Brothers of War - Chapter 3

                            DORULL STORIES - BROTHERS OF WAR

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CHAPTER 3

 

Somewhat hidden in the small grove alongside the river Bauden, half way from Pad-Buest to Garhmier, was an inn and a mercantile station. Besides the central object, a three story tavern building, the complex held a store and a stables with a blacksmith. The station was in the ownership of the same family for over a century. And in that time it never stopped with work. Always ready to accept new travelers passing by in search of rest.

And the travelers were always present alongside this route. From various caravans, traveling merchants, hunters and fishermen. To soldiers, mercenaries, and workhands, who in search of easy coin always moved from town to town. The inn was very known to quite a few people. And the reasons for that were almost equal. From delicious food, and good drinks, to the games of fortune the owners tend to organize. Alongside ever hospitable, merry ladies of the night, whose job was to relieve the travelers from the content of their purses, while offering them the unforgettable, sleepless nights. It wasn't hard to understand why this place managed to attract everyone. As if anyone finding himself near this place, would decide to spend the night outside.

Kilometer and a half to the south of the inn, the group of some forty masked men decided to do exactly that. Once they found a small clearance in the middle of the woods, hidden just enough so no one could spot them from the road, they erected a simple camp. Not because they weren’t aware of this area, but for the simple reason they tried to remain unnoticed.

They knew the location of the establishment. Along with the exact number of visitors. Specifically the group who earlier that day sought refuge in the inn. The group they’ve been following for the past two months across the Kial-raah desert. The group which somehow managed to evade them. The group they were supposed to deal with a long time ago.

Stepping some forty paces away from the camp, a female figure sat under one of the trees surrounding them. She wanted a moment of peace and silence. Even the faintest of whispers could interrupt her concentration. She pulled her cloak down, and underneath realizing the ground was still wet from the rain before. She crossed her legs, setting a small, leather pouch in front of her. Out of it, she carefully pulled out a perfectly polished crystal sphere.

She proceeded by placing the ball on the palm of her left hand, lining it some thirty centimeters in front of the face. With her right hand fingers she covered the specific points, forming some sort of cradle around it. She closed her eyes, as she began whispering strange, incomprehensible commands. She repeated it once, twice and then the third time. But nothing happened. Fourth, fifth, sixth. She was chanting twice as fast as before. Seventh, eighth, ninth. She allowed herself to speak a bit louder. Tenth. The sphere sparkled in weak yellowish light. At first shyly, as if a tiny firefly had just woken inside of it. But soon after the small spark spread across the entire surface.

“Master Magnus, can you hear me?” the woman said timidly.

“Mea? Is that you?” a cold voice appeared from inside the sphere.

“Yes master.” Mea answered readily “Pardon my interruption, but there has been a development.”

“Speak.” the voice sent shivers down her spine.

“We found her.” Mea said.

“That half-elven abomination?” the voice asked.

“Yes.” Mea answered.

“Well done.” the voice was excited.

“It will be done in a day or two.” Mea said.

“I knew I made the right choice by electing you for this task.” the voice proclaimed.

“Thank you master.” Mea’s heart fluttered from joy.

“The timing is perfect.” the voice sounded pleased “Because I have another job for you.”

“What am I to do, master?” Mea asked.

“I’ve received some concerning news from the north.” the voice turned sour. “This needs to be urgently investigated.”

“Of course master.” Mea answered.

“Be careful and discrete.” the voice continued “Those undeserving savages over there persist to refuse our teachings, and resist our views. They would most likely meet you with hostility, if they were to find out who you are.”

“I understand.” Mea said “We’ll be careful.”

“For pure blood.” the voice came from the sphere, moments before the light completely faded.

“For pure blood.” Mea whispered, as she opened her eyes.

It took her a few seconds before she was able to regain all of the senses. And once she did, she realized one of her men was standing just a few paces away.

“You needed something Kar?” Mea said sternly.

“Liem returned a couple of minutes ago.” Kar answered submissively “Targets are expected to leave the tavern at first light.”

