The warrior and the elf had retreated to a small, secluded alcove six yards away from the wall of boulders when they had spotted an orc sentry making his way to the small space that served as the only way around the boulders, not wanting to be spotted and an alert raised. They considered themselves lucky that the orcs had been too busy setting up camp to notice them peering over the natural stone wall, because they were sure that with Kellindil still recovering they wouldn't have been able to outrun any serious pursuit, though what rankled the elven archer to no end was that his injuries – healing though they were – were slowing him down once again.
Kellindil leaned his walking stick against his shoulder as he sat down on a rock in the alcove, looking across the small space at Bryran, who had also claimed a rock to use as a chair, and sighing as he asked wearily, "What should we do? It would take too long to double back and find a way out of the Pass, and the chance of the orcs leaving anytime soon, judging by the tents they were setting up, is slim to none." He finished his summary of two of their options and sighed, hoping that his companion would have an idea.
Bryran leaned back against the wall of the alcove and matched the elf's sigh, reluctantly telling Kellindil, "I am sorry, my friend, but it seems as though doubling back is our only option. With you still recovering from your injuries, it will be nigh impossible to sneak past the orcs, and these look to be a lot more organized than the three from earlier, not to mention that none of them are fighting and weakening each other. They also outnumber us severely, since I saw ten orcs setting up tents, and I've no doubt that there were more out scouting, not to mention the sentries posted out of our line of sight. I'll wager you that the leader of this band was in one of the tents that were already set up before we arrived, and we don't know if they have a shaman with them or not."
He paused for breath and sighed again before he reiterated, "I am sorry, but the risk involved in trying to sneak past them is simply too high. We would be better served by going back and searching for a way out of the Pass. It will add several tendays to our journey, but we will doubtless be safer than trying to slip past a band of orcs."
Kellindil's jaw tightened in anger, but he couldn't deny that Bryran made a great deal of sense, and so he reluctantly nodded, silently agreeing that doubling back would be their best course of action. The warrior across from him leaned back, satisfied with that answer, and the two traveling companions settled more comfortably into the small alcove, preparing to wait until night fell so they could get some rest and then set back out before the sun rose on the next day.
The time until nightfall seemed to crawl by, and the elf kept his ears alert for any sounds that might indicate an orc about to discover their hiding place. His heritage and pride as an elf seethed at having to hide from his ancestral enemies, but his years of experience and his common sense agreed that hiding and then going back the way they'd come really was the best course of action. He couldn't stop himself from relaxing somewhat when the day finally faded into night though, since it meant that half of his and Bryran's new ordeal was almost over, and he willing faded into a light reverie sitting against the wall of the alcove while Bryran took the first watch.
It was the middle of the night when Kellindil startled awake, and he spent several moments looking around and trying to figure out what had woken him. He listened intently, but all he heard was the natural sounds of the night, aside from an orc snoring incredibly loudly in the camp near them. He had to restrain the urge to snort in laughter, since that orc snoring reminded him a lot of a dragon growling. His lips quirked up in amusement, he looked across the alcove at Bryran, only to find the warrior slumped against the wall and deeply asleep. Apparently the warrior's tiredness had gotten the best of him before he could wake Kellindil to take over the watch.
The elven archer sighed almost inaudibly under his breath, unable to decide whether or not to be upset about that or not. On one hand, he could certainly understand that Bryran was bound to be tired and he knew that humans actually slept instead of going into reverie like elves did, but on the other hand falling asleep on watch was incredibly careless and could have cost them both dearly. After a few moments of thought, he finally decided to let the warrior sleep and just tease him unmercifully about falling asleep the next day while they walked back the way they had come.
And that fact still rankled, since he had thought for sure that they would begin to make noticeable progress on their journey to Coldwood when the storm had cleared up, only for them to stumble upon a group of orcs setting up a camp and looking like they were planning to stay there for awhile. The elf shook his head, sighing and thinking that there was no use in lamenting what he could not change, and he instead turned his attention to figuring out what had woken him from his reverie.
There were no sounds of someone approaching their hiding place, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the sounds of the night, so Kellindil was at as loss as to explain what had woken him. Just as he thought that maybe it had been his imagination, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach, a feeling of dread that he couldn't explain, and he was compelled to stand and cautiously slip his head out of the alcove to see what was causing it.
He caught sight of the night fires glowing behind the natural stone wall near the orc camp, and when he activated his infra-vision he saw a lone sentry standing at the only way around the boulders short of climbing over them. He was about to duck back into the alcove since nothing seemed to be amiss, but something made him hesitate, and when he looked back towards the orc camp the hair on the back of his neck – weighed down with dirt and grime as it was – stood on end. He was caught between the urge to return to the relative safety of the alcove and wanting to find out what it was that was unnerving him so much.
