Part Twelve: Losses
Chapter Forty
BROCK
"...put your arms forward like this," I instructed the little imperial scout, "then, when you're at the precipice, you want to open them like this," I motioned my arms outward, "and you'll just glide over the top. Did you get that?"
"W-w-w-what?!"
I rolled my eyes. "Practice it with me, little imperial. Ball." I crouched and hugged my knees, "Arrow." I shot up with my hands together overhead, "Eagle." I finished, spreading makeshift wings. "Ball, arrow, eagle. Ball, arrow, eagle. Ball, arrow, eagle. There, it's not so hard. Now, put these on, and this, and... oh, and put this on." I said, dropping a suit of heavy orc armor, four bags of sand, and a berserker helm.
The imperial gawked at what I'd laid at his feet, then began to put it on. The orc armor was much too big for him, even though it was the smallest I could find, and it rendered him unable to pick up the sandbags. I tied each fifty-pound sack to his torso and legs, then put the helm on him.
"There." I said, stepping back to admire my work, "Can you raise your arms?"
Shaking with the effort of it, the imperial managed to raise his arms, and the contraption flared like a fan from his armpits. It was my own design, and I was quite proud of it.
"Weight distribution's off." Trenok muttered beside me.
"Won't matter." I grunted, picking up the elf, "Once he's airborne, the only direction that matters is down."
"AIRBORNE?!" The imperial squeaked.
"You must be new to this sector." I chuckled, and placed the elf in the carriage of the catapult.
He tried to scramble out of it, and I palmed his entire head, and pushed him back in. "Remember," I said, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "ball, arrow, eagle. When you get over the top, pull this cord," I handed him the cord that looped into the contraption, "and the parachute will engage. Many of your comrades have died so that you could succeed, little imperial." I gave him a grave look, "Make sure that their sacrifice is not in vain." And I pulled the lever.
He flew across the sky, tumbling in his ball shape.
"Come on..." I growled, watching him grow smaller before the imposing wall of the Highland Rift.
"He can't open his arms." Trenok grunted.
"He'll do it." I muttered. The little ball disappeared before the grey rock wall, then reappeared above it. "Arrow!" I shouted as though he could hear me. For a moment, the ball stayed the same, then I saw his arms struggle against the wind and weight of his armor, and become an arrow in the sky. "Eagle!" I yelled, and his arms opened, the wings catching the wind. He soared even higher, clearing the edge of the wall, his resplendent silhouette catching the sun to gleam like an iron bird in the sky. "Pull!" I cried in delight. He pulled the cord, the parachute unfurled, and the straps broke. He fell a hundred feet, flapping like a bird, then he crashed to the ground with a boom that could be heard across the meadow.
"Yes!" I roared victoriously, "Success! How do you like that, Trenok?!"
"The straps—"
"THE STRAPS CAN BE MADE STRONGER!" I yelled over him. I snatched the mirror at my hip, drew the sigil on it, and palmed it. Field Marshal Shordian came into view.
"Did you see that, old man?" I laughed.
"Have you run out of boulders to hurl at me?"
"
Have you run out of boulders to hurl at me?
" I laughed, "I'll have thousands of orcs flying over your head in no time at all!"
"An interesting choice of ammunition."
"They'll float like a feather right on top of you."
"Our archers could use the target practice."
"Your archers can suck my dick!" I roared, and palmed the mirror again.
Trenok smirked at me.
I scowled. "I don't need that ornery old bastard ruining my day."
"He's right though. His archers would only have to punch holes in the chutes, and the whole thing goes to shit."
"Attack at night during a siege and use the flying orcs as support. They drop into the fort when everyone's distracted and wreak havoc from the inside."
Trenok puzzled over the ridgeline. "If you think this will really work, then you would have to be the one to lead the raid. That is, assuming the queen ever gives you the go ahead."
"Yeah..." I grumbled.
A score of boulders suddenly ascended from atop the ridgeline. I sighed, and braced myself against the catapult. The rocks rained down on us, smashing into the ground, occasionally creating an explosion of timber when they struck an engine. They fell behind us, before us, and beside us; too great a range to run away from after launching a salvo, and too random to worry about becoming a target. It was a game of chance, and I was getting bored of it.
"Did you talk to her?" Trenok asked.
"You know she won't budge. Even as our losses mount, she refuses to change tactics."
"That's not what I was talking about."
I frowned at Trenok. "Now's not the time." I grunted.