“Splendid!” Mea exclaimed “Tell the men to take a short rest. We must be ready for departure before them.”

“Affirmative.” Kar answered.

“We can’t let them escape this time.” Mea said “We have to deal with that half-blood creature today. Our service is needed up north.”

Blood Vengeance - Chapter 3

 DORULL SAGA - BLOOD VENGEANCE

PART ONE

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CHAPTER 3

 The repairs on Thirel fort began quite early in the morning, at the same time as the large transport rafts arrived from Nual-Dyluss. Vrink, the old chieftain of the goblin village fulfilled his end of the bargain, by sending the materials necessary to upgrade the palisade. Alongside the ten large carts full of stone blocks, goblins generously included several crates of swamp clay and a few barrels of black resin, from the wild Raond pine, into the shipment.

The three-man crews were the standard for every single raft, with one man at the helm and two on the oar duties. Maneuvering these tight bends and curves required their constant awareness and alert, despite the river Thirel being relatively calm and slow. Especially with them carrying such a heavy load. Just one careless moment, one scrape against the rock, or one sudden jerk from a whirl or a wave, could disrupt the balance of the raft. And as such, it would topple in an instant. But they were all very experienced and exceptionally good at their jobs. They reached the fort without a hitch.

By midday, all six of the rafts were safely docked at the fort’s pier. Forty  soldiers immediately begin unloading the cargo on the nearby clearing next to the north wall. They worked till the nightfall, managing to move all of the materials. Quite satisfied with the progress they’ve made, and with the job they’ve done, they retreated to their barracks knowing they are now going for a well deserved rest. And knowing they are going to need one.

The work on the fort commenced early in the morning. And it demanded the presence of every single soldier. Every wall and every guard tower of the fort had to be reinforced. Every single piece of the stone was placed and inlaid with care, before it could be plastered in clay and coated in a thick layer of resin from the Raond pine. It was the undertaking that was going to subduct a significant amount of time and labor.

“Everything in order, boys?” Thorin coughed, approaching the group of soldiers gathered around the pile of stones, laid next to the fort wall “You unloaded the entire cargo?”

“All six rafts.” Gelian answered, carrying the crate filled with clay “How’s your leg?”

For the past several days, Thorin spent most of his days reclined in his bunk. Although the paladin from Issurk healed  that dangerous sprain, when he fell from the horse, captain Lutir was still reluctant to put the whole weight on his leg. To be fair to him, this was an unusually peaceful period, so he could afford a couple of days of rest. Beside the regular patrols, he had no special duties for his soldiers. And his lieutenants, Gelian and Bagtur, were more than capable of taking care of scouting reports.

Thorin was approaching a certain age, in which he knew he could no longer maintain the same work habits as before. Any other man would perhaps even consider retirement. But not him. He was still not ready to give in. Despite refusing to acknowledge that some aspects of leading the fort were becoming much harder with age. So by sharing the tasks, Thorin figured, he could even prolong the stay in the active service. At least until he is to find the suitable replacement.

His young lieutenants, Gelian and Bagtur, were certainly in the consideration for leading the Thirel post in the near future. Both were brave and great fighters. Soldiers respected them. And at the same time, they were like brothers. Knowing they could count on each other. Knowing they had each other’s backs. Unfortunately, Thorin was well aware, that alone, wasn’t enough to assume the command of the fort. His young officers still had a lot to learn. Captain Lutir hoped he would have the time to teach them everything he knew.

“It’s better.” Thorin nodded, shifting the full weight of his body, onto his still weak leg “Anything new in the scout reports?”

“This morning’s patrol came across one quite large group of goblins. Mostly women, children and elderly folks.”

“They are leaving Nual-Deu.” Thorin said “Where to?”

“My guess is Dyluss.” Gelian answered.

“Did you meet with Vrink?”

“Yes. He led the delivery of the materials. But we didn’t talk much.” Gelian frowned “Come to think of it, he seemed in a hurry. He was hiding something.”

