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

 

[Azrakar]

"See it done," Azrakar said plainly. He cast his crimson gaze across his force.

A rapid strike into the heart of Hroth's territory had been the plan. They had been seen along the way, but that had always been the risk.

To work through their territory with enough scouts spread out would have made it a certainty that Hroth saw them coming.

"Well spoken," he added.

Azrakar had to remind himself that he was short of tactical leaders. He needed those he had to be at their best.

"Now we are through the pass he will have to meet us in the open."

They approached from the south, if they had come from another route then Hroth would have fortified his position and used mountain slopes against them.

"When we meet them, hold his forces. I will deal with the ice giant.*

 

[Urzak Iron-Hold]

Urzak inclined his head once. Acceptance. Commitment.

He turned from Azrakar without ceremony and raised his voice enough to carry.

"Move."

The word cut through the pass. Veterans shifted immediately. Discipline snapped back into place. Urzak pointed, sharp and precise. Two fingers forward, one back splitting the kneeling mountain orcs into small knots and folding them into the column. Shackles were unnecessary. Their own word, the strength of Azrakar's forces and proximity would do the work.

"Front and rear. You walk with us. You watch for us. You earn breath."

No more than that.

He set scouts out along the ridgelines as the column reformed spacing tightened now that the choke point was behind them. The wounded were redistributed, loads adjust and shields brought forward. Momentum returned to the march like a heartbeat finding rhythm again.

Urzak fell back to Azrakar's side as they moved. His eyes were already on the open ground ahead where the mountains softened some and sightlines stretched.

"He'll meet us." A statement, not hope. "Pride won't let him do otherwise."

At Azrakar's last command Urzak's jaw set.

"I'll hold. Long enough."

Then he was gone again, back into the column, into the work. A bloodied commander pulling an army into shape as the path opened and the war ahead widened.

Azrakar

 

[Azrakar]

Hroth came to meet them, as they knew he would. The field of battle was as flat and even as one could find in the mountains.

On their left flank was the most uneven and rocky terrain. They were skirmishers in position with spears and bows.

This was a small battle compared to those in the wars Azrakar had once made. Small groups of a dozen or so orcs forming up into a battle line.

In the middle of that line was Hroth. Even by ice giant standards he was large, standard over twenty feet tall. Chain mail hung from his broad shoulders and Azrakar could see his closest orcs carrying him a pair of battle axes. Each axe was carried by two orcs across thier shoulders.

"Hroth!" he called out across the battlefield. They were at the edge of range for typical orc shortbows in the cold.

"Demon!" Hroth called back. He picked up his axes.

Even in his full form, a horned creature of obsidian and flame, Azrakar stood at half the height of the giant.

"Leave this mountain. I will take your home and your orcs."

"Return below demon," shouted the giant. "The winds are for giants. Below and dark for demons. Fuck off!"

"Well," Azrakar muttered. "Giants were never much for words. Form up. We advance."

 

[Urzak Iron-Hold]

Urzak watched the giant in silence as Azrakar and Hroth traded words that were never going to matter.

Twenty feet of frost and chain. The kind of enemy that broke lines by existing.

Good.

Urzak turned before the echo of Hroth's last shout had full died.

"Form!" He barked.

The scattered knots of orcs snapped inward. Small units locked shields in uneven ground. Veterans anchored the center while the newly folded mountain orcs pushed to the flanks where they could be watched... and tested.

Urzak paced the line.

"Left flank! Skirmishers stay loose." He called as his eyes flicked to the broken stone and spear-armed shapes already shifting there. "Don't chase. Bleed them and fall back."

He stopped near the center and planted the haft of his battle axe into the earth. His one hand axe and cleaver still sheathed at his waist.

"When they move you hold. You do not break. You do not run."

He glanced once toward Azrakar and took a deep breath.

"The giant is not our kill. We focus on the army. Now advance."

The line moved. Shields forward. Feet steady. No roar yet just the sound of iron and leather pressing across open ground toward something that wanted to crush them.

Urzak took his place at the front of the center formation. He briefly glanced at the giant.

Let Azrakar burn him down. Urzak would make sure there was still a line left standing when it happened.

Azrakar

 

[Azrakar]

A few arrows came from their left flank. The skirmishers there were undiciplined. Azrakar had half expected his own forces to be the same. After centuries with the tribes mostly fighting one another, he had expected them to be capable combatants but inexperienced on the field.

This was a good test.

Azrakar kept a distance behind the orc lines. He didn't want Hroth to think he was going to recklessly challenge him head on.

He also suspected the skirmishers would be instructed to target him. He was right. A volley of arrows were launched his way.

Demonic flame rose to meet them in a wave. Feathers burned and most of the arrows spiralled out of control.

"Steady lines..."

He was waiting for Urzak to give the call. He heard the first clash of axes among the rocks to the left.

 

[Urzak Iron-Hold]

Urzak saw the left flank break into motion before the sound reached him.

Arrows hissed out of the rocks. Ragged, rushed and badly timed. Not a volley meant to shatter a line just hunger loosed too early. The kind of mistake made by warriors who had only ever fought from ambush.

