Chapter 9 – The Purging of Sharkhburz…

On the Coast of the Sea of Nurnen…

The fortress on the Sea of Nurnen was not dissimilar from its counterpart in Lithlad in construction, though it terms of location it might have even been considered pleasant in comparison with that ruined desert city. It might not have been inconceivable that orc warchiefs or captains in Sauron's favor would come there on holiday to get away from the stresses of their brutal regimen, treating themselves to flavored grog and massages. Such were the renegade thoughts which passed through the High King's mind as he observed the citadel from the shore of the opposing coastline around midday.

The orc stronghold of Sharkhburz resided on a large island in the expansive, bitter lake, on the northeastern coast. That fact alone made it difficult to mount an assault. The north side of the orc fortress was sheer cliffs into the water. From the aerial reconnaissance the griffins had provided, there was only one gate into the stronghold, and this faced the southern expanse of the island. Outside of those gates was a small town of various storehouses, manufactories, and slave houses. Had he been the orcish overlord of Sharkhburz, Peter felt he'd have good reason to feel secure behind its thick stone walls. Capture of the fortress would be brutal and punishing for any force.

Capture, however, was not their mandate.

The bulk of the Narnian army rested on the northern shore of the Sea of Nurnen, a day's march from the gates of Ennyn Ur into Gorgoroth, the blackened lands where lay Mt. Doom and Barad-dur. They intended to march northwards at dawn on the morrow, but first, as it was pointed out by both their new elven ally, Eltariel, and Sir Eric, they needed to neutralize what forces might follow to their rear and come at them from behind. Beyond this and their mandate to butcher every orc they came across, there was another reason for not ignoring the island.

Before he disappeared once more, Aslan had informed his brother and he of another potential ally in their war against these monsters and their monstrous lord. An ancient spirit of wild nature that had called the forests of the island home for millennia. If one were to impress her, and inquire politely, one might find in her a powerful friend against Mordor's hosts.

Peter observed the fortress intently, having received no word since their first incursion by stealth around dawn. The courage and skill which their company of talking mice had demonstrated at Lithlad had been called on again. However, the strategy employed would have to be altered. This overlord seemed to have no desire to throw all of his troops into combat or evacuate his island in the hopes of destroying the Narnians. He was apparently not as big of a fool as the previous orc commander. As courageous as the mice were, neither Peter nor Edmond were going to task them with taking down thousands of orcs on their own.

Next to him, Edmond waited as well, adding his own keen eyes.

"Do you think they're ready yet?" Edmond asked him.

"They'll give the signal when they're clear, Ed. We don't want to risk Klippiwick's company or Eltariel's life by being impatient." Peter responded.

"No, of course not. I just wish I was there with them to see what was happening for myself." His co-ruler replied.

"As do I. You know I don't like others risking their lives where I cannot. But we would just be getting in the way with their work. And both Aslan and the elf woman mentioned that Carnan might be more willing to heed talking animals as Narnia's representatives than sons of Adam, or anyone other than elves with two legs instead of four." Peter told him.

King Edmond nodded, knowing all of what he spoke, having heard all the reasoning behind it before. Still, he wished he was there with them. He turned his eyes back to the island, looking for the sign which they had agreed upon.

Like before, the mice would infiltrate the fortress accompanied by Eltariel who could move lightly and gracefully, and could remain unseen seemingly at will. They would focus on the quiet assassination of the guards on the towers and walls, as well as the trolls who manned the heavy ballistas. Once this was accomplished, Eltariel would sabotage the gates so that they would not open. Where the mice would be able to escape under the gates and Eltariel could scale the walls with ease, the majority of the orcs would be trapped inside. Eltariel's final act would be to silently move Sharkhburz's barrels of grog into more optimal positions for the Narnians' purposes.

The second incursion into the island waited patiently behind the kings next to the griffins and eagles who agreed to carry them. The kings' history with Narnia's talking wolves was checkered to be sure, but there was no question that they could be vicious fighters in their own right. It was Eltariel who had suggested the use of them against the orcs because of their physical similarities to the beasts which the fiends used for guard dogs and riding mounts. They were also fast on their feet, and could cover large amounts of ground in a short amount of time. There was a concern however that the talking wolves of Narnia were larger and heavier than the less intelligent variety of timber wolves which could also be found, and made more so by the chain mail which had been secured to their canine torsos. The griffins however assured the kings that they would have no trouble carrying them across the channel to the island for their mission.

