Touch Of Fate 233 Convergence Of Mistakes

Talgratha growled, irritated both by his condescending tone and the implications of his statement, "I didn't ask you for help. The Ashborn answer to no one, and we are going to continue fighting until our enemies are dead. We do not acknowledge your authority."

Morris frowned, and she knew she'd hit a sore point with him. Although he was the de facto leader of the coalition army, he didn't have a real position. Quite frankly, he had no real authority over anyone present. Doubly so, with the Ashborn.

The orcs never cared much for formalities, but they demanded both competence and strength from their leaders. Morris's order to sit and wait in front of a much weaker enemy, regardless of the reason, was abhorrent to the orcs, who saw it as cowardice.

Talgratha was smart of enough to know that these sorts of campaigns were inherently different from the usual clan skirmishes that most of her followers were used to, but she also understood that her people lacked the ability to see beyond their own limited experiences. So, when her six sub-chieftains surprised her in her tent yesterday, she knew the reason before they even started talking.

They called Morris a fool and a coward, and questioned her own leaders.h.i.+p for going along with his apparent weakness. Against her better judgment, she rose to the provocations and declared that, "If the coalition won't fight, the Ashborn will."

Having done all that, she couldn't simply bow down and accept his commands now. Giving in would show her unfit for the position of Chief, especially now that they were facing difficulties on the battlefield. If she weakened for a moment, all that she had worked for would be for naught.

For nearly a minute, Morris quietly regarded her. Something that was made all the more disturbing by the continued sounds of her warriors dying under the enemy's arrows. Finally, he sighed and looked away. "Whether you respect my authority or not, I am your best bet of securing victory. You have a choice. Either work with me, and maybe we'll both get out of this situation without too much damage done, or continue to go it alone and suffer the consequences of your decisions. At this point, I really don't care either way."

Talgratha recognized his statement for what it was. He was giving her the opportunity to accept his help without seeming to be acceding to his authority. While her reputation would still take a hit, simply due to her inability to carry the day through her own skill, this would be the best option for her. All she would have to do was lower herself to accepting his help.

[I will be putting myself in his debt, but do I really have another option?] She looked back at her forces. They were still bravely advancing to the kill zone, although she could tell a few of the less experienced units were wavering. Pretty soon, they would start to run.

"Fine. We'll take your help." She replied grudgingly.

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"We're starting to run low on ammo. Runners have been sent to bring up our reserve supply, but I estimate that we can only keep up this rate of fire for another few minutes at the most." Captain Furthin reported with a smart salute.

General Xavier nodded, feeling the pressure of a headache building behind his eyes. "I see. Send someone to the orcs, and see if they are willing to partic.i.p.ate in this battle. Let them know that if our defenses are overrun, it will be their camps that are hit first."

Furthin saluted once more, before jogging off in the direction of the hodgepodge of poorly built and managed tents which demarcated the orcish section of the encampment. Evidently he meant to see to the matter himself.

Xavier sighed, mentally complaining about the ridiculousness of the his situation. He'd been left behind by the Tenundian high command with nothing but a scant 600 soldiers to prevent the Almiran reinforcements, an army that numbered in the tens of thousands by the way, from reaching the siege.

While he technically had close to ten thousand orcs on his side, their lack of anything resembling military discipline and total disrespect for both Xavier and his soldiers, meant that the human members of this encampment were largely on their own. A fact that became much more obvious, and dangerous, when the Almirans finally launched an attack.

[Seriously! Why are they doing this now? Its almost like their trying to get themselves killed. Do they really not know about the Lacotian horde a little more than a day away?]

When the a.s.saulting force had first been detected, Xavier had wanted to send envoys to see if they could halt the attack before it started. Unfortunately, he'd underestimated the Ashborn orcs, which seemed to comprise the majority of the attackers. Before he'd even had a chance to pick out representatives to speak with them, he saw the flares go up, indicating that the battle had begun.

Thankfully, the enemy had chosen to attack the most fortified position on the hilltop for some reason, so his soldiers were able to hold them back with a combination of judicious Earth Magic and missile fire. Yet, he also knew that this could only be maintained for a short time, until his small number of human troops were either exhausted or ran out of ammo.

If he could only get in contact with the enemy leader, let him know what was going on to the west, then maybe they could put an end to the fighting and discuss possible alliances in the face of their mutual enemy. Any fool could see that it would be in their best interests to put aside their squabbles and turn their attention to the much more pressing concern of impending doom.

As if to answer his hopes, he noticed a change in the enemy formation. It appeared that they were pulling back.

[Excellent. Now, I just need to send someone to speak with their commander-]

"Sir!" Captain Furthin yelled as he ran up, huffing breathlessly as he did. Looking at his subordinate's face, he suspected that the news wouldn't be good.

Once he was able to speak, Furthin managed to squeak out a few words between gasps. "Sir...the orcs are attacking..."

"Well, of course they are. That's why we've been having...wait...which ones are we talking about?"

