and then approached alone.
“We go to hunt,” Theo said.
“I’m not much for hunting,” Harruq said, halting his practice. “Hunting is for bows and spears. As you can see, I’m more of a sword man.”
“You sound modest. Shame it is false. The people tell stories of you, did you know that? I’m not sure who started them, though many say your wizard friend told them first. I must say, I am a little jealous.”
Harruq raised an eyebrow. “Jealous? Of what?”
Theo chuckled and leaned against his horse.
“You helped bring down an abomination that killed a hundred city soldiers. You stood alone at Veldaren, holding off a legion of undead so the people could escape. Others have said you spilled the blood of a thousand demons to keep a portal open from the hills of Neldar to the elves’ forest. Some even claim you frightened away Karak’s forces at Mordeina, and that your very prayers summoned the angels of Ashhur.”
The half-orc sheathed his swords and did his best to look anywhere but Theo’s face.
“I’m no hero,” he said. “You hear trumped up stories, or people forgetting how many friends stood at my side.”
“That doesn’t matter. You stood against the many, and by your sheer will you endured. A last stand, giving no ground. What I would give to have been there, or to have guarded these walls when the demons first assaulted our nation. To kill protecting your land, your nation, your countrymen. To fall knowing you died for something, and that a hopeless cause can still be a noble cause. You have earned your status in these campfire stories, Harruq. In these dark times, I hope I have a chance to do the same.”
Theo mounted his horse and then whistled for his guard.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” the king asked. “If we’re lucky, we may find a boar, and they give more than enough fight. Perhaps not for one such as you, but plenty for the rest of us.”
“I’ll stay,” Harruq insisted. “I have your men to train, after all.”
Theo frowned, as if deciding how upset he should be at the refusal.
“So be it,” he said at last. “Train them well. Our nation of Omn may soon depend on the skill of those blades.”
He joined his guard. As they rode out the gate. Harruq watched them go, thinking of what Ahaesarus had said about the king’s fatalistic views. Theo didn’t just expect to die; he wanted to. But not any death. A hero’s death. A noble death. One worthy of legends.
“What do you plan, you crazy noble you?” the half-orc asked the courtyard. Wind blew through the air, but it carried no answers with it, only a chill that sent him back inside to warm himself before a fire until the sun rose and the training began.
W hen he returned, the peaceful calm had been replaced by a gathering of soldiers. At first he thought they were sparring in practice, but then he saw the stranger surrounded at the gate. Harruq muscled his way closer, curious to hear what was going on.
“I must speak with your lord,” the newcomer was saying. “I bring a message from King Henley of Ker!”
“Ker’s sided with Karak,” shouted one chubby soldier Harruq recognized from their training. The guy couldn’t block to save his life.
“What you hoping for, surrender?” asked another. That guy blocked well, but his attacks were painfully obvious.
“My name is Sir Ian Millar, and I bring a message of hope!” the knight shouted, repeating this again and again while Harruq watched. “I must speak with your lord!”
“He’s out hunting,” the half-orc shouted, tiring of the annoying spectacle. “I’m not of Ker, but I can assure you the hospitality has so far been much better than what these asses have shown.”
Several turned on him, furious, but others quieted or even backed away in embarrassment. Harruq put his hands on the hilts of his swords, his glare daring anyone to challenge him.
“He’s your problem then,” said one of the soldiers. “Keep an eye on him, and keep him here in the open until our king returns.”
“I’m already training your troops,” Harruq said. “Might as well carry even more of your weight, eh?”
He grinned, but his hands closed tight on his hilts, ready to draw. The man backed down, though, and the others disbanded into pairs to spar. Only the knight remained, Ian was his name if Harruq remembered correctly, and each gave the other a funny look.
“You look strange for a knight,” Ian said.
“I’ve got orc-blood, not noble-blood. You pick a strange time to arrive in a nation at war.”
“I’ve nearly ridden my horse into its grave to arrive here, and I carry what is surely the first ray of hope to this war-torn country in months, yet my welcome is a band of thugs accusing me of being a spy, or worse.”
The knight huffed and crossed his arms. Harruq chuckled.
“Not much for politics, are you?” he asked.
“Loathe them.”
“Good. We might just get along.”
Harruq caught the knight staring at something over his shoulder, so he turned around to see what. The two paladins were strapping on their armor and stretching. They’d taken to helping Harruq in training the men, Lathaar focusing on offensive drills and Jerico on increasing endurance, the both of them preaching or discussing theology with the men while they sweated and fought. The half-orc chuckled.
“You look like you haven’t seen a paladin before,” he said.
“We were told all paladins of Ashhur had been killed,” Ian explained.
“You were told wrong, but only barely. Those two are the last.”
“And you let them wander freely through your castle?”
This time it was Harruq’s turn to look surprised. “Uh, what?”
Ian paused a moment, then coughed and looked away.
“Forgive me, I just…there are no priests or paladins to Karak here, are there? I am so used to Ker. Their kind is viewed as an unlawful presence.”
Several men from the castle gates raised a call, and others took it up.
“The king approaches! All hail the king!”
“Come on,” Harruq said. “Let’s deliver your message, and then I can introduce you to the paladins. I assure you, they’re a lovely couple, but I can’t wait to hear them browbeat you about your country’s wonderful laws. Oh, and if you think they’re bad, just wait until you meet the angels.”
Ian glanced skyward.
“Angels?” he asked.
Harruq only laughed.
H arruq had expected Theo to dismiss him once they reached his throne, but instead he ordered him to stay, sending away all others. Feeling oddly out of place, the half-orc listened as Sir Ian detailed his master’s plan.
“We seek freedom from Mordeina’s tyranny,” Ian explained. “Their priests will soon rule if we do not stop them. Even now, my king gathers soldiers to fight, but this Melorak possesses a grand army, and is rumored to wield unmatched magical power. Soon he will march against us, but we will make our stand.”
Theo’s eyes seemed to sparkle at that.
“A valiant effort,” he said, leaning forward in his throne. “But why come to me?”
“We will pledge our banner behind King Antonil, rightful ruler of Mordan. In return for helping him retake his throne, he promises our nation complete sovereignty. We will bow to no god, neither Karak nor Ashhur.”
“A fair request, and one I am sure he will accept,” Theo said.
Harruq wondered why Theo didn’t bring Antonil in to listen. Surely this was something he should be present for?
“But not my only request,” said Ian. “We ask for an alliance, good king. We hear rumors of a second army from the east. We cannot fight a war on two sides. If we are to succeed, then Ker must not fall. My king will defend the Bloodbrick Crossing. You must hold them at the Gods’ Bridges.”
Theo stood, and despite his best attempts, he could not hide his enthusiasm.
“Give me a day to prepare,” he said. “I must discuss this with my advisors, and Antonil as well. I have servants waiting on the other side of the door. Go to them, tell them to give you my finest room.”
