Kingsley reprimanded his men, “Quiet. Be still.”
It was still in the wee hours of the morning: the perfect time for an ambush. The sky was just beginning to turn blue when they positioned themselves. The orc camp was barely visible but it seemed as though it was in the clearing up ahead.
Faragon remembered what happened yesterday at the war meeting. Kingsley had discussed their strategy to Garen, who then announced it to everyone.
The orcs where camping in a clearing a kilometer away from the ruins of Astane. The clearing was surrounded by dense trees at the south and north with grasses and shrubs at the east and west. To the east of it, a few six kilometers away, was the ranger’s stronghold. To the west were the ruins of Astane. The men would wait in the dense trees until first light where they would execute a pinser move by coming in from both directions. The orcs would be unable to escape. Then, when the men’s numbers are dwindling, they would retreat to the woods and the archers would take care of the remaining orcs.
Faragon was a little agitated. He had fought orcs before but only in defense of the village, not like this. He was even more agitated when Kingsley said in the war meeting: We shall avenge those who fell in Astane.
He realized that Kingsley was making a speech to his men. He was unable to catch most of the words and the only complete sentence that he heard was: “We shall be victorious in this battle. Courage, lads, for we do this for King Uthor and King Arthen.”
He heard Daren chuckle beside him and Faragon asked, “What’s so funny?”
“It’s just that his speech is so wrongly placed. He ordered his men to keep quiet but he makes a speech!”
“You should hear yourself. You’re laughing when were about to go to battle in a few minutes.”
“Faragon, lighten up. What is life without a few moments of laughter.”
Kingsley noticed them and cast a stern look upon his face. The two shut up immediately.
The wait became agonizingly slow. They didn’t know if they had been spotted or that the other side had already been killed. The signal wasn’t there yet. Faragon lost track of time. After an hour – or was it two hours? – an object was seen against the sky. A fire arrow; it was the signal.
They heard from the other side of the orc camp
“CHAARRGGGEEE!.”
Kingsley then shouted the same word and everyone did what the word implied. They charged into the camp. Garen had perfectly timed the charge so that the moment they met the orcs, the sun came up.
The orcs were blinded by the sudden light. It was their chance to inflict heavy damage. They cut through every orc they saw. Faragon slashed one and stabbed another. Daren swung and evaded blows like a very bendable twig. Faragon noticed it and realized that there was truth behind Daren’s claim on agility.
The orcs numbers had lessened considerably in a few minutes. They, however, had now adjusted to the light and were now fighting back. Faragon saw two men killed by an orc, which slashed straight through them with its saber. Faragon then parried a blow, drew his hunting knife and stabbed it through the orc’s heart. Withdrawing it and sheathing the knife, he turned a full circle and brought his weight down on his sword, killing another orc. Daren was doing as well as he was, albeit more flexible. The two men were adept in combat, yet Faragon had to remember that they were killing orcs - monstrous and vicious. Blood was on his vest, and his sword was stained red.
“I’ve killed four”, said Daren
“I’ve fell six”, replied Faragon.
“Race you then.”
YOU ARE READING
Sword and Crown I - Beginning
FantasíaFaragon never thought of himself as a hero... He was a hunter, a son, a survivor. However, he has dark past that would not cease to hound him. His world is in an age of tumult, and chaos. And a dead evil is stirring in the dark... Soon, Faragon is...
