Forging Destiny Read online

  It was more than a gut feeling. It was a pull or, more accurately, an almost desperate need to get moving ever since he had risen that morning. Struugar and Second Section were in trouble. Like the elderly could feel a coming rain in their joints, Tovak could feel it in his bones.

  He let his eyes run ahead to Fifth Company, who marched to the Baelix Guard’s front. Somewhere at the Fifth’s head was Karach, the warchief. Tovak thought it incredible that the warchief himself was going after Second.

  Tovak glanced back over at Gorabor. “And I feel we’re headed in the right direction.”

  Gorabor gave him a sidelong look, scowling slightly. “You’re just saying that because we’re moving next to their tracks across the plateau.” His friend pointed down at the swath of crushed grass and boot prints, which blazed a trail for the entire column to follow.

  “No,” Tovak said, more matter-of-factly than he intended. “It’s more than that.” He tapped his chest. “I feel it.”

  Gorabor gave a grunt. “I hope you are right.”

  “How are you holding up?” he asked Gorabor, wanting to change the subject. Both of his friend’s eyes were black, his jaw swollen, and his lower lip split and purpled. Thegdol had managed to straighten Gorabor’s nose out, but it still looked two sizes too big. The enemy had not been kind to him during his brief stint as a captive.

  “Sore, hurting,” Gorabor said quickly. “Stiff all over. And my face feels like one big ache. I wasn’t about to get sent back with the wounded, though.” He patted the hilt of his sword. “I can still fight, and I want to find the captain and Second. Yesterday, you taught me the importance of never leaving comrades behind. It was something I will not soon forget.”

  Tovak looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.

  “By the gods,” Gorabor coughed, and as he did, he winced. “By Thulla, I ache all over.”

  Tovak himself ached from the exertions of the previous day. He had a sudden flash of Staggen and with it came a wash of guilt. Staggen would never feel anything again, not anymore, for dead was dead.

  He stole another glance at his friend, whose stare was a long one. There was now a distant look to his gaze. Gorabor had finally seen the horrors the world could offer. It had changed him, much like Tovak’s life struggle had changed him. He could see that plainly and felt saddened by it … for Gorabor had lost an innocence that would never be recovered.

  Gorabor stretched his neck left and right before moving it from side to side. He winced and let out a long breath. “I hope you’re right about the captain and the Second. I really do.”

  Tovak turned his gaze to the west, where the warband, many miles away, had been encamped. That morning, Karach had ordered the Third Infantry Company to escort the carts, the seriously wounded, and the dead back. They carried with them the maps and documents Tovak had retrieved from the orc encampment. As Thegdol had thought, Karach had been seriously interested in those.

  Fifth Company, along with the remains of the Baelix Guard—at least those able to march—and a handful of archers had set out to determine what had happened to Struugar and Second Section. Until Dagmar’s comment, nobody had said much of anything, but the worry for the captain was palpable.

  What if Tovak was wrong? What if his feeling was nothing more than wishful optimism about the captain and Second Section? With everything he had gained in recent weeks, just the thought of losing Struugar—the very Dvergr who had given him a chance to make something of himself, to stand on his own, after years of being beat down, sometimes literally—was almost more than he could bear. Tovak desperately clung to the hope, propping it up with prayer, that the captain was alive.

  “Thulla,” Tovak whispered to himself, “grant Your mercy and return to us our captain and comrades. We look to You for our salvation and thank You for Your benevolence and love.”

  Tovak sucked in a breath of air and slowly let it out. Feeling a little better, he looked at the backs in front of him. He and the twenty-five warriors remaining of the Baelix Guard’s First and Third Sections marched in a column of two abreast, just behind Fifth Company’s strikers, heavy infantry, and the mainstay of the warband’s battle line. Fourth Section, made up of the Baelix Guard’s twenty remaining strikers, brought up the column’s rear, as did the handful of archers.

