El-Vador's Travels (35 page)

Drawing his sword, he eventually walked that same path
that his hunters had traversed previously. There was no way that he
would make it back alive to the burrows in this heat, so he may as
well do his duty in trying to apprehend the creature that killed his
fellow hunters. His body would be recovered next to as many foes as
he could take, at least he would die in honour rather than being
baked to death.

He encountered the bodies face down in the scrub shortly
after, shaded partially by the rock's surface from the increasingly
sweltering heat. The blood was already starting to dry into the
barren earth, crusting upon the soil and spelling out the clear
danger ahead for Salvarius.

Of which there were no other signs. He had expected a
crude encampment or perhaps even a secluded outpost to explain the
deaths, instead there was nothing, this only increased Salvarius's
concerns.

He continued slowly across the dusty ground past the
bodies and started to pick up signs of a fight, some marks on the
ground indicated that there had been some degree of struggle or
physical exertion. It wasn't close enough to the deaths to indicate
that the fight with them had caused it, so why was there such signs
of struggle this far from the...?

His foot gave way, and he found himself falling and
cursing the limited vision from the slit in his helmet, which
provided him with nothing but a brownish blur as he scrabbled for
purchase vainly in the air.

The landing jolted his bones but fortunately his armour
took the brunt of the fall, driving the wind out of him and leaving
him staring up at the sky and the only exit from the hole that he had
fallen into.

There was a figure there, outlined by the sun in such a
manner that all its features were concealed from sight. It watched
him silently, safe in the knowledge that if Salvarius tried to scale
the pit he would get an arrow for his troubles.

He stared back for a time, waiting for the demands or
the goading to begin. If this thing was responsible for the
destruction of the wagons then it most likely knew the prize it had
captured was more valuable alive than dead.

If it knew.

'It would appear that you have been caught in my snare,
foul Orc.' the high voice floated down to him, its timbre strange and
musical in his ears. His captor had unwittingly revealed that he
didn't know who he was. Why then had he trapped him and simply killed
the rest?

He slowly found his feet and checked to see if anything
felt broken, the pit was relative shallow but he was under no
illusions that he couldn't leap out in time.

'You are the leader of your insipid group sent to kill
me for being a nuisance. I require the location of the nearest
burrow.'

Was the voice being serious? Why was it purposefully
waylaying wagons if it didn't even know their destination? There was
something entirely off about this, and he'd never heard a voice quite
of this quality either. The unknown concerned him, he couldn't
prepare for it and now he was trapped in its snare.

'I cannot reveal that information, torture me all you
wish, I shall not break.'

A silence, as if waiting for him to reveal the location
was an inevitability that would come simply with time.

'What makes you so certain of your position? You are
more than likely to die out here without a horse or any provisions,
even if I were to leave you whole. I will guarantee both your freedom
and your life if you acquiesce to my demands.'

Salvarius knew that the situation was dire, and that he
needed to play his trump card now while he still had his captor's
interest. Slowly he placed his hands to his temples and drew the helm
off his head, allowing his pale blonde hair to come streaming out
into the light.

'See you now why I am so certain of my position? I am
Salvarius, Captain of the Orcish guard and not one that will beg for
my life before a cur such as you.'

The intake of breath from the figure above suggested to
him that he had been identified, at least now there would be action,
be it fair or ill.

'You are no Orc!' the voice exclaimed, 'how does a man
come to ascend the ranks of the Orcish militia?'

Salvarius blinked up at the stranger in disbelief, to
have come this far into these lands and still not know who he was, it
was unheard of.

'You are clearly not from this land if you are so
shocked by my demeanour. What say you let me climb out of this pit
and speak as men would?'

The creature let out a harsh laugh. 'You must believe I
am a fool to think that I would agree to such terms.'

'Are you so wary of a single man that you would not
allow him sight of your face before you leave him to die?'

Another pause, it seemed cooler in the pit but not to
any degree that Salvarius would find comforting. He would most likely
perish as a result of his entrapment, but not before doing his best
to find a way out.

'A worthy attempt at deception, but you fell in there
with your sword and I'm not going to allow you anywhere near me so
long as it is strapped to you.'

Salvarius shrugged, he had nothing to lose at this
point. Unbuckling the sword from his back, he launched it up the pit
and out into the open, careful to avoid the figure so that it landed
on the opposite side.

'Will you parley with me now, man to man? I am unarmed
and you may keep your distance and a bead upon me.' as if for
emphasis, he slowly stripped himself out of his armour, ignoring the
blessed relief that came from peeling away the metal husk. 'I am now
both unarmed and unarmoured, will you not allow me exit from this
trap and face my fate accordingly?'

A pause from the creature above indicated further
thought. 'Better to die on your knees than in a pit, should you
decide to withhold the location of this burrow to me. You may
approach, but I have an arrow nocked and I won't miss from here.'

There was a certainty about the voice that brooked no
arguments, Salvarius slowly scaled the pit, making certain to avoid
any sudden movements that might cause the creature to relinquish its
hold on the taut bowstring above.

A set of burning eyes greeted him as they kept the bow
aimed and their distance suitable, the guard Captain witnessed the
visage of his opponent for the first time.

He was slender in build and shorter than Salvarius in
stature, but the cut of his arms were roped with corded muscle that
betrayed a skilled marksman. Brown strands of long hair were parted
roughly and did little to hide the strangely angular features and
pointed ears that betrayed an entirely inhuman nature.