"When will there be a better time than when you're the Froktora of a horde at war? You'll never be more important to her than now."
"Something you need to understand about women—"
"I'm married."
"So that makes you the fucking expert?" I growled, "Something you need to understand about women, is that emotional circumstance is everything. She's really stressed as of late, and—"
"I can smell your vagina from here."
I shoved a finger in his face. "You used to live in my nuts,
boy,
and don't forget it."
"Did I take them with me when I moved out?"
"I've popped skulls for less." I growled.
"Did you pop your cherry for more?" He sneered. I looked down at his feet. They were spread in an easy stance, but the weight was shifted on the balls. A rock struck a catapult twenty yards away, but the screams of the fallen barely reached my ears.
"You know that the Froktora is not inherited." I said.
He nodded with a smile. "And the tribes mean nothing anymore, but I've been training since I was ten to kick your ass one day, and I will not be denied that birthright."
I snorted, a smile coming across my own face. I pulled the daggers out of my belt, and set them on the ground. "Fwelok!" I yelled over my shoulder, "Do you stand as witness to this match for succession?"
"What?!
Right now?!
" He yelled, huddled behind his trebuchet.
"Right now!" I laughed, and tossed my axe off my back.
Trenok disarmed himself, and kicked off his boots. I kicked off mine, and we stepped away from our catapult as our ogre loaded another boulder into the carriage.
"Gods pray this goes better for you than that bout with Adrianna." I sneered, matching his stance step-for-step.
"Gods pray that it doesn't end the same for you." Trenok laughed back, then charged me. Fuck, he was fast. I barely had my weight shifted in time before he was grappling with me, his iron grip clutching my shoulder, mine doing the same. Our heads butted, our brows locked, and we snarled with tusked grimaces as we lurched for position. I was still stronger, but he could adjust faster, and before I knew it, he'd used my momentum against me. I toppled to the side, corrected to a roll, planted my hand into the earth, and spun upright with a sweeping kick aimed neck-high. He ducked, threw himself forward, and tackled me to the ground. My head struck the earth with a concussive shock, and my blurred vision caught the sight of Trenok raising his fist overhead, ready to deal the ending strike. I drove my knee into his groin, and sent him careening over the top. I jumped to my feet, ducked his flailing backhand, and scampered back, my fists held before my face.
"Bitch move!" Trenok gasped, bending with pain.
"I'm just preemptively kicking my grandson's ass." I laughed, "Might as well, seeing as how you fight."
"I'd retaliate, but I'd hit nothing but an empty sack!" Trenok roared, and rushed me. I pivoted on my back heel, dodged one jab, and was struck squarely by the following hook. The shock of the blow sent me spinning backward, and I had to summersault just to keep from sprawling. He was on me before I could even catch my bearing, assaulting me with blow after blow to the body. I caught one strike between my forearms, dropped my weight, and forced him to lurch after me. Before I could put him arm in a bar, he'd planted his heel on my chest, and kicked back. His wrist was wrenched free, and before I could clamp down on his foot, he'd pivoted off me, and sent a sharp kick right to my ribs. I grunted with pain, and let the momentum carry me upright.
"Fuck!" I gasped.
"Did you really think I was going to let you take this fight to the ground?" Trenok laughed, backing off until he was five yards away, "I felt something crack there, didn't I?"
"You just knocked it back into place." I grinned, failing to disguise my hobble.
Trenok grinned broadly back. "I got you, old man."
"Oh, you do?" I laughed painfully, "Then why don't you come over here and finish it, you little shit?"
Trenok pivoted, took one step forward, then charged. There was a flash of movement, and I was blown backward. My body was showered with soil, my eyes were filled with it. I was wet. I was hot. I rubbed the muck from my face. There was a boulder behind me. It was rolling away, its surface black with soil. Black with blood. It was sprayed all over me. There was a hole in the ground five yards away. I scrambled to it. I looked inside. There was a mess of dreadlocks and a body of tattooed flesh. It was flatter than parchment. Pieces of shattered skull and brains were blown along the side of the crater, guts and ruptured muscle were splattered from their fleshy constraints. I sat back from the lip of the hole, and watched the rocks ascend into the sky from the Highland Rift.
"Chief!" Fwelok yelled, "CHIEF?! Oh god, Trenok!"
I shouldered him off me, and walked away. As the boulders crashed to the earth, and the soil shot from it, I made my way to the edge of the marshlands, and pulled out the mirror at my hip. I drew the sigil, and palmed the glass.