  Lieutenant Benthok and Corporal Karn had scouted ahead. Tovak wished he had been called to go with them, but he hadn’t. In a way, that was not a bad thing. He was tired, more than a little run-down, and despite an hour of marching, still sore and stiff. But like Dagmar with his ankle, Tovak would not have let that stop him. He’d have willingly gone with them, had they asked.

  As the suns climbed higher into the sky, the march continued along the edge of the foothills and finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Tovak but had only been a couple of hours, angled up a forested ridge and into a small valley. The column marched through the valley and up along one of the ridges that hemmed it in.

  As they moved towards the mountains, the forest grew thicker the farther up they went. Still they continued, climbing steadily higher. The exertion became more difficult, and soon Tovak, like everyone else, was sucking wind and sweating profusely in his armor.

  After another two hours, he had tired of marching in the column, a terribly monotonous thing. He craved the freedom scouting brought. Tovak wanted desperately to join Benthok and Karn, desiring to do something—anything—other than follow along in the line of march. Stuck in the column, he felt useless.

  As the forest thickened, Tovak and everyone else had to weave their way around trees, step over rocks, or push through undergrowth, some of it prickly. The ground became broken up with rocks, scree, and numerous trees and brush roots that threatened to trip the unwary. Tovak soon lost sight of even the trampled path they had been following, which was the most frustrating thing of all.

  He suspected they were now marching directly over the Second’s tracks. If true, it meant the company of strikers ahead had obliterated all signs of previous passage. They also kicked up a fair amount of choking dust.

  “Column, halt,” came a shouted order from ahead.

  “Bloody gods,” someone behind Tovak breathed, “it’s about time.”

  The column ground to an unsteady stop. Several warriors almost immediately opened and upended their waterskins, drinking deeply. The heat of the day had grown and, though they were under the cover of the trees, was oppressive.

  Tovak felt intense frustration at not knowing what was going on. He wanted to rush up to the front of the column and find out, but they’d not been told to fall out. So, he remained where he was.

  Tovak turned to Gorabor. “They must have found something.”

  Dagmar gave a weary shrug. “For all we know, Karach had to take a leak.”

  Ignoring his squad mate and looking forward, he craned his neck in hopes of seeing what was going on, but all he could see was an impenetrable wall of the strikers’ backs to his front.

  “Tovak Stonehammer,” Thegdol called in a weary voice. The sergeant did not even bother looking back. “You’re wanted forward. Get a move on.”

  Tovak glanced at Gorabor, who merely shrugged as he wiped sweat from his face with a soiled rag.

  “You wanted to know what’s going on,” Gorabor said. “Now is your chance.”

  “Better you than me,” Dagmar said. “If my name had been called, it would have been for a punishment charge.”

  “It’s not too late for that,” Thegdol said. “Tovak, stop wasting time and get moving, son.”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” Tovak said. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and moved past the sergeant and alongside the column of strikers from Fifth Company. No one paid him any attention as he passed. All of the warriors were equally tired.

  Tovak had to negotiate a small stream, which, gurgling happily, ran down the steep slope to his left. When he made it past the heavily armored warriors to the front of the column, he spotted Karach a few yards ahead. The warchief was
gazing at Benthok and Karn, who had taken a knee about fifty yards ahead to examine something on the ground with interest. They were so close their heads almost touched.

  Benthok looked up and flashed some finger speak at Karach, which Tovak could not catch. The warchief waved a weary hand in reply and gave a nod, then turned and approached Captain Greng.

  The captain was standing about ten yards ahead of the column of march and in the shade of a tree. He had been drinking from his waterskin. He offered it to the warchief, who took it and drank a swallow before handing it back. Even though they were under the shade of the trees, both officers radiated a confidence that was as natural as sunlight.

  Tovak approached, came to attention, and saluted.

  “At ease,” Karach ordered, glancing over the column, as if slightly distracted and deep in thought. He turned his gaze to Fifth Company’s captain. “Captain Greng, we might be here for a bit. Let us take advantage of the stream. See that waterskins are filled. Put sentries out and have your company and the Baelix fall out for some rest. Might as well get them fed too.” He glanced back towards Benthok and Karn. “It’s a good time for a break anyway.”