“Can’t blame him, if he decided to offer refuge for that group.” Thorin retorted “He needs to think on covering his own ass, before anything else. The decision to accept the goblins from the Nual-Deu might not be looked upon with favor in Vallsynk and Issurk.”

“Goblins reaped what they sowed.” Gelian stated “They are to blame for provoking the conflict.”

“Is that so?” Thorin whispered “Because, since that day, I’ve been asking myself, could we proceed differently.”

“We had to stop them. They were probably preparing for more attacks.”

“Were they?” Thorin shook his head “Decades of peace suddenly broken, with the occurrence of the new chieftain, who blindly pushed them into a war.”

“But they couldn’t be that clueless.” Gelian was persistent.

“I can almost guarantee that the majority of them had no idea why they were attacked in the first place.” Thorin said “How else to explain the poor defences in and around their city?”

“That was a bit strange, I must admit.” Gelian said “But all of our reports suggested otherwise.”

“Reports, on which we jumped upon too fast to my liking.” Thorin retorted “We were all hot-headed. We allowed our emotions to take over. Simply said, we acted out of vengeance.”

“Might be.” Gelian nodded “But what are we supposed to do now?”

“Try and repair our relations with the goblins and hope Moorg won’t make any more trouble.” Captain Lutir answered “Remember laddie, never judge the entire race, because of the wrongdoings of a few.”

Thorin turned on his heel, slowly heading back towards the gate. Strong, alluring smell of the fish stew, effusing all over the courtyard, made him suddenly realize he was quite hungry. Inciting him to pick up the pace, as he went around the corner of a small, ground-floor, storage building, adjacent to the southern wall of the fort. Right next to it, was a mess hall and a kitchen with the pantry. It was one and only masonry building in Thirel post.

Thick column of white smoke rose above the rooftops. Despite being some thirty paces away, Thorin could feel the extreme heat, coming through the open windows and doors of a stone kitchen shack. Stew was boiling inside the four, fifty gallon, iron cast cauldrons, hoisted on a set of massive, steel hooks, above the large hearth. Intense flames and fierce heat from the burning wood and coal, drove out even the fort’s main chef, Doct Kaprandt.

Leaning over the top stair of a small well, he wiped his neck and forehead, with the piece of an old, wet cloth. He puffed and moaned, all sweaty and red, trying to cool himself down. Kaprandt sighed loudly, as he stretched his hand towards the round, wooden platter, taking a piece of thinly sliced, dried venison. Salted just to his liking, it almost melted in his mouth. He took another slice of meat, before sipping some sweet, red wine. At the same time, with his other hand, he soaked the cloth in the bucket of water. He would repeat the same thing, every twenty seconds or so. Like some kind of ritual.

Nothing could interrupt this little routine, not even the sudden visitation from the captain. Kaprandt nodded, offering Thorin a place to sit, alongside with some complementary venison and wine. Captain gladly accepted the invitation. Truth to be told, he was hoping for one. He would be a fool to refuse. Venison was delicious. A perfect blend of sweet, salt and savory. It alone justified Kaprandt’s request for the cellar space, which was dug down, some twenty feet under the kitchen pantry.

“What’s cooking Doct?” Thorin asked between two bites.

“I’ve seen better days.” the cook's forehead frowned “It’s hot, I’m tired and my back is killing me.”

Thorin nodded, commiserating with him. They were about the same age. He knew very well that sometimes, with morning, sudden pain can sneak upon, reminding him that he isn’t young anymore. And he didn’t have to hide that, in front of the chef, because Kaprandt felt the same. They needn't say a thing. In silent, mutual understanding, they would probably remain there until nightfall, if it weren’t for the chef’s assistant Jhar, who stumbled out of the kitchen at that moment.

It was unbelievably surreal, somewhat comical, how much Jhar resembled the chef. He was chubby, bald and with quite healthy, red cheeks, just like Kaprandt’s. Only, he was twice younger. Beside the obvious desire to learn all of his culinary secrets, Jhar was seemingly turning into the exact duplicate of chef.

