Death March
Tam Bonehead ordered the herd to stop for the night. In the dense forest it was hard to keep a good marching speed going, but they were still making good time. The herd was tired, but in a very good mood. The elation of winning the last battle still held their spirits up. The spectral servants of the Earthmother were still with them too, and most of the herd called them Spirit Walkers, since they seemed to come from somewhere between the world of the living and the dead, and could travel between them. The Spirit Walkers themselves did not speak of it, and their silence was respected.
"Tam, what will happen when we get to this place and do what we are supposed to?" Springflower asked her brother nervously. Others of the herd listened up as Tam turned from the pack of one of the Kodos.
"We will return to the Barrens, of course," he smiled. Seeing the look on his sister's face he looked around. "Why do you ask? Let's worry about our mission first, hmm?" he looked at the others, who nodded their confidence.
"But… I mean… didn't the Earthmother send you back so you could finish the mission?" she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Yes? Didn't I tell you?" Tam shrugged, wondering what was going on.
"Then… what will happen to you when we are done?" She saw his face go soft, and her heart wrenched in her chest.
"Springflower," he began as he saw her shoulders shake with suppressed grief, "we all have our time. Be glad for what we are given," he said softly.
"No… no," she started sobbing as she reached for him. Tam put his arms around her, looking over her shoulder at Tolg, his best friend. Tolg nodded, and Tam clasped his hand, an unspoken agreement sealed.
Geir stared at the few strips of dried meat he had been given by the Orcs as they stopped for the night. It must be some sort of bad joke. After running for hours until his lungs burned and his legs were rubbery this was all he was given to eat? He saw the others gnawing on their rations, which seemed to be about the same as his. How could they live off what wouldn't feed a two year old child?
"Uh… is this it?" Geir asked in disbelief. The Orcs looked at him questioningly.
"What, you want a nice table and a few maidens to bring you beer?" Omu scoffed him harshly, and the others chuckled. Geir looked at him in astonishment. He had never really heard Omu speak human before, and he was surprised at how well he did, even better than Jubei.
"No, I mean-" he started to reply, but Omu cut him off.
"If you are wondering where the bard is, he went over to impress the women, but I am sure I can hum something," he almost growled. Then Jubei said something in a stern voice, and Omu looked away.
"You want more food, Geir? Think a few strips not enough?" Jubei looked at him. Geir looked around sheepishly, clearing his throat.
"I mean… I am sorry, I didn't know we had this little, we could have packed some before leaving the others," he explained.
"No, we have more than enough. We eat only what we need, and you probably have too much," Jubei half smiled at Geir's expression.
"I could eat this three times and still have room for more," Geir muttered.
"Yes," Jubei smiled, "and if we fight tonight, you will be slow and sluggish, and your stomach will hurt. Like when thirsty, we take just enough to not be thirsty, but not so much to make stomach hurt," Jubei explained. "Eat and drink little, but more times, yes? Then you are never too full, never very hungry, always ready to dance."
"Yeah… well… I am still hungry," Geir half chuckled. Jubei grinned.
"You are used to much food and much drink, stomach say more, more, but have enough," Jubei said and finished his last strip.
"Is there a lesson for everything? I mean, are you going to tell me I sleep wrong too?" Geir complained jokingly. Jubei's face hardened, and the others looked away.
"These lessons are not jokes, Geir," Jubei admonished him. "Our brothers paid with blood for them. Do you understand?"
"Y-yes, master," Geir bent his head. Damn! Why did he always say the wrong thing?
Starsong grumbled a bit at the extra weight of the heavy plate armor, but started moving as Kiniea and the group broke camp the next morning. Even with the moon gone from the sky she could still feel the presence of Elune in her heart. The newly freed prisoners seemed a bit leery about this dark aspect, but came along in gratitude for the rescue, and they didn't really have anywhere else to go in such a small number anyway. Grikk and Anea took the lead, setting a fast pace. Time was running out, and even if they got to the supposed meeting place before the Western Tauren that would just give them more time to scout.
