"Here?" said the king. "On the ground?"
"We have little choice, Your Majesty, unless you prefer to stand the entire day."
"Very well." Eadred sat down in a huff, giving the impression of a petulant boy.
Kirak sat opposite, his aides taking seats to the side. Athgar, as translator, sat at one end, separating the groups. He noticed Natalia making her way towards Raleth's position and smiled, knowing her absence would not be detected.
Cenric crouched, waving his men forward. The spearmen moved up quickly, mimicking their leader. To the front, he saw a group of Orcs standing around, leaning on spears, intent on the negotiations that were underway in the field before them.
He hefted his shield, feeling the reassuring weight of it. Orcs were said to be strong, and looking at them now, he could well believe it for their shoulders were much broader than that of Humans. The plan was to advance with thrown spears, using their longer range to inflict damage first, but if they should close, it could well come down to the hefty axes slung on their backs.
Cenric risked a glance left and right, making sure everyone was in place. He had twelve men with him and another twenty no more than ten paces behind. That thought gave him comfort. Gripping his spear, he stood, then began moving forward in a crouch. Once they had drawn closer to the enemy, he straightened, pulling his arm back to heft his weapon.
It must have been a chilling sight to see a line of warriors suddenly emerge from the underbrush, but the Orcs appeared to give little notice. Was this a trap? Cenric was ready to throw, his arm muscles quivering in anticipation, but something nagged at him. He focused on the closest target, and it was as if the vile creature were a ghost. Instead of the dark green skin he expected, they were pale. Slowly, he became aware that they were apparitions, mere ghosts of Orcs.
Lowering his spear, his mind was unable to grasp what his eyes told him was present. The Orcs turned, looking at him in an unworldly fascination, their blank eyes disheartening the great warrior. A rustle off to his left drew his attention, and then a wall of ice erupted before him, filled with whirling blades of death.
Cenric backed up, cursing himself, for surprise was lost, and with it, any hope of carrying out their plans. His men, equally unnerved, looked to him for leadership.
"Withdraw," he managed to say through parched lips. "We cannot fight that which is of the Underworld."
Natalia kept the wall of icy blades in place for as long as she could. Ordinarily, it would be easy, but today she found it taxing. A cold knot in her stomach broke her concentration, and she bent over, worry for her babe of more immediate concern. The spell dissipated, but it had done its job.
The Orc shamaness, Laghul, moved closer. She had called forth the spirits of long-lost hunters to draw the Humans in, but now, her job complete, she was more concerned with Natalia's distress.
"What is it?" she asked.
Natalia struggled to understand the words. "My stomach," she said in broken Orc. "It has gone cold."
In answer, Laghul placed an ear to her belly. "The heartbeat is strong," she announced. "Your youngling is well."
Natalia took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I must speak to Athgar," she said, forgetting, for the moment, the presence of the Orc."
"Come," the Orc said, "I will guide you."
The shamaness led her into the clearing. Athgar was in the middle of translating when he spotted her, causing him to interrupt the proceedings. Natalia looked pale, even more so than usual, putting him on alert.
"What has happened?" he asked.
King Eadred stared at the Orc shamaness but said nothing.
"You have failed," said Natalia, looking directly at the king. "Your plan to attack the Orcs has been foiled. Now, will you continue your negotiations in earnest, or shall I tell them of your treachery?"
Eadred's face paled. It was one thing to plot against the Orcs, quite another to be exposed for his deceit.
"Very well," the king said. "Let us negotiate in good faith."
They returned to their hut well past sundown. Skora had prepared food, and so they sat, thankful for the respite after the labours of the day.
"I see you are still alive," said the old woman. "I take it that means you were successful this day?"
"We were, thank the Gods," said Athgar, "though it almost ended in failure. If it hadn't been for Natalia, I don't know what would have happened."
"I might remind you it was your plan," noted Natalia.
"Yes, but you're the one who made it all possible."
"And what of the king's treachery?" asked Skora.
"Cenric retreated," said Athgar, "but I still don't know the full story."
Natalia smiled. "The Orc shamaness cast a spell to conjure forth the spirits of hunters. They were used to lure Cenric and his men into their grasp."
"Where you used your magic?"
"Yes, I did"—she cast her eyes down—"but something went wrong."
"Wrong? How so? Surely Cenric retreated?"
"He did, but something happened to me."
A look of worry crossed his face. "What?"
"I felt a cold presence in my stomach as if I'd swallowed a ball of ice."
"Could it be the baby?" he asked. "Think about it. You're a powerful mage. Could you have imparted your magic to it?"
"I don't know. I was never taught such things." Tears formed in her eyes. "What do we do, Athgar? I don't want to endanger our child."
He moved closer, enveloping her in his arms. "I think it best if you don't use your magic for a while."
She nodded, then buried her face into his shoulder. "I'm scared."
"So am I," he admitted. "I wish Shaluhk were here. She'd know what to do."
House of Stone
Summer 1104 SR
(In the tongue of
