Erick's Journey - Part Six

The younger dwarfs were nervous throughout the trip to return the goblins to their territory, but aside from a few mundane skirmishes with goblin tribes during the day, they found no resistance.

Dimitri’s presence in the area offered them a measure of protection, but none of the dwarfs would admit that. Instead they grumbled about the wyrm being “bad luck.”

But they had no trouble with Dimitri during the trip to or from the goblin territories. He fed farther away from the group to avoid distressing anyone, and he was polite to everyone when he arrived to have his nightly conversations with Erick.

In fact, Dimitri never once caused a problem until the group set up camp at the outskirts of an orc province.

During that night, Dimitri’s discussion with Erick was cut short when a bellowing snarl filled the air. It was met with a chorus of howls and growls from all around the camp.

Erick didn’t understand what the orcs were saying, but he knew that they were angry about something. He stood up and glanced at his sword. He shook his head, reminding himself that he was on orc territory.

Part of the accord that kept peace between the orcs and other races was a provision that travelers through orc lands could only defend themselves with blunt weapons. The orcs, being fond of clubs or tree branches, saw the agreement as a leveling of the playing field. Most sensible elves dodged the issue by never venturing into orc-held lands.

It’s a shame I never was a sensible elf, Erick thought.

Grom stood up from his post in front of the fire, his gaze moving to Dimitri, and then to Luther. “Who’s in charge here?”

Grom was checking to see who would be the spokesperson. That would come later, after the “negotiations.”

Dimitri pointed to Luther, who pointed to himself as well. Surprise registered on Grom’s broad face, but with the thumping footsteps of the orcs growing louder in every direction, he got over his shock at seeing a wyrm defer to anyone.

The dwarfs began pulling out blunt maces from their supply cart.

Ilaria swapped her sword for a staff, and Darryl wielded a heavy tonfa-like baton.

Luther appeared to have selected his bare fists, and no one bothered asking why he didn’t arm himself.

Olan noticed that Erick was still unarmed, and the young dwarf asked, “Oy, shouldn’t you—?”

But the tribe of orcs descended on the camp, and after that no one was able to keep tabs on each other.

Erick’s gaze locked on a charging orc, a hulking grey hunter with bulging tusks that raced toward him from across the camp. Waiting until the last second when the bellowing hunter raised his club high above his head for a pummeling blow, Erick cast a spell, and the shadows under the orc became tacky.

The orc’s feet were trapped and then released quickly, causing the brute to stumble on his own forward momentum. He slammed to the ground face first, and the impact dazed him. The orc dropped his weapon, but he still tried to raise himself on his hands and knees.

Erick dropped low to sling a side kick into the orc’s chin, dropping the beast-man back to the ground.

Erick spun to look for a new opponent, and his gaze fell on Olan, stone dead. The side of the dwarf’s metal helm was caved in, and blood streaked his face. His expression was frozen in a look of shock.

The sight of Olan’s body distracted Erick, but he heard thumping footsteps and tore his gaze away. By then the orc war chief bearing down on him was only two meters away, and drawing back his club for a swing.

Erick dropped an instant before the club could connect with his forehead. He hit the ground and rolled over quickly, a foot thumping down where he’d landed. Erick rolled onto his side and scissored his legs, slinging his top leg in a blurring kick at the ankle of the orc. It was like trying to uproot a tree, and Erick nearly broke his foot and ankle.

The war chief raised his club, and then the world went black.

Chaos ensued as everyone began shouting in fear or anger. They all reverted to cursing in their native languages, so Erick could make nothing out of the cacophony. But he guessed from the fact that he could hear that he wasn’t dead, nor was he unconscious.

Dimitri’s voice rose above all the others, rasping in the orc tongue for several seconds. The tribe fell silent, and then so did everyone else.

The shadow spell dispersed, and Dimitri was standing beside Erick, leaning over to offer him a hand up. When Dimitri straightened up, he said something to the orc chief and pointed to Luther.

The chief snorted and said something which made Luther frown, but Erick didn’t catch a word of the conversation.

Dimitri kept talking, and the chief was finally convinced that Luther was the leader. The orc chief approached the half-orc before a much longer conversation began.

Dimitri knelt down beside Erick, his voice a soft whisper. “The war chief caught scent of me, and he’s mad that I’m in their territory. Luther is explaining that I’m a part of your hunting party, and that we’re here to look for the stray werekin.”

“Does the chief know I’m the reason why the werekin are wandering?”

“I don’t think so,” Dimitri said. He listened for a few minutes before he said, “These orcs aren’t hunting for the strays. The chief says his son went hunting for the strays alone, and he never came back. The chief thinks his son may have been bitten or scratched by one of the cubs, and he hasn’t returned to the tribe because he knows they’ll kill him.”

Erick nodded, frowning at a thought. “Will the werekin take him in?”

“No, it’s not likely. Even if he were collared, a cursed orc would be too wild to be accepted in a pack. What’s more, the druids are now so feral that they certainly wouldn’t take something from outside their own race.”

Erick listened to the exchange go on between the chief and Luther. He had another thought, and asked, “So, what will we do with him?”

“I expect that we’ll kill him.” A few second passed, and then Dimitri nodded,  raising his hand to gesture at the chief. “We’ve just been given permission to stay for three days, provided that we can kill the chief’s son. Otherwise...” Dimitri cringed.

“What?” Erick asked.

