Chapter 6 - Dorkan Tork
Stark white snow made it easy to see the orcs. A quarter mile ahead the small band was making its way towards a natural ice bridge that covered a ravine between two mountains.
"We have them." Pierce was ecstatic.
"Not quite." Mallet's blue eyes scanned the terrain. He chewed a little on the inside of his cheek. Something was wrong. Where was the orc's trap? "That bridge is narrow and treacherous. We wouldn't be able to cross it on horseback. A handful of orcs could hold it for hours, allowing the Warchief to escape."
"Then we can't let that happen." Pierce turned to the men and drew his sword. "Thirty crowns to the first man to kill an orc. Charge!"
A cheer went up from the cavalry and the men dug their spurs in. Thunder filled the air as the humans stormed up the mountain towards the fleeing orcs. Mallet leaned forward and whispered into Star's ear. His mount's barding was heavier than most, but still his horse pulled toward the lead of the pack. But not so far ahead as the scout's horses. The fast pintos had no armor, and their riders did not wear mail.
As they closed the distance to the orcs, Mallet began to think he had overestimated the enemy. He could see several of them were wounded, one of them badly. Doomhammer was easy to spot, his black armor contrasting sharply with the snow. As they approached, the Warchief reached out and lifted the wounded soldier onto his own shoulders. Carrying the orc in this fashion, the leader of the Horde somehow managed to keep the pace with his fellows. But even with that incredible show of strength, they were still too slow.
The lead scout gave a war cry as he closed in. One of the orcs stopped as they reached the base of the bridge, and held his ground. The orc spread his legs in an odd fighting stance, and held aloft an immense sword. The scout bore down on him. The orc just waited and Mallet was close enough that he could see his yellow-toothed smile. The scout raised his weapon and brought it down. There was an instant of lightning fast movement and the snow exploded as the orc appeared five feet behind the horse. The scout screamed as his horse collapsed out from under him. The mount's head had been cut clean off, and the man bisected at the waist.
The second scout pull back hard on his reigns. The orc saw this and began to laugh. Mallet had closed the distance and could now get a good look at him. The orc was bare-chested, and wore an odd skirt made of leather that the paladin assumed was made from the skin of his conquered foes. He wore a harness across his back, and a pole rose from it. A large flag of blue cloth flew from it, with the bared fangs of a white wolf's head flying in the breeze. He wore no armor at all, and his skin was covered with aged scars. His hair was a single long braid and a long scar ran down the side of his face. Most strangely, his eyes did not glow read, as other orcs did.
"Face me cowards!" The orc screamed in the human language. "Dorkan Tork has death for you all!"
The scout had pulled to a stop, seemingly paralyzed by fear. The orc cackled a hysterical laughter. He then charged forward and closed the distance between the two of them in the blink of an eye. The enormous blade swept thru the air and the scout's sword vanished. The blade fell to the ground, severed at the hilt. The scout trembled in fear as the orc pulled him from his horse with one hand. The green skinned warrior then screamed at the horse, and the terrified beast turned and bolted back down the mountain.
Mallet crossed the last distance and pulled back just out of range of the orc's weapon. Star reared back and towered over the orc. Mallet raised his hammer and looked down at his foe.
"Release him at once!" The knight cried.
The orc howled with laughter. "Why? Are you afraid I will kill him? His blood is not worthy of my blade." The orc turned to the scout and drew their faces close together. "You'll remember this day, won't you human. Today is the day that Dorkan Tork spared your life." And with that he lifted the scout with one arm and threw him bodily down the mountain.
Star neighed loudly. Mallet patted her flank then slowly began to dismount, never taking his eyes off his opponent.
"Why do you not fight from the back of your beast, pigskin?" Dorkan asked.
"You showed that man mercy." Mallet said as his feet touched the ground. "I asked you to release him and you did. Honor demands that we fight as equals."
"You are not my equal, cur!" The orc's face flushed olive with anger. "I spared his life as a true orcish blademaster would spare the life of any unworthy opponent. Now my face will haunt his nightmares. He will tell his children of this day, and they will tell their children. And in this way, I will become immortal. Bah! Why do I tell you this? You humans know nothing of honor! How could your weak race ever have defeated the Horde?"
As the orcs words echoed off the mountains, the thunder of hooves rolled over it. The main body of the cavalry pulled up behind Mallet. The men stopped and watched the two combatants. Captain Pierce and Tauphin were among them.
"What are you doing, you fool?" Pierce yelled at Mallet. "Doomhammer is almost across the bridge." The knight glanced across the ravine and saw that the captain was right.
"None shall pass!" The orc spread his heels and raised the sword with both hands.
"You men, kill him." Pierce gestured to three cavalry officers. All three men lowered their lances and charged the orc.
The wind gusted suddenly, throwing up a screen of snow and flaring out the flag on the blademaster's back. Without warning, Dorkan's body became indistinct and Mallet could have sworn there was not one orc, but several. Each of the shadowy warriors leapt into the air and set upon the horsemen. There was a clash of steel and three rider-less horses screamed in panic. All of the officers lay on the ground, surrounded by their own broken weapons. Not a single wound blemished their bodies.
The wind and snow died down, revealing only one orc. "Unworthy! All of you!" The orc turned to the rest of the cavalry and spread his arms. "My name is Dorkan Tork! Remember it when you go crawling back to your women! None of you shall pass while I still draw breath!"
