Orc Dominion: Triumph

Three Years Ago

Waves of the deepest blue he had ever seen lifted the ship high, making his stomach lurch. The sea had been growing rougher the further out from shore they sailed. A grim smile settled upon Augras' lips. No one had ever sailed this far out. It had been two months since they set out from Ruar, two months since he left his mother and father, Queen Lyriena and King Trogar of Deznessuian, also known at the Elfish Isles, behind, possibly forever.

No

, he thought,

not forever. I'll be back, and I'll have proof of the southern continent with me.

Many of his crew had begun to doubt that. It had only taken a single turn of the moon without sight of land for them to start begging to turn back.

But the ship was well stocked and well made, with a clinker-built frame, an innovation over the usual mortise and tenon joints used for normal ship-frames. The Sunset was designed by the best Zentaran shipwrights and made by the finest elfin craftsmen. The fusion of their skills and labors made it the safest, most seaworthy vessel in history. The old merchant who claimed to have circumnavigated the ocean said that it had taken four months to travel from the southern continent back to Ruar. If he was right, then they should reach the new land any day now.

But, the old merchant's word was not to be trusted entirely. When one was sailing into the unknown, he must be smart... and common sense would dictate that he would chart down and record all that he might have seen or experienced. For this, Agmar had his Periplus.

He could remember a fair portion of what he had written down on it, on the measurements from his astrolabe and quadrant, or on how long they had travelled, in which direction they had done so and on reckoning the strength of the wind to calculate how far the ship had travelled. It was tedious, but also necessary.

"We'll make it there, My Lord" rang a soft voice as a lithe form slid beside him.

Augras turned to look at the beautiful human nestled against his side. Her dark hair rippled in the wind, whipping about her face. "I don't doubt that, my dear." He smiled and wrapped her up in his arm. Though the weather was far hotter than even back home in the Isles the fierce wind left a chill in the air. "It is the crew who doubts."

The woman fit snugly into his arms. She would have been lost in the mass of most orcs, but Augras had never undergone the change. He still appeared like a half orc, with pointy incisors instead of tusks, pointed ears, and the slim build of an elf. Well, that wasn't entirely fair. He was of similar size to the average human male. Regardless, the very sight of him brought his father great shame.

Even though none of the children of orc and elf changed, Trogar seemed to take Augras' failure as a personal affront. It didn't help that his brothers, the Kings of Zentara and Heste, ridiculed him for it. It stung to be the fodder of his father's humiliation, even if he sometimes believed his father deserved it.

Not for any failure on Augras' part, but for the deplorable way Trogar treated Lyriena.

Mother deserves better,

he thought,

and everyone will know it when she sees what a triumph her son has wrought.

"Not me, My Lord. And not them, not truly. They trust in you, and will see it through." Bernadette smiled up at him confidently.

He had met her in the stews of Ruar and had been struck by her liveliness and sense of adventure. She didn't deserve to grow old in the brothel where he found her. He still smiled at the memory of how her face lit up when he offered her the chance to join him on the adventure. "I'm sure you're right. Besides, we should be there soon and then they'll have nothing to complain about."

"Ship off the starboard bow!" Rang from the crow's nest.

Bernadette laughed jubilantly. "See? You're a prophet My Lord. I knew you'd lead us here." She leaned up on her toes and kissed Augras on the mouth.

Augras sprinted to the bow of the ship and looked out. The 'ship' could hardly be called that. It was more of a crude raft with a sail, though to be fair it seemed to be weathering the sea much better than his own ship was, somehow.

"A ship! We must be close, there's no way that thing managed to make it far from shore. So the southern continent is populated! So that much of the man's story is true."

"I wonder if it's a Mincenntti? The boat looks too small to hold a minotaur or centaur." Bernadette clutched his arm as they both looked forward.

"Looks like one passenger, dark skinned, tall, it might be a Mincenntti." Augras conceded. Triumph swelled in his breast as he imagined the possibilities. Establishing a new trade route would make him fabulously wealthy and bring great honor to him and his family. "Female maybe? She looks like she's praying."

