NEUS.
All around him, the woodland seemed quiet and peaceful. A gentle breeze whispered through the canopy above, and the sound of birds singing filled the air. Lan took a deep breath and smelled the heady woodland aroma. It brought a joy to him that he would be hard pressed to describe. The woodland, and indeed all wild places untouched by the hand of man held a special place in his heart, and he longed to return to them with every waking moment that he spent in the towns and cities, that were spreading like a plague across Layonara. He was angered by the constant logging and mining that stripped the land of its natural resources, and left great scars wherever it occurred. He knew that the increase of these enterprises were a necessary evil if Blood was to be turned back from the shores of Mistone, but that didn’t mean he liked it.
Lan’s musing was interrupted as someone or something stepped on a nearby twig. He dropped to a crouch and turned in the direction of the noise. His swords slid silently from well oiled scabbards. A stag stood behind him. It regarded him with large black eyes, and dipped its head to pluck at a clump of grass growing between the roots of a young oak. It possessed a pair of huge antlers that revealed it to be a strong and proud older male. Lan smiled to himself and watched the magnificent animal for a few moments before another sound caught his attention. It was a sound he knew well, and one that caused his blood to boil with rage. The low guttural laugh of orcs didn’t belong in this place or any other as far as he was concerned. The stag froze for a moment then leapt away gracefully to find shelter deeper within the safety of the deep woods.
Lan sheathed his blades and unslung his bow. He knew the tactics of orcs well, if indeed their disorganized bloodthirsty charges into battle could be called tactics. They believed that might makes right, and only the strong should survive. They rarely employed archers preferring to fight toe to toe with the enemy and feel the hot spray of blood as they struck. Lan smiled grimly. That would, as usual, be their undoing. Moving silently through the underbrush he knocked an arrow and scanned the woodland for them. They often came to hunt and gather wood, but as always they killed more than they needed and damaged the trees so badly that they often took decades to fully recover, if at all. They had no respect for nature. To them the woodland was a fully stocked lada to be raided whenever the desire took them. This day however, the lada had a guardian, and orc blood would be spilled.
They stood in a small group around a shallow pit which was filled with sticks. The orcs had learned the hard way that being caught in a forest fire was not a desirable death. That at least Lan was grateful for. The damage from such disasters could take a hundred years to heal, and even then the woodlands and forests were never the same again. He didn’t intend to give the hateful creatures the chance to light the fire though. Lan counted seven orcs in the group, but knew there were probably a few more guarding the perimeter. They had also learned to be watchful of those who would defend the forests. No matter, he thought, the guards will come running when the first of them falls.
From his vantage point beneath the heavy shadow of gnarled hickory, Lan released his first arrow. It took an orc in the shoulder with force enough to spin it around. A heartbeat later his second arrow pierced the same orc through the back of its neck. The orc dropped silently to the ground where it twitched for a moment then remained still. Chaos spread through the orc camp as the startled creatures screamed in surprise and rage. They scrambled in different directions looking everywhere for the unseen enemy. Lan took advantage of the confusion to fire several more arrows into their midst. Two more of their number dropped before they noticed him standing partially concealed within the shadows.
Lan calmly placed his bow against the hickory and swiftly drew his two swords. Four orcs were charging him, axes held high and ready. He could hear more running to the camp, but dismissed them. They would occupy his attention only when they posed an immediate threat. Two long strides carried him into a small area devoid of entangling undergrowth. He held his blades defensively, ready to receive the orc charge and turn aside their clumsy blows. The first orc to reach Lan was a huge creature covered with muscles and scars. It had one eye missing, and its face was split by a long, badly healed gash. The orc swung savagely at him, bellowing its rage in his face. Lan stepped back and deflected its attack along the length of his longsword. The axe struck the earth with a heavy thud that sent a shower of mud and leaves into the air. Lan stepped forward quickly and plunged his shortsword into the creature’s throat. He moved past it and readied himself for the next orc as it laid gurgling and dying on the ground behind him.
The second orc came on slower. It had seen its comrade fall and adjusted it tactics accordingly. It swung powerful but measured blows at Lan, who found he was growing tired beneath the relentless onslaught. Lan realized that he would soon have three opponents to face if he didn’t act fast to defeat this one. Each blow that he parried sapped little of the strength from his sword arm, and his legs were fast growing tired. The orc was obviously a veteran, and knew how to fight. It was trying to wear him down with brute strength. Lan knew he would have to change his tactics if he was going to survive this encounter. He simply wasn’t strong enough to keep parrying the orcs attacks.
The other orcs were almost upon him when Lan noticed a flaw in his opponent’s stance. At some point in the past the orc must have suffered an injury which had weakened its left leg. It was fast to attack, but was slower regaining its footing after each swing. Lan readied his sword to parry again, but prepared to strike as the orc recovered from its attack. As he expected, the orc struck him with a powerful blow which almost numbed his sword arm when he parried. As the orc tried to regain its footing Lan launched a strong kick at its left knee. The knee buckled with aloud crunching sound, and the orc screamed as it fell. Lan thrust down hard with his longsword which pierced the orc’s heart, whilst at the same time he raised his shortsword to block the third orcs ferocious attack.