Kellindil finally sighed under his breath in exasperation before he patted his pocket subconsciously to make sure that the sharpened wolf fang was still there and then cast one last look back at Bryran before he slipped out of the alcove and into the shadows of the night.
Aided by his ranger training and his heritage as an elf, he was able to reach the wall of boulders without alerting the sentry. He looked up at the barrier and pressed himself close to the stones to make himself as unnoticeable as possible in case the sentry chose to look in his direction. His leg throbbed in a sort of phantom pain, clearly warning him of the pain that would come should he choose to try and climb over the natural wall, and he silently groaned as he reluctantly found a handhold in the stone and began pulling himself up.
He found himself thankful that he hadn't managed to wash the dirt from his hair; after all, dark brown hair was much less noticeable in the dark than blond hair.
The elven archer pulled himself up onto the top of the boulder wall, pausing to look over the camp and examine the placement of the guards. His sharp blue eyes spotted two more sentries at the opposite side of the camp, along with several sleeping orcs nearby, obviously the ones meant to take over the watch at some point. He guessed that that side was more heavily guarded because there wasn't a natural barrier protecting it, though when he looked down towards the 'door' in the wall he saw what he had missed from the alcove: there was a sleeping orc leaning against the rocks next to the natural door, invisible to anyone looking from the other side of the wall.
Realizing that he had dodged an arrow – metaphorically speaking – on that one, he paused to mentally say a small prayer of thanks before he returned his gaze to the camp, taking in where things were and the placement of the tents, because he was willing to bet that the leader of this band of green-skinned monsters would have the biggest tent. He noted which tents had heat signatures in them, making mental notes to avoid those, since the last thing he wanted was to be noticed by a bunch of orcs who would no doubt greatly enjoy ripping him apart, and he mentally steeled himself before he shifted position and dropped down to the ground on the inside of the boulder-wall.
The elf had done all the scouting that he could from on top of the natural stone wall, so now it was time to take a closer look. His infra-vision allowed him to keep track of where the orcs were, and he quietly slipped over to an empty tent. He glanced around quickly, and then silently slid through the door of the tent and stayed as low to the ground as possible as he looked around, trying to be certain of where he was…and apparently where he was, was a supply tent filled with spare animal skins, barrels of water and orcish liquor (judging by the smell), and packs of preserved meat. Whatever the orcs were planning, it was obviously going to take a lot of supplies to pull off, and Kellindil was starting to doubt that the camp he was in was just a normal orc camp. He tried to shove his suspicions aside for now as he slipped back out of the tent and made his way to the next empty tent. And then the next several tents, all of which turned out to be supply tents.
Kellindil was starting to feel more suspicious than ever as he absently snuck into the next empty tent he came across, not paying much attention except to make sure that the tent was empty and that there were no orcs around who could spot him and raise the alarm. However, what he found in this new tent brought him up short, and it was all he could do to keep from gasping out loud.
This tent was larger than the others had been, and Kellindil distantly thought that this must be the orc leader's tent. The tent was also occupied by items of luxury that the elven archer was absolutely sure weren't of orcish make, such as a finely made wooden table covered by a silken tablecloth and a colorful, thickly woven rug that lay on the ground underneath the table. The elf shook his head to clear it though he still looked a bit dazed as he cautiously moved further into the tent, grateful that his infra-vision meant he didn't have to somehow light of candle in order to see the inside of large tent and risk alerting any of the orcs nearby.
Keeping his ears primed to detect the sounds of anything coming in his direction, say the footsteps of the one that the tent belonged to, he took a longer, more detailed look around the space. His gaze immediately went to the large (two feet high and at least four foot wide), heavily locked trunk at the foot of the bedroll (which the elf irritably noted was of very fine quality) and he silently crept over to it, pausing when he saw the traps set around the thing.
Granted, Kellindil wasn't a rogue or thief by any stretch of the imagination, but his elven fingers – long and dexterous as they were – were ideal for picking locks and disabling traps. And, thanks to his slightly misspent childhood from before he started ranger training, he actually knew how to disable a great number of traps.