If the strange creature on the raft was praying, it didn't appear to be to any of the Gods Augras had learned about. The woman, if it was a female, was making strange gestures with her hand, and scattering something into the wind.

"The boat...Did it just stop?" Bernadette looked up at him in confusion.

Indeed, the boat seemed to be standing still in the middle of the choppy water. "That isn't right, something isn't right." His boat rocked again as an even larger wave lifted it up. His stomach lurched and he grabbed Bernadette protectively as cries rang out from the crew.

The sky began to darken and thunder boomed off in the distance.

Where had this storm come from?

"Batten down the hatches!" He called. "Get inside, this is going to be rough." A strong wind lifted the ship and made it list to one side.

Where had this damn storm come from?

"Turn us about, get us out of here!"

But no matter which way the ship turned they were battered and tossed. The storm seemed to rage at them from all sides. "We've got to get out of this storm. But I don't even know which way to tack into the wind!" As he prepared to just pick a direction, lightning lanced down from the sky smashing into the ship's mast. The spotter's scream of pain raged against the gale winds as he fell towards the sea in flames before vanishing into its inky depths.

A strong wind blew in from the east, powerful enough to pick up one of the orc crewman and fling him into the sea. Another went down as the wind blowing from another direction smashed a barrel into him.

We'll have to drop anchor and ride it out,

he thought,

but how can I do that when the wind is coming from every direction? How is that even possible?

"Get inside, let me deal with this!" Augras grabbed Bernadette and pulled her aside as one of the crew stumbled past, blood oozing out his neck as a shard of broken glass jutted out from his throat.

He began leading her toward the cabin, but before they got there a deep, sinister crack rang out as another wave tossed the ship. Augras found himself looking up at an almost black sky as the ship went perpendicular to the sea. The half-orc hugged Bernadette tightly to his chest, wrapping her up in his body to protect her as they slid down the ship.

As they raced towards bow he noticed the splintered deck of

The

Sunset

jutting out from the sea.

That wasn't a wave!

He realized, too late as the ship began to sink into the sea.

****

Present Day

Long, winding, strings of soldiers marched along the beaten road headed north towards the Catabrian Hills. The days where orc armies moving entirely on horseback were long gone. As the orc population in Zentara and Heste exploded the breeding of horses for war just couldn't keep up.

Exactly where they're supposed to be,

Amelie thought with grim satisfaction. Her source's information was accurate, at least. Amelie shifted slightly on the ground to get a better look at the incoming army, looking for signs of a trap. Her source's information had always been good, but she didn't want to rule out the possibility that he'd been compromised. But the loose formation and strung out nature of the Hesten army convinced her it wasn't a trick.

There's no way they'll be able to form up in time.

Her army was perfectly positioned behind the hill to strike at the Hestens. They had moved in under the cover of night after the Hesten light cavalry scouts passed through the area. Knowing the enemy's timetable had allowed her to slip her forces in undetected. Of course, attacking the main infantry body when it was so dispersed would likely prevent her from destroying it utterly. Even still, she would do enough damage that by the time the decisive battle did come, the Hestens would be significantly weaker.

Death by a thousand cuts was often more effective than a single crushing blow. That was one of the things she'd learned during her seventeen-year reign as Queen of Thesta. In her youth she had chased after massive, glorious victories. Now she realized that grinding opponents down was much more effective at sapping the enemies morale than large defeats.

"When will we strike?" asked Phillippe, her principal lieutenant.

"In a little bit, I want to draw some more of them in first. Let them think they have a chance of encircling us before the trap is sprung."

"What do you think then, when that company there passes the hill? They actually look organized, Your Highness." Phillippe pointed out to one of the approaching formations.

Queen Amelie Honore of Thesta took a quick look at company. They did appear to be better organized, with tighter ranks and gear at the ready. Clearly they had a disciplined commander. "Well spotted, Phillippe. We don't want an organized unit hitting our flank. Better to smash them with the first shock. Any sign of the green skins?"

"Not yet, My Queen."

