toward the block. The trapper kept yelling and trying to break free until the third orc smashed the shaft of his spear into his stomach.
“Why him?” I asked in a hoarse voice.
“He’s a poacher,” Glo-Glo said reluctantly. “When they caught him, they found several gold cat skins. And to the orcs a poacher is as bad as a woodcutter.”
They dragged Kior, howling, to the block, but they didn’t put him on it, just stretched him out on the grass as if they were going to quarter him, and Fagred raised his terrible ax. Two quick blows—and the poacher’s howls were reduced to a wheeze.
“Sagot save us,” I muttered, and turned away.
The orc had cut off both of the man’s arms at the shoulder.
“Sagot won’t be much help here,” said Mis. “What’s needed is twenty of our lads from the Forest Cats brigade, with their bows.…”
Kior had gone quiet. None of the orcs even thought about binding up the appalling wounds, and the poacher bled to death very quickly—and if the gods were merciful, he lost consciousness immediately. Meanwhile the orcs had hung the elves’ headless bodies up beside Kior’s friend, and now they were setting the dark ones’ heads on spears stuck into the ground.
Olag walked across, looked intently at all three of us, and said: “Take a look at the hanging meat and remember: The same thing will happen to you if even one of you tries to get away. Do you understand me, little monkeys?”
“Don’t think we’re more stupid than you are, orc,” Glo-Glo said, coughing. “We’re not stupid, we understand.”
The shaman didn’t seem to be at all worried that the Firstborn would hurt him. Olag chuckled and looked at the goblin as if he was seeing him for the first time.
“Well, since you understand everything, greeny, get the monkeys ready to leave, we’re moving on.”
And he walked away.
“Where are we moving on to?” I asked, shuddering in the cursed drizzle pouring down from the sky.
“Somewhere else,” the goblin muttered vaguely, and wrapped himself up in his cloak.
Any thought of escape was absolutely out of the question. The three of us were put in the center of the line, which made running off without being seen a pretty difficult proposition. And then, how could I forget that Olag was striding along behind us, crooning a little song to himself, and Fagred was there, too, with his ax. He made me feel distinctly nervous, because every time our eyes met, the orc smiled wistfully and stroked his terrible weapon.
It was clear enough what the lad had on his mind. He wouldn’t be happy until he could chop my head off. I had to try to put off the time when he could have that pleasure for as long as possible.
Fortunately, the rain stopped, but I still wasn’t warm and dry enough to feel comfortable. My teeth chattered and I shuddered and prayed to the gods to drive away the clouds and let us have some sunshine. I knew I had to keep going, keep myself alive—I wouldn’t have Miralissa’s sacrifice be in vain … I wouldn’t let that happen. Little Glo-Glo ambled along in front of me, coughing, grunting, and swearing quietly to himself. The orcs seemed to find this amusing.
“Hey, lad!” Mis called to me.
“What?” I asked without turning round—no point in attracting unnecessary attention from the Firstborn.
“You mentioned Sagot. Are you a thief, then?”
“Bull’s-eye,” I said, stepping over a thick branch lying on the animal track.
“How did you end up here?”
“No talking, monkeys!” Fagred roared. “You can talk as much as you like at the halt!”
I shut up—I already knew that Fagred had no sense of humor and Olag wasn’t the most patient orc in the world.
Bagard led the detachment to the south, into the heart of Zagraba. I couldn’t exactly say we strolled through the forest, but we certainly weren’t in any great hurry. Even Glo-Glo, with his short legs, was able to keep up with the pace set by the orcs.
But to give Bagard his due, he wasn’t careless at all, and there were always several orcs walking ahead of us, scouting out the territory for any possible problems like elfin bowmen or a h’san’kor taking a doze. Shokren tramped past, hurrying up to the head of our little column. The shaman had a huge raven perched on his shoulder. I gazed longingly at my bag dangling at the orc’s side. Shokren noticed my interest and frowned. I saw the shaman overtake Bagard and say something to him, pointing to me. Bagard nodded thoughtfully and stopped, waiting for me to hobble up to him.
When I drew level with him, he said, “My brother told me we ought to give you a jacket.”
I must admit, I didn’t know what to make of that.
“I’d be very grateful,” I said cautiously.
“I don’t need any monkey’s gratitude,” the orc snapped. “You’re inferior beings, and the most amusing thing is that you don’t even realize it.
Darkness only knew what Bagard had barked, but Fagred moaned discontentedly behind me:
“Not yet. The Hand might have some use for him, or do you want the monkey to freeze to death on the way?”
The huge orc immediately stopped arguing and a minute later he handed me a leather jacket with a hood that he had fished out of his shoulder bag. It turned out to have a fur lining as well. This was a day full of surprises! Of course, the jacket was a bit bigger than necessary, but, naturally enough, I didn’t complain. I started feeling warmer straightaway. But the expression in Fagred’s eyes somehow didn’t suggest that he was overjoyed about sacrificing his jacket.
We made three halts to rest. Once they actually fed us, and then drove us back onto the track. By the time evening came we’d covered quite a distance, and when Bagrad halted the detachment for the night, I collapsed on the ground.
“It’s not sleeping time yet, little monkey!” said Fagred, planting a painful kick in my side. “First you have to make up your bed.”
I had to get up, grinding my teeth in anger at the orc, and scrape the fallen leaves together into a heap. Then Mis and I were told to break branches off the fir trees, and after that the orcs left me alone. Shokren showed up, made a few passes with his hands, and cleared off again.
“What was that?”
“A kind of alarm,” Glo-Glo explained reluctantly. “If you step outside the circle, there’ll be a loud noise, and all the orcs will come running.”
Darkness fell. The orcs lit a campfire and seemed to forget about us. And why shouldn’t they? Shokren’s magic did all their work for them. Then the Firstborn started cooking supper, and I started drooling. But surprisingly enough, when the food was ready, Olag and another orc came over, and they left us a decent serving of meat and a flask of water. So, the Firstborn certainly weren’t planning to starve us to death.
We got talking as we ate. Glo-Glo started pestering me about the Rainbow Horn, and I had to give the pushy little goblin the short, edited version of the adventure. The old shaman seemed satisfied with my story and he left me in peace.
“And how did you get here, Mis?” I asked the Border Kingdom warrior when we finished our food.
“Well, these…,” the elderly warrior began reluctantly, nodding toward the Firstborn. “Do you know what a long-distance raid is?”
“I have a good idea,” I answered. “Isn’t it something like that game the Wild Hearts play when they march all the way to the Needles of Ice?”
“That’s it,” Mis agreed morosely. “The very thing. But for us a long-distance raid is an outing to the Golden Forest to see if the orcs are behaving themselves or if they’re thinking of getting up to some of their tricks. Well, anyway, me and the lads got into a fine mess. This lot dropped down on us out of the trees like overripe pears and finished everyone off like sitting ducks before we even had time to say boo. But that sorcerer of theirs tied me in a knot. Just for the fun of it.”