Grikk looked around from time to time, seeing the grim looks on the faces of the others. It looked as if they were running into their grave from the looks of it. That wasn't good. Battle should be a good thing, the time for courage and pride, not a thing of grief and fear. How could they hope to succeed if they were already beaten in their hearts? Without really thinking it through, he clashed the head of his axe against his armor with every step of his right leg. The others looked at him, thinking he was making some sort of signal, then stopped in surprise as he suddenly started singing. It was a very old song, from the time before the blood curse back in Draenor. After the first hesitant lines his voice grew strong and firm as the words his mother had taught him came back. Lost in the song and his memories he didn't realize that the others had fallen behind until he was fifty yards ahead. Turning in confusion he saw the astonished looks of the women staring at him.
"What the hell are you doing, Grikk?" Kiniea almost barked at him. "There are enemies about and you are singing for all to hear?" The Night elves muttered among themselves, giving him dark looks, even Anea seemed miffed with him.
"Old song," Grikk chuckled uncertainly. "It asks the spirits to watch us, see our courage and the honor of our battle, so if we fall we will be welcome. Give us strength, courage and de… determination to win," he stumbled over the last word.
"Really…" Kiniea said sarcastically. "We want to fight by the supply dump, not every enemy along the way, Grikk." He stared at her in disbelief.
"You afraid? You want us to hide and sneak about like children?" he raised his axe with one hand and waved to the group of Night elves with the other. "We fight all the way here, and we are stronger every time! No hiding, no sneaking, we are strong!" he bellowed. They seemed to be taken aback by his fervor and his harsh voice. Kiniea translated, and Grikk saw Anea's eyes light up as she urged her panther towards him. Her glaive was in her hand, and her muscles tightened on it. Uncertainly she repeated some of the words of the song in an atrocious halting accent, and he grinned as he repeated them for her. Turning to the others she raised her glaive:
"Death March!" she yelled in broken Orcish before wheeling her panther around and taking off at the earlier pace. Grikk laughed as he heard her sing the first verse in her mangled Orcish. Grinning at Kiniea as if in victory he ran after Anea, singing with her.
They had been discovered as they left the main camp heading north, and now they were under attack by the air force of the Burning Legion. Wyverns and Gryphons fought hard to protect the ground forces of the new alliance, driven on by the relentless Orcish drums among them. While the main force of the enemy had not caught up with them, a staggering number of Gargoyles and Frostwyrms had come upon them early last night, forcing Jaina and Thrall to send their own forces against them. The way to the World Tree was mostly in the clear, perfect for enemy air to swoop down and cause havoc. Groups of Headhunters and Grunts ran up and down the line of civilians, with Knights and footmen in tow. Even with the valiant efforts of the combined Wyverns and Gryphons, the ground army had taken grievous losses. A whole Legion of Footmen had been eradicated by an Infernal dropping right in the center of it, and those that were not killed in the impact were ravaged as the burning golem waded through them. A squad of Knights, bravely charging in to help their fellows was badly mauled before they could break away. That was eight hours ago, and the Infernals were still dropping by the handful. With the brutal battle in the air, and the horrible carnage below, Jaina estimated that they had lost more than half of their forces, the Orcs taking the brunt of the damage. As they had charged headlong into death over and over there were less than a thousand of them now, and of that, less than a quarter were fertile women. The War maids had been totally wiped out, but not before taking down two of the damned Infernals on their own. It would take the Orcs several generations to rebuild their race, if there were any left after the war.
Geir was again practicing the next morning, and they taught him the various stances, how to shift between them and when they would be most useful. They were in advanced lessons now, that had taken themselves years to learn. Apart from the occasional urge to stiffen up, Geir was doing remarkably good… almost too good. As Kenji started teaching him the secrets of the blade, how to shift it and deflect enemy attacks instead of meeting force with force, Jubei looked at his brothers. Omu was the first to speak, as always.
"It must be the sword, perhaps Akama's spirit is guiding him through it. Look at how he lingers in the forward stance, slipping through the others with a little bounce, just like Akama does… or did," he muttered. Jubei put his hand on his shoulder.
"Akama is still in our hearts, as in yours," he said sympathetically. "But you must see with your eyes, not your heart, my brother. Yes, Akama is still bonded to the sword, but it is not his spirit alone guiding it. See what is in front of you, Geir's own spirit is also there. His balance is on the back leg, not the front like Akama did. He prefers the inside shift instead of the outward. And yes, he lingers in the front stance like Akama, and the broad stance.