“What's the boiling mark at?” Kaprandt asked.

“Hour and a half.” Jhar retorted.

“Choke the flames out and stir it once again in about ten minutes.”

Because of the extreme heat radiating from the hearth, it would become difficult, almost insufferable, to stay inside of the kitchen, after just a couple of minutes. But there was no other way around it. In order, to prepare the meals for the entire fort, he had to cook in four large cauldron pots at the same time. He couldn’t do that amount of work, all by himself. He had to share the load with his young apprentice. It was much too demanding and exhausting for him alone. It was the sole reason they were trading places in that small, cramped, brickstone house.

A few minutes later, Jhar was ready to go back to the kitchen, as he filled two buckets of water, right to the brim. He knew that they should be enough to douse the flames.

“Don’t forget to cover the pots, before you empty the buckets.” Kaprandt yelled after him, despite knowing very well, his apprentice would do just the same.

Loud, hissing noise not long afterwards, ment that Jhar began emptying the bucket. Huge, thick, bright cloud of steam and vapor came gushing out through the doors and windows, as the cold water made a sudden contact with hot embers. Chef’s apprentice hastily poured out the second bucket, relieved he could at last leave the kitchen. The heat was a tad too much for him, as he faltered out coughing, and gasping for breath. And at the same time, he flailed his arms, in an attempt to clear the steam cloud surrounding him. Just one sight at Jhar was enough to cheer Thorin up. Even almost always serious Kaprandt, allowed himself a smile.

“Caravan at the horizon!” one of the soldiers, standing in the watchtower above the main gate, suddenly yelled.

“What are you rambling about, boy?!” A couple of seconds had passed, before Thorin found himself marching across the yard, towards the lookout.

At the same time, Kaprandt waved his apprentice to meet him in the pantry. Soldiers will get their lunch, if they somehow manage to make something for their surprising guests. There simply wasn’t enough food for all of them.

Thorin hastily climbed the ladders, leading to the top of the thirty foot tall tower. The guards were staring towards the north, as if they still weren’t quite sure what they saw. But, there was no mistake. Several large, heavy carts moved slowly over the narrow, winding road, crossing the swamplands. Miners had to be desperate by deciding to send another caravan towards Vallsynk, only a couple of weeks after that unfortunate event with goblins. Thorin was sure of one thing, the merchants from the south would greet them with open arms.

Blood Vengeance - Chapter 2

 DORULL SAGA - BLOOD VENGEANCE

PART ONE

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CHAPTER 2

The brig of the Garhmier’s mercantile guild cut the calm waters of Kabial lake, heading fast towards Vallsynk. Lull which lasted for the past three days forced them to lie dormant. It was no wonder the warm southern breeze was greeted in such a high spirit. But with the chief regent of Garhmier’s mercantile guild on board, any other reaction would be unthinkable.

 The order to immediately set sails was a common practice, which usually served to check the readiness and general ability of the crew. First of all, it was necessary to procure the supplies that would last for the entirety of the journey. After which the sailors could proceed to load up the cargo, and then sail some five to ten miles from the shore, where they were obliged to perform several maneuvers under the watchful eyes of the port authority observers. If and when they were to satisfy all of the norms and criteria, the ship was allowed to return to the port. Not before. And they had only one day to finish it. Otherwise, the exercise would be invalid. But soon enough, everyone realized, this was no ordinary test. This was the real deal. It was apparent they had to set sails. And with the news of some very important passenger, soon coming on board, it was all but certain, they were going north.

A brand new, black, noble carriage made its way to the docks, towards the merchant ship. Large wheels rattled and creaked over weathered, worn, cobble road. It was escorted by six horsemen. Six elite soldiers, from the golden dagger branch of the Garhmier military, serving as a security to those most powerful, important and richest people. And Teer Scejvor, chief regent of Garhmier’s merchant guild, was certainly one of them. Before the doors of the carriage even opened, sailors knew the identity of the passenger.