Behind the wolves and the griffins waiting to carry them waited the eagles, and the cargo of bombs which were to be their payload. They would strike the fortress only, leaving the outlying structures and stragglers to the mice, Eltariel, and their wolfish reinforcements. If all went well, they would prove their intentions and resolve to Carnan by cleansing her island of the orcs' presence completely.

Then, Edmond saw their prearranged signal. "There, Peter, do you see it?!" He exclaimed. "They're clear!"

"I see it, Ed!" Peter told him, his voice assuming a tone of relief. He then turned to the flight of griffins and their passengers and gestured their clearance to fly. "Drop them on the east side, away from the fortress!" He called to them. "Keep clear of the citadel!"

The griffins took off, the wolves held securely with their talons as they crossed the channel. It would take several crossings to drop them all, and several more to return everyone once all was said and done. If the mice had not dealt with every potential archer or watchman, their plan would fold. It also hinged on the belief of the orcs that the Narnians would want to capture their fortress intact, and not burn it to the ground. The variables for failure were numerous.

It took the better part of an hour to deliver all of the wolves to their drop off points before the griffins returned to join their eagle compatriots, grasping the dwarven made bombs once again into their talons for lethal air delivery. They were all alert, waiting for their king's signal.

Peter turned to look at his brother, and then nodded. Edmond then turned to their companies of air scouts and raised his right hand before dropping it sharply. "Fly!" He shouted.

In Sharkhburz…

Orgaz stumbled through the central courtyard of the fortress that afternoon looking for a good mug of grog, or a bad mug of grog. Truth was, if it was rancid grog, he'd swill that too. Of course, it was hard to tell the difference sometimes, grog being what it was and all.

Unlike others of his kind, Orgaz had little to complain about, he felt. All things considered, he'd had it pretty easy compared to most. His being posted to Sharkhburz where it wasn't either too hot or too cold, the grog flowed freely, and there were plenty of women among the man-slaves to slake his lust on if he so desired was like a gift he'd been all too ready to welcome with open arms.

Life was uncommonly good for an orc in Sharkhburz, as long as you didn't go too far inland on the island. Most of his kind that ventured into the ancient forests didn't venture back out again. That was fine with him. He was a sand and surf kind of orc anyway.

"Hmm." he looked around for the barrels in the storehouse near the walls. They weren't where they were supposed to be. "What maggotsack moron moved the grog? I'll have his brains for my supper!" he exclaimed in outrage. One did not get in between Orgaz and his grog.

Orgaz left the empty storehouse disgusted and in a foul mood compared with his previous one. He meant to find the wealth of grog and the thief what had made off with it immediately. As he looked around, this way and that, it turned out he didn't need to go very far at all. Someone had taken the barrels and set them at different points up against the walls and buildings.

Orgaz scratched his head for a few seconds wondering why anyone would do that except… "Well, well..." He said aloud, his mood changing to something more cheerful again. "Maybe the warchiefs've decided we don't need to walk as far to get it anymore." Then another thought occurred to him which gave him a little bit of panic in what he might have forgotten. "Or maybe the overlord's having a birthday and I done forgot… again."

The orc contemplated which one it might be before being inexorably drawn to the nearest barrel across the way just a little. As he made his way over to it, he got halfway before he noticed a large flock of birds high in the sky passing over the fortress. These weren't no seagulls like he'd catch for supper sometimes neither. These birds was huge, and there were hundreds of them. He'd never seen so many birds all at once.

Then the birds started dropping what looked like shiny eggs all above the fortress. Orgaz stood transfixed as the first shiny egg dropped to the ground next to the barrel he had just been about to imbibe from. There was a loud explosion and the next thing the orc knew he was on his back with a splitting headache and small fragments of wood and metal protruding from his arms and chest. His vision was blurry as he tried to see.

"What the…?" He asked himself out loud, holding his head, bleeding black oily blood from a wound he didn't know how he had gotten.