"I hate him, he has no right to our brother's sword," Omu whispered.
"It is easy to hate, to blame someone for your sorrow, but Geir did not cause it. He should not be blamed for what happened." Omu looked at him, putting his own hand over Jubei's.
"You are right, as always, Jubei," he muttered sheepishly. "Forgive me." The others came to him, nodding their support and acceptance of his regret.
"You do not need forgiveness from me, my brother," Jubei chuckled. "Truth be told, I shared your feelings. But Geir is the one suffering for it, and it is he you must apologize to." Omu frowned. "Honor your brother and acknowledge your apology by supporting his decision," Jubei smiled. Omu bowed.
"Yes… yes. That is a good thing to do."
Geir wiped the sweat off his brow quickly, his eyes locked on Kenji as they danced, wooden sticks whirling through the air and clashing together over and over. In the beginning the stances and movements had seemed awkward, somewhat foolish, but as he learned about them and moved with them, they seemed to be natural to him, as if he had known them all his life and just forgotten. He remembered the struggle back in Lordareon, how chained he felt by the stiff and measured stances they had drilled. But he had worked so hard at it that the crippled movements had become normal. Now that the barrier was broken, his body again moved freely, almost by itself without the drilled in commands from his head. A dodge, a shift, and a spin brought him into the sudden blindside of his opponent, and only a swift duck and roll saved Kenji from the stick bashing his shoulder. He stood up grinning, the sword held in a salute.
"Very good, Geir, very much surprise." Geir nodded his head, inwardly cheering.
"Stop." The command was almost like thunder in the silent clearing, and Geir jerked until his mind repeated it, marveling at how loud everything was. Omu had spoken in a normal voice. Turning to face Omu, he held the stick by his side and bowed.
"You have learned much about the sword, Geir," Omu started, "that is good. But that is only one thing a good warrior knows. You must learn to use your whole body, but more importantly, you must learn to use your mind." Kenji, at first a bit miffed at the apparent desire of Omu to take his place, smiled and bowed. Omu's mastery of body combat was far superior to his own, maybe even better than Jubei's.
"Good move, good surprise," he patted Geir on the shoulder in approval before he stepped back and joined the others.
Geir looked nervously at Omu, full well knowing that the bigger Orc had not been all that friendly in the past. What the hell was he in for now?
"Kenji has taught you well, taught you to stay alive," Omu nodded at his brother, giving credit where it was due. "Staying alive is very important. But we can do that by going into a dark hole and hiding too. The sword is sharp, it cuts," he drew his blade slowly, turning it, letting the sun's rays glitter on the blade. "This is the only reason it exists, to cut. And so do we. Every movement we make must be a cut. Every step, every shift is done only to cut. We must only think of that, to cut, cut the enemy relentlessly, cut his arm, his leg, his face. Hesitation is the way to failure, to death. Do you understand?" Geir nodded, almost spellbound by the light glittering in Omu's blade. Then he mentally shook himself and looked at Omu himself.
"And if we are forced to defend ourselves against attacks? If we cut when the enemy does, we both die?"
"That is where body combat comes in," Omu grinned as he sheathed his blade and Kenji gave him the stick.
"There! Another one!" Jaina yelled hoarsely as she spurred her horse forward, pointing at the burning star that fell from the sky. Her squad of warriors charged after her. They had divided the able bodied warriors into squads to take down the Infernals that still dropped from the sky. While axes and swords did not do much to the burning stone golems, and arrows even less, crushing weapons such as hammers and maces had more effect. The remaining Paladins were excellent for this, with their heavy sledgehammers, and the few Mountain Kings, or Thanes were right in the thick of it too. Still, it was a very dangerous job fighting enemies that were more than twice their size. The Tauren, used to burning heat from the sun on the plains had been useful in the beginning, but not even their thick skin could take the searing flames for long. So Jaina and the other mages had to work hard to try to douse the flames for long enough so that the warriors could get close enough. While the Infernals were not susceptible to magic in its pure form, the mundane result of it still affected them. The Blizzard spell, so useful against regular armies were like nothing to these behemoths, the sharp shards of ice just bounced off their stone bodies, and didn't melt fast enough to help with the flames. The Water Elementals could not be summoned so far away from bodies of water, or at least not reach them in good time, so Jaina had come up with another solution. Water was the easiest element to control, unlike the hungry fire or the solid earth, and they were able to condense it from the air around them, and then shape it and fling it around, it was one of the first skills taught at the academy. At first they had just seized the water from the supply barrels on the wagons, but after draining half of them it was decided to leave the rest alone to douse the various fires that sprang up as the Infernals caused havoc in the army. Just filling a cup with water from the air was easy, a bucket a lot more draining, but Jaina and the others had been conjuring tons of water so far. They would all have been dead or burned out if it wasn't for the Nilas root. Used for its restorative effect, it was often boiled or ground into a paste to mix in potions of energy restoration, or Mana Potions as they were commonly called. They had already spent all those potions, despite the side-effects it caused. Now they were down to chewing the stored roots themselves.
