Siege State
Chapter Forty-Nine: Proof

As a flock of sparrows winged their way back, Tom broke the news to Val.

Her hand, already clamped to his shoulder with concern, clenched in a death grip. When he’d finished explaining, they were both deadly pale.

There was nothing they could do for the captured humans in the camp, not surrounded as they were by tens of thousands of orcs. Even if they somehow managed to get to them, there was no way they could break out fifty-something starved and beaten folk and make it all the way back to Wayrest with them.

It was an impossibility. They would have to try and convince Wayrest to mount a rescue mission. From the sounds of it, leaving the captives with them any longer than they had to would only provide the orcs with more Idealists.

They began to work their way back to the river. Once again, they had to stop often to avoid orcs, hiding in trees and hollows, waiting nervously until they passed. Each delay chafed, every second it cost them a potential life lost, every minute more strength the orcs gathered.

By the time they reached the river, Tom was ready to run the rest of the way back, so anxious was he. Val was no better. Her face had been set in a grim mask ever since Sere had flown back from the camp.

Sere scouted the other side of the river, and together they crossed. After swapping back into dry clothes on the other side, and resummoning their familiars, Val stopped him.

“Let’s go,” Tom said, irritated at the delay.

“Take a moment,” Val replied, frustration and patience making a battleground of her face.

“Think for a second, Tom. We still need proof. What do you think will happen if we return to Wayrest with these stories? The same two who tried the same thing not even a year ago? They’ll laugh us straight back out the gates.”

Tom knew she was right, and knew he was being impatient, letting his anxiety get the better of him. He tamped it down, forcing himself to think clearly.

“Many of those patrols must cross here,” he said, sounding out the logic. “We should follow one. Ambush it.”

Val gave him a savage grin. “My thoughts exactly. I’ll make a Hunter of you yet.”

Pride welled in him. Val was never stingy with her praise, or with her criticisms, and yet that only made both feel more deserved when she gave them.

“I’ll send Sere to watch,” he said, and they settled in a quiet spot, away from the crossing, where Sesame assured them there were no orc scents lingering, and waited.

As it turns out, they didn’t have to wait long. An orc patrol arrived at the far bank within the hour, and set about untying one of the rafts there and poling across.

There were twelve of them, which seemed the standard size for their patrols, this one with eight males and four females. They reached the near bank, tied off the raft, and immediately took off into the forest heading south west.

Perfect, Tom thought to himself, and told Val what he had seen. Within minutes, they had worked out a rough plan.

They would follow the party through the Deep on their patrol until they turned around, and then they would strike. If some other choice opportunity presented itself, they would take it too. There were plenty of other monsters in the Deep besides the orcs, after all.

They followed at a remove of about an hour, with Sere splitting her bodies four ways: behind Tom and Val, ranging out to either side of them, on the orcs at all times, and ahead of the orcs trajectory, too. That way they could see if the patrol was about to run into any trouble, and catch up to them in time to take advantage of it.

The first day went without any interruptions. The orcs bickered and fought a little, but nothing to stir any particular interest. The next day, the patrol ran into a pair of wood golems. Sere hadn’t spotted them, with their natural camouflage, and Val and Tom were too far behind to ambush them while they fought. As it happened, the orcs dispatched them so quickly that it probably wouldn’t have made a difference if Sere had seen them. The sheer ferocity with which they fought quickly overwhelmed the slow, wooden creatures.

The next few days passed with minor incidents. A few fights here and there, but nothing that would constitute a good opportunity for an ambush. Just over a week passed before they finally got their chance.

The orcs were slowing, seemingly approaching the limit they ranged to, when Sere spotted a pair of wood sprites ahead of the pack. The two creatures had already coalesced, their tall, barky bodies humming and buzzing with motes of angry green light as they stood over the body of a young stag. The poor thing must have encroached on them, waking them up.

Tom notified Val, and they pushed hard to catch up to the orcs. Sweat beaded on Tom’s face in the spring air as he ran. After half an hour they picked up the sounds of fighting through the trees. Tom quickly relayed what he was seeing through Sere, and they readied themselves to fight as they ran.

They burst onto a scene of utter carnage. Where wood golems were mostly physical entities, wood sprites were mostly energetic. The orcs were having an exceedingly hard time doing much damage with their mundane methods.

What they lacked in aptitude for the fight, they made up for in pure, violent effort. They threw themselves at the sprites, heedless of the wounds they took, every injury only driving them to greater acts of fury.

The sprites had killed three orcs, scouring them with blasts of abrasive energy and splinters of wood. The orcs, in turn, looked close to finally dispelling one of the sprites, the green energy holding its form together flickering and unstable.

That was when Val and Tom chose to interrupt.

Scorn hissed, sharp and sibilant, and whisker-thin beams of lurid light sizzled through orc flesh. Sesame opened with a roar, shards of obsidian blasting into the packed melee as the confused orcs turned to find the new attacker. Several orcs dropped immediately, taken completely unawares by their opening salvo.