It took him a lot longer than he was comfortable with to unlock the trunk and then a few more minutes to gently ease the lid up so he could peer inside without making any noise that could possibly alert any of the orcs sleeping in the other tents. What was inside the trunk stunned the elven archer, and he had to fumble to catch the lid of the trunk when it slipped from his suddenly nerveless fingers. He reached a trembling hand into the trunk and withdrew a large clump of tangled jewelry – and he wasn't as sensitive to enchantments as his drow cousins, but even he could tell that a great deal of the tangled necklaces, rings, bracelets, and who knew what else was enchanted.
Kellindil noticed some papers in the trunk, and he set the jewelry back in the trunk so he could pull out the papers, curious as to what was so important that orcs would bother to write it down. To his disgruntlement, the papers were written in orcish, and took him more than a few moments to decipher the writing that more closely resembled chicken scratch than words and letters to him. When he finally managed to get the gist of what the top paper was saying, he gaped in shock and his eyes widened in horror when he realized what the papers were saying.
The sound of heavy footsteps approaching broke through his shock, and the elf hurriedly folded up the papers and stuffed them inside his shift. Without looking, he blindly grabbed a clump of the jewelry from the trunk, not paying attention to how it seemed oddly stiff, and shoved that inside another of his pockets and at the same time he closed the trunk lid as quietly and quickly as he could and reset all the traps he had disarmed. The owner of the footsteps were getting closer, and thinking fast the elven archer pulled out the sharpened wolf fang and crept to the back of the tent, quickly finding an exposed section of animal skin.
Using the sharpened wolf fang, the elven archer sliced a hole through the animal skin big enough for him to squeeze through sideways, and he did just that, pausing to use the wolf fang to slice the edges of the hole to make it look as though a wild animal had used its' claws to tear through the animal skin in order to get access to the inside of the tent. He didn't have time to do a thorough job, so he just hoped that none of the orcs in the camp were experienced trackers and slid silently along the stone wall at the back of the tent, making it to the corner of the front of the tent just as the owner of the heavy footsteps he had heard entered the tent and saw the torn hole Kellindil had made in the animal skin.
A loud roar of anger and a lot of shouted orcish words – a lot of which the elf was certain were curses – issued from the tent and Kellindil promptly began running towards the wall of boulders he had originally climbed over like all the demons of the Abyss were at his heels.
Which, as far as he was concerned, they were.
The orc camp was in chaos as he ran, trying to be as silent and unnoticeable as possible while running from his life, but considering how lucky he had been up until that point, it was no surprise that his luck ran out just when he was about to complete his escape. The lone sentry who had stayed to guard the small space between the natural wall of rock and the river while its' partner had run to see what had angered the chief spotted a darting shadow running towards the section of wall not far from where it was, and the prospect of a fight made its' eyes light up.
The monster roared in delight as it charged towards the shadow, and its' blood began to boil as, to its' great delight, the shadow was actually an elf!
Another roar and the orc raised its' axe to try and dismember the escaping elf…
Kellindil could have sworn that his life began to flash before his eyes when the orc appeared with its' raised axe just as he was about to reach the boulder-wall. His eyes automatically slammed closed against his will, and he braced himself for the feel of a sharp blade piercing his flesh, but instead the moments dragged by and the elven archer's eyes snapped open when he felt something wet hit his face. The orc was still standing above him with its' axe raised, but right before his eyes the weapon slid out of the green-skinned monster's hands and landed on the ground with a muted 'thud!'.
The elf's eyes landed on the tip of the sword protruding from the monster's chest, and looking behind the dead orc revealed Bryran standing there with a rather frightening scowl on his face, especially when the warrior's brown eyes landed on Kellindil and the scowl deepened. Bryran pulled his sword from the dead orc and the corpse promptly fell to the ground where the warrior then wiped the blood off his blade using the orc's dirty shirt.
Bryran looked at the crouching elf and jerked his head towards the space through the rock wall and when Kellindil slunk passed him the warrior hissed out under his breath, "We will talk about this later, my friend." And he was gratified when he saw Kellindil cringe slightly from the corner of his eye while he covered their retreat.
As soon as the two companions were around the stone barrier, they began running for their lives as fast as they could as the angry yells of at least a dozen orcs sounded from the camp behind them.
Yeah, this chapter has shown that no matter how much pain I put him through, Kellindil can still kick butt when he has to. And Bryran isn't half bad either! ^_^ I hope this chapter was worth the wait! I'm currently working on another story that was inspired by a conversation with Lang Noi, and the plot bunney basically grabbed me around the throat and threatened to strangle me if I didn't write it, so...Yeah, I probably won't update very often until I finish that story. As always, constructive criticism is welcome! Please review and tell me what you think!
Quick Poll: Who wants to find out what the papers said that horrified Kellindil so much?