VIII
The rain had ended just before dawn, and the last clouds had drifted north as the first lights of dawn played over the eastern horizon. As the morning advanced, the sun blazed its way into the sky, quickly warming the saturated forests and creating a thin mist as the waterlogged forest began to dry. It was a beautiful spring morning, and given any other circumstances, he would have thoroughly enjoyed the perfect day.
Neuville glanced back to the ragged column of refugees behind him, letting out a weary sigh as he appraised the group in the early morning sun. The majority of the fifty or so refugees were children, no older than the fourteen year old Irina. A half dozen women of Chessa's age were also with the group, but they lacked the hardened mindset or skill with a bow that Chessa herself showed. Other than the pair of Tourant rangers, only Chessa and Oleg had any real combat experience. Every refugee capable of holding a dagger had been given a weapon, but Neuville doubted that any of the displaced villagers would survive if they were forced into battle with the orcs.
Neuville turned back to the forest ahead of him, leaning on his double axe as he crouched under the branches of an enormous spruce. All through the night the orcs had kept only a quarter mile at most behind the refugees, threatening to overtake them if they stopped for even a moment. The terrain and weather had sapped even Neuville's strength; the refugees were beyond exhausted, barely keeping up with Neuville's agonizingly slow pace. Twice the ranger had tried to turn the column east, but a combination of losing children in the darkness and orcs skulking through the forest on his eastern flank continued to push the displaced villagers much too far north.
"Neuville."
Neuville turned slowly at the sound of Chessa's voice. The woman carefully made her way across the rocky ground to the ranger's side, pausing for a moment as she ducked under the old, dead branches ringing the bottom of the spruce.
"How are they holding up?" Neuville inquired, nodding back to the struggling refugees.
"They are exhausted," Chessa replied, pushing her rain and sweat soaked hair from her eyes. In the morning sun, the ranger could clearly see the lines of exhaustion on the woman's face. "We need to stop."
"We can't," Neuville said simply. Chessa opened her mouth to protest, but the ranger continued quickly. "The Cruel Blades are almost on top of us, and we still have to find a way around the east. If we don't, we'll be boxed in and slaughtered."
"Thierry and Irina have been watching the orcs behind us," Chessa said, pointing with the tip of her long bow to the south. "They say that the orcs have fallen behind."
"Then we should use this time to get around the orcs to our east," Neuville explained. "I know they're exhausted. I'm exhausted too. But we have to keep moving, or we'll all be killed."
"We cannot keep this pace," Chessa explained. "Already Oleg has had to carry some of the youngest. They are wet, tired and hungry. We need to stop."
Neuville hesitated for a moment, closing his eyes as he considered Chessa's statement. Neuville's legs ached from a night of handling the rocky, uneven terrain, and fatigue was starting to eat away at his senses. Still, the threat of the Cruel Blade and Bloody Fist orcs was all too real. As far as he was concerned, rest could wait until they were safely inside the border of Tourant.
The ranger glanced back behind Chessa, and saw that she was right. Neuville was ready to continue the journey, but the refugees could barely make their way over a fallen tree that blocked their path. Most of the children were already dragging their feet, tripping over roots and rocks as they trudged mindlessly forward. Finally, Neuville dropped his eyes to the ground, shaking his head in frustration.
"We can't stop long," the ranger relented. "Feed them quickly. I need to talk to Thierry, anyway."
Chessa nodded, and started back to the refugees without another word. Neuville watched her go for a moment, then glanced back to the forest east of him. He could not make out any signs of orcs for the moment, but the silence that pervaded the forest was unsettling. It was only early spring, and the long winter had taken its toll on the woodland creatures, but not even a single bird sang in the trees. It seemed as though every living creature had fled the imminent battle, leaving the displaced villagers of Fiume alone to face the orcish tribes on either side of them.
Neuville started back to the tiny group of refugees as Chessa sat them down, using the fallen pine as camouflage from their pursuers to the south. Nearly half the children had fallen asleep as soon as they were allowed to sit, while Oleg distributed food and water to the few that remained awake. As Neuville reached the old half orc, Oleg held up a chunk of bread.
"Save it for them," Neuville said simply, nodding to the refugees. Oleg smiled faintly.
"Keep your strength up," the old priest said. "If the orcs catch up to us, you will be the one to have to fend them off. So you'd better eat something."