Tom scanned the orcs briefly as he chose targets, confirming that none of them had a concentration of mana like an Idealist. Satisfied, he picked out two uninjured orcs and cast Agony on one and Misery on another.

Val sprayed a cloud of green venom over the brawl, then drew her bow back and lined up a shot. An orc stumbled, its skin burning, a hole in its chest from Scorn’s attack squirting blood, and knocked into her target. She missed.

An orc female turned with feline grace, and its hand snapped out. Something flickered through the air before Tom. He turned, saw Val clutching at her neck, lifeblood pumping over her fingers in thick streams. Her eyes were wide and wild.

Tom panicked. He couldn’t lose Val! He relied on her too much. She was a comforting, predictable constant in his life, and he had grown to cherish her. Time seemed to slow as he rushed to her side.

Smitten met him where she had staggered against a tree. Her high, painful whines hurt Tom’s heart. Val had explained that the dog had some kind of minor healing skills, but not exactly how they were used.

None of his potions would do her any good. He had no healing skills himself. He was going to lose her, going to watch her bleed out in front of him.

The orcs were less than twenty yards away, and would be on top of them in moments. Sesame clashed with a pair that had broken off from the fight with the now one remaining sprite to attack them. His savage roars echoed through the woods as he fought with everything he had to buy Val time.

Inspiration struck him. The mouse!

He quickly pulled his out of his spatial storage, and in one smooth movement, placed it in Val’s hand. He wrapped his hand around hers and crushed. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ ɴovᴇlꜰirᴇ.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

There was a flash of light, and within moments, a knife, just barely more than a crude shard of stone, pushed itself from Val’s neck. The wound knitted itself back together seamlessly before his eyes. He felt one of her fingers pop back into place where he had broken it in his hand.

Val wasted no time. She pushed him roughly off her, and turned back to the fight. Tom’s brain took a second longer to lock into gear, and then he turned with her, spinning, spear in hand.

Sesame was embroiled in a ferocious melee. The two orcs he had been fighting had collected some deep gashes, and were warily circling him, trying to create an opening for each other. Sesame was backing slowly towards them.

Okay? Okay? The bear was frantically sending.

Yes, now. Tom sent. Coming!

Good! Fight! Help!

Tom cast Agony at the orc to Sesa’s right, then charged in. It half turned to meet him, and was immediately punished by Sesame for its inattention. It slumped to the ground, its innards slithering out in steamy coils. Green light flashed, and the orc on his left slumped bonelessly too.

Val and Tom stepped to either side of Sesame. The remaining orcs had finished the sprite, and were now advancing on them cautiously. Three more of them had died, and the other four looked in a sorry state. Only one seemed more or less uninjured.

Tom cast Agony once more, stepping in front of Sesame and levelling his spear. Two orcs charged at him, heedless of their injuries. He slid forward, thrust, and skewered one directly through the heart. At the same time, he cast Wild Boar Strike on the other, impacting it just as it leapt at him, and sending it tumbling backwards through the air. He rushed forward and pinned it to the earth before it could recover. It died hissing hate at him.

He turned. Val had already finished off her pair of orcs, as he had expected. She was watching him, absently rubbing at her throat.

“Thank you, Tom. That was damn close.”

He shrugged, awkward, not knowing what to say. “That’s okay, of course. You’d do the same.”

“Closest call I’ve had in a damn long time, I’ll tell you that. Who knew they could throw so well? We’ll have to watch out for that.”

“I didn’t even see it had a knife until it was in the air,” Tom said.

“No helping it now. I’m fine. Thank you, again, Tom. That was quick thinking.”

She patted him gently on the arm.

“Now, let’s get done and get gone. Who knows what kind of attention that much noise has drawn.”

Tom nodded. “I’ll send Sere to see if anything’s been drawn in.” The little birds dispersed in a circle, looking for anything that might be coming to investigate the aftermath of the fight.

Val looked around, searching, then wandered over to a pair of orcs. Grimacing, she took the knife from her belt and knelt next to one. She gestured with it to Tom, then to the other orc next to it.

“These heads are the most intact. Let’s have them off.” She suited herself to her words, and began sawing at the corpse’s throat.

Tom gulped, his bile threatening to rise, but he got himself under control and began working on the other body. They had two orc heads in short order, and quickly stowed them in the enchanted sacks Scriber had given them, and from there put them in Tom’s storage.

They completed one final check of the scene. Tom stowed a couple of essences, and a few of the crude orc weapons in his storage for good measure. Suddenly, Sere began to pepper him with images.

It took Tom a second to make sense of them. A figure was approaching. A lone man, slipping through the trees, obviously taking great pains to move silently. He wore a black cloak, hooded, covering most of his body. Metal glinted in his hands in the low forest light.

Sere flitted in front of him, perpendicular, and got a glimpse of his face. Cold sluiced through Tom.

“Val,” he said, and something in his voice snapped her head around like a wolf hearing a rabbit scream. “I think we’ve got a problem.

“Honeyfield’s here. And I don’t think he means to chat.”

Sᴇarch the N0vᴇlFire(.)nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.