Chapter 14 — The Orc Camp

Chapter 14: Chapter 14 — The Orc Camp

Chapter 14 — The Orc Camp

The northern road looked better from Northgate’s walls.

Beyond the reach of the fortress patrols, the packed earth broke into ruts and stretches of loose stone. Frost filled the deepest wheel tracks, and in several places grass had grown across half the road, forcing the wagons into a narrow line.

Christopher rode beside the first wagon with Godfrey. When he looked back, Northgate still rose above the hills behind them, its towers seeming close enough to reach before dark.

"It won’t look that close by noon," Godfrey said.

"I wasn’t thinking of turning back."

"Most men look back after leaving a safe wall. It means they have sense."

Christopher faced north again.

They passed two farms before reaching the remains of a burned village. Six stone houses stood without upper floors, and a child’s wooden cup lay half buried beside an overturned cart. Christopher kept the convoy moving, and the families grew quieter as the wagons passed the ruins.

Bram walked beside Walter’s supply wagon. He carried his bundle for the first hour until Joan persuaded him to place it beneath the wagon cover. Walter had told him to remain beside the left rear wheel, and Bram followed the instruction so closely that he stepped into every rut it passed.

"You can walk around the holes," Walter finally said.

Bram looked down at the muddy water around his boots. "You said stay beside the wheel."

"Stay near the wheel. You don’t have to follow it into a ditch."

Bram nodded. At the next rut, he took one long step around it and returned to his place.

Walter turned to Christopher. "One instruction at a time."

Godfrey almost smiled.

They reached the damaged bridge near sunset. The soldiers at Northgate had warned Christopher about it, but the description had made it sound worse. One side had collapsed into the shallow river below; the other remained wide enough for a wagon if the driver kept the wheels close to the inner rail.

Christopher crossed with Godfrey and Master Barlow. The surviving beams would hold one wagon at a time, but the livestock and passengers would have to cross separately.

The crossing took the remaining light. Families walked over first, wagons followed one at a time, and Bram helped lead the cattle through the water downstream. They camped beside the river with twice the usual guards, Northgate already vanished behind them.

He slept with Edmund’s sword within reach.

The next morning brought snow. It melted when it touched the road, leaving the ground wet and dark. Simon Atwood rode ahead with Adam Fletcher while the rest of the convoy followed more slowly, the forest thickening around them, mostly pine and bare-limbed trees twisted by northern winds.

Near midday, Simon returned at a gallop.

Godfrey raised a fist. The convoy stopped.

"Tracks ahead," Simon reported. "Orcs."

The word passed through the nearest wagons before Christopher could prevent it. Men reached for spears. Mothers pulled children beneath wagon covers. Walter shouted for everyone to remain in position.

"How many sets of tracks did you see?" Godfrey asked.

"Five, maybe six. They crossed the road from west to east. No carts. One limps."

"How fresh are they?"

"Fresh. This morning."

Christopher felt his hand tighten around the reins. Most of the surviving orcs had already returned to the Frozen Wastes with their plunder; those who remained south of the wastes were usually wounded stragglers, deserters, or low-ranked bands living on whatever they could steal. Even wounded stragglers could kill.

"Show us," Godfrey said.

He took Christopher, Walter, and Simon forward. The tracks were easy to find where they cut through the wet ground: broad bare feet mixed with prints from crude boots, and dark blood marking one stone near the eastern side of the road.

Simon pointed toward the forest. "They continued that way."

Walter crouched beside the nearest print. "Moving quickly. No attempt to hide the trail."

"Not a war party," Godfrey said. "Too few, and one of them is bleeding. Likely stragglers."

"Could be survivors returning north," Christopher said.

"Could be raiders," Walter replied.

Godfrey followed the tracks with his eyes until they vanished between the trees.

"We let them go," he said.

Christopher scanned the eastern forest. "They may circle back."

"Then we keep scouts on both sides and guards around the wagons. If we chase them, we enter unfamiliar woods and leave the settlers with fewer defenders."

"What if they warn a larger group?"

"They may. We still stay with the convoy."

Christopher imagined the orcs watching from the trees while the convoy crawled north, and he remembered the bandit ambush and Godfrey refusing to scatter their knights in pursuit. He had fifty families, children, livestock, and overloaded wagons behind him. Hunting was not why they had come.

"Double the side scouts," Christopher said. "Nobody enters the forest alone."

Godfrey nodded. "Good."

They returned to the convoy. Christopher told the settlers only that a small group had crossed the road and moved away. It did little to ease them, and for the rest of the day every snapped branch drew eyes toward the trees.

No attack came.

They camped in an abandoned sheep enclosure with a stone wall high enough to shelter the fires from the wind. Godfrey placed the wagons across the broken entrance. The apprentices slept in shifts, and Christopher woke twice to the low sound of cattle moving restlessly.