He was wearing a dark, tight suit and white, silk shirt, tailored in the newest elven fashion, with the low-cut leather shoes and a matching cylinder hat. Teer was a middle aged man. His pronouncedly white, pale skin, made him look even more slender than he actually was. His thick, dark, neatly trimmed beard was a product of daily care, from the town’s most expensive barbers. It was obvious he rarely ventured outside. He was not quite sure what to do, once he exited the carriage. Luckily for him, his servant was there to whisper a few suggestions, and advise him how to proceed.

In a couple of swift, strong strides, the chief regent climbed onto the ship. He was adamant to go under the deck as quickly as possible. To go to his quarters, and avoid socializing with these sailors at any cost. Scejvor was adamant to do that so quickly, he almost collided with the captain of the ship, who rushed to greet the regent, once he noticed the arrival of the carriage.

“Captain Wilsen.” Scejvor said “May I ask your permission to come aboard.”

“It is an honor and a privilege to welcome you to Fuwalda, ser.” the captain bowed slightly “A couple of cabins in the far back of our sleeping area are empty for you and your escort.”

“Thank you very much.” Scejvor answered politely, although he wasn’t all keen to the idea of sharing the same quarters with the ship’s crew.

Main part of the merchant ship was the storage area. The brig was designed and constructed, so it could carry as much load as possible. Because of that, all of the luxury had to suffer. Every room had to be smaller. Even the captain’s quarters at the stern. Cargo vessels had no ballista gallery below the main deck. On those larger warships or even traveling ships, officers had separate chambers from the rest of the crew. They would eat from the separate kitchens.

But not here. Teer Scejvor found that out, once he accepted to travel to Vallsynk on Fuwalda. Then again, she was the fastest ship in the fleet and as such, the most logical choice. News about suspicious deaths of mercantile councilors in the north, had to be thoroughly researched and investigated. If it turns out it was the act of an assassination, guild had the duty to respond accordingly. With that in mind, chief regent Scejvor, ventured on this journey.

“When will we be ready to leave?” the chief regent asked.

“As soon as we finish loading the supplies.” the captain retorted “By midday, I presume.”

“Very well.” Scejvor nodded “I’ll be seeing you later.”

Mercantile regent proceeded towards one of the cabins, captain Wilsen left for them. This one was just for him, he thought as he hastily closed the doors behind. His entourage, his private protection, the golden daggers, had to make way into the other one. Scejvor had no intentions to share the room with them. He had no intention to mingle with them, or anyone for that matter. If it was up to him, he’d love to avoid them altogether, for the duration of this trip.

Nearly two weeks had passed, before anyone from the crew saw or met with him again. Teer Scejvor soon realized he had no need to go outside. His bodyguards provided him with food and drinks. What else was there to have, or do. As if he could find anything of interest on this ship.

Born in a rather wealthy family. Protected and sheltered from any and all troubles, cocooned in his small, carefree world, he couldn’t even begin to comprehend the beauty and the appeal of differences. Teer Scejvor didn’t understand life like other people. He was raised to look down on those of a lower class. He was raised a bigot. Raised to avoid those who were not rich or powerful. He had no real contact with anyone outside of this tiny circle, until he was deep into the second decade of his life.

His servants were just the tools. One step above animals, above pets. Or sometimes, he thought, as equal. Trained to perform most simplistic tasks. Because for anything more, they simply had no capacity. They were not worthy. Scejvor looked at these sailors in the same light. They perhaps did more useful work than his old maid, but not even close to deserve his respect. Size of one man's wealth was the best indicator of his importance. And these seamen appeared quite poor. Chief regent had no idea this journey would show how wrong he was.

Two weeks into their monotonous trip came the lull, completely surprising the sailors. Wind was pretty much a constant until then. There was no sign it would shift, or in this instance, completely disappear.

“Lower the sails boys, and tighten those ropes!” the captain yelled, as he climbed onto the deck “Make course alterations by one degree due east, in let’s say every two minutes.”

