The Adventures of Brandar Odaron
Book 1: The Hidden Continent
Chapter 5 Through The Ranks Of The Enemy
I, Maneldor, now relate the Tell of the passage of the Seven Northron Emissaries through the ranks of the enemy eastwards during the Third Invasion, having consulted with Brandar and his Six Volunteers after their glorious return to Andaria in the Fourth Invasion. Barely did the Emissaries complete that first journey, but survive they did, by the success of the disguises I had worked upon them, and the magic of their necklaces.
The grove of trees from which the Seven emerged was not as dense as Brandar would have liked, and many trees in it had been hewn down in no predictable order, while everywhere were whole trees burnt and charred. Neither were there any birds nor animals to be seen in the dark, though Brandar kenned there would be none alive, whereas the night was made darker than normal by smokes from fires of the enemy’s encampments all around. And after moving cautiously through the trees, Brandar halted at the edge of the grove to spy upon the enemy from the shadows.
Here the Northrons beheld rank upon rank of Durwolc wrecking havoc upon the land, reveling about their fires, or tramping along in marching companies. But enemy groups were separated by kind, with Gnoll apart form Yurchin, apart from Gobba, apart from Kobo, and so on. And everywhere there was brawling and argument, and in some places bloodshed. So the Durwolc seemed altogether busy with their quarrels, but for a seemingly endless procession of troupes trudging by, also by kind.
A company of Gnoll were marching loosely by the grove, heading northwest, led by their tallest member, who alone wore armor in the form of a chain-mail shirt. But each of them was armed with a thin curved sword tucked in a belt, though some carried spears or pole-arms. And after they had passed, Brandar spoke to his men in the tongue of the enemy, saying: “That is how we must march, as a troupe on assignment. And we must leave these trees at an angle, as if we have just come ‘round them.” “Yes,” said Alak, in the same course language, “and with our heads bent low.” “But with a hand to sword-hilt,” said Daram. “As those louts do not.” “Yes,” said Brandar. “Let us go, as the Wizard has instructed us.” So did Brandar lead his Volunteers from the grove, hoping the Seven would seem merely to be errand-runners who have just come to the area and were passing the grove upon its eastern edge. And by fate or fortune the trick worked, for the Seven were not then challenged, though they attracted many a curious stare.
The remaining night was very short-lived; turning itself into a grueling day, filled with choking dust and blinding smokes, and an incredibly horrible stench so revolting that it made all of the Seven positively ill. And Brandar found himself weaving through and around throngs of Durwolc, while avoiding encounters by adjusting course upon any hint of a meeting of ways. Thus, in this manner the Seven went far afield that day, becoming ever more alarmed at the number of the enemy so tightly packed upon all open spaces; trampling and defiling the land, and burning every bit of wood, and every loose bone to be had, and cooking body parts, which appeared plentiful. Everywhere was there fire and flame, and piles of rotting dead of both Men and Durwolc mixed together. But worse in the sight of the Seven were Durwolc feeding upon the dead, even of their own kind, so that Brandar must halt at whiles as one or another of his men would fall out to vomit from distress. And due to the fires, the Northrons realized that Andaria was being burned, bit by bit. Soon would there be nothing but suit and ash, and that dreadful stench.
At length they came to the Cliffs East and began to climb upon one of its many passes, but had little trouble from the Durwolc coming down now and again in groups, which they let continue without a word, standing aside, grateful for a bit of rest. Then they emerged to find that the enemy's encampments were more numerous thereabouts than they had been in the valley below.
Brandar remembered me saying: “The enemy holds the field about the Valley, but how far east they stretch is not now known. It is hoped that Ferer’s Mote is intact, but we are not sure of it. And the Dwarf Realms north are likely also under siege, though they are no doubt safe in their lofty mountain holds. So, they shall not be able to send aid in such straights, though they had fighters to spare, and a way to get them through. No, it is east that our hope lies, with the Dwarves of Anauria. Most surely they are not under a campaign so intense. Not yet. The vile Sorcerer MorLome must first conquer Andaria ere assailing Bereth Longhand. For that Lord, wielding Ankiramarth, is much too strong, without the sorcerer sending all his might against that realm.” This reminded Brandar to turn east, so he guided his men along a wide arc, only to find that the enemy’s numbers increased.
The Emissaries came near to exhaustion as the dim afternoon wore on, and they found no relief from the smell, nor could they find a clear space upon which to rest. Then they happened upon the road to Kimar, recognized only by a long line of mounted Men, Westrons, in dark garb, riding two-by-two while using pole-arms to keep the spiteful Durwolc at bay. And one stuck Daram with a pike, though it hurt him not for the thickness of his disguise, that of a Gress, as Brandar and Alak were also disguised.
