Swamp of Death

CHAPTER 7

Group of soldiers led by Thorin himself was on a move for almost two whole days. Already dozens of miles away from the fort, they were determined to reach the Hanlok outpost as fast as possible. Soft rattling of chain mails matched the steadily paced rhythm of their horses. At the far end, almost head above everyone else, rode Bagtur, Thorin's adopted son, somnolent and crapulous, in his petulant grumble.

"You drink too much boy." without even turning around, Thorin said, suppressing the smile "Don't know what's worse, your annoying yammering, or that repulsive breath."

Bagtur growled silently, but wouldn't dare to say anything. Mostly out of respect he had towards this man. But also from the simple fact, that his human side finally managed to get over those wild ways of the orcs. Before, even the slightest of insults or altercations, would immediately lead to a physical clash. It took him many years, and a lot of patient training, before the half-orc could understand and behave in accordance with human customs. He was finally managing to act civilized and disciplined, as his stepfather would have used to say. Sudden outbursts of anger and rage were doing more harm, than being beneficial. Thorin had a hard time explaining to the young half-orc that there was time and place for relying or using them.

To help him seize the control over the rage, he found him a perfect place for learning. This outpost on the very edge of the swamp. For the young warrior eager to prove himself on the battlefield, this was an ideal situation in which he could combine his interests with pleasure. His devotion was ultimately rewarded, once he gained the official military rank. And seeing him climb the ladder in no time, showed Thorin he wasn't wrong regarding this boy.

But still, there were those who would avoid, even shun Bagtur, just because of his looks. All of those horrible, awful things humans and orcs did to each other, reflected directly unto his appearance, and his existence. Because of that, he felt ashamed and angry. Being half-breed and growing up among humans was everything but easy. But, he could always rely on Thorin's guidance and support, whenever the situation turned out to be a bit overwhelming for him, to deal with it alone. In time, he earned the trust of every soldier in the fort, and much significantly, the majority of townsfolk from surrounding cities and villages. Those hard, childhood years were long gone, and almost forgotten. He was finally feeling accepted. He belonged here. Not in his darkest thoughts, could half-orc perceive the events that were about to unfold. And change everything.

Group reached the Hanlok hills in the late afternoon. Seeing vultures circling unusually close to the ground, prompted them to pick up the pace. A dark, and ominous sign turned to be true, once they saw the first of many massacred bodies of Gollvin's merchants. Not long after, they stood at the place of this final caravan's resting place. The carts and horses were missing. By the tracks on the ground, they figured it out, they left towards the east. Mutilated bodies of miners and soldiers that tried to guard them, lie spread on the ground in about fifty yard radius. They were surprised and outnumbered, Thorin knew that for sure. Even his scouting party would have a small chance in fighting such a strong number of opponents.

"Bring them here..." Thorin said with the lump in his throat "Bury them here."

"What about the shipment, captain?" one of the soldiers asked, watching beyond hills, where tracks were leading.

Thorin looked at a horizon, towards the tall peaks of Laorn, barely discerning in the distance. Somewhere, over there, were those guilty of this heinous act. He knew he had to act fast if they stood a chance to catch up. But between them stood a dangerous, dark swamp, full of beasts, monsters and unpredictable deadfalls, which were also equally perilous. But in the end, the reason prevailed. He would not risk any more lives, before he knew who and where are those responsible for this. Captain Lutir scribed a note on a dirty, crumpled parchment, tapping a soldier on the shoulder.

"Take a ride for Gollvin. Give this message to their mayor." Thorin said "Be careful, but hurry back to the fort."

Soldier saluted, jumping onto the horse. He understood his captain's intentions, and the significance of his task. Captain was informing, and at the same asking for Gollvin's help. Thorin didn't think this was a random bandit's work, but something perhaps much larger. Followed by the worried looks of his combatants, the soldier was fast gone.

With a deep frown on his face, Thorin joined the rest of the soldiers. He took off his heavy, iron shield tied to the back of his horse, before finding a soft spot of soil, next to the palisade. He looked towards the skies, saying a short eulogy, before beginning to dig the grave. Those brave miners and soldiers, killed defending the caravan, deserved at least a decent burial. But Thorin could not help thinking that their sacrifice was in vain. Councilmen from the south would soon ask for another shipment. Hungry miners will dispatch the new caravan. Destitution will prevail. Dead which they are about to put in the ground, will soon be forgotten. Just a dark statistic, an example and indicator of dangers in Tanmar.

Lightning ripped across the sky, at the same time as the dark, and heavy clouds let the hard rain on them. Making it even harder for them to dig. But still, their dismal duty was over in an hour, and despite the weather. With one last salute for those who died, they set out back towards the Thirel post. Thorin looked towards the east, and then to the north. His soldier was riding for Gollvin, bringing the news of the loss. Captain Lutir wondered, would this be the reason enough for them to finally ask for those long overdue, necessary changes.