By morning, snow covered the grass in scattered white patches.

The road divided before noon. One branch continued into the hills; the other disappeared beneath a slope of fallen earth and uprooted trees.

The soldiers at Northgate had told them to take the hill road, but years of neglect had made it difficult. The climb forced everyone except the injured to walk, men pushing at the heaviest wagons while the horses strained against their harnesses.

Bram took a place behind a grain wagon, pushing with both hands and matching his steps to the turning wheels. When one horse slipped, the wagon rolled backward half a pace before Bram and four other men stopped it.

"Hold it!" Walter shouted.

Bram held.

The driver settled the horse, and the wagon started forward again.

At the top of the rise, Bram sat beside the road breathing hard. Martha gave him bread and a cup of watered ale, and he ate the bread in several bites.

"More?" he asked.

"When we stop tonight," Martha said.

Bram accepted that and stood when Walter called him back to the wagon.

They passed another abandoned village, but Godfrey kept the convoy together while orcs remained nearby. On the fourth morning, ice covered a water bucket beside the kitchen fire, the cold having stiffened the harness and left frost across every exposed blanket.

Christopher’s southern winter cloak was no longer enough. He added one of the wool coats bought at Northgate beneath it and still felt the wind against his chest.

"Is this cold normal for the road?" he asked Godfrey.

"For this road, maybe."

"You could say you don’t know."

"I have never travelled this far north so late in the year."

The wind came from beyond the dark hills ahead. Somewhere past those hills lay the Frozen Wastes, and even at this distance, the cold rolling south from them had teeth.

The convoy started late. Two horses had to be walked before their stiff legs loosened, and one wagon wheel had frozen into the mud. Bram and four farmers pulled it free while Walter kept everyone else away from the straining axle.

They covered less ground than the previous day.

The road climbed through forested slopes and valleys where old snow remained beneath the pines. Martin travelled beneath blankets while Mabel watched his wound. Near sunset, the scouts found a stone wayhouse with half its roof intact. The women and youngest children slept inside while the others crowded against its walls and fed the fires through the night.

At dawn, Bennet brought him the food count.

"We’re eating more," Bennet said. "The cold and the hill work."

"How much faster are we using it?"

"Enough to cut deeper into the reserve than I expected, my lord."

Christopher watched the families gathering around Martha’s fires. They still had food, but their reserve was shrinking.

"Reduce the ale ration before the food," he said. "Not the children’s meals."

"That keeps the reserve from shrinking as quickly."

"Do it."

Bennet folded the count and returned it to his coat. Neither of them had a better answer.

The fifth day brought heavier snow. It fell lightly and stayed beneath the trees. Tracks disappeared quickly, so the scouts moved closer to the convoy, and Godfrey kept the side guards doubled.

Shortly after noon, the lead wagon stopped.

Christopher rode forward and found that part of the hillside had collapsed across the road — mud, stone, and two uprooted trees blocking the way from the slope above to the drop below. A man on horseback might have passed along the edge. A wagon could not.

Master Barlow struck one of the fallen trunks with the back of his axe.

"We can clear it, my lord."

"How long will the work take?" Christopher asked.

"The trees today. The earth tomorrow, if it doesn’t freeze solid tonight."

The steep ground blocked every path around the fall. Turning back meant several days to Northgate and abandoning Dragonwatch before seeing it.

Christopher dismounted.

"Set the camp back from the slope. The settlers and slaves clear the road. Put the apprentices on the ridge and among the wagons."

"They could clear this faster," Walter said.

"And meet the orcs with their swords lying in the mud," Godfrey replied. "The workers dig. The knights guard."

Christopher kept the livestock back in case more earth fell.

Axes sounded through the afternoon. Bram dragged cut branches aside while farmers and slaves dug at the softer edge of the fall, snow melting into their gloves and forcing them to stop often and warm their hands.

As darkness approached, Christopher climbed partway up the slope with Simon. Through a break in the trees, he could see hill after hill stretching north beneath the gray sky. No walls appeared in the distance, and no smoke marked a settlement.

"How much farther?" Christopher asked.

Simon rubbed snow from his beard. "The men at Northgate said eighteen days with wagons. Twenty if the road is bad."

The road was bad. Christopher had already spent five days beyond Northgate and had not covered a third of the distance.

Below them, convoy fires appeared beside the blocked road. People raised tents among the trees while the last axe blows faded. The wind continued down from the Frozen Wastes, and Dragonwatch remained somewhere beyond the hills.

The snow stopped before dawn, but the cold remained.

Men returned to the landslide as soon as there was enough light to see. The two fallen trees had been cut apart the previous afternoon, leaving only a bank of half-frozen earth and loose stone across the road.

Christopher sent every available shovel forward. Farmers worked beside the fifteen slaves while Master Barlow directed the men moving the heavier stones, and Bram carried the largest pieces to the edge of the slope, sometimes one in each hand.

