Rise of the Horde - Chapter 520 - 520
The sound of war drums did not begin the day.
It was the rumble of marching feet…the combined weight of thousands of warriors gathering on the open plains. From every path came warriors: armored orcs of the Yohan First Horde, tribal berserkers, Rhakaddon riders, Warg Cavalry, trolls of the 1st Kani’karr Corps dragging siege engines, and chattering goblins preparing for another round tunneling.
They gathered not in chaos, but in unity.
At the center, the elite Yohan First Horde stood at attention. They had not yet tasted battle in past few days, but their every breath burned for it.
Then came Khao’khen.
He walked among them clad in simple war-armor, a massive sword on his back, eyes fierce. Sakh’arran, silent and alert, followed him closely.
Khao’khen raised his hand…and silence swept the plains.
“Warriors of the Horde!” his voice boomed. “You have answered my call. You have bled the earth red. But tomorrow, we do more.”
He drew his sword.
“I will be with you…in the flesh.”
The words struck the crowd like thunder. The Yohan First Horde stirred uneasily. Their chieftain…a warrior beyond reckoning…would fight beside them? An honor, yes, but also a threat to their kill-counts.
Some laughed. Others shouted with joy.
“Will you ride with me?” Khao’khen demanded.
A thousand voices roared: “YES!”
And with that, preparations began.
Tents rose. Siege lines solidified. Drills intensified. Khao’khen walked among the warband masters that evening, sharpening his blade and whispering his trust into every warrior’s ear.
Night fell with the plains trembling…not with fear…but with anticipation.
The warhorn had not yet sounded.
But when it did, the world would know.
The orcish camp sprawled across the open plains like a dark sea, alive with the clamor of preparation. War engines creaked. Goblins darted between tents, helping wherever they can. The clang of hammers and the chanting of warriors filled the air like thunder rolling on earth.
But at the southern edge of the great host, a group led by four shadows emerged from the broken line of boulders.
They were covered in dust, blood, and silence.
Galum’nor led them, his massive frame slightly hunched from wounds that hadn’t closed. His armor was cracked at the collar and scorched across the chest. Behind him came Aro’shanna, her axe chipped and caked with dried gore. Drae’ghanna walked silent and straight, two swords at her hips, her black eyes unreadable. Of the Verakhs who had gone with them, only six returned.
The rest…four in number…had fallen in the mountains.
They did not speak as they passed the outer watchfires. The warriors stationed there fell silent, stepping aside without question. Word traveled fast in a camp of warriors. Especially when ghosts walked through it.
****
Khao’khen awaited them near the command fire.
He stood tall in the center, armor half-unfastened, blade across his lap. Sakh’arran stood nearby, reviewing the positioning of the siege engines and fresh troop deployments. Neither looked up as the returning group approached…but both were aware of their presence.
Galum’nor fell thump his fist on his chest.
“My chief. We return.”
Khao’khen looked at them in silence for a moment. Then rose.
“You are late,” he said, not as rebuke, but as measure.
“There was… an encounter,” Drae’ghanna said. “Several.”
Sakh’arran motioned for water and meat to be brought, and the survivors were quickly seated. A circle of warband masters, important figures of Yohan and chieftains gathered nearby, listening without interruption as the report began.
*****
“We followed the trail of the pinkskins into the deeper parts of the Tekarr Mountains,” Galum’nor said. “A ruined structure. Ancient stone. They had excavated something…some relic or object. We did not get a full look, but that place feels very eerie. It was a place of slaughter with dead pinkskins all over the place. We encountered what remains of their group but they were quick to flee.”
Aro’shanna spat. “Cowards.”
“They ran north,” Drae’ghanna added. “We followed. That’s when the guardian appeared.”
“Guardian?” Khao’khen asked, narrowing his eyes.
“The totem spirit of the Hoot-Hoot Tribe,” Galum’nor growled. “The Owlbear.”
Even the seasoned warriors stirred at that.
Khao’khen’s voice dropped. “A totem guardian still exists?”
“It exists. And it hunts,” Drae’ghanna confirmed. “It killed one of ours before we wounded it enough to drive it off. It was not just beast. It was aware. Measured. Territorial.”
“And the pinkskins?”
“Four escaped,” Aro’shanna said through clenched teeth. “Their leader…older than most… certainly carried the object. It was no weapon, no tool. But they treated it like treasure.”
Sakh’arran frowned. “What direction?”
“North. Toward the plains.”
Khao’khen turned toward the map etched in bone and hide behind the war table.
“They will not go far,” he said.
He looked back to the warband.
“And the fallen?”
Galum’nor stood. One by one, he spoke their names.
“Ulgan. Ralkh. Meesha. Dren.”
Each name carried weight. The crowd bowed their heads. All Verakhs nearby unsheathed their blades and planted them in the dirt in salute.
“They fought as warriors,” Galum’nor said. “None turned. None faltered.”
Khao’khen stepped forward.
“Then they shall be remembered as such. Their names carved into the hall of warriors back at the city.”
He turned to Gur’kan and spoke, “See it done.”
*****
Later, under the dusk sky, the returning group stood together again…bathed, rearmed, and fed. They had not slept yet, but their eyes were clearer now.
“You saw it, didn’t you?” Sakh’arran asked quietly to Drae’ghanna.
She nodded. “The Threians are not retreating. They’re digging in. And they know something. That thing…whatever it was…they treated it like a very important item.”
“To what?”
“We don’t know. But they believe in it.”
Sakh’arran grunted. “Then we make sure they never use it.”
Khao’khen joined them at the ridge, overlooking the full warhost preparing for dawn. His gaze lingered on the fires and the countless silhouettes moving in rhythm.
“You returned just in time,” he said.
“For what?” Aro’shanna asked, stretching her arms.
Khao’khen looked over his shoulder, smiling faintly.
“For the beginning.”
*****
The four warriors looked out across the plains.
The drums had not yet begun.
But every beat of the wind said: soon.
