Rise of the Horde - Chapter 554 - 554

The dawn wind rolled eastward across the grasslands, carrying with it the scent of frost-damp earth and trampled blades. The land stretched wide and open, a vast expanse sloping gently toward the distant shimmer of the Gar’thum River, where more of the of orcish territory lay.

To the west, the Lag’ranna Mountains loomed…dark, ancient, and sharp-edged, their forested lower slopes bristling with pine and oak. The trees cast long shadows across the plains, and within those shadows stood the orcish host, concealed, anchored, and utterly at home.

To the east, where the land flattened into rolling grass and shallow hills, banners of blue fluttered in disciplined rows.

The army of Aliyah Winters stood on ground that favored movement, visibility, and order.

But visibility cut both ways.

Today was not a day for battle.

It was a day for watching.

*****

Aliyah Winters reined in her horse atop a low eastern rise, eyes fixed westward. The Lag’ranna Mountains framed the horizon like a wall of iron and stone, their forests thick enough to swallow entire warbands without a trace.

“They’re back there,” she said quietly.

Sir Rhaegar Vance stood beside her, helm under his arm.

“And they’re watching us just as closely.”

Below them, the Winters army was spread in deliberate looseness…scouts riding wide arcs, cavalry patrols shifting positions constantly, infantry detachments rotating through observation posts on the low hills.

Aliyah raised a gloved hand.

“No banners forward. No heavy formations. This is not a challenge.”

Sir Helwain approached at a trot, saluting sharply.

“My riders are ready, Countess. Light spellcraft only. No pursuit beyond signal range.”

Aliyah nodded.

“Good. We are here to learn, not to win.”

Sir Ferin Luthen, watching from a distant knoll with his long-range archers, added grimly,

“They won’t resist the temptation. Open ground like this…orc cavalry will test it.”

Sir Loric Avelle’s staff tapped softly against the earth.

“And so will their shadows.”

*****

From the western foothills, the grass shifted.

At first, it seemed only the wind…but then shapes detached themselves from the trees’ shadow, moving low and fast.

The Warg Cavalry.

They came in waves that were not truly waves at all…loose packs spreading outward, flowing downhill from the forest edge and across the plains with predatory ease. Hundreds of riders fanned out, their mounts’ paws barely disturbing the ground, their silhouettes breaking apart and reforming as they moved.

Behind them, half-seen among grass and low ridges, moved the Black Tree Tribe and the Verakhs, slipping forward in broken lines, using every fold of the land, every shadow cast by hill or cloud.

Khao’khen stood among his commanders at the edge of the forest, unmoving.

“They stand exposed,” Dhug’mur observed. “Their camp lies east, with no natural barrier to aid their defense.”

“They choose ground that lets them see,” Virkan replied. “And that lets them run.”

Khao’khen’s gaze never left the human lines.

“They are confident,” he said. “That makes them dangerous.”

A low horn sounded…short, controlled.

The hunt began.

*****

A Winters scouting patrol of six riders moved between two low hills, their spacing precise, their pace unhurried.

They did not see the Warg Riders until it was almost too late.

Three orcs burst from behind a shallow gully, wargs accelerating with explosive speed.

“CONTACT…WEST!” a human shouted.

Magic answered instinctively.

One rider whispered a frost-word, ice crystallizing along his blade as he turned his horse sideways. Another flicked his reins, activating a speed rune that sent his mount surging forward in a blur of hooves and blue light.

The clash was brief, violent, and controlled.

A warg leapt…slammed into a translucent barrier that flared and vanished.

Iron rang.

Blades scraped enchanted plates.

Ice burst across grass.

One orc was knocked from his mount, rolling hard but alive. A human took a shallow cut across the thigh, blood darkening his greaves.

A sharp whistle cut through the chaos.

The Warg Riders disengaged instantly, pulling back westward toward the hills.

No pursuit.

No triumph.

Just understanding gained.

*****

South of the main patrol routes, the war grew quieter…and more dangerous.

The Black Tree Tribe and Verakhs moved ahead of the cavalry, crawling through tall grass, slipping through shallow ravines that ran eastward toward the human lines.

