Fable - Ask Blood in The Spine

[Urzak Iron-Hold]

The mountain road was barely a road at all. It was more like a scar cut into stone. A winding path upward between sheer drops and broken teeth of rock. A dozen Orc warriors moved along it in disciplined silence. No drums sounded. This was not a parade.

Urzak walked near the front of the column. His axe and cleaver both slung low. His eyes constantly scanning the horizon as well as the cliffs above. The mountains had a way of looking empty right up until they weren't.

Behind the procession the presence of Azrakar weighed heavier than any banner. These warriors marched straighter simply knowing he was there.

The ambush came without warning. No horn. No battle cry.

Stone fell first. A boulder the size of a cart tore loose from the heights above and exploded against the trail shattered bodies. Two orcs vanished beneath it in a spray of blood before anyone could shout a warning.

"SHIELDS!" Urzak roared already moving.

Arrows followed. Black-fletched. One punched through a warrior's throat. Another buried itself in a shoulder joint with a wet crack. The narrow pass became chaos in a heartbeat. Nowhere to scatter, nowhere to retreat. A fatal funnel.

This wasn't a bandit strike. This was planned. Organized. This was a kill corridor.

Urzak dragged a fallen shield upright and slammed it into place. He braced it with his shoulder as another rock screamed past where his head had just been a moment before. His bared his tusks in a snarl while calculating the next move.

"They want us pinned." He barked. His voice cut through the rising panic. "They think the cliffs belong to them."

He pointed up the cliff face. "So we take it."

Urzak surged forward breaking from cover and leaping for the rock wall. His fingers found cracks slick with frost and blood. Behind him warriors followed.

Silhouettes appeared above. Mountain orcs lean and scarred. Their eyes bright with hatred and confidence. They had chosen this place well. They had believed the path would break the war band before blades ever met. They believed wrong.

Urzak hauled himself higher coming to the top of the cliff at last.

He pulled his axe and cleaver free and steel and stone rang out against each other as the first bodies collided above the pass. The mountains answered with echoes that sounded uncomfortably like laughter.


Azrakar

 

[Azrakar]

Urzak Iron-Hold

Azrakar felt a flash of anger. He had been reveling in setting his forces on the warpath again. It wasn't the power he had once commanded, but after his entrapment it was enough.

When the first boulder fell, he did not flinch, but the orcs nearest to him felt the reverberating growl of his anger.

He raised one clawed hand as Urzak roared orders, firelight kindling beneath his skin. Discipline held. That pleased him.

The tribes under his command had gone generations without marching to war beneath his banner. Still, there were many sharp and ready to make war.

Arrows cut the air. One struck Azrakar’s shoulder. He let out a snarl of pain. The arrow burned away. He turned his gaze upward, eyes burning red as they traced the cliff line, the kill corridor, the waiting silhouettes above.

As Urzak led the charge and surged for the rock face, Azrakar stepped forward into the open funnel of the pass. Another boulder tore loose, tumbling straight toward him. He caught it.

Molten fractures raced through the rock before Azrakar hurled the shattered mass back up the slope. It exploded against the cliff face in a roar of heat and debris, scattering would-be archers and tearing loose sheets of ice.

"Only forwards!" he cried out, voice carrying through the chaos without effort. His pride would not allow him to let his forces see him retreat from their first engagement.

Another few arrows hissed down through the air. They mostly struck shields, but he heard a few thuds of arrowhead piercing flesh.

"Kill as many as you can before they retreat!" he roared out.

As soon as he said it, he realised they should keep some for questioning. He did not know if this was a force sent by an ice giant to impede his advance, or if they had strayed into the territory of a tribe that did not bow to him.

 

[Urzak Iron-Hold]

Urzak hit ledge hard. His boots skid across stone slick with frost as his axe and cleaver came free in the same breath. The air up here stank of old blood and cold iron. The ambushers were moving already. Fast and confident with their blades low.

They had expected him winded. They were wrong.

The first mountain orc died with Urzak's axe buried in his collarbone. He turned just in time to catch a hooked blade across his ribs. The strike bit deep carving through leather and flesh. Warm blood spilled down his side.

Urzak snarled and stepped into it. His cleaver punched forward under the attacker's guard driving into the throat. The attack ripped the other orc's throat open and crushed it at the same time. He shoved the corpse aside as another enemy slammed into him shield first from the flank. The blow slammed into his shoulder. Something snapped. Hopefully nothing important. He grunted and shoved the shield pushing his attacker back a few feet.

"LINE WITH ME!" He roared his voice raw but absolute. "SHIELDS UP! PUSH THEM TO THE EDGE!"

