Orbis

Chapter 5

As night enveloped the figures, nature seemed to conspire with the orcs as thick clouds cast an impenetrable curtain of rain over them, cloaking them in darkness. They moved forward with grim determination, carrying their deadly tools of trade - swords, battle axes, spears, katars, maces, and shields. Death and destruction were their livelihood, and they had plied their trade with merciless efficiency over the past few days, leaving nothing alive in their wake, taking only what they needed to sustain themselves.

The coastal village of Seepoort served as a crucial harbor and entry point into the kingdom of Menhelm. It was also home to Menhelm's shipyards, which supplied warships to the kingdom. The orcs aimed to destroy the Kingdom of Man once and for all, just as their previous Orc-King, Ubzul of Has, had vowed to do a generation before. They planned to strike deep into Menhelm on foot, riding on wolves or by ship, using Seepoort as their base of operations.

The orcs followed their orders with unwavering loyalty, prepared to sacrifice their lives for their leader's cause. They executed the attack with meticulous precision, having planned it weeks in advance. The human guards were caught off guard by the suddenness of the attack and the heavy rain. The orcs dispatched them with swift and silent brutality before laying waste to the villagers, who were simple fishermen and shipbuilders, and offered little resistance.

Their leader, Bukka, son of Ubzul, watched in silence from the back of his hyaenadon. His ominous figure cast a fearful shadow over his warriors. Bukka wore the jaws of his five cousins around his thick neck as a reminder to all who would challenge him. After his father's death, his cousins had rebelled against him and defeated him and his supporters heavily in a battle he was ill-prepared for in his arrogant youth. He barely escaped with his life, the right side of his face badly burnt by the flames that engulfed his homestead and cost him his mate and infant son. Forced into exile, he spent the better part of a decade, forging himself into a war chief and the ultimate master of the Southern Orc army and the Horde itself. Bukka was subject only to one master: The Grandmaster of the Dark Veil, the wizard who led all orcs, and instructed Bukka's necromancers through the veil. In Bukka's mind, the plan was flawless. Tonight, the orcs would take the first real step towards avenging his father Ubzul's death at the hands of the human king. Their attack on Menhelm officially began, and the orcs would not hide in the shadows any longer.

Medwenna sprinted through the forest, clutching the young boy tightly in her arms. He remained silent, as was his custom, and scanned the shadows with his dark eyes. His grandfather had taught him many things, and he whispered a command to his mother to lie down quickly when he spotted danger ahead. Despite being only four years old, his tone held an authority beyond his years. Medwenna dropped to her knees just in time as an arrow whizzed past her head, slicing through the dense brush. She signaled for Wolf to remain quiet, but he had already pressed his index finger to his lips. Medwenna cradled him between her legs and crawled into the undergrowth, scanning for any sign of the archer who had fired the arrow. They waited in silence, motionless, for what felt like an eternity but was only a few minutes. Every moment they remained there increased their chances of being caught. Medwenna knew that hiding would not save them; the moment the rain stopped, the orcs and their hyaenodons would easily track their scents.

Meanwhile, the young orc archer cursed angrily, frustrated that he had lost track of the deer he had shot at. His orders were to kill any that escaped into the forest, a task he felt was beneath him, especially since he knew that none could escape the hyaenodon riders who were waiting at the forest's edge. The deer had been the only source of entertainment he had all night, and now it was gone. The distant screams of the villagers only added to his frustration, as he imagined the fun the orcs were having as they slaughtered their human victims. He grinned at the thought of the terror he could inflict on a human, particularly a female.

However, before he could finish his morbid daydream, he felt a searing pain in his back. Horror set in as he saw the tip of a sword protruding from his abdomen. The orc attempted to scream, but a dagger sliced through his throat before he could make a sound. Medwenna didn't look back as she sheathed her sword and scooped Wolf up, still holding the dagger tightly in her hand. She never knew the luxury of being a damsel in distress; her father and husband had trained her well, and she had faced raiders many times before. Her sword hand was as good as any man's, even those twice her size.

The boat was still half a mile away, and Medwenna's chest burned as she ran, carrying her child, but she didn't slow down for a moment, fully aware of the danger. She knew the others would come looking for the dead orc soon to join in the drunken revelry that would follow the massacre of Seepoort, but she had no intention of being anywhere near when they did.

Wolf had watched his mother dispatch the orc with a sense of excitement. His eyes remained fixed on the dying orc's final throes, the image burning permanently into his young mind. This is what they deserved, "Wolf told himself as his hatred grew.

Medwenna breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the canoe. She placed Wolf in the boat and used the oar to push them off. The canoe would carry them for the next 10 miles until they were close enough to Kent Castle to warn the king. The thought that the orcs may have already taken Denver flashed through her mind, filling her with a sense of despair that momentarily disrupted her oar rhythm, causing the canoe to rock. But then her eyes met Wolf's, and he smiled at her. She smiled back at him. "We'll be fine, my love," she said, surprised by the calm in her voice. "I know, Mommy. Grandpa told me so. One day, I'll come back home and cut all the monsters' heads off."