Always Count the Horns

They didn't kill us. They didn't even tie our hands behind our backs. I initially mistook that for kindness. The reality was, forcing three people to climb a mountain without the use of their arms was terribly inefficient.

They did, however, take everything else. Waki reluctantly surrendered four knives. The orc searching her found another. Then two more a moment later. He stopped searching and stared. Waki stared back with the same irritating expression that was always glued to her face. It was enjoyable watching someone else have to deal with her for a change.

The orc patted one of her boots. She sighed and produced another knife. “Last one?” he asked. Waki gave no response so he checked the other boot. Strapped to her ankle was yet another knife. The dwarf beside him started laughing. “Keep laughing,” Waki said. “I only need you to miss one.” The dwarf stopped laughing.

Nimiwa surrendered her staff and her dictionary, but the latter with considerably more reluctance. When a human soldier reached for the book, she pulled it against her chest and spoke rapidly in Elvish. None of the soldiers understood her. She tried again. “Book. Mine.” After several attempts, the human finally promised to keep it safe and held out both hands. She looked at Waki who gave her a shrug, then reluctantly handed it over.

I had pretty much nothing. No gear for them to search. No sword. No knives hidden in increasingly questionable places. The soldier searching me looked disappointed.

“So the human carries nothing?”

“I carry the conversation.”

Their disapproval was perfectly clear as they shoved me forward into position.

I was somewhat reassured when they took us north rather than toward Dozorhold. Our captors were exactly as varied as they had appeared during the ambush. Two humans. An orc. A dwarf. A troll who carried a club large enough to prevent anyone from forgetting that disagreements could be solved by breaking bones. There were also three people I couldn't identify. One had long animal ears and a tail. Another had grey skin patterned with black lines.

They moved like they had spent years working together in the field. Each positioned themselves in a way they could defend each other but still manage the prisoners. When the dwarf complained that the orc walked too quickly, the orc slowed down. When I stumbled and a human caught my arm, the other already had a hand on his sword.

Nimiwa kept her head on a swivel as she tried to follow conversations she couldn't understand. Fear appeared to have lost a competition to curiosity. The real danger of oracle work seemed to be forgetting about self preservation.

Eventually the orc noticed. “What?”

Nimiwa immediately asked him something in Elvish.

He shrugged and ignored it. Nimiwa looked over at Waki who was also ignoring it. When Nimi reached for Waki, every weapon around us moved. Waki sighed and translated with obvious annoyance.

“She wants to know how long you have fought beside the dwarf.”

The orc lowered his bow slightly. “Three years.”

Nimiwa asked another question. Waki ignored her until she poked Waki's arm. The weapons came halfway up again. “Stop doing that,” Waki snapped. Nimiwa pointed at the dwarf. “She wants to know if you came from the same people.”

“No.” The weapons started to lower once more. “She moves like that again and she loses her head.”

Nimiwa's ears twitched and she immediately asked another question. The orc groaned and Waki gave him a sympathetic look. Waki had a brief argument with Nimiwa and appeared to win since Nimi fell back in line and pouted.

We continued following the orc until he abruptly stopped before a steep wall of stone. It looked just like the rest of the mountain except for a small red rope that hung from a spike hammered above one boulder. The orc took another step toward the wall and disappeared. A shove from behind forced me to do the same. There was a narrow opening between two slabs of rock. Beyond it, the mountain opened into a cavern large enough to hide a small military camp.

Wooden shelters had been built against the stone walls. Supplies were stacked in rows with clear paths between them. A smith worked beside a small forge built into the wall. Orcs sharpened swords next to humans repairing arrows. A woman with rabbit ears was distributing rations beside a troll.

Nobody stopped to stare at us for long, which was probably the most worrying part. I'd spent enough time in chains to know they had prisoners often enough that we weren't interesting. That also meant they had plenty of experience dealing with, and likely disposing of, them.

An exact number was hard to calculate, but it was definitely over thirty. Most were in rough shape. Scars, missing fingers and ears told me these weren't villagers who had recently picked up swords. Their armor didn't look much better. Nimiwa kept stopping to stare openly, only to be shoved forward again and again.

A goblin limped past us carrying a box stamped with a symbol that looked like an explosion. The orc leading our group stopped and let him pass. “How's the knee?” he asked as he went by.

“Attached.”

The orc nodded. “Keep it that way.”

We were taken into a smaller chamber near the rear of the cavern. An iron door made me briefly think it was a prison. Instead there was a table covered in maps, stacks of paper, a weapons rack and one extremely large chair. They took our belongings to the far side of the room and forced us to our knees.

All eight soldiers remained, with the troll standing guard by the door. He kept his club very visible. The others spread around us in positions that discouraged anything heroic.

Several minutes passed until I heard a loud series of clicks against the stone behind me. I went to turn my head and was kicked in the back for it.

A girl about as tall as Hanwi walked past us. Two thick black horns grew from the sides of her head, curving upward at the ends. They added an extra two to three heads of height to her.

She had mostly human features that I could see, but coarse fur covered her lower legs, ending in dark hooves. A short military coat hung over her small frame and a thick belt carried a knife nearly as long as her thigh. On an adult sized man it would still have been a knife. On her, I guess it bordered on a sword.

She walked past us without immediately acknowledging our existence. “Report,” she said as she climbed onto the large chair in front of us.

The orc who had captured us straightened. “Three moving north from the forest. No insignia. One human, two elves. They crossed observation line seven, Cap'n.”

The small woman looked me over. “Human. Name.”

“Uriel,” I said.

She pointed toward Waki. “Waki.”

Then toward Nimiwa. Nimi was staring at her horns. The woman noticed where Nimiwa was looking and said, “They count.” Nimiwa tilted her head and continued staring. When the small woman started looking very annoyed, I answered for her. “Nimiwa.”

Hearing her name startled Nimiwa. She looked at me, then back to the woman on the chair and placed a hand over her chest. The soldiers immediately reached for their weapons. “My name. Nimiwa Numa.”

The woman rested her head on one palm and waited to see what we would do next.I looked her over and followed Nimiwa's gaze back to the horns. When I finally returned my focus to the woman, I wasn't impressed. The horns were more imposing than the girl beneath them.

“You're the captain?” I asked.

The woman glared at me. “You were expecting someone else?”

“I was expecting more of one.”

One of the soldiers behind us snorted. The woman pointed at him without looking. “You laugh again, Tovan, you're carrying the squad's rations tomorrow.” The laughter stopped. “Captain Ceara,” she said. “If you're still disappointed, would you like to learn how quickly my knife can open your throat?”

I looked at the knife. “I prefer to keep that a mystery.”

Ceara climbed down from the chair and walked directly toward me. Being on my knees, we were roughly at eye level. Up close, her fiery eyes made me reconsider my earlier analysis of the horns. I decided Captain Ceara was tall enough that provoking her would not be a good idea.

“What are a human and two elves doing on my mountain?” she asked.

“We came to meet the general,” I said.

“No.” She drew the knife at her waist and rested the point against my chest. “The Imperial Order has spent months trying to find us. Now a human and two elves appear asking for the general.” Ceara pressed the knife harder against my chest. “Tell me why I shouldn't assume they finally succeeded.”