  “Yes, sir, I agree.” The captain pointed towards higher ground. “I’d like to post scouts, several of Thegdol’s boys, farther up these hillsides and deeper into the forest, as well as downslope. With all the orc and goblin tracks around, I’d feel more comfortable, sir.”

  Tovak became alert. He had known the captain was following an enemy raiding party, goblins … not orcs. Had there been orcs with the raiders? He looked down around them and spotted a heavy boot print, mixed amongst dwarven tracks.

  “I don’t have a problem with that,” Karach replied. “Do whatever you think is necessary.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Lieutenant Belk,” Greng called, “on me, if you will.”

  Karach turned to Tovak as Belk separated himself from the column and started towards them. The warchief’s gaze was intense, almost piercing, and Tovak suddenly felt on guard.

  “After what you did yesterday,” Karach began, “I believe you need rest. I wanted to send you back to the warband. However, Benthok thought you might be useful. And when he talks highly of someone, even if that person is a Pariah, I make sure to listen.”

  “Yes, sir,” Tovak said, not knowing what else to say. He felt honored that Benthok had thought of him.

  Belk had joined them. Both he and Greng were watching.

  “I expect good things from you, son,” Karach said. “Do not let me down.”

  “I won’t, sir,” Tovak said, feeling his cheeks flush.

  “Well, the lieutenant has asked for you. Might as well join him.” The warchief turned away. Tovak had been clearly dismissed.

  He gave a stiff salute before starting towards the lieutenant, eager to learn what they had found. It seemed his time of slogging along in the column might be over.

  “Tovak,” Greng called after him.

  “Sir,” Tovak said, looking back.

  “We’re in the field and clearly in hostile territory,” Greng said. “You don’t salute officers here. That’s a good way to see us dead, if there’s an enemy about with a bow. One day, I hope to die in bed with my wife, in the wild throws of orgasm. I want to go out with a bang. Understand me on this?”

  Karach gave an amused chuckle.

  Tovak felt his cheeks burn. He’d been taught such basic protocols back at the Academy and should have known better. “Yes, sir, I do. It won’t happen again, sir.”

  “Right then. We will speak no more on it. Get going.” Greng jerked his chin in the direction of the lieutenant.

  With that, Tovak moved quickly up to where Benthok knelt, pointing out something on the ground to Karn. They looked up as he approached.

  “Reporting as ordered, Lieutenant,” Tovak said, remembering this time not to salute.

  He briefly met the piercing green eyes of Corporal Karn, who gave him a nod. He had just joined the corporal’s squad the day before. Karn’s red hair and beard were a stark contrast to the dark blue of his cloak, armor, and helm.

  The lieutenant pulled himself to his feet and stepped back a couple paces. Pointing at the ground, he looked at Tovak. “Tell me what you see here.”

  Tovak didn’t hesitate. He moved forward, careful not to tread on the footprints scattered along what was quickly becoming clear was a path through the forest that continued along the ridgeline they had been following.

  He examined the ground, his eyes sweeping left to right. He saw prints that had been clearly made by orcs. There were Dvergr boots too, a lot of them, moving in the same direction, down the trail. He judged them to be at most two days old. When he got near the edge of the path, he saw something new. He knelt down, examining the print. It was small, as if a child had made it, although the track was pointed and not rounded. It was also narrow. He found more of the small tracks and some of those had tread over the orc prints too. That told him whatever had made these strange prints had come after both the Dvergr and the orcs had passed through.

  Benthok watched him carefully as he scanned the forest around the path. Tovak spotted additional such tracks coming down the hill, with all of them moving in the direction the Dvergr and orcs had gone. It was as if a mass of children had joined up here, before following. He turned around and scanned the other side of the path the orcs and Dvergr had made. Finally, he turned to Benthok.