Neuville nodded, and reluctantly took the bread from Oleg. Without another word, the ranger made his way over the fallen pine, and found Thierry crouched down behind a clump of laurel. The younger ranger turned as he heard his ally, and nodded faintly.
"I see you let them take a break," Thierry observed. Neuville nodded. "Good thing, too. We all needed it."
"We'll have plenty of time to rest once we get to Tourant," Neuville said. He held up the bread. "Where's Irina?"
"In the pine," Thierry said, pointing back to the downed tree. Irina was half propped against the tree, sound asleep with her bow in hand. "Let her sleep for a couple of minutes," Thierry said. "She's had a rough night."
"Taking on an apprentice?" Neuville inquired dryly.
"Not until she gets older," Thierry replied with a faint smile. Neuville snorted out a derisive chuckle.
"Let's take a look at the map," the older ranger said, tearing the bread into two pieces. Thierry nodded, and pulled a long, slender tube from his pack. The younger ranger pulled the map out of its case and put it down on a relatively dry rock as Neuville handed half of the bread to him.
"We should be just about dead east from Auxonne," Thierry said, pointing to the tiny logging settlement that was their destination. "But they forced us far enough north that we put some rocky ground between us and Tourant," the younger ranger continued, taking a bite out of the tough bread as he pointed to the map just west of Auxonne. "You remember this area here, right?"
"If we head any farther north, we're going to run right into Libor's troops," Neuville observed, studying the map for a moment. "It isn't too bad there."
"Not too bad?" Thierry repeated, arching an eyebrow as he looked up at Neuville. "Isn't that where you broke your leg two years ago?"
"Yes," Neuville admitted through gritted teeth, scowling at the younger ranger. The terrain had far less to do with Neuville's past injury than a bit of wet moss that the ranger had not seen, and which had simply caused him to slip and fall awkwardly on a relatively flat surface. Thierry chuckled slightly, amused by his partner's still wounded pride from the injury. "We'll make it through all right," the older ranger said, pushing the conversation forward. "But we'll have to turn east now."
Neuville opened his mouth to speak, but Chessa's sudden appearance over the fallen pine cut him short. Irina was startled awake by a sharp snap as the woman landed on the shattered twigs covering the ground, but Chessa paid the young archer no mind as she turned to Neuville and Thierry.
"What's wrong?" Thierry asked, seeing the village leader's anxious expression.
"The Bloody Fist," Chessa replied. "They're here!"
"Already?" Neuville said, astounded. Thierry turned quickly to the north, crouching behind the trunk as he tried to find the orcs that Chessa had seen. Neuville joined him almost instantly, peering over the heads of the silent refugees trying to remain unseen.
"They must have marched right through the night," Thierry whispered, moving over slightly to allow Irina a view over the trunk. It took only a fraction of a second for Neuville to locate the Bloody Fist orcs, moving quickly through the brush with little regard for their surroundings. For the moment their speed kept the orcs from noticing the refugees, but the barbarians were heading straight for the displaced villagers. "We are in serious trouble."
"What do we do?" Irina asked fearfully, turning to Thierry.
"We'll never be able to get everyone together before they reach us," Chessa said, her eyes still on the rapidly advancing orcs.
"We have to move, right now," Neuville decided, pointing toward the forest to his right. Chessa turned to him, her eyes widening with surprise. "Get everyone up and moving east, as quickly as possible."
"I just told you, we'll never make it!" the woman repeated.
"We can't stay here," Neuville said, shaking his head in frustration. The ranger had very little hope that the group would be able to outrun the orcs, but there was no other choice. "They're going to march right over us, and we'll never be able to fight them off. We make for the east as quickly as possible, and pray that they don't chase for very long."
"I'll slow them down," Thierry said, nocking an arrow on his bowstring.
"I'll help," Irina added, trying to sound brave. Neuville shook his head, ready to protest the young pair's decision.
"They have bows," Chessa pointed out, cutting Neuville off before he could argue with his younger ally. "You must lead, Neuville, in case the other orcs are still to our east."
"Okay," Neuville said, reluctantly complying with the plan. The older ranger turned to Thierry. "Try not to get held up."
"And you don't slow down," Thierry countered with a bit of a smile.
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"We did not march all night just to hide."