Reeling from the dizziness and swimming vision Jaina spat out the remains of her last root, the bitter taste burning in her mouth as she swallowed the juices. They were lucky this time, the Infernal her group was going for had dropped off to the side of the army, the impact scattering dirt and grit in all directions but doing no real damage.
"IN VAS AQUA!" she called loudly, her hands whirling around her, pulling the moisture in and condensing it in front of her. The burning golem rose up from the crater, both the heat and her affected vision making it shimmer and swim before her. An inhuman roar came from that unholy thing as it climbed up and took a step towards them.
"Hold it lads, wait for it," Thane Bronzeaxe told the warriors, waiting for Jaina to finish the spell.
"VAS POR AQUA!" Jaina yelled and flung the large mass of water towards the lumbering giant, a broad beam cascading over it in a loud hiss as the heat dissipated. Holding the condensing spell active while guiding the flow at the same time was draining beyond belief, but she ground her teeth and screwed her eyes up.
"Take that, ye bastard!" Bronzeaxe yelled and flung his hammer as hard as he could as he and the others charged towards the Infernal. The heat from it was still like a wall, but a lot weaker than before.
"IN VAS SANCT!" Lord Kierdan called to the Light, and the answer came in a shimmering aura that surrounded the others as they closed in with the Infernal. The thrown hammer had hit its mark, right in the head of the monstrous giant, and even though it didn't do much damage, it was taken aback, off balance as the heavy sledges, hammers and Tauren totems started crushing its legs. A sweeping stone fist threw a Tauren warrior aside like a rag doll, crushing every bone in his body before the Infernal toppled and fell backward, its legs broken off. The thing howled in rage as it squirmed helplessly on its back. Another blast of water sprayed over it, and the warriors finished it off. Jaina looked up startled at the loud boom and crackle from the sky. The dark clouds had finally decided to unload their burden of heavy rain, and she grinned tiredly as the heavy drops splattered over her face, one or two at first, and then a deluge that would make the southern island Moonsoons proud. Thrall and his shamans had prayed to the spirits for hours, and they had apparently granted the wish.
"Thank you, great spirits," Jaina whispered gratefully, not sure if they acknowledged it or not. Very quickly she saw great streams of water being funneled by the other mages and concentrated into the Infernals they battled around the army. This rain would make it so much easier, she thought gratefully. Instead of spending vast effort and energy to condense the water they could just guide the raindrops together without having to force them into jets.
A group of priests rushed to the fallen Tauren, and Jaina cursed under her breath as they shook their heads in defeat. He was already dead, the damage done by the Infernal too much to heal. Searching the sky for signs of other Infernals in their area she wheeled the horse around.
Geir circled warily around Omu as they tested each other. Omu's style, or dance as the Orcs preferred to call it was a bit different from Kenji's, but so far he had managed to avoid any hits. He knew that Omu was just biding his time, playing with him like a cat with a mouse, but he was damned if he was going to make it easy for him. Feinting left, spinning right and then lunging on the left again Geir moved into Omu's sphere, the stick dancing with every bit of skill and knowledge he had learned, forcing Omu to shift and parry. As he locked the sticks, using the slide technique to move Omu's stick aside for the slash, Omu suddenly lashed out with his foot, hitting Geir right behind the knee and buckling it. Off balance Geir deflected the coming stick, holding the sticks together to feel the force moving but was caught off guard by the surprise elbow to the face as Omu shifted in beside him, shoulder to shoulder, blades locked. Stunned by the jarring impact he didn't react fast enough as Omu held his stick with one hand, controlling the flow of power as he smashed the palm of his other hand right into Geir's face, making his eyes water from the blow to his nose. Blinded by the tears he felt Omu's stick break contact with his own, but as he turned Omu again swept the knee, making him tumble to the ground with a bone jarring thud.
