XXIX. On the March

638 63 4
                                    

The first shipment of dwarven weapons came months later, but when they cracked open the crates, it became obvious that it was well worth the wait. Sorne watched with silent approval as the orcs passed out gleaming spears with dwarven steel heads, axes that could cleave through shields with ease, and swords so sharp one could shave with them. There was even armor, though it was of a one-size-fits-everyone-or-no-one variety. The dwarves simply hadn't had time to make things to individual specifications. Still, if they survived this war, the orcs remaining would be so much deadlier. If the men of the south were not armored and armed properly in the next war, they would find their advances slaughtered at the border.

"Genev has refused us passage," Banaak said as he came to a stop next to Sorne, tall and proud even though grey was creeping into his dark, wiry hair.

Sorne had stepped away from that negotiation willingly, well aware that her temper was boiling under the surface at the thought of dealing with one of Aldana's hounds. Perhaps the messenger was a good man, as she wasn't certain, but she wasn't certain she particularly cared either. The anger that she had assumed would fade hid itself, but any reminder made it resurface with a vengeance. "Is it wrong that I'm not surprised?" she said quietly.

"Talin was more amenable. Their king granted us permission so long as we remain on the border and do not stray from our path south to Ethilir," her old mentor said.

"Being on that border could antagonize the Genevais. Damn it. Did the Talinese at least agree to supply us?" Sorne asked, turning to face him.

Banaak's grimace didn't inspire a lot of hope. "They agreed to sell to us at a reduced cost. Little mercenary bastards," he said. "If we don't have the finances for it, it'll get ugly. The army will have to forage, and you can bet the local farmers won't appreciate that."

Áshildr looked up from her ledger, seated in the grass nearby. "We can pay the cost, Fire-Heart, as we have gold where the orcs do not," she said, though her frown was not easing. "But we will be bankrupt at the end of this."

"That matters less to us than it would to them," Sorne said. "At least the dwarves' gifts came without requirement of money. To think everyone says they crave treasure more than any."

"That bankruptcy will make our return very complicated," Áshildr said honestly. "Once we are down there and fighting, we will have no recovery other than rout. Armies do not march well on empty bellies. As Banaak says, we would have to forage, and that would surely spark another war. Unless, that is, the human kings can be persuaded to change their mind."

Sorne sighed a little bit. "Soak up the casualties and make ourselves indispensable. Which I suppose was Murdak's plan anyway. First into battle, last out of it. Alternatively, we might be able to intimidate them into compliance, if there are enough of us at the end of this."

Banaak stretched, but Sorne recognized it as a sign of tension rather than relaxation. "Well, we can move significantly faster than a human army, considering we all might as well be on horseback with better ability to handle rough terrain. With giants or njoshari at the vanguard, we can plow through any scouts or initial resistance the enemy might throw out. Hitting the bulk of them is going to be the problem. From everything Holland said, we're not looking at a normal army. We're looking at a war machine."

"Hjorr said they are sailing quickly, and straight for Sarom," the giant priestess said even as she looked back down at the book, conducting a careful tally of forces as scouts and representatives reported in. The giants were more methodical and measured than the orcs, but both knew their business. "That is a trade city, not a stronghold."

"I hear it has thick defenses," Banaak said.

Sorne looked over at Dálkr, who was waiting patiently next to Áshildr. "You know it better than we do, Dálkr," she said. Their warrior-poet had been down to Sarom before, one of the few among them who had ranged that far south.

Heart of FlameWhere stories live. Discover now