Swamp of Death

CHAPTER 16

It was still early in the morning, as hunters made final preparations to leave the camp near the Thirel river springs. All equipment and catch was boarded into wide, sturdy, wooden boats, tightly tied to the bank. Only thing left for them was to finish the breakfast, before they could embark on a long journey home. And so they did, some ten minutes later. And it took another five, before they all embarked on the boats. Before Gelian could wave the order for the departure.

Rough ores sliced through the calm water in rhythmic, precise swings, propelling the boats fast towards the fort. At any other day, fishermen would let the river current guide them downstream, but Gelian insisted, it was of utmost urgency, to reach the post, as fast as they possibly could. By doing so, they managed to halve the traveling time, and in just few hours before sunset, reach the fort. Couple of dock workers, somewhat surprised upon seeing an early arrival of the group, just stood still on a small, wooden pier, adjacent to the northern wall of the fort, forgetting to throw the ropes, for easier, more secure docking.

"Wake up, you lazy bastards!" one of the hunters yelled, barely managing to hold them steady against the current that threatened to pull the boats downstream.

"If we miss the ford, we're off to Kabial!" the second one yelled in panic.

Several soldiers, resting nearby, jumped to help, throwing the ropes and weighted nets, easing the boats to a stop. All of the crews had to make exceptional efforts, in order to pull the boats to the pier. Under the weight of the catch, even the slightest of mistakes, or any hesitation, could topple them over. Wasn't long before soldiers found themselves in charge of the maneuvers. And not without a good reason. Well known military discipline, rooted deep inside of them, came to the aid even on this occasion. And they did it, by arranging every boat in pairs. This added to stability, thus diminishing the risk. Soon enough, all boats were securely tied to the pier.

As fishermen begin to unload their catch, Gelian and Bagtur make haste towards the fort. Loud argument, followed by a commotion, came from within the courtyard. Few surprisingly harsh curses threatened to escalate the situation even more. Scout and half-orc walked through the wide open gates, guarded by two confused soldiers.

"What is going on here?" Gelian asked.

"It's been like this all day long." the guard felt nervous "Since early in the morning, when Vallsynk forces marched in."

"And they weren't happy, seeing Issurk beating them to it." added the other one.

"Between the constant complaining and accusations, I think it's just a matter of time before they start throwing fists."

"What is it that they want?" Bagtur asked.

"It's all fuckin' bullshit I tell ya." guard whispered "They are acting like spoiled children, instead of being soldiers. Instead of being men."

"I heard them complaining about barracks, beds, and even food." a second soldier concurred.

Sudden, even louder yelling, made them all turn around. There, in the middle of the courtyard, two heavily armored individuals, exchanged the barrage of insults and threats. Surrounded by the soldiers from both sides, ready to pounce on their first wink. With a bright red face, somewhat out of breath, Thorin was unsuccessfully trying to break up the fight, and calm down two stubborn commanders. They were mere seconds away from the disaster, when one of them rudely pushed Thirel's captain away, in protest.

Thorin lost his balance, slamming hard onto the ground. Loud, angered yells from every Thirel post soldier, told those Issurk and Vallsynk ones, that this was no longer just a brawl. They were prepared to draw their weapons, in the defense of the captain. And at any cost. Something which could not be said for their southern counterparts. And if by any chance, some of them still pretended not to be at least slightly afraid, the sight of the charging half-orc surely changed that.