Pierce was livid. "The Warchief is getting away! Ignore that orc and stop Doomhammer!"
The blademaster howled and lifted his sword high above his head. A terrible stillness filled the air for a moment. Then Dorkan wheeled on one foot and brought his blade down on the bridge itself. A wave of force crested forward as the weapon split the air. The force struck the ice bridge and it shattered like crystal. A thousand clear pieces rained down into the ravine.
"Now I am your only opponent. There will be no more distractions." Dorkan said in a quite, almost serine voice. He stood up straight, something orcs rarely did.
"That insane fool!" Pierce blinked uncomprehendingly. "That imbecile has cut off his only means of escape."
"Escape?" The orc asked with an eerie calm. "Why would I run from the likes of you? Do you think I have no honor?"
"Surrender, filth. Or die!" Pierce pointed his sword at the orc's unflinching eyes. His enemy's attitude seemed to be unnerving him. "You are outnumbered forty to one."
"I do not fear death. And I will never surrender." The orc swept the horsemen with his icy stare. "Hear me, men of Azeroth. I did not come to your prison today to free the Warchief. My war is over. My people are gone. I came to seek out the warriors who defeated the Horde. I came to find a challenge worthy of my blade. I came seeking honor and glorious combat. And perhaps, perhaps even death.
"And what have I found? Cowards who will not fight unless victory is certain. You follow a leader who soils himself at the thought of combat." Dorkan raised his sword and pointed the tip at Pierce. "Is it you? Are you the one who's sword will finally bring down Dorkan Tork?"
Pierce's eyes were wide, his bottom lip trembling. "Men! Dismount at once! You will rush this monster and throw him into the ravine!"
The cavalrymen turned and blinked in astonishment at what Pierce had said. Sergeant Brightblade spoke up first. "Sir, with all due respect..."
"Do as I say!" Pierce screamed. His eyes were wide and froth was forming on his lips. "If you all attack at once he will only be able to kill four or five of you! It's my only chance!"
"Ignore that order sergeant." Mallet strode forward slowly, until he stood in line with the orc's blade. The orc's eyes dropped from Pierce and met the paladin's. Mallet felt fear wash over him like ice water, but he held his ground.
"Sergeant Brightblade. I am relieving Captain Pierce of command. I want you to take the men back down the mountain and find a way up the other side of that ravine. If you move fast, you might be able to pick up Doomhammer's trail before sundown. I will handle this… situation."
"You can't be serious, sir." Brightblade said as he reached across and took the reigns of Pierce's horse. The captain was so incoherent that he didn't seem to notice.
"You have your orders, sergeant. Tauphin will remain behind with me. Now move out."
The sergeant nudged his horse and trotted quickly downhill. The rest of the men filed after him silently. They cast glances behind them at the two warriors facing off against each other. Mallet did not need to hear their whispers to know they did not expect to see him again. Only his friend the dwarf remained. Tauphin sat astride his mount several yards away, holding Star's reigns in silence.
The blademaster stood alone, his back to a chasm of air. The wind whipped at the flag on his back, making the wolf's jaws seem to snap in furious anger. He glanced back across the ravine, but Doomhammer and the other orcs had already fled.
"It seems your Warchief has abandoned you." Mallet said.
"He was never my Warchief." Dorkan looked into the sky, in the direction of the setting sun. "He and the other chieftains turned their backs on the old ways in their quest for power. There was no honor in this war, no glory in its battles. Only slaughter and butchery."
Mallet cleared his throat. "I will fight you on one condition. If you win, you let the dwarf live. He is a man of the cloth, and no threat to you. He will carry my body back to my family."
The orc watched a lone eagle soaring in the sky above them. "And who will tell my Grom Groknel? Where would they take my broken sword?" He turned to Mallet and gave the paladin a strange look. "You have shown remarkable courage and honor for a human. What are you called?"
"My name is Mallius Crownguard."
"Know this then, champion of men. My people were once proud. Our shamans called the spirits to battle, and our warriors lived each day as if it was our last. Today the orcs may be defeated, our spirits broken and bodies lying docile like sheep in your camps, but it will not always be so. One day, we shall rise again, to reclaim our birthright. We will become the people we once were."
Dorkan raised his enormous sword with one hand and pointed it at Mallet's heart. "When that day comes, this sword and this flag will go to my people. My people will know that there was one blademaster who never fell to the Legion's corruption. There was one whose heart was never crushed, whose flame never died. If you survive this battle, you will bring my Grom Groknel to my people Mallius Crownguard. You will do this, or I swear by my ancestors that my spirit will haunt you and all your children for eternity."
Mallet stared at the orc. Stared at this creature that represented everything he hated. He thought of the war, of his lost home and his dead family. He thought of Ogrim Doomhammer and how much he hated the Warchief, of how many times he fantasized about killing him. He had always thought of the enemy as a mindless, soulless monstrosity. And now, in the face of all that, he felt himself compelled to do what he thought was impossible.
"By my honor, I will do as you ask."
Dorkan Tork nodded silently, and then drew his weapon up into a fighting stance. Mallet gripped his hammer in both hands and summoned the power of the Light. He felt the holy energy infuse his being and the very air around him began to glow.
Like lightning the orc rushed forward. Reflex alone brought Mallet's hammer up to block the attack. The orc's face was inches from the human's and the paladin could smell his enemy's foul breath.
"Now human, fight me. Fight me with every ounce of your heart and soul. For I am Dorkan Tork, and I will not be felled easily!"