Here, Brandar halted briefly, letting the riders pass, then led the Six to a small place between two wide camps of Wargren and Buccarin, with a large encampment of Gress to the north and another of Trollo to the east, just across the road.
Made curious by the sudden presence of the Seven, one of the Wargren gathered a pack of his followers and came to have words with the newcomers. And he spoke in growling tones to the disguised Northrons. “Greetings, Warriors! All praise to MorLome. I am Scathal, Regent of Section Twelve, upon which you stand. Who of you, may I ask, commands here, and what are your orders?” Recalling my advice, the Six Volunteers remained silent as Brandar spoke, saying gruffly: “I am Brar, and my orders are of no concern to you, dogerell. Know that I have been tasked by the Emporer himself, and shall rest here for a while, no thanks to you. Be off with you, back to your pups, and trouble us not, or I shall report you to your keeper.” Then Brandar flashed the small badge of authority that I had given him, at which the Wargren leader backed away in surprise, while some in his pack were angered by Brandar’s insults. But their leader said: “You are in command of this band? What task is this of which you speak? My Commander has not spoken of you this day. Tell me your orders.” “That is none of your business, mutthound!” said Brandar, haughtily. But his tone and insults angered the pack so much that some drew their swords, at which the Six drew theirs. And it seemed that battle was about to be joined.
“Brave words you speak,” said Scathal, “being so outnumbered. I am Regent here, but have heard nothing of your coming. What is your …” “Neither shall you ever hear again,” interrupted Brandar, drawing his own sword. “Begone, I say!” Brandar shouted. “Or take us, if you can. We fear not your kind.”
Now the rest of the pack drew their swords and would advance upon the Northrons, but their leader raised his paw, saying: “Stay your wrath, High One.” And he signed for his pack to hold back. “For so I take you, by the badge you have shown. We will not fight you. Yet, I will discuss this with my Commander, who is of the Gressin, as are you. Then we shall see who gets the lash.”
With that, Scathal turned and literally barked orders to his fellows. And they angrily turned about. So it was that the Wargren pack returned to their fires and troubled not the Seven again, which gave the Emissaries time to rest and take food. Yet, Brandar soon led them away, having decided against crossing the road; going to where the enemy seemed to thin out northeast. And this is how the Seven found the remains of Kimar, once a thriving trade center, now a dark and blackened desolation, full of ash and cold cinders. Then the Northrons, rounding the edge of the ruin, came upon a horrible mound of long-rotted skeletons, and bones of arms and legs and skulls strewn about; of men and women, and children. And there were more skeletons of Andarian dead impaled upon thick spears stuck into the ground all across the land north and east. And this was such an appalling sight that all seven grew sick, where Erek vomited uncontrollably. And it was difficult for them to regain their composure.
Now, the Six became so enraged at this scene that they seethed with anger, and some drew forth with a mind to assail the nearest Durwolc. But Brandar spurred them forward, eastward, to thwart such action. And thus, due to their rage, they made right good progress ere night had come; nigh forgetting their weariness until the darkness had fallen.
So it was that the Seven passed the Woodlands and the Downs, then came to the Near Hills, where they found a good place to rest. And while the enemy remained all around, they sat down too weary to care, though they were not approached. Yet, so warn out were they then that they lay themselves down and went to sleep, and did not wake until dawn, where Brandar leaped up and roused them to go, and thus did they march, but with more fatigue than ever they had known.
It happens that the enemy’s numbers grew less as the Seven went east along the side of the road from Kimar, often with mounted Westrons riding by, always also heading east. Then, after a day of trudging, the Seven crossed the road at the ruins of Suvai, which was not merely burnt, but utterly destroyed. And here was yet another huge pile of long-dead victims upon whose bones and scraps of rotting clothing were pecking vultures, and large rodents gnawing the bones, and other scavenging vermin. And here too were the skeletal remains of Andarians impaled upon spears.
Now, when this mound came into sight, Erek, disguised as a Kobo, drew his sword with a weeping cry, and would attack the creatures feeding there. But Brandar barred his way, speaking in the enemy’s tongue. “Hold, you lout! We are but Gress and Kobo on a task for our masters. Let us go east over these fields, and cross the river, so that we may complete our mission.” But Erek’s eyes grew livid at the sound of those words. So Brandar spoke softly in the ancient tongue which only the Northrons still know. “Foolish would it be now, my friend, to go ravening for the plight of the dead.” Then Erek’s mind cleared, and he sheathed his sword, though the anger inside would not easily leave him be. “Let us go,” said Brandar, reverting back to the enemy’s tongue. “Delay is a tool for our foes.” Then he led the Six due east; seeming to all who looked their way but three tall Gress, the Dunjilar cousins, with four stout Kobo guards, the Bankari and Forchakar warriors. But Erek’s rage was slow to abate, and came through even his disguise, so that he appeared very much as a crazed Kobo fighter. And that was good for the Seven, as it caused many a Durwolc to avoid the Seven whenever any came close enough for them to discern the disguised Erek’s demeanor.