The work left most of the convoy crowded along the road behind them.

That worried Christopher more than the blocked road itself. Five or six orcs had crossed nearby the previous day, and the wagons had little room to turn.

He found Simon Atwood and Adam Fletcher saddling their horses near the front.

"Follow yesterday’s tracks," Christopher said. "Find out where the orcs went and whether there are more of them. Do not attack."

Simon’s eyes flicked to Godfrey before answering. "How far should we follow?"

"No farther than you can return before midday."

Godfrey had heard the order. He walked over and checked the short bow tied behind Adam’s saddle.

"If they see you, come back," he said. "We need their number, not their heads."

The two apprentices rode south to where the tracks had crossed the road, then disappeared into the eastern forest.

Christopher remained near the landslide. The first hour produced little more than a wider patch of mud. Frozen clods had to be broken with picks before shovels could move them, and the narrow road prevented too many people from working at once.

Bennet watched the line of waiting wagons. "Another night here will cost us."

"I know. We can’t afford another delay here."

"The animals have already eaten more fodder than planned."

"I know that too, Bennet. Let the workers finish opening the road."

Bennet wisely stopped there.

Near noon, the workers reached the buried edge of the road. Walter led an empty wagon through the gap to test it. One wheel sank into the softened ground but rolled free when Bram and several farmers pushed from behind.

"Widen it another foot," Walter said. "Then lay branches over the mud."

Christopher approved the work and turned his attention back to the forest.

Simon and Adam returned shortly afterward, mud covering their boots, both horses breathing hard.

"There are more than the tracks showed," Simon said. "Ten, maybe twelve."

Godfrey’s expression hardened. "How far?"

"Less than an hour east. They’re camped in a hollow beneath a rock shelf."

"Did any of them see you leave the ridge?"

"No. Adam found a ridge above them."

Adam dismounted and drew a rough shape in the mud with a stick. "They have no proper tents. Two are wounded, and most look half starved. We saw only one with armor. A few spears, axes, and bows."

"Do you think any of them are ranked warriors?" Christopher asked.

"Most likely," Godfrey said. "A strong war band would not be hiding this close to the road without scouts."

Simon crouched beside Adam’s drawing. "They have bundles stacked beneath the rock. Cups, chains, coins—anything that shines. More than they can carry quickly."

That explained why the group had remained behind. Most surviving orcs had returned to the Frozen Wastes with their plunder. These had gathered too much, become wounded or separated from the larger army, and stayed in human territory until their food ran out.

"They may be waiting for us to pass," Walter said.

"Or waiting for night," Ivo replied.

Christopher studied the trees. If they ignored the camp, the orcs could follow the convoy and attack its rear. If everyone waited while Godfrey dealt with them, they would lose another day and consume more food beside an exposed slope.

"Can you destroy the camp?" Christopher asked.

Godfrey looked at Adam’s drawing rather than Christopher. "If their strength is as reported."

"Then take Walter and Ivo with you."

"No. Both Bronze Knights remain with the convoy."

The answer came at once.

"You keep both Bronze Knights with the convoy," Godfrey continued. "The settlers are the reason we are here. I will take four apprentices."

Christopher almost argued. Four apprentices had not even reached Black Iron, and against ten or twelve orcs, they could die quickly if Godfrey misjudged the camp. Then again, Godfrey was a Silver Knight who had survived the war and knew far more about fighting orcs than Christopher did.

"Which apprentices will you take?" Christopher asked.

"Simon and Adam know the ground. Thomas Reed and Peter Cobb go with them."

Peter was broad and strong for an apprentice. Thomas was the steadiest of the twelve. Neither looked pleased when called, but both prepared without complaint.

Godfrey faced Christopher after checking their weapons. "Clear the road and move. Do not wait for us."

"How will you find us once we leave the landslide?"

"I will follow the wagon tracks. This many carts cannot hide their trail."

"And if you are not back by night?"

"Keep moving tomorrow. Do not risk the whole convoy by waiting for five men."

Remaining in one place would only make the convoy easier to find. Christopher nodded. "Come back."

Godfrey gave him a brief look. "That’s the intention."

The five men entered the forest on foot.

Christopher watched until the trees swallowed them, then returned to the landslide. The road was almost clear, and he ordered the first wagons through while the workers widened the opening for the heavier carts.

Walter led the convoy. Ivo rode near the rear with the remaining apprentices, including Martin Pike, who was still confined to a wagon. Christopher moved between them, counting people and listening for any sound from the eastern forest.

He heard only axes, wheels, and the northern wind.

The last wagon passed the landslide in the middle of the afternoon. Christopher ordered the convoy onward.

Godfrey and the four apprentices did not return before the road bent around the hill.