A pair of Verakhs lay flat as a Winters infantry scout passed within ten paces.

When he moved on, one Verakh flicked a small bone charm forward.

It landed softly.

A moment later, the ground beneath the scout’s boot softened unnaturally. He stumbled, falling hard.

Before he could shout, a Black Tree skirmisher rose behind him, blade resting lightly at his throat.

“Do not move,” the orc murmured in broken pinkskin tongue.

The blade lifted.

The orcs vanished.

The scout lay there shaking, alive, message received.

Elsewhere, a Winters mage sensed the distortion of magic and released a controlled frost pulse, freezing the grass in a wide arc. Two Verakhs scattered, one catching shards of ice in his leg.

His companions dragged him westward, back toward the treeline’s shadow.

No counterattack followed.

This was not escalation.

This was a battle, a battle of wits and shadows.

*****

Aliyah observed the plains through a hovering scry-crystal, images flickering across its surface.

“They’re probing our flanks,” she said. “And our restraint.”

Rhaegar nodded. “They break contact cleanly. Every time.”

“They’re disciplined,” she replied. “And they protect their wounded.”

Across the grasslands, Khao’khen watched with equal care.

“They do not chase,” Virkan said. “Even when we pull back slowly.”

“They want us to reveal more,” Dhug’mur added.

Khao’khen folded his arms.

“They will not give us a mistake,” he said. “So we must learn them without demanding one.”

Both commanders reached the same conclusion.

This enemy would not be baited.

*****

By midday, mages and shamans entered the field…not in force, but in presence.

An orc shaman planted his staff into the earth near a rocky rise, whispering to the land. Grass thickened, bending light, distorting movement.

A Winters mage countered from afar, ice spreading across the ground in faint crystalline lines that revealed hidden paths and footprints.

In one brief moment, a shaman and mage stood on opposite sides of a shallow depression.

They did not strike.

The shaman sent a tremor through the soil.

The mage froze it mid-rise.

Their eyes met.

Then both stepped back.

Information gathered.

*****

The day’s fiercest clash erupted near the central hills.

Nearly a hundred Warg Riders swept eastward in a broad arc, pressing hard toward what appeared to be a thin human screen.

Instead, they met prepared cavalry.

Sir Helwain led the Winters riders personally, blade glowing faint blue.

“FORM….WEDGES!” he roared.

The humans moved with drilled precision, mounts surging forward under layered enchantments.

The collision shook the plains.

Wargs leapt.

Horses reared.

Iron rang in rolling thunder.

A human rider drove an ice-laced blade into the earth, freezing a warg’s paws mid-stride. An orc rider struck back, blade cracking a shield enchantment.

For minutes, the grasslands churned.

Then…

Two horns.

One west.

One east.

Disengage.

Both sides peeled away almost simultaneously, wounded carried, formations intact.

Casualties were light.

Understanding was not.

*****

As the sun dipped toward the Gar’thum River, reports flowed.

Aliyah learned that Orc cavalry outnumbered hers significantly, Warg Riders coordinated flawlessly with scouts, shamans were restrained and precise, and orcs avoided unnecessary loss

The orcs learned that human cavalry wielded magic instinctively, discipline rivaled veteran warbands, mages resisted overcommitment, and enemy archers and infantry supported fluidly

“They are not weak,” Virkan said.

“They are not reckless,” Khao’khen replied.

*****

As dusk fell, both forces withdrew…Humans eastward, toward their ordered camp.

Orcs westward, melting back into the shadows of the Lag’ranna Mountains.

No victory was claimed.

But both sides now understood the shape of the coming war.

Aliyah watched the western horizon burn red beneath the mountains.

“They’ll come again,” Rhaegar said.

“Yes,” she replied softly. “But not here. Not like this.”

Far away, Khao’khen watched the same sunset.

“The land ahead favors us,” Dhug’mur rumbled.

Khao’khen nodded.

“Soon,” he said.

The grass whispered beneath the evening wind.

The battle of eyes was over.

The battle of iron and blood awaited the open plains near the Gar’thum.