“Sorry, I was still waiting for the rest myself,” Dimitri said. “If we don’t kill his son within three days, the chief will organize a larger raid during the day, to make sure I can’t protect any of you.”

“Oh,” Erick said, considering the deal objectively before he nodded. “Well, that’s not too bad.”

Dimitri snorted, turning his head to offer Erick an admiring smile. “Does nothing scare you?”

Erick pointed to Olan’s body as Grom and Dilen picked it up to carry him away.

In accordance with Olan’s religious beliefs, his body would be burned in a fire pit. Aside from a few jokes and toasts in his name that night, he would never be mentioned again among the dwarfs. It was how they dealt with grief, by ignoring it.

Erick said, “What scares me is knowing that after I die, no one besides my parents will ever regret my passing.”

Dimitri nodded, but said nothing while they watched Grom and Dilen carry Olan away.

***

Erick clutched at the pouch tied to his belt, running his fingers nervously over the charmed stone pendant inside. He walked with Darryl and Ilaria, all of them tense and alert as they crept through the dark forest. The midday sun was up, but very little of it could pass through the dense canopy above them. However, there was just enough sunlight to ensure Dimitri wouldn’t be coming for a rescue.

They were divided into trios to search more ground, and Erick felt annoyed that Luther chose to go with Grom and Dilen instead. He didn’t really mind working with Darryl and Ilaria, but he still would have felt better with the hulking half-orc as his backup.

Erick thought about how dangerous their hunt was. They could run into a cursed orc, or into another tribe of orcs, requiring another round of negotiations. Or they could run into one of the cubs.

Erick had heard Bron comment how he hoped to run into the cubs instead of the cursed orc, and Grom had given the naïve dwarf a hard knock on the back of his head before lecturing him.

Erick recalled Grom shouting, Aye, you think it’s easy! You think all you have to do is slip a chain around a wee-wolf’s neck! But if he gives you so much as the tiniest scratch; if he nips you with even one tooth before you put that chain on, you might as well loop the blessed thing around your own neck!

Given his choices, Erick wasn’t sure which he preferred to see leaping out of the underbrush. In theory, the cursed orc was his best bet. Not enough time had passed for the curse to have transformed him yet, but the animal spirit tainting the orc’s body would make him more aggressive, and thus more likely to kill. Because, given a choice between dying or spending a lifetime with the druid curse, dying was certainly preferable.

His musings were shoved aside when he heard a snarl. It was faint, but the sound was just loud enough for him to know that it was produced by a human throat.

He was in luck. They’d found one of the cubs.

Within seconds, he could hear the pattering steps of the cub. It had picked up their scents on the wind, and it was heading directly for them.

Erick opened the pouch and drew out the collar, clenching his hand in a fist around the charmed stone. He glanced at Darryl and Ilaria, finding them both waiting with their blunt weapons drawn.

The cub’s steps softened, and then they became erratic as the cub began to sneak closer. Erick still spotted the boy as he dashed between trees, and the dirty, naked child glared at him for a split second before he dashed for cover again.

Erick guessed he was perhaps six or seven, making him unable to transform fully into his animal form yet. Once puberty hit, the boy would begin making transformations with the lunar cycle, and over time, he would give himself over to his animal nature, until he willfully triggered the metamorphosis into his bestial form. The time he spent in human form would diminish, and only during mating seasons would he revert back to it.

The cub remained behind the tree, and Erick frowned while he waited for the boy to make a charge. One minute passed, and then two. Erick’s body tingled with nervous energy, and he had a sudden urge to look up.

He yelped and threw up his hand, planting it into the chest of the cub as he dropped from the forest canopy. The cub’s momentum carried him down, and he landed on top of Erick, slamming the elf to the ground.

Erick got his hand under the cub’s jaw, and he gripped the boy’s throat to push him back. The boy’s hands closed over his wrist, and the crushing grip prevented Erick from closing off the boy’s windpipe to knock him out.

The cub pushed with his arms and drew his head back before he opened his mouth. Erick lashed up with his other hand, looping the chain over the boy’s head. The action caused the boy to pause for an instant, and then he dropped his head and bit Erick’s hand.

Sharp, filed teeth cut through the glove and Erick’s skin, and pain flashed up his arm like a bolt of lightning. Erick’s body spasmed, and he roared in agony while the cub shook his head to help him saw through the bone.

Darryl moved in to grab the cub’s arms, and he was rewarded with an elbow on the bridge of his nose.

The bone in Erick’s hand snapped, and the cub pulled his head away with Erick’s index finger and part of his hand. Blood poured from the wound, but Erick couldn’t look to check how bad the damage was.

He kept his attention on the cub, waiting until the boy’s head snapped down toward him again. As soon as the cub started to look down, Erick drove his uninjured fist up, slamming the boy’s chin with every ounce of strength that he could muster.

His severed finger exploded inside the cub’s mouth, and the cub flew back before he dropped limply onto his side.

Then Erick stared at his hand, and for several minutes, he heard nothing of what Ilaria or Darryl said. He was confused when he looked back toward the cub and discovered that the boy was already bound and gagged. Ilaria’s staff was wedged through his arms and legs, and he was ready for porting back to the camp.

Erick sat up, panting as he looked at Ilaria. He saw the deep concern in her grey face, and he said, “I got the collar on.”

Ilaria nodded and whispered, “I know.”

Darryl repeated himself for the tenth time by asking, “Are you okay?”

Erick stared at him, and then he raised his wounded hand and shouted, “Does this look okay to you?”