Without Godfrey, the convoy felt different. Walter remained at the front and Ivo guarded the rear, but neither carried the quiet certainty of the Silver Knight, and Christopher noticed settlers looking toward him whenever a branch moved in the forest.

He kept the wagons moving until the fading light made the road difficult to see. They found no stone enclosure or abandoned farm that evening, only a patch of level ground between the road and a frozen stream.

Walter wanted the wagons drawn into a tight ring. Christopher agreed and ordered the fires kept small until Godfrey returned. Bram helped shift two carts into place, then stood beside Walter’s wagon because nobody had given him another task.

"Gather wood with Wat," Christopher told him. "Stay where Walter can see you."

Bram repeated the instruction and followed Wat Cooper toward the nearest fallen branches.

Christopher walked the camp after dark. Eight apprentices remained with them, though Martin could barely stand. The two Bronze Knights were enough to handle low-ranked stragglers in an open fight, but they could not be everywhere along a camp filled with families.

He had chosen to send Godfrey. If something attacked before the Silver Knight returned, the choice would be his responsibility.

Walter joined him near the northern side of the wagons. "Sir Godfrey said to keep moving."

"I know what he said. Waiting is still difficult."

"Then trust him to follow, my lord. If anyone can find us in the dark, it is Sir Godfrey."

Christopher looked back along the dark road. "I am trying."

Godfrey smelled the orc camp before he saw it.

Old blood, unwashed bodies, and meat gone bad hung beneath the rock shelf. The hollow protected the orcs from the wind but trapped every smell around them.

Simon led the way to the ridge he had found earlier, and from there Godfrey counted eleven orcs.

They were in worse condition than the scouts had reported. One lay near a weak fire with a bandaged leg. Another coughed beneath a hide. The largest wore a rusted iron breastplate, but the others had only scraps of leather and fur.

The plunder rested against the rock wall in several bundles. A silver cup lay in the open beside a torn sack of coins. Godfrey also saw candlesticks, bracelets, decorated knife sheaths, and pieces of metal taken from noble houses or temples.

The orcs had wealth and almost nothing to eat. That made them desperate.

Godfrey drew his sword and pointed to the western side of the hollow. Thomas and Peter moved there together. Simon and Adam remained on the ridge with their bows.

"Loose when I enter," Godfrey whispered. "Then watch the trees. Do not chase anyone who runs."

He descended alone.

An orc near the fire saw him first. It shouted and reached for a spear. Adam’s arrow struck its shoulder before it could stand.

Godfrey crossed the remaining distance in a burst of Knight Essence. His first cut opened the throat of the armored orc; the second severed the shaft of a spear and continued into the chest of the creature holding it.

The hollow erupted.

Orcs scrambled for weapons. Two ran toward the trees without looking back. Simon fired at one and missed. He remembered the order and did not follow.

Thomas and Peter entered from the side. Thomas caught an axe on his shield while Peter drove his spear into an orc’s stomach. Neither fought with the speed or strength of a ranked knight, but the starving orcs were slow.

Godfrey killed another before it reached them.

A wounded orc rose from beside the rock wall. It had been hidden behind the stacked bundles, a short throwing spear already in its hand.

"Peter!" Thomas shouted.

Peter turned too late.

The spear struck his thigh and drove him to the ground.

Godfrey reached the orc before it could take another weapon. His sword passed through its neck.

"Hold your ground!" he shouted.

Three remaining orcs broke toward the eastern trees. Adam struck one in the back with an arrow. The other two escaped.

Godfrey let them go.

The entire fight had lasted less than a minute.

Peter’s blood was already spreading across the snow.

Thomas knelt beside him, both hands pressed around the spear shaft. "It went through."

"Don’t pull it yet."

Godfrey cut away the cloth around the wound. The spear had entered the outer part of Peter’s thigh and emerged behind it. The main artery had been missed.

"Simon, watch the trees. Adam, bring my pack."

Peter’s face had gone pale. "Sir?"

"You keep the leg still."

"Am I going to lose the leg?"

"It will become worse if you move."

Godfrey broke the spearhead free, then pulled the shaft back through the wound. Peter bit down on his glove to keep from screaming.

They stopped the bleeding with pressure and a tight bandage. It was work any experienced soldier knew, but Godfrey was not a healer, and the wound needed proper cleaning and stitching before fever took hold.

Mabel Rook had the training to help. Unfortunately, she was travelling with the convoy several miles ahead.

Godfrey eyed the bundles beneath the rock. The silver, coins and jewelry would belong to Christopher, but there was no market on this road and no food hidden among the valuables. Peter needed a healer more than Dragonwatch needed another bag of silver.

"Make a litter," Godfrey ordered. "Take only what we can carry with him."

Thomas faced the road hidden beyond the forest. "The convoy will be miles ahead."

"Then we walk quickly."

Snow began falling again while they tied cloaks between two spear shafts.