspiring, and he wondered, not for the first time, if what he was doing was right. Before him stretched out more than a thousand Orcs, an assembly seldom seen outside of tribal gatherings. The bulk of them moved in one solid mass, but those more experienced in hunting spread out to the sides, screening the main group's advance. It was towards these hunters Urgon headed.
As he drew closer, he spotted Urzath, running with her bow in hand, strung but not drawn. He wondered why, but then she halted all of a sudden and dropped to one knee as she nocked an arrow. When she let fly, he followed the arrow's path as it disappeared in amongst some trees. Urzath rose and then jogged towards her target. Urgon angled his approach, arriving in time to see her stooping over a fallen deer.
“A clean kill,” he said.
She whirled around at the sound of his voice, but then a grin spread across her face. “Urgon! Gorath told me you might be joining us. Where is Zhura?”
“By now, hopefully under the watchful eyes of Maloch.” He cast his gaze around. “Where is Agrug?”
“Not here,” replied Urzath. “He went on ahead to Eastwood. We are to meet him there.”
“And Gorath?”
“In amongst the main force.” She knelt and began preparing her kill. “It will take a lot of meat to feed this lot,” she said. “Those on the edge are to keep alert for any sign of food.”
“Gorath said he would find me a helmet.”
“And so he has, but you must wait. Enter the horde now, and someone will notice your arrival. Better to wait until dark, then. When the camp is set, no one will mark your presence.”
“How will I find Gorath?” Urgon asked.
“I shall have him camp to the rear of the horde. Will that suffice?”
“It will. Who else stands with us?”
“You remember Skulnug?”
“I do.”
“Vulgar is with us as well and, of course, Kraloch,” continued Urzath. “We told no one else of your plan, though, for fear of word getting back to Agrug.”
“How far do you think you will get by nightfall?”
“Not much farther. They have the energy, but it takes time to cook and feed everyone. Have you your bow?”
“No,” said Urgon, “but I have my sword and my armour beneath these rags. I saw no sign of the Humans amongst our people. Does that mean they have abandoned us?”
"Hardly. They left Ord-Dugath right before Gorath started his ordeal. Likely they are in Eastwood by now.”
“What is Agrug’s plan?”
“That remains to be seen," said Urzath. "We are to rendezvous at Eastwood in three days. Let us hope by then, our glorious leader will reveal what is to come. In the meantime, I suggest you wait here until darkness falls. It should then be a simple matter to follow our trail to the camp.”
“I shall do as you suggest.”
Urgon looked across the fire to see all the faces staring back at him.
“Are you sure you can beat Agrug?” asked Kraloch. “He bested you before. Who is to say he would not do so again?”
“He surprised me in the middle of the night. And I might remind you he sent others to do his bidding.”
“Still,” said Vulgar, “he outweighs you by a significant amount.”
“Urgon can beat him,” said Gorath. “He has right on his side.”
“Right?” said Urzath. “Who is to say what is right? Better to trust in his weapons and armour than expect a victory to be handed to him based on his morals.”
“I can beat him,” insisted Urgon.
Kraloch frowned. “What makes you so sure?”
Urgon met his gaze. “I have no other choice. To fail now would cost the tribe dearly.”
“That said, Agrug is not here.”
“Who leads the horde in his absence?”
“Tarluk,” said Urzath, “but I hesitate to trust him.”
“Tarluk is a fool,” said Vulgar, “and will agree to anything Agrug suggests. Do you think we should deal with him first?”
“No,” said Urgon. “My fight is with Agrug, and he alone. I will not split this tribe over loyalties.”
“How do you intend to handle this?” asked Urzath.
“I must find an opportunity to speak with our gallant chieftain, so I can make a challenge.”
“You mean to meet him in the circle?”
“Of course,” said Urgon. “How else would I deal with him?”
“With a knife in the dark,” suggested Vulgar. They all looked at the large Orc in disgust. “What?” he said in reply. “He would only be getting what he deserves.”
“Doing that would not make Urgon the chieftain,” said Kraloch. “To accomplish that, he must present himself as the alternative.”
“Agreed,” said Urzath. “And who would trust a leader who stabs someone in the dark? I believe Urgon has the right of it here.”
A burst of laughter nearby drew their attention. Another group of Orcs sat around a distant fire, but one of them stood, then headed directly towards Urgon’s group.
“Here,” said Gorath, tossing a helmet. “Put this on before someone recognizes you.”
Urgon pulled on the strange headgear. Despite its appearance to the contrary, it was actually quite comfortable. It consisted of a conical-shaped top with two leather cheek guards attached, the perfect headgear to hide his face.
