Kirak eyed him suspiciously. "And why would you agree to do that?"
"It is in both of our best interests. I believe these Torkul are my people, though long separated from my own village. When Athelwald was destroyed, its people were carted off into slavery. I have since learned some escaped, and I'm hoping they found refuge amongst their fellow Therengians."
"And how does that serve our interests?"
"My people lived in peace and harmony with the Orcs of the Red Hand. I see no reason why it cannot be so here. Tell me what it is that they have done."
"They encroach on our lands," said Kirak, "and threaten the very balance of nature. Our Ancestors brought us here to live free of the influence of Humans. And yet now that very same plague has been brought to our homes."
"When you say they are encroaching, do you mean hunting or settling?"
"The former, but it is only a matter of time until they put down roots. Already they have migrated from the west, pushing them ever closer to our homes."
"Have you tried talking with them?" Athgar asked.
"They are Humans. They will not listen to reason. At the mere sight of us, they attack."
"They are likely fearful," explained Athgar, "as you are of them. Tell me, do you know why they migrated?"
"No," Kirak confessed, "and they are unlikely to explain it to us. It is hard to be reasonable at the point of a spear."
"Perhaps," offered Natalia in her broken Orcish, "we can help."
"Yes," added Athgar. "Show us how to find them, and we shall try to reason with them. Let's hope we can get to the bottom of this."
Kirak looked at Laghul, who simply nodded her head. "Very well," said the chieftain. "The Ancestors have seen fit to send you to us. Let us now see if their decision was a wise one."
Confrontation
Summer 1104 SR
Laruhk sprinted down the column, halting before Kargen to stop and gasp for air.
"What is it?" asked Kargen.
"Humans," the hunter replied. "A large number of them, with weapons."
"The farms we passed must have spread word. They are likely the duke's men."
"What do we do?"
"We must halt," ordered Kargen. "Move the hunters forward, younglings and elderly to the rear. I shall go and talk to the leader of this group. Let us hope he will see reason and allow us safe passage."
"And if not?"
"Then we might have to alter our plans."
"I do not like this, Kargen. It could mean a battle, and we are already weakened."
"I do not like it, either, Laruhk, but we must see to the safety of the tribe. We have more than two hundred Orcs to look after. I will not see them fight unless absolutely necessary."
"I shall do as you ask."
Laruhk ran off, calling out names as he went.
Kargen looked around, spotting Shaluhk, who was lifting young Agar to her shoulders. She met his gaze and wandered closer.
"What ails you, bondmate?"
"It is the Humans," he explained. "They have learned of our journey and are seeking to stop us."
Shaluhk looked skyward. "It is easy enough to spot us. The column of dust can be seen for a great distance, but I am at a loss as to where they came from."
"There is likely a town nearby," said Kargen. "That would be why they are so alarmed. What would you do if a large force were closing in on your own village?"
"Fair enough," said Shaluhk, "but can we not reason with them? We are, after all, only interested in travelling east and mean no harm."
"I doubt the duke's men will be as understanding. I fear they will insist we return to Ord-Kurgad."
"That would be a death sentence."
"I see we are of the same opinion."
"What can I do to help?"
"Consult the Ancestors," said Kargen. "They may offer a solution. In the meantime, I must make contact with these Humans and hope they see reason."
The afternoon wore on. The troops of Holstead stood in the sun, sweating, while horsemen galloped back and forth, carrying dispatches.
Commander Harmon, watching from the back of his horse, squinted, looking westward. "What are they doing?"
"It appears nothing, sir," replied his sergeant. "They are just standing there."
"I can see that. I meant, what are they doing here, outside of their lands?"
"I have no idea, sir."
Harmon swore. "Go. Fetch Krasmus, and we will see if he can be of help."
"The mage, sir? Surely not! This is an army matter."
"And what would you have me do, Sergeant? Lead my men into a slaughter?"
"They're only Orcs, sir, no threat to our forces."
"Have you ever seen an Orc close-up?"
"No, sir."
"Well, trust me when I say they're large, very large, and not the type of thing you want swinging an axe at you." Harmon shuddered involuntarily. "Besides which, they appear to outnumber us."
"But they are only Orcs!"
"As you've already said, but even savages can inflict casualties. Now go and fetch Krasmus."
The sergeant wheeled around, riding off at a gallop.
Harmon cursed his luck. He had risen through the ranks, but the army of Holstead was nothing to brag about. Men like his sergeant were commonplace, and they hadn't fought a real battle for generations.
He watched the greenskins moving about, noticing a thin skirmish line being deployed. Were they seriously thinking of attacking?
"Commander?" came a familiar voice.
Harmon, startled out of his musings, turned to see the Royal Enchanter, Krasmus.
"Your Grace," he said, "as you can see, we have a bit of a situation here."
The mage scanned the west, observing the deployment of Orcs. "So it would seem."
"What can you do about it?"
"I'm afraid I'm an Enchanter, not a battle mage."
"Still," insisted Harmon, "there must be something you can suggest? Do the Orcs fear magic?"
"Not that I'm aware of, no. In fact, they have their own mages, though they call them shamans."
"Do you have any GOOD news for me?"
"I could cast the spell of tongues," replied the Enchanter. "It would allow you to speak their language."
"You expect me