"Shields!" He growled.

Wood and iron rose. Arrows rattled and skidded. A few found flesh where discipline faltered. Urzak's jaw tightened. He marked it. He always did.

Then the clash came. Metal on metal, Bodies colliding among broken stone on the left.

"Now!" He snapped.

The center surged.

He moved with it. Boots pounded earth. His axe was low and ready. The first enemy orc lunged out of the rocks and died mid-step as Urzak's blade took him across the chest hard enough to spin him sideways. Another came in high, too eager, and Urzak smashed him down with the haft breaking his balance before finishing it with a short, brutal cut.

"Hold spacing!" He barked as the line engaged. "Don't bunch. Make them work for every step!"

To his left the skirmish devolved into close, ugly fighting. Mountain orcs darted in and out trying to draw individuals away. Urzak waded toward the pressure point. He caught one of his own by the shoulder and physically shoved him back into line.

"Stay with the shields!" He snarled and then turned and buried his axe into another attacker before the lesson could be forgotten.

The ground began to tremble. Not from the orcs but from Hroth.

Urzak felt it through his legs, through his teeth. A giant starting to move. He glanced up just long enough to see the massive figure shifting behind the enemy line. Axes being brought to bear.

"CENTER, LOCK!" He roared. "EYES FORWARD!"

He planted himself at the front picking up a dropped shield. As soon he lifted the shield he took a spear on it hard enough to drive him back a step. He answered with a chopping blow that shattered the shaft and the arm behind it. Blood sprayed his chest.

Behind him the line held. That was what mattered.

Azrakar's fire burned behind them. The giant loomed ahead. And between the two Urzak drove his warriors forward inch by blood inch. He would make sure there would still be a line when the real collision came.

Azrakar

 

[Azrakar]

Azrakar charged.

It was a long time since he had taken part in a battle of even this minor scale. At the height of his power he had rarely taken to the field himself.

It felt good. His internal fire raged. Heat radiated from him as he called for the orcs to part before him.

He didn't even engage the enemy. A gout of flame rushed ahead of him, splitting their line and opening a path.

Finally he saw uncertainty from Hroth. The ice giant roared and raised his axes, but fire was the undoing of an ice giant.

As the lines reformed and held, Azrakar flaming blade struck an axe. Frost, which had surrounded the axe head shattered and fell to the ground in a sparkling shower.

 

[Urzak Iron-Hold]

Azrakar's fire tore the enemy line open like a furnace door kicked wide. Heat washed over the field, frost hissed, bodies scattered or burned.

Urzak didn't look at any of it.

"FORWARD!" He roared and he went with the surge both hands on the haft of his battle axe, shoulder squared, feet biting into the churned ground.

A mountain orc lunged into the gap, spear leveled. Urzak stepped inside the point and chopped down with a brutal two-handed cut that sheared the spearshaft and the arm behind it in the same motion. He didn't stop. The axe came back around in a wide, driving arc that crushed into the second attacker's ribs with a wet crack, folding him sideways.

The press tightened as the enemy tried to seal the wound Azrakar had made. Urzak made it worse.

He slammed the axe head into a face, metal on bone, then reversed his grip just enough to swing the haft like a bar across another throat shoving him off balance. As the other Orc stumbled Urzak finished it with a clean rising cleave that split shoulder to jaw.

"KEEP FORM!" He barked over the roar of battle. "DON'T BREAK FOR GLORY! KILL WHAT IS IN FRONT OF YOU!"

The ground trembled. Hroth shifting, axes rising like towers somewhere ahead, but Urzak's focus stayed on the line. He drove forward one step at a time, axe biting, haft wrenching and breath steady. An enemy blade scored across his side as someone tried to slip past. Urzak answered by hooking the axe behind the attacker's knee and ripping, dropping him hard, then planting a two-handed downward strike that ended the movement for good.

Around him his Orcs held.

That was the work. Not heroics. Control.

Azraker went to kill a giant.

Urzak made sure there was still an army when it was done.


Azrakar

 

[Azrakar]

Azrakar did not slow. He pulled the sword back and swung low.

Hroth towered above the churned battlefield. He was a wall of frost and muscle. He stepped back away from the flaming sword.

He lifted both axes threateningly. Each blade was rimed thick with ice, runes burning cold blue along their edges.

The first axe came down in a killing arc meant to crush him outright. Azrakar raised his flaming blade and caught the strike at an angle, fire screaming as frost detonated outward. The impact drove him back half a step, boots carving furrows in the ground, but the blade held. Steam and shattered ice exploded between them.

Hroth roared, more in surprise than pain. Azrakar answered with heat.

He used his lower centre of gravity and drove forward. He ducked an axe and slashed low across the giant’s thigh. Flame bit deep, melting ice and searing flesh beneath.

Hroth snarled and twisted away, one massive hand slamming into Azrakar’s shoulder and hurling him aside. Azrakar crashed through two bodies and skidded across broken stone, sparks trailing from his armour.

He rose at once.

“Good,” Azrakar growled, teeth bared. “You are not brittle.”