“The flag is asleep.” one of the sailors reported from the crow’s nest.

“Be on the alert. I want to know the instant the wind returns.”

Captain Wilsen knew there was nothing more they could do. Only to wait, in hope the lull will pass soon. These phenomenon weren’t rare. Usually they were the  indicators of brewing storms. But they never appeared like this, out of nowhere, without warning. The skies were clear and blue, the captain couldn’t spot a single cloud. This confused him, and at the same time worried him a bit. The storm had to be far away from them and at the same time it was surely quite a massive one. How else would even be possible to feel the effects of it. Wilsen knew he didn’t want to be here when it hit. He hoped they wouldn’t be here, in the open, when it arrives.

“I want the regular shifts, and don’t slack. We have the guests on board.” the captain knew his sailors very well.

They’d seize every opportunity to muck about. Somewhat understandable, seeing there wasn’t much to do, except waiting for wind to return. And with chief regent on board the ship, waiting for the lull to disappear could easily become unbearable. Wilsen did not know how he would react to such news. Teer Scejvor was quite clear before. They had to reach Vallsynk fast, no matter what.

It took nearly half a day, before the mercantile regent realized that something was wrong. Air became a bit stifling and stale, as the temperature in his room started to rise. He began noticing they were standing still for quite some time now. But that could very well turn out to be just the figment of his imagination. He needed some answers. Fortunately, it was almost lunch time. One of his guards should soon bring him some food and with it, the explanation of this unbearable heat.

Soft knocking on a flimsy, wooden, tight door of his cabin, showed him that he was right. One of the soldiers from the escort entered soon thereafter. Scjevor did not know his name, as any others for that matter. But he noticed and remembered, this guard was the youngest looking of them all. His age was presumably the main reason, he got this duty of bringing the food. The rest of the soldiers must’ve put this, surely humiliating task, on him. That would surely explain why he was the only one coming into chief regent’s room. And despite all of that, young soldier never complained. On the contrary he was always smiling. He was always quite warm and kind. And Scejvor find that very unusual, somewhat strange.

“Awfully hot today.” Scjevor said as soon as the soldier closed the door.

“That’s because of the lull.” a young guard retorted, as he set the plate onto the small table, next to the bed.

“Because of what?” regent asked, not knowing what that word means.

“There is no wind.” the soldier explained “Occasional, and sparse breeze is far too weak for sails to pick it up.”

“How is this even possible?” Scejvor couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“Sailors are saying that lull portends the rough, and stormy weather.” the soldier said, “But no one knows how long it is going to last.”

“Unfortunate. Highly unfortunate.” the chief regent immediately realized he would be late.

And also, that he will be staying on this ship longer than planned. This prospect horrified him. With that in mind, Scjevor sat at the table. Sure sign for his guard to leave the room. Fresh, just cooked fish smelled wonderful. And it tasted even better. With perfectly seasoned salad and a piece of homemade bread that complimented the fish, it was a complete and surprisingly delicious meal. One, Teer Scejvor would enjoy eating back home, on a regular basis.

The food somewhat improved his mood. For a moment, he forgot about the problems. But with the last bite, it seemed that discomfort creeped back in. The temperature inside of the cabin peaked, as it passed the noon mark. It became unbearable to withstand being inside. Scejvor knew he couldn’t delay the inevitable. He had to leave. To go outside. But it took another fifteen minutes, before he could force himself to reach for the door latch. With a loud sigh, he stepped into a narrow corridor. There was no turning back now.

Sunlight momentarily blinded him, as he climbed on the deck. Dozens of sailors stood idle next to the bow railing. They seemed quite merry in their casual chatter. But as soon as they saw the chief regent, their entire demeanor changed. They suddenly turned silent. The uncomfortable silence would probably last more than this unfortunate lull, if Teer Scjevor didn’t decide to break one of his many rules. Engage in the conversation with the crew.

“How long is this…the lull…going to last?” with newly acquired knowledge, the chief regent decided to try and break the ice.

