Rise of the Horde - Chapter 555 - 555

The Lag’ranna Mountains loomed behind the orcish camp like a wall of ancient teeth, their lower forests whispering beneath the night wind. Fires burned low and controlled…orcish fires were never wasteful…casting red light across hides, iron, and scarred flesh.

At the center of the camp, a wide stone circle had been cleared. Rough-hewn slabs marked the edges, each bearing old claw marks and the stains of past councils.

This was a place of decision.

Khao’khen stood at the head of the circle, his presence alone enough to quiet even the loudest warriors. He did not wear ceremonial armor…only his usual attire, a bit worn-out animal skin. His expression was unreadable, his posture immovable.

Around him gathered the chieftains and war leaders of the host.

Dhug’mur of the Rock Bear Tribe sat like a mountain himself, arms folded, breathing slow and deep.

Virkan of the Black Tree Tribe leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp, always calculating.

Trot’thar and Gur’kan…War Chiefs of the First Horde…stood side by side, disciplined and silent.

And then there was Dhug’mhar.

Chieftain of the Rumbling Clan.

He stood rather than sat, enormous arms crossed over a chest like a slab of living stone. His muscles flexed almost unconsciously as he shifted, as though reminding everyone present that perfection had mass, and mass had a name.

“Hrrmph,” Dhug’mhar snorted loudly. “Another council. More talking. My warriors grow bored. We came to break pinkskins, not stare at grass.”

Several orcs growled in amusement.

Khao’khen did not look at him.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, steady, and carried effortlessly.

“The time of watching ends,” he said. “The time of command changes.”

A ripple passed through the circle.

Khao’khen turned…and for the first time that night, stepped back.

From his shadow stepped Sakh’arran.

Younger than many of those present, but broad-shouldered, scarred, and sharp-eyed. His tusks were shorter than Dhug’mhar’s, his armor plainer…but his gaze was steady, unflinching as it swept the council.

Khao’khen’s voice followed.

“Sakh’arran will command the First Horde in the coming battle.”

A beat of silence.

Then murmurs.

Dhug’mhar barked a laugh. “This one?” He jabbed a thumb at Sakh’arran. “He commands while I still breathe?”

Sakh’arran did not rise to the bait.

Khao’khen’s eyes turned, cold as stone.

“You will listen,” he said.

Silence fell instantly.

“Our numbers grow,” Khao’khen continued. “Soon, there will be a Second Horde. Command must grow with it. Strength alone does not decide who leads.”

His gaze lingered on Dhug’mhar for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

“This battle will decide if Sakh’arran is ready.”

He stepped fully back.

“The council continues under his voice.”

The burden settled.

Sakh’arran exhaled once, then stepped forward into the center of the circle.

*****

Sakh’arran placed a clawed hand on the stone slab before him.

“We face pinkskins who fight as an army,” he began. “They do not charge blindly. They withdraw together. They protect their wounded.”

Virkan nodded approvingly.

“They use magic as second breath,” Sakh’arran continued. “Their cavalry is dangerous. Their mages are disciplined.”

Dhug’mhar rolled his shoulders, muscles bulging.

“And yet they still bleed,” he said smugly. “I saw it. One blow from my warriors and they will scatter.”

Sakh’arran turned to face him fully.

“You have not fought them yet,” he said calmly.

A few orcs sucked in breath.

Dhug’mhar grinned wide, tusks gleaming.

“Because the forest caged my strength,” he said. “Now we stand on open land. This ground was made for the Rumbling Clan.”

He flexed again, deliberately.

“My warriors are the strongest. The loudest. The most feared. Look at me…perfection of war.”

Gur’kan snorted quietly.

Sakh’arran did not interrupt.

Instead, he gestured.

“Then speak,” he said. “Tell us how you would break them.”

Dhug’mhar’s grin widened.

“Simple,” he said. “We charge. We crush. We trample their thin horses. My warriors ride the Rhakaddon. The ground will shake. Their courage will break.”

Trot’thar crossed his arms.

“And their mages?” he asked.

Dhug’mhar waved dismissively.

“They scream like all others when stepped on.”

Laughter rippled…but not from everyone.

Sakh’arran raised a hand.

“Enough.”

He turned to the others.

“Speak. All of you.”

Virkan leaned forward.

“The humans want space,” he said. “So do we. Their scouts will be watching. Their cavalry will screen their flanks.”

Dhug’mur rumbled.

“They will expect Warg Riders first,” he said. “They have already measured them.”

Sakh’arran nodded slowly.

Then he looked back at Dhug’mhar.

“You complain the loudest,” he said evenly. “You demand battle the most.”