The green skinned orcs were the remnants of the army that invaded the Catabrian Hills last year under the command of Queen Jeanette's bastard son, Agmar. Amelie had swept them out of the Hills and back into Heste, but not before they managed to inflict great suffering on the Tribesman. She had killed Agmar herself, but his son, Bogor, managed to save at least half the army and retreat back to Heste.

Along the way it had been harried first by the surviving Tribesmen, and then by the Hesten human lords who had risen up in rebellion against their orc overlord. Somehow though they managed to survive, and they lost track of the army when it reached the lands directly controlled by Bogor's half uncle Belkor, the King of Heste.

As much as she wanted to deliver some more retribution to the orcs, she suspected they wanted revenge just as badly. They had doubtless linked up with the main Hesten Army and would be looking for a chance to pay back the Thestans.

"Alright, you take the Falcon Guard and pursue any troops that break. But not too far, I don't want you running into their main infantry when they form up. I'll take the foot and lead the charge into them." Amelie crawled down the back of the hill, and then rose off the ground to don her banded helm. It fit smoothly over her long brown hair, which was tucked up into the back of it. The reinforced steel helm was of plain, common make with nothing to differentiate her from the other soldiers in the army.

She didn't really need any ornate armor for that. As the only woman in the army, there was never any question of who she was or whether her orders needed to be obeyed. Instead she wore simple leather armor and greaves with a chain shirt over her lithe, slender build. She sprinted down the hill to link up with the waiting infantry. Three companies of Thestan soldiers would form the spearhead of her assault.

Pulling one of her javelins out of its quiver, Amelie held it high in the air to rally them to her. The commanders of each company knew to spread out in a wedge formation as the came around the hill. The organized company they were targeting immediately sounded the alarm as her force came into view.

Having been spotted, there was no longer any need to remain quiet. She signaled for her men to ready their javelins. As the Hesten company wheeled towards them she threw her javelin. The missile was soon joined in flight by the rest of her men. The javelins rained down in a torrent on the orcs, but just before they impacted the orcs raised their shields.

Some fell, but the orcs were disciplined enough to block most of them. They began to form ranks as the Thestans starts to charge. "Follow me! Let's send these orc bastards running!" A great cheer rang out from her men as they surged towards the enemy ranks.

As they neared the enemy position Amelie spotted an orc in the third rank who didn't appear to be paying attention. She pulled out her second javelin and launched it towards him. It sailed over the heads of the first two ranks and then punched through the orc's eye. She grinned in triumph as she watched him crumple to the ground, and then drew her sword.

"To me!" She screamed to her men. A smile crossed her face as she saw one orc actually flinch. But before she could close the distance to him a bolder warrior leapt out from the ranks. She could hear an angry voice coming from behind the enemy line, probably from the commander. But the orc saw only the glory of taking down the Princess-Knight.

"Prepare to die, cunt!" The orc screamed and swung his axe down at her.

Amelie had only a split second to act, but with an expert, veteran eye she raised her shield at the perfect angle needed to deflect the blade. It screeched down the surface, and while the impact made her arm ache the force was effectively pushed to the side.

The orc towered over her, so she thrust her sword downward instead of up into his guard. The blade slashed down along his inner thigh, and the orc's pants immediately darkened as blood began to gush out from the wound.

The orc was already dead, though he didn't know it yet. He swung his axe backhanded, but Amelie ducked beneath it. The warrior was quick though, and brought his shield down to try and crush the Queen's head. She lunged to the outside, raising her own shield to slam into the haft of the axe. The force of the blow knocked it from his hand and sent it flying into the grass.

He drew a dagger and lunged for her, but with each step his charge weakened, and by the time he closed the distance between them she was able to step aside contemptuously as the orc fell to the ground. She stomped down on his arm, and then grabbed the orc by his helm and pulled his head back.

A moment later her blade sank into his exposed neck as she sawed his throat in two. With her foe dispatched, she returned her focus to the battle. While she was killing her foe, the two ranks had crashed together, and the battle was joined.

She quickly scanned the battle lines, looking for the soldier who flinched earlier. She saw him hanging back, weakly swiping at any openings in the Thestan line. As Amelie darted forward, her sword shot out to the side, slipping beneath the armor of a large orc who had raised his open weapon to strike at one of her men. She shield-bashed another, and then cut the tendons of a third while he was distracted with another foe.

