There was no time to explain. "This way!" Farodon shouted and sprinted off toward the west.
Eric hurried after him, his boots crunching softly over the gravelly soil.
After running for some distance, Farodon suddenly dropped flat behind a mound of dirt and motioned for silence.
Eric followed his lead, rolling behind the same rise. His rough linen cloak blended almost perfectly with the dusty terrain, turning him into part of the landscape.
"Look there," Farodon whispered.
Eric followed the ranger's pointing hand. Far ahead, a dark swarm of shapes crowded together near the base of a hill. The place looked disturbingly busy.
"Orcs," Farodon muttered grimly, resting one hand on the hilt of his ancient sword. "At least a hundred of them, maybe more. And I see several wargs too."
Unlike Farodon, whose face had tightened with tension, Eric looked mostly intrigued.
"So that's where they've all gone. I was wondering why I hadn't seen a single orc these past days."
"They're up to something," Farodon said.
Eric squinted toward the commotion. The orcs had surrounded a withered old tree. Several wargs were pacing about, noses close to the ground.
"That," Farodon said, "is one of our hidden outposts."
"I can't see anything that looks like one."
"That's the point. If it's obvious, it's not much of a hidden outpost, is it?"
He frowned. "But it's strange. Why would they all be gathered right above it?"
"Maybe the wargs caught a scent," Eric offered casually.
Farodon nodded. "Possibly. We have ways to confuse their noses, but those tricks don't last forever. They're especially sensitive to the scent of blood. Even the faintest trace drifting in the air can draw them."
He gripped his sword tighter. "If they're circling that spot, then the trail must end there. Which means someone inside might be wounded."
He took a sharp breath and turned to Eric. "I need your help. I'll lure them away. Once they've moved off, go to that tree and imitate a barn owl's call—four times, short-short-short-long. That's the signal for them to open the hatch."
Eric raised a hand. "Hold it. I'm not hooting like some barn owl. Forget it."
"Eric, listen, there are over a hundred of them!" Farodon hissed. "The same number that attacked the roadside fort last winter. They could sack a village with that force, maybe even a small town. You can't just—"
"Oh, I can," Eric interrupted with a small grin. "You've been gone too long, Farodon. The world's changed a bit. So have I."
Before Farodon could stop him, Eric straightened and strolled right out from behind the mound.
The orcs immediately noticed the lone figure walking calmly across the open ground.
Farodon winced. "He's insane." Then, muttering a curse, he rose and followed, bow in hand.
The orcs burst into laughter.
"Ha! Two softskins, walking right into supper!"
"Kill them! Fresh meat tonight!"
A mounted orc barked an order, and the mob erupted. Wargs lunged forward while others raced behind on foot, eager to be first to the kill.
Farodon loosed an arrow, felling one of the charging wargs. He reached for another shaft, but then something strange happened.
The orcs halted. So did the wargs. They stared at Eric, uncertain.
"What's going on?" Farodon whispered.
Eric glanced back over his shoulder. "I'm guessing no one told you everything about me. They, on the other hand, remember perfectly well."
He drew his sword. A pure blue light flared along its edge, bright enough to wash the gray hills in its glow.
The leading orc threw up its hands, eyes wide with horror. "That blade… it's the Nemesis! The sword that took a thousand of our kin—and two war-chiefs!"
Panic spread like wildfire. The orcs recoiled, tripping over one another in their haste to escape. The wargs tucked their tails and fled, howling in terror.
Eric lunged forward, cutting down a few of the slower ones before calling back to Farodon. "Go help your friends. I'll take care of the cleanup."
Farodon just stared at him for a moment, then sighed and lowered his bow. "Fine. Have it your way."
This man was becoming more ridiculous by the day.
As Farodon turned toward the tree, Eric chased the fleeing orcs into the hills. Those that survived the initial panic might regroup later, and that was something he couldn't allow.
When the last echoes of battle had faded, Farodon approached the withered tree.
A soft hooting sound—four calls, just as Eric had described—rose from the branches.
Moments later, two heavy thuds came from beneath the ground.
Farodon knelt and brushed aside a patch of grass and dirt, revealing a wooden hatch cleverly disguised as part of the terrain.
He pried it open.
A hand reached out from the darkness below.
"Ha!" gasped a weary man as he climbed up, gulping fresh air. "Farodon, I can't believe it's really you!"
He looked around nervously. "What's happening out there?"
"It's safe," Farodon assured him. "The orcs are being cleared out as we speak."
The man's shoulders slumped in relief. "Thank the stars. I didn't think we'd make it this time. Since you left for the East, things have only grown worse. Orcs are flooding southward. They're too afraid to linger near the northern borders now, and the ferry to the Shire is nearly impossible to defend."
Farodon's expression tightened. "We'll talk about that later. For now, let's get the wounded topside."
As they descended into the hidden passage, the man asked, "By the way, which company sent our reinforcements?"
Farodon smiled faintly. "If you really want to call it a company, I suppose you could say they're from the roadside fortress."
"The roadside fortress?"
"Yes. Its master, to be exact—the one the orcs fear most."
Meanwhile, not far from the hidden outpost, deep inside a dark cave, the sound of metal striking stone echoed through the tunnels.
A terrified orc crouched in a corner, gripping a cleaver in trembling hands.
Clang.
The wall cracked. Dust poured down as a hole opened wider and wider until a face appeared in the breach. Two piercing eyes gleamed through the gloom and locked onto the orc.
"Well, well," Eric said cheerfully. "Found you, little orc."
Moments later, the cave filled with screams that sent flocks of crows rising from the hills.
That day, the sound of terror spread far and wide across the rolling land.