Thus, the Emissaries passed unhindered across once fruitful fields and noticed that the enemy’s numbers were at last beginning to dwindle. Later they beheld at some distance ahead, upon the road to Miran, a line of wagons drawn by oxen going north and steered by Westron Men in the same garb as the riders on the road. So Brandar turned slightly, to cross the road far ahead of the lead wagon. Then the Seven went untroubled, rested that night, and at dusk of the next day arrived at the River Theweg.
Here they found the river filled as far as they could see with countless bones and decaying bodies of Men and Durwolc, and livestock, while it was also apparent that the enemy were dumping here their bodily waste. Furthermore, along both of its banks skittered rodents and enormous reptiles, and countless unnamable creatures feasting upon the carcasses. And the foul air was thick with dark swarms of stinging insects. Hence, Brandar turned northwest, and led the Six a distance from the river, to a place where they could make a night’s camp from which they may set out early on the morn in search of a fording-place from which to continue east, and then seek for the road from the village of Crossroad; though they expected it no longer to exist. Years and bitter had the Long Siege been, and the Seven kenned indeed that Andaria was soon to fall.
With the sunrise, the Seven headed north along a path with the river to their right, but not far upon this route, Alak stopped them with a shout. And pointing ahead, he said: “Look, upstream. A very large warrior, with a great following afoot.” “Yes,” said Brandar. “Very tall he is. A Giant, do you think?” “A Giant it is,” said Alak, fearfully. “What shall we do?” “It must be a river patrol,” said Brandar, “coming this way. Could we swim to the other side before they reach us? Surely they would not cross to come after us.” “Nay, Lord,” said Daram. “The river is too far, and too wide. We would wear ourselves out in swimming it, what with these heavy disguises. Then the enemy might shoot us with arrows, or capture us as we founder back to shore.” “Or we may be eaten by those snaggle-toothed lizards,” said Khalen. “And I dread to think of the filth in the water,” said Erek. “We may die of some plague should we as much as touch it!” “Agreed,” said Brandar. “But where do we go? The Giant must be seeing us. Quick, my fellows. What say you? I am at a quandary here. So much for your Leader.” “Let us curve about,” said Tomas, “and travel northwest, out of their way. They could not have marked our true course at this distance.” “Very well,” said Brandar. “But we must run, the better to get past. And pray they do not turn aside and come upon us in the open.”
Unfortunately, their prayers were not answered. And ere the Seven had gone even due west of the enemy patrol the Giant took to running out with a small band of Trollo to meet with the disguised Northrons. Six of his following he brought with him, of a breed called Hdutarin, who are tall and strong of limb, bred to endure daylight, and able to run long and swiftly. And the Northrons could see that the rest of the Giant’s company turned also to follow their leader, though at a slower pace. Thus, there was no escape, and little chance that the creatures were coming to have a nice little chat.
The Northrons halted and awaited the coming of the Giant.
As with most days of the Long Siege, the sky was darkly overcast, and the air thick with smoke. Therefore, the waning daylight was not bright and warm, but cold and gloomy. And in that grey light the Northrons stood, growing ever more fearful at the lumbering approach of the Giant, so daunting his height, so frightful his appearance.
“Hold!” called the Giant, striding up to the Seven, though the Men waited still as stone. “Who goes there?” the large monster bellowed, coming to tower over Brandar, who stood to the fore while the Trollo band arrived close behind their master.
More than twenty feet high stood the Giant, and his Trollo at least twelve feet. And they were all fanged of tooth, scaly of hide, and long-clawed. But, as the Giant was somewhat more man-shaped, his thick lumpy skin was a sickly brown in color, with the Trollo a dark sort of green. And they all held large spiked war-clubs. “I am Gar, of the Otog,” said the Giant, loudly. “I am Lord of the Riverland. Who are you? And why are you here?” But Brandar was at the moment at a loss for words. “Come now,” said Gar, somewhat less loudly, believing the disguises, “a strange sort you are, by the looks. A gaggle of weakling Udtyr and puny Hduta. Speak, sluggards! What are you up to, running out here on your own?” And by this, Gar had unwittingly revealed that he suspected the Seven of being deserters.
“My Lord’s pardon,” said Brandar, as loudly as he dared. “I am Brar of the Autho, and these fighters are my guards. We are on an urgent errand for the High Ones of the Front. You must allow us to pass unhindered.” Then Brandar showed forth his badge, and tried his best to look important.
The Giant seemed puzzled by the badge, but was not cowed. And he adjusted his grip on his club. But the Trollo went wide-eyed upon seeing the badge, and stood slightly back, for the badge was that of a Gress Captain who had served as the Herald of a powerful Trollo Mage, whom they had seen once before.