He felt it from below. The heat and pressure of molten rock slamming against the cliff. Archers scattered and ice loosed causing a few attackers to scramble as they hurried to get out of the way or regain their footing before falling with the ice down the cliff.

He glanced down the cliff and saw his Lord involved in the fray. The presence of Azrakar breaking the kill corridor apart like a god cracking stone. That rallied the war band. It pushed them almost into a frenzy. It was like Azrakar was the hammer driving the nail.

Urzak needed to be the grip. To command like Azrakar required of him. His warriors crested the ledge in force now. Disciplined even in their frenzy. Shields locked. Steel rose and fell in brutal rhythm. The mountain orcs advantage vanished as the narrow high ground turned into a trap of its own making.

An arrow struck Urzak in the thigh punching through the muscle. His leg buckled for half a heartbeat before he planted his foot and ripped the shaft free with a snarl. Blood poured freely now soaking his pants and greave.

"DON'T CHASE!" He bellowed as the ambushers began to break. "CUT THEM OFF! CRIPPLE THE BACK RANK! I WANT PRISONERS!"

One of the mountain orcs tried to bolt past him. Urzak caught him with the flat of his axe shattering the knee and dropping him screaming to the stone.

"You live..." Urzak growled as his boot pinned the other warrior in place. "You tell us why. You tell us who."

Another blow caught Urzak high across the helm ringing his skull and causing him to stumble half a step. He steadied himself on his blade and stood straight up bloodied and unyielding.

"HOLD THE LEDGE!" He bellowed. "YOUR LORD BREAKS THEM BELOW! WE FINISH IT HERE!"

The line formed and held. Most of the remaining ambushers fled leaving wounded and dead strewn about. The mountains echoed with retreating footsteps and the screams of the injured.

Urzak stood amid it all. Blood ran freely. His breath was heavy but even.

He turned back to the mountain orc with the broken knee.

"You will speak or... you will wish you were already among the dead."

Azrakar

 

[Azrakar]

Azrakar pushed forwards. In his full splendour a creature of obsidian plates and flame. He stood in the middle of a reformed formation of orcs.

He raised his hand. His sword emerged from a gout of flame. The force opposing them at the bottom of the chasm was small. Two ranks deep, expecting to hold a panicked force as arrows rained down.

As orcs trade blows his sword swung over the heads of the rank of orcs in front of him. The blade met steel and flesh and bone.

Azrakar looked up to see how own orcs advancing along the paths above.

"Kneel!" he cried out.

His sword vanished and he physically pulled the closest of his own orcs back from the fight. He had ordered them to kill and now he changed his mind. He would not question himself now, if he would not tolerate them questioning his orders. He simply had to be mindful of their battle lust now he had stoked it.

"Kneel and be spared!"

He stood just metres from the dozen orcs left trying to hold the line in the pass.

 

[Urzak Iron-Hold]

Urzak saw it from above. His warriors below ready to drown the pass in blood and there, at the center of it all, unmistakable stood Azrakar. Obsidian and fire given will.

The King had spoken. That should have been enough.

"You!" Urzak snapped to a warrior at his side as he jerked his chin at the bound mountain orc. "Bring the prisoner down. The rest of you with me!"

He swung himself over the ledge and began climbing down the scarred rock face. His wound burned with every movement. His shoulder scream, his thigh was thick with blood but the sound below sharpened his pace.

They were still fighting though Azrakar had been physically pulling his own orcs back. The bloodlust was in full tilt and many of them weren't hearing anything.

Halfway down Urzak decided not to bother with the rest of the descent and let go.

Stone blurred past. Wind tore at him. He hit the slope hard and kept moving shoulder first into one of his own orcs who had surged past the line, axe raised, deaf to anything but the kill. They crashed together in a sprawl of armor and fury.

Urzak came up on top his fist slamming into the orc's helm. He yanked the young orc close by his throat guard.

"LISTEN TO OUR LORD!" Urzak snarled. His tusks were bared inches from the young warrior's face. "Or I will kill you myself."

The young orc froze. Around them the effect rippled outward. Axes hesitated mid-swing. Shields lowered a fraction. The roar of battle shuttered as eyes turned. First they looked at Urzak and then to Azrakar standing like a god, his command absolute.

Urzak rose to his feet lifting the chastised orc. He shoved him back toward the line. "We hold! We obey!" He barked at his warriors, his voice carrying through the chasm.


Across the pass the remaining mountain orcs shifted uneasily. They were wounded, outmatched and boxed in. You could see it in their stances that the itch to fight was still there but dulled now by inevitability.

One of them stepped forward at last. Older. Scarred. His weapon dipped. "Why?" He growled. His eyes flicked between Urzak and Azrakar. "Why should we bow to this demon?"