  “Sir,” he said, “it’s clear that the Second and a large group of orcs went that way.” He pointed down the trail. “However, another set of tracks followed after them both. They are smaller, and I believe to be neither orc nor goblin. I’ve seen a goblin up close, and … well, their feet are webbed. These are not.”

  “Very good,” Benthok said, then looked at Karn. “I told you he could read a trail.”

  “So he can.” Karn blew out a breath. “But we’re still gonna have to train some of the Academy out of him, sir. If he is to be useful to us, that is. He bloody saluted Karach out in the field.” He looked up at Tovak. “By now, you should know better.”

  Tovak colored again at that, his cheeks burning. Karn grinned at his discomfort. But then, something occurred to Tovak. He glanced down at the tracks once more before looking at the lieutenant.

  “I don’t see any goblin tracks,” Tovak said. “Some of these orc tracks are older than those made by Second, some newer …. I thought the captain was going after goblins?”

  “We thought so too.” Karn’s grin faded. “He was on to something, that’s for sure. We just don’t know what, yet.”

  The lieutenant knelt next to one of the smaller tracks and traced the outline with a finger. Benthok appeared thoughtful as he looked up at Karn.

  “Corporal, their presence here means we have a problem, a real problem.”

  “At least I’m not the one who has to tell Karach the good news,” Karn said.

  “I could order you to do that,” Benthok retorted, “make it happen, if you like,”

  “You won’t,” Karn said. “You like raining on other people’s parades too much not to pass this one along personally.”

  “Sir?” Tovak asked, drawing both of their attention. “Who made those tracks? What are they?”

  “Thulla-cursed gnomes made them,” Benthok growled, and then he spat on the ground. “The gods must really hate us, for there are a lot of gnome tracks.”

  “A lot,” Karn echoed. He too spat onto the path. “And that’s not good.”

  Chapter Two

  “Gnomes?” Tovak looked down at the track again. He glanced back up, not quite believing he had heard correctly. “Gnomes, really? You both are serious?”

  Looking grave, Karn gave a slow nod. “I am afraid so.”

  Tovak slid his gaze along the path ahead of them, studying it yet again. The orc tracks were heavy and somewhat disorganized, as they had worked their way along the path in what appeared to be ones and twos. So too were the Dvergr prints.

  He now saw t
he path with new eyes as his gaze sought out those smaller prints. Amongst his people, gnomes had fearsome reputations as unconventional, bitter, and fearless fighters. He had heard it said the enemy feared them just as much as the warbands. And yet, they were known to work with the Horde.

  “It looks like at least two groups of gnomes moved down these hillsides, converging here, before pursuing Second Section farther up the valley.” Benthok fixed his gaze upon Tovak. “See that mark on the tree there?”

  Tovak turned his gaze to where Benthok pointed. There were two thin lines carved into the trunk of a pine, at about eye level. He’d missed it. The blaze had been made so that it was not obvious to the casual observer, but that was no excuse for not spotting it. In his haste, he had only been studying the ground. That was an unforgivable lapse, one for which he suddenly felt embarrassed.

  “You may not have realized it,” Benthok said, “but when each section goes out into the field, they leave such markers. When you know what to look for, they are easier to spot.”

  “That way,” Karn added, “if there’s trouble, help can find them.”

  “I see,” Tovak said.

  “Although Struugar definitely had the numbers to deal with the orcs he was pursuing,” the lieutenant continued, “the gnomes are a different matter altogether.” He glanced back towards the warchief and seemed to be considering Karach. He stroked his braided beard for several silent moments, then looked at Karn, as if he had made a decision. “I think we need to scout ahead a ways, make sure it’s safe and no one’s waiting for us down that path.”

  “Somehow,” Karn said, “I knew you were going to suggest that, sir.”

  “We could have easily been spotted on the way up here,” Benthok said. “We need to make sure we’re not walking into a trap.”

  “I agree.” Karn gave a nod.

  “Good. Time then, I think, to break the good news to Karach. I will be right back.” Benthok left them and made his way over to the warchief.