“How do I look?” he asked.
“Like any other Orc in this horde,” noted Kraloch.
The Orc from the other fire drew closer, her features resolving into a familiar face.
“Greetings, Galur,” said Kraloch. “How are things in Ord-Muran?”
“As well as can be expected,” she replied. Her eyes wandered over the small group, coming to rest on Urgon. “Who have we here?”
“Who, this?” said Kraloch. “This is Zarug. He hails from the village of Zagral.”
Urgon stood, extending his hand. “Greetings, Galur.”
She shook it, but her eyes remained locked on his. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”
“Not that I know of. Have you ever been to Zagral?”
“Once, when I was still a youngling.”
“Then maybe you met my father. We are said to be similar of face.”
“Possibly. In any case, I must be off, nature calls.”
She left them by the fire, and Urgon breathed a sigh of relief. “That was close.”
“You know her?” said Urzath.
“She is one of three Orcs Shuvog suggested I bond with.”
“Good thing she failed to recognize you.”
“I am not sure she did.”
“What are you saying?”
“Merely that she recognized my face," said Urgon. "The real question is whether or not she will tell anyone else of my presence. We must remain alert.”
“We are already alert,” said Gorath. “In that sense, nothing has changed.”
“We must do something,” insisted Kraloch, “or her knowledge of your presence here might endanger us all.”
Urgon stood. “I shall talk to her.”
“Do you judge that a wise idea?”
“I see no alternative, do you?”
“We could kill her,” suggested Vulgar.
Again, they turned to the large Orc in shock.
“It was only a suggestion,” he mumbled.
“There will be no killing of Galur," said Urgon. "Instead, I will try to reason with her.”
“Is that wise?” asked Kraloch. “After all, you refused her offer of bonding.”
“Are you suggesting she might hold a grudge?”
“I am suggesting she might not have recognized you at all. Should you approach her now, she will have another chance of recalling your name.”
“And if she DID recognize me, leaving her alone might allow her the opportunity to reveal my presence. I have made up my mind. I shall approach her.”
Urgon left the campfire, heading in the direction Galur had taken. He waited just beyond the glow of the camp, confident she would soon return.
Sure enough, she reappeared, walking towards him.
“So, Zarug,” she said. “It seems we meet again.”
“So we have.”
She halted before him, looking him over with a critical eye. “Will you continue this game, or will you admit you are Urgon, son of Urdar?”
Urgon removed his helmet. “How did you know it was me?”
“Your eyes, they have an intensity. I heard you were exiled. Is that true?”
“If by exiled you mean chased out of Ord-Dugath, then yes.”
“Chased out?”
“Yes. Agrug sent Humans to kill me.”
Her look of disgust was easy to see. “Kill you? How barbaric!”
“I thought so too.”
“Why would he do such a thing?”
“I dared to object to his plans,” said Urgon. “As a consequence, I found myself the object of his scorn.”
“Unbelievable.”
“Yes, but still, it is true. Tell me, now you know of my presence, will you tell others?”
“It is my duty, but no, I will tell no one, providing you do something for me in return.”
“I have little I can promise in return.”
“Your friends are strong and vibrant, much like you, would you not agree?”
“I am already bonded, Galur.”
She flushed, turning a darker shade of green. “No, you misunderstand my remarks. It is not you who I desire to meet.”
Urgon breathed a sigh of relief. “Then tell me how I can help.”
“I would like to meet one of your friends.”
“Oh? Which one?”
“The tall one.”
Urgon looked back at his companions, then met her gaze once more. “You mean Vulgar? By the Ancestors, why would you want to meet him?”
Now it was her turn to stare at the distant fire, although with more longing than he had anticipated. “He is the very definition of muscular.” At this point, she appeared to realize her choice of words and flushed again. “Sorry,” she said, recovering herself. “I got carried away.”
“So let me get this straight,” said Urgon. “You promise not to tell anyone of my presence, and in return, I introduce you to Vulgar?”
“Correct, although when you put it that way, it seems so… trivial.”
“Not at all, but I have to wonder why you have this sudden interest in Vulgar.”
“My village has few un-bonded males.”
“Hence your journey to Ord-Dugath,” said Urgon. “That I can understand, but this… horde must contain dozens of Orcs your age, many of them quite strong. Why Vulgar?”
“I first set eyes on him when the horde began its trek westward. Have you ever met someone, and it just felt… right?”
Urgon thought of Zhura. “I have, as a matter of fact.”
“So, then, do we have a deal?”
Urgon smiled. “Come,” he said. “Let me introduce you to my good friend Vulgar.”