The Heavenly Host

They were traveling down a rather wide boulevard towards the town center. He noted a number of taverns and brothels nearby. Given the proximity of the town to this gate, this was probably the main entrance for orc warriors. Tal Gor had not been here since he was a child. Soo An and his brothers came more frequently.

Naturally, everyone in the city stopped what they were doing to watch them walk down the street. The D’Orcs were giving the townspeople mean glares; clearly enjoying themselves. Bor Tal and Soo An nodded or waved occasionally to merchants or townspeople they recognized. He let his eyes smile, noting the way his tribemates were working so hard to pretend they did this sort of thing every day. He chuckled softly in his throat.

They were part of a legend come to life! For once, he felt the sort of glory the mighty heroes of old must have felt as they marched through conquered cities. True, they had not conquered Murgatroy, but they were looked upon with awe, trepidation and even fear. He was very pleased to note a number of small children crying with fright. As they passed one opening, a bunch of human youths who had been trying to get a look at what was coming down the street saw them, screamed in fear and ran the other way.

“Heaven,” Tal Gor said to himself.

Vespa laughed beside him and turned to give him a big grin.

Dider spoke up behind them. “Commander, there is a market up ahead, I am thinking we should pick up ingredients to make bread to go along with the meat.”

“Excellent idea; why don’t you take two D’Orcs and two orcs and buy several bags of grain and, if you can, eggs and yeast, yeast first. Kirak, see if you can get some sacks of root vegetables. Turnips, potatoes — whatever, and as much as you can find,” Vespa ordered.

“How about a wagon or two? That way we don’t have to make too many trips,” Tal Gor suggested. “Fel Nor and maybe one of your warriors could see about renting a wagon?”

Vespa nodded. “Excellent idea, but what is renting?”

∼

“Why are you dragging me out here, Bastien?” Neelon demanded of his great grandson.

“I think you need to see this. I believe it is something that hasn’t been seen in Astlan since before my father’s birth,” Bastien told the elder. “But I need your confirmation.”

“So you need me for my geriatricity?” The old alfar complained.

“I would use the word wisdom, sir,” Bastien corrected as he dragged his great grandfather out onto the roof deck overlooking the marketplace.

“It had better to be important to rouse me from my meditation,” the old alfar harrumphed.

Bastien tugged him by the hand to the wall and pointed to the large square. “There, in the market!”

“What am I looking for?” Neelon groused, squinting out into the market.

“You cannot miss them,” Bastien replied.

Neelon stared out across the market for a moment before his raspy breathing stopped. His back stiffened as his full attention became riveted on the market. He began scouring every inch of the market, counting under his breath.

“They came in with a similar-sized group of orcs. Prior to entering the city, they stopped to stable their mounts in the wargtown,” Bastien said.

“You mean their wargs?” The elder asked in an odd voice, hopeful yet resigned.

“Wargs only in the way those fellows with wings are orcs. They were bigger, nastier, winged wargs!” Bastien said with clear worry in his voice.

Neelon shook his head. “What do they want? Why are they here?”

“Apparently they are buying supplies — food, glargh, beer. I have no idea why; it must be some sort of subterfuge.”

“Or perhaps a great gathering,” Neelon sighed.

“Are they what I think?” Bastien said breathlessly, turning to stare again into the marketplace.

“Assuming you think they are D’Orcs, the infernal and eternally damned minions of the Dark Lord Orcus, then yes. Yes, they are.” Neelon said, sighing again. “This is truly an ill wind and a dark day for both the alvar and the mortal races we shepherd.”

“What should we do?” Bastien asked worriedly.

“You and your fellow rangers need to get word to Murgandor as fast as possible. Send one messenger now, and another after these foul creatures depart, so that we can give a full accounting of their activity. They will be able to get word out to the rest of the alvar and to Prince Ariel and the Grove. Make all haste; do not rest on the journey.” Neelon sighed once more and turned to peer out into the marketplace in despair.

∼

Tal Gor expected the presence of the D’Orcs to cause the merchants to haggle less. Apparently, however, the orc merchants, at least, did not seem that impressed. Once a merchant determined they wanted to buy his or her wares rather than kill him and take whatever they pleased, the merchant’s tone changed considerably.