Children of the North: A Middle Earth Story (Book 5)

Chapter 3: The Dragon Knights of Rhun

The Dorgeshi Highlands of Rhun
Several Months Earlier

The small group of orcs made their way slowly down the rocky hill, jabbering and grunting amongst themselves as they fought over their largest prize, a massive kine they had stolen during the latest of many raids.

"Loik takin' candy from a baby, dat wuz," one of them said, poking and prodding the beast with his gnarled spear. 

"Good fing too, its gettin too hard ta steal wot wif dese Easterlings turnin' on us," another replied, licking his crooked teeth with anticipation. 

A third orc stopped suddenly, holding a hand up for the others to halt. "Ya 'ere that?" he hissed. "Sounds like horses." 

"Quite yer worryin'," the first orc said with a growl. "We's too far from da cities for dem to be chasin' us out here." 

The second one let out a frightened squeal. "Nah 'e's right, somefin's comin' toward us!" 

They barely had time to ready their weapons before several dozen golden-armored horsemen crested the hill, one of them letting out a shout as he saw the orcs. A black banner emblazoned with a red boar fluttered at their head, and holding it was a broad-shouldered warrior, bare arms gleaming with sweat and wielding a scimitar, gold-guilded and razor-bladed, in his free hand. His head was wrapped in scarlet cloth, covered by a dragon-helm of the type worn by the Khan's Guard of Rhun. Beneath it, fierce eyes like those of a panther shone out, and his visage was terrible to behold. 

He let out a primal warcry and his riders joined him, spurring their steeds to greater speeds as they bore down on their quarry. The orcs turned tail and fled, dropping the kine's lead as they ran, bow-legged, across the hillside. 

But there would be no escape for them. The banner-wielding rider reached them first, letting fly a quick swing of his blade that decapitated the rearmost orc as he rode past. The second rider to reach them lowered his spear, impaling another orc and lifting him aloft with the momentum of his strike. The panicked shrieks of the remaining orcs were quickly cut silent as the remaining riders rushed past in a swirl of manes and hooves, black ochre drenching the stone in their wake. 

They gathered together around the bodies of the orcs, and their bannerman rose from his saddle, surveying their handywork. After a pause he removed his helm. 

"This should be the last of them," he said, leaping down nimbly from the back of his steed. "Perhaps they possess what we seek."

"They'd better," another warrior said. "It feels as though we've ridden the length and breadth of this land, hunting cursed orcs every step of the way." 

"Hadar, be optimistic! The opportunity to hunt orcs at all will soon be as dust in the wind!" The leader replied, kneeling down beside one of the fallen orcs.

The other warrior, Hadar, shifted uncertainly. "I've lived a long life of fighting, Kilic. I will be glad on the day I can lay down my sword and never pick it up again."

Kilic looked up. "What troubles you? You're not usually so glum."

"The orcs seem unusually organized in their purpose," Hadar replied, dismounting carefully. "As if they are no longer leaderless."

"Come now," Kilic replied, beginning to rifle through the dead orc's belongings. "I had yet to draw my first breath when the Dark Lord walked these lands. He will not return."

"He may not, perhaps," Hadar said. "But there are other evils in this world."

"Evils that we shall conquer and put a blade through!" Kilic exclaimed, thrusting his sword into the dead orc for emphasis. Then, his expression changed suddenly.