"Patience, Dainis, patience," Ruslan said quietly, his eyes on the forest to his north. Although the refugees had moved with more speed than Ruslan had expected, Dainis and more than a hundred orcs had been able to overtake the fleeing humans with considerable ease. "It won't be long now," the disfigured orc said, gesturing to the north. "Libor's troops cannot be far off."
"We could overtake them and slaughter them with only a quarter of my men!" Dainis protested angrily. He had forced his men through a night of pouring rain and treacherous terrain with a promise of combat by the dawn, but so far the orcs had come across nothing but an abandoned village and a pair of old humans that had taken their own lives long before the orcs had reached them.
"But then we would waste our resources killing them," Ruslan countered easily. Dainis snorted in disgust.
"We are hiding from humans," the war chief protested. Ruslan chuckled.
"They know we are here," the ranger informed his comrade. "They know Mislav is to their east. The only reason they are still running north is because they know we are here. And soon, because of them, we will know exactly where Libor is. Why should we use our own orcs to probe Libor's defenses, when we can use the humans?"
"This is cowardly," Dainis grumbled. "If your brother knew we were hiding from a pathetic group of humans-"
"He would approve of the tactic," Ruslan cut in, his voice growing stern and cold. The two orcish commanders locked icy gazes for a moment, neither willing to back down. "If your men break cover and attack the humans, you will be the one to pay for their lack of discipline," Ruslan warned, edging forward slightly. "The Bloody Fist is as strong as we are, and they have Predrag. We will take any advantage we can get."
"We will wait," Dainis muttered, turning away from Ruslan in submission. "But the One Eye will not favor this tactic."
"The One Eye won't care who is fighting, as long as there is battle," Ruslan said, smiling faintly at the war chief's comment. Dainis turned a spiteful gaze back on Oleksandr's brother, but before he could form a retort a booming war cry shattered the morning silence.
"The Bloody Fist," Dainis concluded, turning northward.
"You see, Dainis?" Ruslan said, his smile growing wider. "You didn't have to wait long, after all."
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Even as they started to run, he realized they would never make it.
Neuville barely hazarded a glance over his shoulder as he sprinted to the east, scrambling over the rocky ground and dodging trees in his haste to reach some kind of safety. Behind him, the women and children of Fiume struggled desperately to keep up with the ranger in their race to escape the orcs of the Bloody Fist. Trailing only a few steps behind the refugees, Thierry backpedaled as he loosed arrow after arrow at the charging barbarians, while Irina tried to steady her nerves enough to stand and fire. In the middle of the refugees, Oleg continued to urge the refugees forward, carrying a child in one arm and waving his great axe with the other. Chessa stayed between the refugees and the charging orcs, firing shots from her own bow even as she ducked between the trees and evaded the first incoming javelins. But despite the best efforts of the refugees and the two rangers, the orcs were closing far too rapidly for the refugees to have even the slimmest hopes of escape.
Neuville glanced quickly around as he ran, hoping for some kind of natural defensive position, but nothing appeared to his quick search. To the north, the rocky ground fell away in a series of low ledges, difficult to cross but of little value as a fortification. To the east, the ground rose slightly, but not enough to give any kind of defensive cover. Neuville turned to the south in desperation, gasping out a plea to Pelor for some kind of miracle.
A rocky outcropping stood just to the southeast, more a jumble of tall boulders than anything else, but possibly large enough to accommodate the refugees. The lowest of the rocks jutted almost six feet up out of the ground, while the tallest points of the formation were nearly twenty feet into the air and partially shielded by the pines growing around them. If the refugees could reach the tops of the boulders, they would at least have a somewhat defensible position against the orcs. And while the ranger was less than happy about putting the villagers in a position where they would be quickly surrounded, one glance over his shoulder showed him that it was only a matter of seconds before the Bloody Fist overtook the remnants of Fiume. If they had to stand and fight, they would do it with every advantage they could find.
"Chessa!" Neuville shouted, slowing only faintly as he tried to get the woman's attention. Chessa turned even as she drew another arrow back. "South! Turn south! Follow me!"
Chessa loosed her arrow, then quickly began to herd her villagers south. Neuville turned and sprinted straight for the rocks, his attention focused on his last hope for survival.
He had only taken a dozen steps when he spotted a dozen more orcs in the trees just to the right of the rocks.