Her blade shimmered with a crimson hue as the blood of her enemies as she closed in on the orc. A predatory grin spread on her face as he stepped away from her. Amelie readied her sword and lunged at him. The orc raised his blade and parried hers aside, so she slammed the edge of her shield against his chest, knocking him back.

The orc began to slash wildly at her. She ducked and dodged as the blade sung around her. For the first time she was actually a bit worried, as the orc had a manic gleam in his eyes. Fighting a trained warrior is fairly predictable, but the randomness of a crazed opponent could be hard to handle. Amelie decided to give up some space and allow the orc to tire himself out.

But the crazed orc, high on fear and adrenalin showed no sign of fatigue. She scowled in frustration, but only for a moment. She leapt back with her rear foot and dragged the front as she drew him out even further. A moment later swords flashed out from the left and right, cutting deeply into the orc's sides.

"Well done men, but don't stop now, there's a couple hundred more where he came from!" Amelie grinned at the two Thestan soldiers to either side as she thanked them for the assist. There may be more of them, and they may be bigger, but teamwork and discipline are something that orcs rarely understand.

****

Princess Jasmara's spear slammed through the human's throat, spraying blood out behind him. "Stay in line! Don't let them push through us!" She shouted out to her men. Between some orcs charging forward and others falling back her line was beginning to waver. She took a few steps back off the line to see how the overall battle was developing. Her company had dulled the tip of the Thestan spear, but her company was outnumbered at least three to one.

Already the Thestans supporting units were pushing along her flanks, while the rest of the Hesten army was still disorganized. If she didn't do something quick, she was going to be cut off and encircled.

Well, it's Belkor's job to get the army back together. I just have to keep my company alive.

She had two choices, really; she could withdraw or advance.

"Your Highness, we need to pull back, and gain some time for the King to get into position. We can draw them in and let the rest of the army close in on them." Her sergeant Grakth said. "Arrows!" He then grabbed Jasmara and pulled her down and raised his shield as arrows fell from the sky.

"They've taken position on that hill they were hiding behind. Do we have anyone who can dislodge them?" Jasmara looked up and down the line.

"Doesn't look like it, Your Highness."

"Then we'll have to do it. We need to push through the ambush, not run from it."

"We'll get cut off! We need to pull back and let the King envelop them!" Grakth insisted.

"It could take Belkor hours to get the army organized, if at all. Besides, do you see the Falcon Guard anywhere? The second we start to pull back they'll run us down like dogs. We need to seize the initiative." Jasmara raised her spear again and then bellowed, "Advance! Forward! Attack! Attack!"

Jasmara snarled as her men didn't immediately charge, so she pushed through the ranks and led the way herself. The butt of her spear smashed into the head of one Thestan, sending him to the ground. Then she slashed with the blade of the spear. It skidded across the shield of another warrior, but she quickly spun it and thrust it back under his guard, impaling him.

Emboldened by her attacks, the orcs surge alongside her, covering her advance and pushing back into the Thestan ranks. An enemy soldier stepped forward to challenge her as they pushed through the ranks. He tried to jab with the tip of the sword, but the greater reach of her spear kept him at bay.

The man then changed tactics, trying to bat the spear away with his shield while he closed the distance with his sword. To counter, Jasmara stepped forward herself, not giving him room to build up any power in his attack. Then she smashed her mailed fist into his face, and as the man stumbled back she hit him again, sending him to the ground.

As he lay on his back, Jasmara swung the spear about and thrust it up his unarmored groin.

Down goes another one.

The humans were giving way to their attack, but not without cost. It seemed like just as many orcs were falling as humans, if not more. Blood was soaking the ground, and the weight of all the combatants was turning the field to mud. If they didn't push through soon they would risk getting bogged down. Especially since each step forward they took brought them deeper into the Thestan envelopment.

"Stay strong and keep fighting! Make them bleed!" A feminine voice cut through the din of battle, drawing Jasmara's attention.