Urzak glanced back at Azrakar. "You should bow because you are bested and still alive to ask that question but I will defer to my Lord now. He is the King and this is his army. I am but his Commander. Remember you are at his mercy."

He turned back to the mountain orcs planting himself between the lines. Bloodied, unbroken. Commander of the Demon's armies. He felt an immense pride he hadn't felt since losing his entire clan. Azrakar was his clan now and he would do anything he could to see his Lord flourish.

The mountains fell quiet. The only sound the heavy breathing of warriors who had survived the ambush.

Urzak was curious to see if his Lord could bring these wild mountain orcs under his banner.

Azrakar

 

[Azrakar]

Bold

Azrakar stood tall and let Urzak spoke. He felt a swell of confidence, despite his people being caught in an ambush.

He still had orcs who could lead. These were not true battles. They were barely a skirmish. When he had a real army he wouldn't be able to shout directions, the lines would be set and it would be down to leaders close to the front to bring him victory.

Armies fought wars, but nations fought wars.

Azrakar was reminded of how much building there was to do. He was a great destroyer, a fire that consumed. But he was also old and he needed the resources to throw against his enemies.

"You serve Hroth the ice giant?" Azrakar called.

They didn't answer, but he could see they did from their reactions.

"When I cast him down, where would you go?"

 

[Urzak Iron-Hold]

Urzak said nothing. He stood steadfast in a pool of blood, eyes moving between his own warriors and the broken line of mountain orcs ahead. He could feet the battle-lust still clawing at his troops. The need to finish it, to drown the pass in certainty.

Azrakar's question hung in the air like a drawn blade.

Urzak lifted one hand. Not high. Not dramatic. Just enough.

The orcs behind him stilled.

Then he spoke low and sharp.

"Answer him."

The mountain orcs shifted. One of the older ones, frost licking his beard, stepped forward a half pace. His grip tightened on his axe but he did not raise it. He looked past Urzak to Azrakar. Fire framed by disciplined ranks.

"We serve Hroth... because the mountains taught us nothing else. If you cast him down we go nowhere. There is nowhere. The lowlands burn us out. The peaks starve us. Waring with each other consumes us."

A murmur passed through the mountain orcs.

Urzak turned his head slightly. His voiced carried through the pass.

"You kneel or you die where you stand."

Nothing else needed to be said. It wasn't a threat, it was truth.

The mountain orcs hesitated. The fight was visible in them still, coiled and bitter, but it had nowhere left to go. Orcs respected and followed strength. If this Azrakar was stronger than the Ice Giant Hroth then he deserved to be followed. One by one axes struck stone. Knees followed.

Urzak exhaled once, then barked over his shoulder.

"Hold the line. No killing."

He took a step aside opening the space between armies.

The choice had been made. Whatever came next belonged to Azraker.

Azrakar

 

[Azrakar]

Azrakar stepped forwards slowly. He looked down at the elder who had spoken for them.

"I do not interfere with how the tribes run themselves. As long as they do not fight watsefully. As long as they obey my call to war."

He looked past them to the path ahead.

"It will be your land to protect once Hroth has fallen."

Azrakar had already made up his mind. Frost giants would add strength to his army. However, they would fall in line because he killed the first to challenge him.

Evem if Hroth kneeled, he would take his head.

"One party ahead of these orcs, one behind. We march on. Send a runner back. I want more goblin scouts brought forwards."

Wolf riders, he reminded himself. He needed some tribes of wolf riders in his force.

"Urzak, I seek your counsel."

He called the orc aside.

"We have taken casualties. I do not think we can spare the orcs to take these back to my domain. They may still turn on us. How should we use them?"

 

[Urzak Iron-Hold]

Urzak followed when Azrakar called. The blood had dried dark along his armor and body. His wounds stiffening as the fire of battle ebbed.

His eyes flicked once toward the kneeling mountain orcs, counting and weighing them, then back to Azrakar.

"They're cornered. That makes them dangerous and useful."

He angled his head toward the pass ahead.

"Don't send them back. They'd rot or revolt. But don't keep them whole either. Break them into smaller groups. Pair each group with one of our veterans. Put them at the front and gear. Guides, porters, sentries. If they mean to turn they'll do it where we can see it. And keeping them separated keeps them from gaining extra courage as a large group."

Urzak's gaze hardened.

"And if they stay true they earn the right to stand when Hroth falls."

He glanced back toward the elder briefly then returned his attention to Azrakar.

"Make them march. Make them choose survival every step. Those who last will already belong to what you are building."

He stepped back half a pace signaling the counsel was given.

"If it pleases you I'll see it done." He added last, commander to King, ready to turn words into order.

Azrakar