The sound of steel upon steel rang throughout the woodland. Lan stood flanked by two orcs who both wanted to see him split by their axes. He was tired, but so far uninjured. His arms felt like blocks of wood, and his legs were almost ready to give way beneath him. All that drove him was the seething hatred he had for the vile creatures who despoiled everything they touched. The orcs attacked at the same time, which forced Lan to defend desperately. He twisted out of the way of one orc’s powerful blow, and raised his longsword to deflect the second, but his strength gave way at last. The axe shattered Lan’s blade and bit deep into his shoulder. He screamed in pain and fell heavily against a tree. The orcs closed with grim determination. They seemed sure of their victory, but treated Lan with weary caution. He still possessed one blade with which to fight.
Lan struggled to his feet leaning heavily against the tree. His blood was pouring from the wound and he was beginning to feel dizzy. The orcs attacked in unison, raising their axes to finish the task. Lan staggered to his right, narrowly avoiding one axe blade which bit deep into the solid trunk of the tree and became lodged there. He parried the second axe and used his foot to kick the orc away from him. With the extra space gained by the maneuver Lan slipped his shortsword between the ribs of the orc whose axe was stuck in the tree trunk and shoved it to the ground to die. He turned to face his last remaining opponent, and was met by a fist as hard as rock which slammed into his face breaking his nose. Lan was launched through the air and winded as he crashed into another tree. He slumped to the ground, blinded by tears and choking on blood. This is it. He thought to himself. Why have you abandoned me Longstrider? Lan tried desperately to stand, but a strong kick in his ribs flipped him onto his back. Lying there, he could see the hatred burning in the orc’s eyes. A hatred that was no doubt mirrored in his own.
The orc leant over Lan, and spat at him. It said something in its guttural tongue and placed one foot on Lan’s wounded shoulder, pressing down painfully. Lan gritted his teeth against the pain but wouldn’t give it the satisfaction of hearing him scream before it killed him. The orc raised its axe above its head. Lan closed his eyes despite himself. Suddenly the foot was gone from his shoulder, and the orc screamed in surprise. A savage snarling sound filled the woodland and Lan opened his eyes. The orc was no longer standing over him. It was lying on the ground struggling feebly with an enraged adult wolf. The wolf stood atop the orc, snarling as it tried to rip its throat out, but the orc had both hand firmly around the animals neck trying to stop it. Lan couldn’t quite understand what he was seeing, for there was no sign of the wolf’s pack. It was obviously healthy and couldn’t have been cast from its pack either.
Lan groaned in pain as he rolled onto his side and retrieved his shortsword. Whatever the wolf was doing, it had given him another chance to finish what he had started. Slowly he crawled closer to where the orc and wolf lay struggling. His head and shoulder pounded with each movement. The wolf was beginning to tire, Lan could see that. The orc was gaining the upper hand through sheer brute strength. Time to lend my savior a hand, Lan thought, as he raised the shortsword and plunged it down into the orcs ankle.
The orc screamed and its leg jolted, tearing the blade from Lan’s hand. Shock and pain caused the orc to momentarily release its hold on the wolf, whose head darted forward. Its strong jaws clamped down on the orcs neck crushing its windpipe as it ripped the creature’s throat open. The orc gurgled and then lay still. Lan rolled heavily onto his back. He knew he was in no condition to fend off a rogue wolf. A bitter smile played at the corner of his lips as he realized the irony of his death. Abandoned by his god, Longstrider, The Prince of Wolves, and then killed by a wolf. Lan closed his eyes waiting for the feel of the wolf’s hot breath on his face, and its sharp teeth upon his neck.
He didn’t have long to wait. Lan felt the wolf place its two front paws on his chest as it stood above him, and could smell the foul stench of orc blood on its breath. A moment later he could feel its hot breath upon his face. Its cold nose sniffed him, no doubt deciding if he was a worthy meal, then a wet tongue licked his face once, twice, three times. Lan could stand it no more. He opened his eyes and shouted at the wolf in anger and frustration. “If you’re going to eat me then get on with it. I’d rather not be drowned in dog saliva!” The wolf regarded him quizzically, and then licked him once more for good measure before stepping off his chest. Lan wiped his face and slowly maneuvered himself into sitting position. The wolf, whilst still strong and healthy had suffered numerous small cuts and was limping slightly. Lan concentrated on the wolf for a few moments and then spoke to it in the tongue of animals. “How hurt?” The wolf looked back at Lan and padded over to him. It regarded him with bright intelligent eyes. In answer to his question the wolf conjured up images of an intense battle between it and several orcs. Lan nodded realizing that the wolf was referring to the orcs who had been guarding the perimeter. That was why they hadn’t reached him then.
The bleeding had ceased enough for Lan to administer temporary treatment to his shoulder. A short while later, he struggled to his feet and scanned the woodland for further signs of danger. Satisfied that there was no immediate threat, he turned back to the wolf. “Lan” He said pointing to himself. The wolf nodded and conjured images of running through a beautiful forest with a huge pack. In this pack the wolf seemed to have some measure of authority although it was not the alpha. Lan smiled. “You came to help me?” The wolf showed Lan more memories. A handsome elf telling him to seek the lonely ranger called Lan. Telling him to serve Lan every time he was called upon as if Lan were his Alpha. An elf that in Lan’s mind was the very picture of Folian S’pae. Lan smiled and knelt besides the wolf. “I will call you Neus”. The wolf seemed happy enough with this, but looked longingly back towards the deep woods. “You can go Neus.” Lan said softly stroking the animals back. “I’ll whistle if I need you.” Neus licked Lan’s face one last time then darted off into the woodland to rejoin his pack wherever it was. Lan climbed painfully to his feet again, and then began the slow journey back to Hlint, and someone, anyone who could heal him.