“Let’s hope, not too long.” one of the sailors, somewhat older than the rest of them, stepped up “Several days, to say at least.”

“I presume this gives you a lot of free time.” Scejvor was interested to know.

“The crew is still obliged to do the basics of duties, but I would lie if I say that it ain’t so.”

“It’s not my place to judge.” Scjevor smiled, “I was just curious to find out if there is anything you do, to pass the time.”

“Well, I think we somehow always turn to do a lot of naval exercises in times like these.” the old sailor retorted.

“And a lot of fishing!” the second one exclaimed.

“But mostly, we are into high diving!” third sailor added.

“High diving?” Scejvor asked “What is high diving?”

“It’s not diving as such. But rather jumping into the water. From the relatively great heights. Usually the main mast.” the sailor said eagerly.

“Perhaps our distinguished guest would want to see a demonstration.” Captain Wilsen proposed, as he appeared from below the deck.

Teer Scejvor gently bowed, making it quite obvious he wouldn’t mind. Several sailors already begin climbing over the tight ropes of the main mast. Their speed and agility was worthy of admiration. In just a couple of seconds, they were above the second sail, some thirty feet above the deck. All but one sailor, who proceeded to climb all the way to the top.

“Where is he going?” Scejvor whispered.

“To the top of the mast,” the captain smiled.

First sailor was already in the air, followed closely by the second and then the third. Chief mercantile regent jumped to the rails, just in time to see them disappear under the water. A few moments later, they were climbing aboard, cheering and laughing as if it was nothing. They cleared the water just in time for that sailor who climbed the top of the mast. With one last check to be sure no one else is in the water, he was ready to jump.

He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. In this highly critical moment, he could not allow any shred of doubt in himself. Even the slightest of miscalculations could lead to an accident. Carelessness could well prove to be fatal. It happened before to those who forget themselves. He was aware of that. With one last glance at the still water below him, the sailor jumped.

In a quite well practiced set of moves, that looked somewhat habitual, instinctive even, the sailor bent his legs upwards, grasping them with both of his hands, until he was almost touching the chest with his knees. With one slight, barely noticeable correction, he stretched his body in mid-air, straight as an arrow. He had just enough time to place his hands at his side, before plunging into the water.

“Fantastic!” Scejvor let it slip in amazement.

“Fine jump, but far from fantastic.” Captain Wilsen pointed at a tall, tanned man, climbing on the deck at that exact same moment “That is our champion, Barmeil. There’s no one better in the entire south.”

“You are holding the competitions?”

“Every summer.” the captain nodded “On the docks.”

“Is that so?” Scejvor said somewhat embarrassed by not knowing that.

“Hundreds of divers from entire Sannwel gather in Garhmier, to compete for the trophy.” Wilsen proceed “And this year, Barmeil is going for his third consecutive victory.”

Scejvor watched as this tall, broad-shouldered sailor climbed the mast. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he very much looked like one of the statues, which decorated the main dining hall of his luxurious mansion. Barmeil waited just enough to be sure that he had the full attention of the mercantile regent. And then he jumped. Head first. With his arms bent backwards, parallel to the body. Completely still, as he was gliding through the air, like a swallow. Scejvor gasped, when the sailor whizzed past him. He could’ve sworn their eyes had met.

Barmeil was now just a couple of feet above the surface of the water. He had just enough time to extend his arms, before he splashed into still, blue waters of lake Kabial. And he splashed quite hard, pushing out the spray of water more than twenty feet into the air. Scejvor could no longer restrain himself, as he began to clap wholeheartedly. Captain was right, now this was truly a remarkable display of courage and skill. And for the next hour, the chief regent had the opportunity to fully enjoy it. Even more so, once the captain started pointing out all of those barely noticeable details, Scejvor would otherwise miss. It became quite obvious that sailors created some sort of an art form out of these jumps. With every passing minute, the admiration towards them grew in Scejvor’s mind. And once, at the end of the day, when he decided to retire to his room, he was sure that he would never again miss an opportunity to learn or get acquainted with something new.

