Private Tales The Shadow of the Spine

[Baise]

Kieara Macraith

Orcs, he had found, were not the mindless raiders the humans had often called them. They lived as migrating hunters, but they were opportunistic. Valthar was making his slow way back to the Tundra. When you were alone there was always a chance they would see if you carried anything worth stealing.

He was heading for a port on the north coast to try and find a ship to take him around the Blightlands. At this precise moment he was heading east, back towards a well travelled route that ran north to south. He didn't need his sense of smell to find the closest orcs. The silhouettes of the three of them were easy enough to see behind him.

The Spine rose high directly ahead of him. He couldn't imagine how long it would take to climb it. The sun barely peaked out through the jagged mountains, its shadow nearly reached the road ahead. When the sun set in the west it revealed all kinds of details on the mountain side that were hidden from him now. A chill morning breeze came down from those snow-capped heights. For Valthar it was more than welcome.

There was also a shadow on the road ahead. Not another orc, unless it was a child. They were going to end up meeting at the crossroads. Valthar decided it was probably worth telling them about the orcs nearby. As he closed on the figure he saw the shock of bright hair. Definitely not an orc.

 

[Kieara Macraith]

Many days had passed since Kieara had stepped off the ship at Port Dhal and onto the continent. The first thing that struck her was how much bigger everything was compared to back home. The houses were taller, the market larger and noisier, and the people louder or taller or fatter than anyone from Cork. The coastal town was a sight to be sure, but she didn't spend much time chewing the scenery.

She left town the very day she arrived. Kieara didn't have money for a stay at the local tavern. The faster she traveled, the further she could make it on her stolen rations from the ship's galley. By nightfall, she was already miles down the road. She had a humble supper of tough jerky and stale bread, then fell asleep in a field of budding cornstalks.

And so it went for a long while. Farmland and grassy fields quickly gave a way to a sparse wood of oak and the occasional willow. The road was well-traveled dirt, and the ground was quite even and easy on the feet. Days passed uneventfully, only interrupted by the occasional merchant to exchange a "how do you do" or "safe travels" with. One hand always rested on the sword hilt at her waist during these encounters, but so far no trouble had come her way. Several times the road would fork, with a sign pointing off to a hamlet or a lumber mill. But she stayed steady on, going south and chewing on her jerky.

On the fifth day she started to wonder if the road went on forever. She could have gone from one end of Cork to the other by now, or at least be able to smell the faint, salty sea air from where she stood. She was going to run out of food if she didn't do something soon. She felt a fool to have left her bow behind, but well... she'd had her reasons at the time.

Snowy peaks grew up to the east now, going up and up and up till peak broke cloud. One of the signposts pointed off to a mine. Shortly thereafter came another fork in the road. One path lead off toward the mountains, another turned west into deeper forest. She gripped her sword's hilt went she saw a figure strolling from that way. He looked nothing like the people she'd seen so far. Some had been as tall, but none so fair-haired or fierce-looking.

She would stand her ground, left hand resting on the grip, looking as calm and steely as a sixteen-year-old, running out of food, alone in the woods, possibly could.

Valthar

 

[Baise]

Valthar had picked up the pace to a purposeful, brisk walk by the time he was close enough to see the woman up close.

She was young. She kept a hand very deliberately on the hilt of her sword and had turned to face him, setting herself in the road.

The Nordenfiir approached calmly but slowed his walk about ten paces away. Despite the cool breeze coming down off the mountains he wore a short sleeved tunic. Anything that wasn't a light snow was what he considered to be summer weather. There was an axe hanging from his belt that looked well worn.

"Not me you need to give a stern glare," he said gruffly. He jabbed his thumb over one shoulder. "Group of orcs been following me a few miles. Don't go that way."

 

[Kieara Macraith]

"That's the way I'm bound though." She replied, hand still resting on her weapon. "I'm headed for Alliria, and I've got to get there quick. No time for detours." She studied the man, starting with his face. His narrowed, serious eyes reminded her of the lord of Crak-on-Brogh, though he didn't have the pointed nose or over-large teeth that had lead folk to calling him "Lord Rat" behind his back. On the contrary, Kieara found this man's focused gaze quiet handsome.