'You are an Elf from the north.' the guard Captain
observed, hauling himself to his feet and making sure to keep his
palms facing the creature.

A flicker of surprise passed through the bright gaze, as
if the recognition was something it hadn't expected. 'That much is
true.' it said, not wavering its trained arrow. 'How come you by this
information? My kind cannot be commonplace in these lands.'

Salvarius shook his head, 'I have never seen one of your
kind prior to this day, but I have heard tales of the crushing defeat
the Orcs were dealt from the demons of the mountains they had thought
subjugated.'

A faint smile touched the lips of his captor, clearly
the image such words conjured up meant something to it. 'Demons of
the mountains you say? Answer me this, why is a human working under
the yoke of Orcish commands? Like you so little your own people that
you surround yourself with these green-skinned devils? What
allegiance hold you to they?'

He thought very carefully about his next words, knowing
that they could well mean life or death depending on how eager this
Elf was to let fly with his bow. 'I owe one of those Orcs my life, my
debt to him has yet to be fully paid. I will suffer being a stranger
to this foreign land until it is.'

'How could you possibly owe one of those butchers your
life?' the Elf demanded, a worrying tone of anger coming through in
his strange voice now.

Salvarius sighed, of all the people he'd expected to
tell this tale to, an Elf walking straight out of a fairy tale had
not been in contention. 'General Harg could have killed me, he was
given more than enough opportunity to do so. Instead he was merciful
and raised me as his own, then he went north without me and came
back...changed. From fighting your people.'

He saw the murderous look on the Elf's features and
waited for the arrow to thud home into his unprotected chest or neck.
Closing his eyes, he thought of all those he had known who died at
the hands of the Orcish mercenaries Harg had been a part of, and how
his adopted father had risked life and limb to prevent a scrawny kid
from being gutted by a falling axe.

Once more he found himself waiting for something that
never came, for some unknown reason the Elf was sparing him.

'You claim that there was a survivor from the north?'
the voice asked him as he slowly opened his eyes.

He looked into the Elf's face and saw disbelief there,
talking about his native homeland had triggered something within him.
Him, not it, the Elf was very much another intelligent being of this
world and should be accorded that much respect.

'General Harg, the Orc in charge of the militia in these
parts, is the only known survivor from the north. Even he does not
claim to know full knowledge of what happened or how the occupation
turned sour.'

More silence, and Salvarius began to wonder whether he
had just talked himself into an execution again.

'Your General is a liar, there are no survivors from the
north.' the Elf replied, but Salvarius could tell that it was the Elf
who spoke a lie. It was in that moment of clarity that he realised
the look on his captor's face, he knew it well.

'You look to exact vengeance upon those that occupied
your lands, you mean to seek out and destroy all the Orcs responsible
in the invasion. You thought your task complete, but you were not
sure. Now you have come in search of the Orcish lands to uncover
whether any yet survive, and in giving you a name I have revealed
your final target, now you expect me to betray General Harg, who has
been like a father to me.'

The Elf smiled at him unnervingly, it had not been the
reaction he had tried to provoke. 'No, my human friend, you are
mistaken in your assumptions and now I must address your fate.'

Salvarius closed his eyes and thought of home. 'Make it
swift.' he muttered.

Silence.

He opened his eyes after a time and was promptly blinded
by the sun, he was flat on his back and hesitantly he patted his body
to locate the arrow wound.

Nothing.

Rising slowly, he squinted and searched around him for
any sign of his captor, then noticed something dark in his peripheral
vision.

It was a small bundle that lay beside him, cautiously
opening it up he found that it contained what looked to be enough
dried meat to get back to the burrow.

Of the Elf there was no sign.

Hauling his armour out of the dirt of the pit, Salvarius
started to march back.

For
every successful battle and glorious siege there are lengthy passages
of utter tedium. For every journey undertaken in these volumes there
remains an omission of the vast swathes of time lost to travel and
the necessities of living.
Of this particular time there is no
omission, as the ramifications of such a simple reliance echo
endlessly through my extended existence.

H
e
had no difficulty in tracking his prey through the dusty
and
barren land that the Orcs presumably called
their
home. After initial attempts to locate him the
man had simply given up searching and focused all his efforts on
returning home, regardless of whether he was leading El-Vador
directly to the burrow or not.

He
did not doubt the sincerity in the man's words as he mulled over
their consequences. That he had been so transparent that a mere human
had almost uncovered his purpose was something that worried him, he
needed to lock down such obvious signs before they were the cause of
his death.

Still
he could not shake the niggling feeling that hounded him as swiftly
and silently as he in turn stalked after Salvarius. The man was
fervent in his belief that this Orc truly had spared him out of
mercy, rather than to have another slave to work under him. What if
there were a kernel of truth in his tale? After all, the Orcs could
have easily slaughtered the people of his village immediately after
taking over, they did not.

Instead
they had waited until they had supplanted them with their own farmers
and killed them then. The Orcs that rose to positions of command were
bloodthirsty as any but they weren't stupid, there was a calculation
in their actions and they would stay an execution if it served them
better. The guard Captain had been groomed and used by this Orc, that
he did not know it and most likely could not be convinced of it was
the saddest thing. He had no quarrel with these humans, but he had no
qualms about killing one should they choose to get in the way of his
destiny.