“That trinket means nothing if it is stolen!” trumpeted the Giant, raising his club a bit higher. “Speak, now. What is your errand? Speak or perish.” Then Gar leaned menacingly over Brandar, but did not seem ready to strike for no reason. “Wise is my Lord to be suspicious of strangers,” said Brandar. “And I will speak of it to my Master, once my errand is done. But wiser still would it be for you to let us pass, for we are stronger than we look. And you may be surprised at what we can do.” Then Gar and his Trollo gave out long evil laughs, since the disguised Northrons did not seem threatening at all, and the monsters thought that Brandar had made jest. “You do not look strong to me,” said Gar, amidst his mirth. “Come now, scum wart. Tell me your orders, afore I squash you like a bug.” “I could tell you, High One,” said Brandar. “But that would bring down the wrath of both our Masters, and maybe the Emporor himself. Rather, let us prove who we are by proving we can do what we say. I challenge you to wrestle for passage! You and I together. And if I win, you must let us go freely upon our errand. But if I lose, why then I shall tell you all about our secret mission, and you can decide for yourself what is to be done. What do you say? Will you wrestle for our passage?”
Gar and his Trollo had an even better laugh at that. “Wrestle?” said he. “You and me together? Why, the least of my slaves could have you for breakfast.” And all the Trollo laughed that much harder. “Besides, why should I believe you? I think you are a liar and a deserter. Why should I believe you at all?” “To save yourself the Emporor’s displeasure, Lord Otog,” said Brandar. “But if you do not believe me in any wise, then still, I challenge you for passage. What do you say? Or are you afraid that I will win?”
Well, that was more than Gar could stand, and it stopped the laughter cold. And he eyed Brandar evilly, suddenly angered to be insulted in the presence of his followers. “That does it,” said Gar, throwing his club into the dirt so that it stuck upright by means of its long spikes. And he leapt upon Brandar with a howl, fully intending to crush the disguised Northron and trample him to a bloody pulp. But Brandar was, by nature, very quick, and easily dodged the lunge, which gave him just the space he needed to speak the word to activate the magic of his pearl hidden beneath his tunic. Then he wrestled with the Giant in truth; finding that the strength imparted to him by my gift made him much stronger than Gar the Otog. Yet, he knew as well that using his magic might give him away to Mages or other enemies thereabouts. And so, therefore, did the Volunteers activate their own necklaces.
Gar was very surprised at Brandar’s strength, and quickly guessed that it was magical. Then he fought tooth and nail until, at last, Brandar climbed up and took Gar by the neck and choked him into a swoon.
Of course, the Giant’s guards were amazed at this feat. And they pulled back, readying their clubs when the disguised Volunteers raised their swords and shouted in triumph. But this, Brandar stood between the two groups, saying: “Fear not, great Hdutar! Your leader is not dead, but merely sleeps. Look! Even now he stirs himself awake.” Verily, the Giant was rising. And the Trollo stood by, dazed and confused, believing Brar to be a very great fighter, despite his stature. But Gar roused himself, and went to stand by his guards, trying desperately to regain his senses.
Then Brandar stood before him once more, saying: “Now will you not yield the passage? I have won our contest. You must honor our bargain.” But the humiliated Giant had pride to match his size. Never before had he been defeated by so small a foe. What is more, he must have suddenly remembered that another Autho once bore the badge which Brandar had showed him so boldly.
“Kill them!” shouted Gar, leaping to grab up his war-club. “Kill them all!” And immediately was battle joined, where Brandar's Volunteers fought with one each of the Trollo, as Brandar went after the Giant as before. And clutching the monster’s garment, Brand again climbed upon Gar, clamping his arms about the beast’s neck once more. Yet, ere he could be choked a second time, Gar began swinging his club so as to hit Brandar with it, and swung it repeatedly. But Brandar was too fast for the lumbering Giant, and deftly dodged the strikes, whereas Gar managed only to wound himself many times; once so gravely that it sent him to his knees. With that, Brandar grabbed the creature by the ears and twisted the giant's head around so hard that Gar’s neck was broken with a loud snap, and so he fell over with deep thud, dead upon the ground, as Brandar leapt deftly off, landing spryly upon his feet.
Naturally, since Brandar had activated his magic, the Volunteers knew that death was near, so they had activated their own while the Trollo guards were busy watching the wrestling match. And when all was done, the Six stood alive over their foes, who had no chance against such power.
“Now we have done it!” said Brandar, standing by the dead Giant. “The enemy may have sensed our magic and shall send someone to seek us out. Cancel the magic of your necklaces. And take up the badges of this lot.” And so was it done. “We must fly from this place, swiftly, ere the Giant’s company reaches us. Come! Let us go.” Then Brandar led the Six south as fast as ever any of them had run before.