Just then, a warhorn echoed across the battlefield as close to ten thousand orcs began marching into battle. Xavier could only stare as his supposed allies pushed through the hilltop's defenses and started running towards the retreating enemy.

"Why?" He whispered, more to himself than anything.

Furthin had the gall to confusedly state, "Well, you did ask them to join the battle."

Xavier rubbed his temples, head now furiously throbbing.

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"What now? We going to counter attack?" Talgratha asked as the pair of them watched the approaching horde. Morris could tell that she was furious about something, but then again he couldn't recall an instance where she wasn't angry about one thing or another. He wasn't sure if it was an orc thing, or just something innate to the woman next to him, but he'd long ago gotten used to it.

"Definitely. I'm not sure what the enemy commander is thinking, but this is exactly what we need." For the fist time since his abrupt awakening this morning, Morris was beginning to feel some hope. Although he was not an accomplished general or tactician, even he could see the obvious implications of the loose and chaotic swarm of infantry as they chased after them through the wide open plain. It was something that no sane leader would have let their troops do. He could only surmise there had been some miscommunication.

While remaining on horse back, he waved over the leader of his escort team. "Send someone back to General Holmes. Tell him to take his troops around to the north and hit the enemy from the side. He should know when the best opportunity to do so is."

Turning towards Talgratha, who was looking askance at him, he explained, "I had one of my commanders bring his troops out in the event we ended up needing them. With five thousand cavalry, we should be able to shatter them. However, for that we'll need to keep their attention long enough for them to get into position."

The half-orc's face twisted a little, as if she found the idea of the resulting slaughter unpleasant, but she nevertheless rounded up her officers in a traditional orcish fas.h.i.+on. "Oi! You lot, get over here!"

Morris watched in mild amus.e.m.e.nt as six hulking representations of the orc species rushed over and genuflected to Talgratha. It was always a bit strange to see them act with such deference to someone who looked to be half their size, but he guessed that just demonstrated the respect the half-orc commanded amongst her followers. A few short orders later, the sub-chieftains scattered back to their own tribes.

"They will be continuing the retreat for a few more minutes, then turning and forming a defensive line. The enemy will think we are hoping to throw them back long enough to retreat in full. If I know Huthar and Jurtrik, they'll push hard and try to break us. That's when your cavalry should hit them." She commented absently while watching them leave, casually mentioning the names of the orc tribal leaders most likely to be in charge of this push.

Morris nodded speculatively. That was more or less what he'd had in mind. It was easy to forget that for all of her bl.u.s.ter, Talgratha was a rather accomplished tactician in her own right. Which just made the whole series of events leading up to this moment unusual. It almost felt like things were orchestrated towards some goal he couldn't quite see.

[What am I missing?]

He was interrupted from his musings by a thump on the leg. "Come on. The rest of the Ashborn are leaving us behind."

"Right." He replied, wheeling his mount and having it follow after the half-orc, who was already running.

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"Like I said, we need to head a little more towards the east!" Sera yelled. "That's where the coalition army is camped."

"And like I said, we can't afford to wander off in random directions, so we will be following the road until we get to the crossroads. We should be fairly close to the camp by that point, without any danger of overshooting it." Mike replied as calmly as he was able to, however, he was starting to get irritated by the backseat flyer.
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Him, Sera, and Tal were currently riding on Red's back on their way to the coalition army's camp to rendezvous with their leaders. Lily had wanted to go, but her irate butler William had all but demanded that she remain behind. Apparently, she hadn't told him before joining up with their previous adventure, and he'd spent most of the night in a state of constant worry. He was so distraught that even Lily, with her general lack of empathy, eventually agreed to stay in Almirn.

"If we go that way, we'll be flying right over the Tenundians too! It would ruin any chance we'd have of taking them by surprise." Sera argued, stabbing her finger towards him in an accusatory manner.

He gritted his teeth. "We don't want to take them by surprise! We want to negotiate with them! Why is that so hard to understand?"

Sera leaned back and crossed her arms. "If you think it will be that easy to get their orcish allies to follow along, you've got another thing coming. But fine! Do it your way. I don't care."

Mike had to work hard to resist the urge to let the irritating Oracle fall off Red's back, but he was eventually able to overcome it thanks to some impartial mediation.

"Will fight. Regardless. Sooner or later." Tal interjected, before speaking to Mike in the ancient tongue. "Please don't let her bother you. She means well, but she's upset about not having foreseen any of these events."

He sighed, allowing the tension to flow out of him in the process. "I know, but she really knows how to press my b.u.t.tons."

"b.u.t.tons? Like on clothes?" She asked, sounding mildly confused.

"Its complicated. I'll explain later."

"Ugh! I hate it when you two start talking in that language and cut me out of the conversation." Sera complained, looking increasingly upset.

He shook his head in exasperation, and was about to explain, when he noticed something unusual on the plain in front of him.

"Is that a dust cloud? Could there be something going on?" He asked quietly.

Tal gripped his shoulder suddenly, her eyes focused on the cloud, and simply uttered. "Battle."

[Well, c.r.a.p.]