"Isn't that what you were intending, Commander? To order them back to their lands?"
"But they outnumber us, Krasmus."
The mage sighed. Sometimes it was necessary to point out the obvious to these military leaders. "They may have the numbers here, but you represent the duke, and he can field an army ten times theirs. Invoke his authority. They're bound to back down."
"I suppose, but why are they even here? Do they really think we'd let them rampage through our lands?"
"I have no idea, but THEY do. Why don't you go and ask them yourself?"
"Very well," said Harmon, "cast your spell."
"Yes, Commander." Krasmus closed his eyes, calling on the forces within him. Words of power began to flow from his tongue, and then he snapped his eyes open, pointing to the commander. A slight blue haze descended onto him, soaking into his skin, the Enchanter's own personal touch to the well-established spell.
"It is done."
"Good," said Harmon. "Come with me."
"Me?"
"Yes, you're one of the duke's mages. What better way to project his power."
"If you say so."
Harmon urged his horse forward while Krasmus cast the spell once again, this time on himself. His incantation complete, he galloped forward to catch up.
The greenskins drew closer, and Harmon halted. Two of the creatures walked towards them, their weapons, at least for now, tucked away.
"I am Commander Harmon, of his dukenesses army." He turned to Krasmus in surprise. "Did I say that correctly?"
"More or less. The Orcs lack some of our finesse in their language."
"Why does it sound so bad to my ears?"
"The spell only imparts a rudimentary skill," the mage replied.
"Can't you do something to make it better?"
"I'm afraid not, my lord; it is one of the limitations of magic."
The larger of the two Orcs raised his hand in the air.
"I come in peace," he said in the common tongue of man.
"Saints be, he speaks our language," said Harmon.
"I am Kargen, Chieftain of the Red Hand."
"Greetings, Kargen," said Harmon. "In the name of His Grace, the Duke of Holstead, you are hereby ordered to return to your lands." The commander sat back in his saddle, pleased with the discharge of his duty.
"I am afraid I can not," said Kargen. "My people are heading east, towards the wilderness."
Harmon's face paled as he turned towards the Enchanter. "He can't do that! He's heading straight for Althaven!"
"Tell him that," muttered Krasmus.
The commander returned his attention to the greenskin. "I cannot allow it. Return to your lands at once, or my men will be forced to engage."
"We have no wish to fight," replied the Orc.
"There," whispered Harmon, "I've got him now." He raised his voice once more. "Then return to your lands, and let us see an end to this confrontation."
The Orc turned to his companion, muttering something in the ancient language of his race. Harmon strained to hear, but the brute's voice was too low and his speech too fast.
Kargen stepped closer while his companion ran back to the west. "We will go home," he announced, "but we must wait until tomorrow. The sun is too low."
Harmon bowed, trying to appear magnanimous, but inside he was relieved to avoid the confrontation.
"Very well, but you shall begin your return early tomorrow morning."
"Agreed," said Kargen. "By first light, we shall be on our way."
Harmon turned, guiding his horse back towards his own line of troops. "Well, that went much better than I expected."
"So it did," agreed the mage. "It appears you didn't need my services after all."
"They may still double-cross us. I wouldn't put it past them."
"Should we take any precautions?" asked Krasmus.
"Yes, I shall send word for reinforcements, preferably cavalry. I understand they have no horse of their own?"
"Not that I know of."
"Good," said Harmon, "then that should settle it. Now that's done, will you join me for a drink?"
"I should be delighted, Commander."
Kargen poked the fire with a stick. "Is everything prepared?"
"It is," said Laruhk. "They will be surprised come morning when all they find is an empty group of fires."
"We must take care. Remember, we want them to think we are heading west."
"And so they will. We will leave a trail that even a Human can not miss."
Kargen placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "This is no laughing matter, Laruhk. The safety of our people depends on it."
"I shall lead the hunters myself, and we will draw them westward, then double back and catch up. Are you sure this is what you want?"
"It is," the chieftain replied. "We can not go east, and the land to the south is too open. We would be easy prey for horsemen. Our only chance is to go north, into the mountains, where their horses can not follow."
"They will send more soldiers once they have discovered our ruse."
"So they will," Kargen agreed, "but hopefully by then we will be safe in the foothills."
"And the Ancestors suggested this?"
"In a roundabout way."
"What does that mean? Did the Ancestors agree or not?"
"They did not disagree."
"You are being stubborn, Kargen. You take after my sister."
"I shall take that as a compliment. Now go, Laruhk, and may the Ancestors watch over you."
All night long, the Orcs moved north, their most skilled hunters bringing up the rear, carefully hiding their tracks. The elderly went first, accompanied by Shaluhk, who led the way, Agar once more on her shoulders. Orcs are a hardy breed, but the pace soon wore on them, and more than one elder had to be helped along the way.
Shaluhk found herself wishing she had mastered her magic, making her able to summon warrior spirits to assist, but it was too late now. Her mistress, Uhdrig, was dead, and with her went any chance of learning new magic.
She paused, watching as Kragor picked up an elder. The hunter placed him across his massive shoulders and moved on, bearing the burden with quiet dignity. The entire escape felt desperate, and she wondered, not for the first time, of the wisdom of this strategy. Would not the Humans see the ruse for