All around him was smoke and raging fire. Orcs ran around frantically trying to douse the flames with water, but every time they did, they ended up pouring more grog onto the infernos instead, causing them to spread farther, faster. Explosions continued to ring out around him as the demon birds dropped their hellish payloads across the fortress. Fire raged from the structures and flames roared through stone buildings and hallways like maniacal furnaces. The main keep, the overlord's throne room and personal chambers was ablaze like a torch.

"Oh hell!" Orgaz swore as he forced himself to get up and get moving. He made for the front gates to get out of there, running as hard and as fast as he could, ignoring the pain of the shrapnal wounds. He reached them and slammed into them, trying to force them open. Alongside him, other panicked orcs joined him, pushing on them as well as pushing, but there was no use, they wouldn't budge.

"Unlock the gates!" Orgaz called out in the Black Speech. "Unlock the gates or we all burn!"

Orgaz continued to pound on them alongside the others, but either no one was smart enough to try and release them, or they couldn't be released. He could feel the flames grow hotter against his back and knew he was going to die if he stayed there.

"Not this orc." He muttered to himself and, tearing away from the gate, he spied the entry stairs to the nearest watch post on the walls. He ran for them, followed by a dozen of his fellows who saw him take off and realized what his plan was.

Orgaz ran up the steps, the heat and explosions providing more than enough motivation for him to keep going. He reached the parapets of the wall and then jumped over the side, quickly thinking to roll so as not to break his legs upon landing. Not all of the orcs who followed his example were so quick of thought as he, and landed unable to get up again. The fires from the fortress began to spread to the outbuildings nearest by, and Orgaz continued to put distance between himself and the citadel, running into the town of support buildings.

Once in the town, he stopped to catch his breath and look back at the raging inferno which had been the mighty fortress of Sharkhburz.

"What kind of power could do that?" He wondered aloud and in astonishment. He'd never seen such weapons and tactics used before, and was certain it had to be some kind of dark sorcery even Sauron himself hadn't thought of.

Behind him and to the right, he heard the growling of a warg.

Good. He thought. I'm going to need a mount when I get back to the mainland. Some strange god or demon has smiled on me.

He turned to see a huge black warg wearing what looked like chain mail across its back and a crown of plate to protect its head emerge from behind a building. It was then followed by two more, a brown and a gray which converged to its right and left. Their teeth were bared as they growled and stared hungrily, angrily at the orc.

"Get back you filth!" He swiped at them recklessly with his hand. "Don't you know one of your masters when you see one?!"

"I don't think so, orc scum." The black warg replied with a deep growly voice in the common speech.

The shocked look of surprise was etched permanently on Orgaz's face as the black Narnian wolf leaped and tore out his throat. As the orc's corpse hit the ground, the black spit out the black blooded flesh in disgust, "Ugh… Orc meat is disgusting. It tastes like rancid droppings basted in dwarf piss."

One of his pack companions snickered, "You have experience with that there, Captain?"

The black was about to answer, but then thought better of it. "Never mind. It's a story for another time. You two, head to the walls and check for survivors. You know what to do if you find any."

"And you?" The gray asked before he took off for the wall.

"The fire's spread to the outbuildings, and there are sons of Adam and daughters of Eve still in the town. The High King gave orders to spare any of his kind we found. I intend to see to it that we do." The black answered.

"Why do you care what happens to them?" The gray asked, curious. "It's not like they've ever shown us any kindness."

"Hmph. Isn't that the truth." The black answered. "But the king gave me… gave all of us his trust that we'd do what he ordered. I don't want to break that trust. If Narnia's going to all be one pack made up of many races, we can't. If anyone breaks faith here, it won't be me."

The gray considered this then answered, "Nor I. Good luck, Captain Fenring."

"Same to you, Lieutenant Mawfang." The black replied before watching the gray and brown disappear towards the raging inferno of the citadel.

Then the black heard the screams of men and women coming from a nearby building, a longhouse of some kind which had caught fire, and took off running towards them. The fire had spread quickly across the structure's thatch roof and the whole longhouse would soon be consumed he had no doubt. Quickly inspecting the structure, he found the wooden slats nailed together which passed for a door. He could see that the orcs had secured it shut with a latch and a mechanical iron lock of some kind.