Brothers of War - Chapter 2

 DORULL STORIES - BROTHERS OF WAR

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CHAPTER 2

 

 

Situated in the middle of the valley, where river Gaa forked in two, was the orc village of Vur-Paan. Completely surrounded with the six foot tall palisade, made out of thick logs from the Chaygor pines, it was a home to several hundred families. Or at least Thorin thought so. He was told as such. And by somewhat perplexed expressions on the faces of other soldiers, he was not the only one.

Besides the group of females greeting them, the village was seemingly abandoned. That became even more obvious, once the eerily uncomfortable silence fell over them. At first no one was deciding to move. Let alone speak. They simply stood motionless, staring at one another. As if they were waiting for some sign.

And it came in the form of one of the girls, who perhaps accidentally decided to move. She barely made a step or two, but that was just enough to spur the rest to do the same. Slow and timidly at first while trying to figure out which soldier to approach. But then with ever growing haste as they finally reached the decision.

Two of the females simultaneously decided to head towards Thorin, but immediately and abruptly stopped as the third one did the same. Either out of some respect, or from some other reason, the young lieutenant could not know. Neither he had time to think about it. The orc woman was already in front of him. Barely a foot away. She measured him from head to toe, as if that meant to give her some additional assurance she made the right choice.

 

“You’ll do just fine, soldier.” the orc woman said, momentarily turning around “Come with me.”

Thorin obeyed without a word, as he pulled the horse by its reins. Four identical, main roads stretched from the square. She led him some hundred meters further, into the street left from the gates. Once there, they turned right into a narrower one crammed with dozens of simple one story houses. Thorin couldn’t help but notice every single one of them was shut. Empty. Although it was obvious someone recently dwelled in them.

Fifty meters further they turned left again, and through the small gate, entering an enclosed front yard. It was some twenty meters wide, dividing the main two story house from the small garden full of various vegetables to the right, and a simple stable to the left.

 

“You can tie your horse there.” she waved towards the stables “I don’t want it in my tomatoes.”

Thorin did as he was told, before joining her inside the house. He had at least a thousand questions on his mind. Mainly those regarding the unusual situation in the village. As well as fact the only inhabitants of it were young females. Exactly fifty of them, if the lieutenant counted well. Identical to the number of soldiers, the humans send here. What exactly was going on here?

 

“What’s your name?” she asked him, realizing he was standing still in the middle of the room for more than a minute now.

“W-what?” Thorin replied confusedly, still deep within his thoughts.

“Your name?” the orc female retorted “I presume you have one.”

“Yes…of course.” the lieutenant said shyly “My name is Thorin. Thorin Lutir.”

“I am Marsakh.” she said “Welcome to Vur-Paan. Now, would you allow me to show you the rest of the house?”

“What is going on here?” Thorin asked as he followed her up the stairs.

“What do you mean?” Marskah sounded confused.

“Where is everyone?” Thorin asked “What’s the deal with all of the abandoned houses we passed by, on our way here?”

“It’s all because of the deal. What else?” Marsakh answered “Everyone was forced to leave, when our tribal elders picked this village, my village, for the most ideal location.”

“What deal?” Thorin asked “Location for what exactly?”

“What do you mean, what deal?” Marsakh sounded a tad annoyed “The deal between you and us. Why else would you come here?”

“To get to know your race. Your ways of life and customs.” Thorin answered “To try and help in healing the broken relations.”

“You have to be kidding me?” Marsakh couldn't believe her ears. “You actually mean you don’t know?”

“I presume you were told something else entirely.” Thorin said.

“Besides looking strong, it seems you are also quite clever.” Marsakh smirked.

“Why did they send us here?” Thorin asked more for himself.

“Come on now, I just praised your intelligence.” Marsakh said “I think you already know the answer to this question.”

“They’ve sent us here to see if our races can coexist.” Thorin said “To see if we could form relations.”