Dhug’mhar puffed out his chest.

“As is my right.”

Sakh’arran’s eyes hardened.

“Then you will have it.”

A ripple of surprise ran through the council.

“The Rumbling Clan will lead the opening assault.”

Dhug’mhar laughed, a booming sound.

“At last.”

“But not alone,” Sakh’arran continued.

Dhug’mhar’s laughter faded slightly.

“The Warg Cavalry will screen your advance. The Black Tree Tribe and the Verakhs will harry their flanks and blind their mages. You will charge only when the ground is ready.”

Dhug’mhar frowned.

“You tell me when to charge?”

“Yes,” Sakh’arran said.

The air tightened.

Dhug’mhar stepped forward, towering over him.

“I am the strongest here.”

Sakh’arran did not step back.

“And this battle will prove whether strength listens,” he said quietly, “or only breaks itself.”

A long moment passed.

Then Dhug’mhar threw back his head and laughed again.

“Very well,” he said. “Let the pinkskins learn what perfection looks like.”

Khao’khen watched silently.

The test had begun.

*****

The next morning, the open plains east of the Lag’ranna Mountains stretched vast and golden beneath a pale sky. The Gar’thum River shimmered far in the distance like a silver blade laid across the land.

The Winters army stood ready.

Aliyah Winters rode along her lines, blue cloak flowing, her expression calm but intent. Infantry formed disciplined blocks. Archers took positions on low rises. Mages stood interspersed, staffs grounded, magic restrained but ready.

Sir Helwain watched the horizon.

“They’re coming,” he said.

At first, it was only a vibration.

Then the ground began to tremble.

Aliyah narrowed her eyes.

“Heavy Cavalry,” she murmured.

*****

From the west, the earth itself seemed to rise.

The Rhakaddon Cavalry emerged in full force.

Massive beasts…four-legged titans with hammerhead skulls and thunderous strides…charged forward, each bearing an armored orc rider. Dust rose in choking clouds as hundreds of tons of muscle and bone thundered across the plains.

At their head rode Dhug’mhar, roaring, arms flexed, weapon raised high.

“SEE ME!” he bellowed. “I AM WAR!”

Behind and around them, Warg Riders surged outward, fanning wide, snapping at the edges of the battlefield. Black Tree skirmishers melted through the grass, Verakhs darting like shadows.

Sakh’arran watched from a rear command rise, jaw set.

“Now,” he ordered calmly.

Horns sounded.

The battle began.

*****

Aliyah did not flinch.

“Mages…forward screens!” she commanded.

Ice flared.

The ground ahead of the Winters lines frosted over, thickening, hardening. Shards erupted, slowing the Rhakaddon’s advance….but not stopping it.

“Archers….mark the riders!”

Magic-imbued arrows streaked through the air, detonating against armor, wounding mounts and riders alike.

Sir Helwain raised his blade.

“Cavalry…hold!”

The human cavalry did not charge.

They waited.

The Rhakaddon smashed into the frostfield, beasts roaring, some stumbling, others plowing through sheer mass.

Aliyah’s voice cut through the din.

“Now we see what they are made of.”

*****

THE TEST OF COMMAND

Dhug’mhar roared in triumph as his beasts broke through the first line of magic.

“CRUSH THEM!”

He urged his mount forward…and saw, too late, the trap.

The human lines parted.

Infantry withdrew in perfect order, drawing the Rhakaddon deeper. Ice barriers snapped shut behind them. Cavalry flanks surged inward, striking exposed sides.

Dhug’mhar snarled.

“Forward! FORWARD!”

But the Warg Riders held position, awaiting Sakh’arran’s signal.

From the rear, Sakh’arran watched intently.

“Hold,” he said.

The Rumbling Clan pushed on alone…exactly as planned.

Dhug’mhar’s grin faltered as losses mounted.

Then…

“NOW,” Sakh’arran commanded.

The Warg Riders surged.

Black Tree warriors struck from the flanks. Verakhs assaulted the mages. The Rhakaddon regained momentum as support arrived.

The trap turned into a slaughter zone…for both sides.

And the plains shook with the sound of the battle.

*****

As metal rang and magic roared, Khao’khen watched from the mountains.

Sakh’arran issued orders without hesitation.

Dhug’mhar fought like a god unleashed…but obeyed signals.

The First Horde moved as one.

Khao’khen’s eyes narrowed.

“Yes,” he murmured. “You will do.”

Far across the field, Aliyah Winters felt the shift.

“This is no longer probing,” she said. “This is war.”

The plains burned with motion, blood, and thunder.

The age of watching had ended.

The age of conquest had begun.