She'd never seen someone with so many tattoos before. His short tunic exposed his defined arms. Kieara wondered if the symbols had any meaning. Her eyes glanced down to the axe at his side. It looked like it had cut off more tree limbs than heads, and could do with a good sharpening.

"Are Orcs so bad as they tell in the stories?" The question may have sounded foolish to him, but she'd never seen an orc with her own eyes. Her father had told her stories passed down by his father, about orc raiders who had long ago sailed to Cork and kidnapped women and children along the coast. As the story went, her great-grandfather had marched with a united army of many lords to drive the invaders off. Her mother always liked to correct the story, saying her grandfather told her the army showed up too late, and then had a battle amongst themselves over who was to blame for holding up the march. If you asked 100 Corkish what an Orc was like, you'd get 100 contradictory answers.

Valthar

 

[Baise]

"Don't know," he said bluntly. "Been attacked by em a few times. One's I met didn't want to talk. Seen some around a few towns that weren't causing trouble."

Valthar stood stubbornly in the road ahead of her. Since starting this journey home he had found more of his own confidence. Back at home he had been a quiet fisherman, a far cry from the fierce warrior his father had been. There had been no option but to solidify his resolvr if he wanted to make it back.

"Alliria is weeks away. Take a detour." Valthar looked over his shoulder. The orcs were much closer now. A detour might not be enough if they were truly hostile.

 

[Kieara Macraith]

"Well, I'm armed." Kieara swayed on her back foot. "And if nothing else I can run." She didn't sound entirely convinced of herself.

"It's better that than going and getting lost in the forest." She could see the three figures coming down the road behind the tall man. Her father had showed her how to use a sword, but she'd always preferred the bow. She didn't have the kind of strength or reach that those orcs would.

"Maybe between the two of us we can get them to back off?" Kieara knew it was a long shot, but beyond making a break for it she didn't have any ideas.

Valthar

 

[Baise]

"There might be more than three further down that road," he said. Valthar had planted himself stubbornly between her and the path. "Don't tend to get a tribe of just three."

He should have carried on North. She could have decided for herself if she wanted to go that way, but he couldn't stand the thought of her ending up on the roadside, throat slit and belongings taken. Or worse. Orcs were not known to be fussy about their source of meat.

"How far is the nearest town along your route? Do you know?" he groaned as if mentally wrangling with himself. "There is one other option but it delays my own trip."

Kieara Macraith

 

[Kieara Macraith]

"I-I'm not sure." Her eyes were on the orcs as they sauntered closer towards her and the large man. "I'm not familiar with this country. They told me to follow any signpost that points to Alliria."

The situation began to sink in. There was no way she could fight off three of them, let alone the rest of a tribe as the blonde-haired man conjectured. Kieara had thought that the worst of her worries was going hungry for a couple of days, but this was so much worse. What would happen if these orcs caught her? If they didn't just kill her immediately that is. She thought back to the stories from home. They'd always sounded so old and distant, she'd never paid their lessons any mind.

"Please. I'll find a way to pay you back. Just please help me." Her confident tone had all but melted. "I can't take them on my own and I don't know if I can outrun them. I'll do whatever you suggest."

Valthar

 

[Baise]

"Further down this road south there is a town," Valthar replied. "We will go there."

In the time it had taken him to make that decision several more orcish heads had appeared in the distance. There were more than three orcs. They could keep running for a long time and were persistent when in pursuit. Valthar could be faster.

"Do not panic," said Valthar. It was, in the circumstances, a very mild warning for what came next.

Hinging at the waist, he reached for the ground with one hand. It was a great paw that touched the grass. He was far more adept at shifting that he had been months ago. Kieara Macraith was suddenly in the shadow of a great bear. It had dark brown fur, an odd series of black diamond markings ran down his right shoulder.

The bear turned its head towards her.

"Get on."