Making a quick judgment on the soundness of the door's construction, he ran and backed up, then dashed towards the door, throwing his entire weight behind him as his armored body slammed into the poorly built door and lock and shattered them completely. He landed on his side hard on the dirt floor with a yelp, then quickly got to his paws. The longhouse was already filled with smoke, and the men and women were choking and gagging on it.

He didn't know if they understood the common speech or not, but he tried anyway, "The door is open! Get out before the whole place comes down! Go! Go now!"

The sons of Adam and daughters of Eve that saw him first recoiled in terror, and doubly so when he began speaking.

"Look, I'm not going to eat you, I promise! Just get out of here!" He told them again.

A dark skinned woman who had been cowering apparently got the point that the humongous black wolf was trying to make. She got up from where she had been cowering on the floor and fled past him out the ruined doorway. When the others saw that the wolf had made no move to harm her, they too gained some little courage and fled past him.

The smoke continued to fill the longhouse as the last of them that could left, but he could still smell more with his sensitive canine nose. Not all of them were still alive. Death has it's own stench, even recent death, but there were at least two. He quickly dashed within the structure to where his nose told him there was a daughter of Eve, a cub not terribly older than his own cubs back in his den in Narnia, who was still breathing, but unconscious. She was covered in some kind of a filthy burlap cloth which he assumed passed for some kind of the coverings which their kind seemed determined to put on their bodies.

Captain Fenring, as firmly as he could without harming the girl, grabbed the rags she was wearing and dragged her outside and away from the burning building, then rushed back in and did the same for two more. He didn't know if the cubs' parents were among those that rushed out of the building or not, but he assumed… he hoped their kind would be at least as compassionate as his own and take care of the little ones regardless.

Nevertheless he couldn't wait around to find out. Once the little ones were out of immediate danger, he dashed off again in the direction of the next challenge he would face. In all, as he would recount later, he rescued more than two dozen of the humans' kind from the fires, and put down more orcs than he could count that had survived the burning citadel. Lieutenant Mawfang would dispute those numbers among the rest of the pack, claiming his own as higher, but Fenring stuck by them as he reported them to the high king.

"Well done, Captain Fenring." The high king would respond as the report was made. "You and your people have done a great service to Narnia and saved many lives in the process. This service will be remembered, I promise you."

And in one of the few times ever in his life, the wolfish captain would take a human at his word, sensing and smelling no deceit or lie in him, only relief and gratitude in spite of their people's poor history together. It was a refreshing change, and a sign of good things to come for not only his pack, but for Narnia as a whole.

On the Coastline across from the Island…

"Call up the archers to the shore!" Edmond cried out to the companies standing ready. "Form up! They're trying to swim to the mainland!"

He and Peter had been carefully watching the scene as the fortress went up in flames. There had been some of its inhabitants that had swarmed over its walls, intending to drop into the sea below, some of them alight with flames themselves. Most smashed into the rocks of the cliffs, but some managed to survive the fall and began to swim.

The archers gathered along the shore and drew their bows, waiting for the order.

"Fire at will!" Edmond cried out, and hundreds of arrows flew at the orcs in the water with deadly accuracy.

Soon, orc bodies bobbed on the gently lapping waves, their black blood mixing with and then dissipating in the bitter waters of the sea. Some orcs tried to dive beneath the water and swim as far as they could to avoid the deadly shafts, but they could only do this for so long. Those who reached the beach were shot down where they emerged.

As dusk fell, the eagles and griffins returned to the island to provide transport to the Narnian troops that had fought the battle there. Sir Eric once more mounted on Fleetfeather did an overflight of the fortress and its surrounding structures which continued to burn. No more orcs could be seen attempting to escape the blazes, and none could be seen wondering freely either. Of more concern was the number of men, women, and children which were huddled in fear on the eastern edge of the island in a makeshift evacuation camp. They had been rounded up and herded by the talking wolves and mice to that location for their own safety. Many appeared to be wounded and in need of healers and physicians. Of course all would need transport to the mainland. How all of that was to be arranged, and what they would do with their newfound freedom was not for him to decide.

As he flew across the island, they spied the gray cloaked elven lady and a contingent of mice riding on the backs of their canine brothers in arms heading into the forested interior. He did not know the details of that mission, but could surmise that it would be in the interests of acquiring more allies for their next move.