"Argh…" Geir grunted, trying to catch his breath as his eyes cleared. Omu was standing over him, the point of the stick held lightly over his chest. Swiftly he grabbed the stick where the flat would be, shifted it to the side and rolled around, getting on his legs quickly. Part of his consciousness noted the wide approving grins from the other Orcs, but he pushed it aside as he again circled with Omu, wrinkling his nose to get rid of the remaining sting.
"Every part of your body is a weapon, your feet, knees, elbows, hands, even your head," Omu told him as he moved forward in a flurry of slashes and kicks. It was all Geir could do to defend, and when he tried to retaliate his efforts were rewarded with a brutal takedown, again leaving him on the ground.
"Hey… how about getting good at walking before trying to run?" Geir wheezed irritably after the third time, struggling to get up off the ground. Omu nodded apologetically as he reached down and helped him up.
"Yes… maybe I can teach you the techniques separately before we mix them together," he said smiling sheepishly.
Ircha held his spear grimly as his Wyvern swooped down and looped up right beneath one of the Gargoyles locked in combat with a Gryphon and its Dwarven rider. The fast drop and sudden upswing made his stomach feel as if it bounced at the bottom of his feet, and then the hard impact jolted him against the straps on the saddle. Claws and fangs ripped into the Gargoyle's wings and Ircha leaned forward, straining against the straps as he thrust the spear deep into the thing's back. With a shriek of pain the Gargoyle released the wounded Gryphon, and Ircha and the wyvern let go, dropping downwards upside down. Kriieh as the Wyvern apparently called itself closed its wings, turning the drop into a power-dive before spreading them again, returning to battle. Ircha saw the Gryphon make its way to the ground tenderly, seeking out the priests that moved around the battlefield. While the Gryphons were both bigger and stronger than the Wyverns, the Wyverns were faster and more agile, giving them a superior mobility, and Ircha howled in mixed glee and adrenaline as Kriieh swooped in between two other Gryphons with only inches to spare.
"Over there!" one of the Dwarves yelled, motioning with his Stormhammer at one of the Undead dragons that came in at 8 o'clock, ravaging a trio of Gyrocopters nearby.
"Death from above!" Ircha yelled his response as he urged the Wyvern up in an inverted loop that put them directly on top of the dragon. Unlike the Dwarven Stormhammers, enchanted with spells from the Dwarven Runemasters, Ircha's spears would not return, once thrown, they were gone. Hefting it in a firm hand he gave Kriieh time to grab on to the massive ribs on the dragon's back. The dragon broke off its attack on the Gyrocopters and turned into a roll, trying to dislodge the pest on his back. Ircha roared in appreciation as the two Gryphon riders threw their hammers, hitting the monster's head and stunning it. Reversing the spear in his hand he drove it brutally in between two vertebrae on the big spine, twisting and yanking it side to side, trying to sever the spinal cord. A desperate shriek rewarded him as the dragon suddenly went limp, dropping like a stone. Kriieh's own shriek of triumph followed it down mockingly as the wyvern let go.
"Let's get down, I need more spears!" Ircha urged the Wyvern. While it didn't understand his speech, it followed the urgings and signals from his legs.
Jaina wiped the rain from her face, throwing her head back to fling her hair out of her eyes as she put another root in her mouth, chewing down hard. Things were going much easier now with the rain and the magical funnels guiding it down into the Infernals, cooling them much more than she had done before. Apart from the Tauren warrior two hours ago her squad had only taken minor damage from the weakened monsters.
"Oh Light have mercy!" she heard Lord Kierdan gasp in horror. Turning quickly she followed his stare, seeing the brilliant star falling down right towards the middle of the army. The middle consisted of the supply wagons, Kodos beasts, and non-combatants.
"Spirits have mercy!" she exclaimed in horror. "The children! The children!"