Neuville raised his double axe, ready to fight his way through them, but the orcs ahead of him stunned the ranger as they dropped back slightly into the forest. Neuville slowed only the faintest bit, expecting some kind of ambush from the new group of orcs, but suddenly everything fell into place. The orcs had forced them north to use them as a first wave against Libor's troops. Neuville skidded to a stop and turned back to Chessa as the village leader hurtled a chunk of stone jutting from the ground.
"What are you doing?" the woman demanded as she reached the ranger. "They're right behind us!"
"Get everyone up on those rocks," Neuville ordered, pointing to the formation ahead of him. Chessa's eyes went wide with shock. "It's the most defensible position we'll find."
"You want to stand and fight?" she demanded, incredulous.
"We don't have a choice!" Neuville explained quickly. "Oleksandr forced us north, and now we're trapped in a vise that's about to crush us!"
"If we stay here, we'll be slaughtered!" Chessa countered angrily.
"Maybe not, if I can draw the Cruel Blades into the fight," Neuville said. Chessa's mouth dropped open, but before she could question Neuville's logic the ranger had turned to chase after the fleeing Cruel Blade orcs.
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Each arrow dropped an orc, but each moment taken to aim and fire brought the orcs closer to him.
Thierry turned and sprinted a half dozen yards as he drew another arrow from his quiver, finding himself running dangerously low on ammunition as he spun and fired again. His arrow slammed into one orc's chest and the warrior pitched forward, but a hundred of his comrades simply swarmed past the fallen barbarian or drew their arms back to launch a new volley of javelins. Irina drew an arrow of her own and quickly tried to fire, but the girl's fear and unsteady hands sent the missile high and wide of its intended target.
"Irina! Run!" Thierry ordered, shoving his way through a clump of brambles in his attempts to stay ahead of the charging berserkers. The girl needed no more prompting, turning and racing away from the oncoming tide of orcs as Thierry wheeled and fired one last, poorly aimed shot at his pursuers. With his supply of arrow nearly exhausted and the orcs only a dozen yards away, Thierry turned and sprinted for all he was worth, following Irina as she bolted through the forest. Javelins clattered along the rocky ground around him or slammed into trees on his sides, but somehow Thierry escaped the first barrage unscathed. The ranger pushed himself for every last ounce of speed he could muster, praying that the rest of the refugees had been given enough time to outrun the orcs bearing down on them.
Instead, he found them climbing up onto a rocky outcropping.
Thierry nearly tripped as he stared in shock at the bizarre tactic. If their hope was to escape the orcs, taking refuge in a jumble of boulders was the last thing they should have done. Standing at the base of the formation, Chessa urged her charges on with all the speed they could muster, while Oleg helped those that were too young to climb themselves to reach the top of the mound. Neuville was nowhere to be seen among the refugees. As the younger ranger slowed to gape at the move, Irina turned back to him with fear in her eyes
"Thierry, what's going on?" the girl asked, realizing the apparently suicidal maneuver. Thierry said nothing to the girl as he renewed his sprint, reaching Chessa's side as she pushed one young boy into the rocks.
"What the hell is going on?" he demanded, grabbing Chessa by the shoulder. "We'll be torn apart here!"
"Tell your friend, wherever he went!" Chessa snapped back, frustrated to the point of rage with the pair of rangers. The village leader turned quickly and grabbed Irina by the arm, stopping the girl before she could try to fire another shot at their pursuers. "Get up the rocks and fire from the top!"
"Where is Neuville?" Thierry asked, furious with his friend for deciding on such a tactic and at Chessa for listening. The village leader turned to Thierry, opening her mouth for a livid retort, but a new, furious, war cry stopped her before she could answer. The two turned first to the Bloody Fist orcs, but the orcs there were slowing instead of rushing forward for the kill. Thierry turned first, realizing that the war cry had come from the south instead of the north, but for a moment all the ranger could do was stare in shock. Chessa turned as she noticed the ranger's dumbfounded gaze, but for a moment the village leader could barely voice a sentence.
"There he is," she finally said, pointing with the tip of her bow. Neuville had finally reappeared from the forest, sprinting for all he was worth. Behind him, over a hundred orcs bearing the Cruel Blade standard were rapidly gaining ground on the ranger.
"Up on the rocks," Thierry said simply.