Drovic was down the path in no time, the moon’s small amount of light more than enough to see where he was going, and the shadows it cast provided him with a way of avoiding a few more patrols. He could blend with the darkness as if he were one with it. He noticed that the patrols were not looking for the villagers but more for something or someone. It was odd that orcs were not the ones battling at the gates. If it were Drovic, he would use his most potent forces to deal with the villagers and then search for my prize.

“Unless I was afraid of it slipping out unseen and was using the goblins and beast as a distraction. Clever plan, my friend, but you did not consider me looking for you.” From the corner of Drovic’s eye, he noticed a fire’s light coming from a small clearing just ahead of him. The leader had sent his men out into the woods. The patrol’s goal was to contain the people in the merchant hall. He quickly climbed up the tree limbs and began to navigate towards the clearing to gain a better view.

He edged his way towards the clearing, using every ounce of his skill not to make a sound and to be ready to strike at a moment’s notice. He must not allow these Orcs to succeed. As he rounded the east side of the clearing, Drovic noticed the group heading towards the north. Their path was going to take them very close to him. As he counted, five of these more giant Orcs were guarding what he could just make out as five small cold iron chests in the centre, carried by a large minotaur in the centre of the group. The creature’s massive arms could carry the chest without breaking stride with the others around him.

Drovic placed his back against the tree, letting himself slowly down it. He was feeling each little bump on the tree. He was processing what he was seeing before him. Time seemed to slow before his very eyes. He knew he could not allow them to escape with the chest, but he also knew that this force of Orcs was trained and focused.

They kept a close grouping, eyes about for any threat, and their weapons and armour were clean and well-maintained. It was a balancing act, Drovic gripped his dagger, but without risk, there could be no gain. With that, he swirled around the tree and went deeper into the woods. He knew which direction they were heading, and he could swing around to try to remove the threats.

The forest seemed to be holding its breath. If Drovic was one of the surface elves, he might have felt like the tree spirits were standing watch over this event. The trees acted as silent watchers, aiming to record this passing event into the ages of time itself; however, Drovic was not one of these simple, carefree surface elves. He was a calculating master of his path; at least, that is what he told himself as he slipped in and out of the shadows. Drovic’s bloodlust filled him with new energy, the lust for the hunt flowed into Drovic’s body as dawn began to break. He knew the time to act was before the shadows waned in the sun’s glory. The Orc group began to slow, and Drovic went for his daggers to remove two of the Orcs before they knew he was even there; however, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her.

Her dress seemed to be made up of stars and mood lights. It was a pale blue colour which sparked as it caught the small rays of sunlight. She spoke softly but with force. Her voice seemed to travel outward like an intense summer wind. “I see that you have achieved our goal besides losing over half of our forces.” The strong-armed minotaur reached out, offering her the chest. She reached out with a soft pale hand and touched the case’s lid. She screamed and pulled away from her hand, the cold iron burning her hand. “Curse that beast of a man,” she spat.

A flash of silver followed by a second, finding their marks with professional effectiveness into the necks of two of the more giant Orcs in the back of the group, but Drovic knew better than to charge in on this group like a mindless dwarf; he laughed to himself. Instead decided to circle his prey. Flash blacks to the time he was following this wealthy merchant in the city of Cain. He would loop around and back, using the trees as springboards to propel himself around the battlefield. His daggers landed cleanly into the exposed throats of the brainless Orcs.

Before his daggers could return, Drovic reached deep inside himself. Touching his life forces, he needed to remove the threats before they could overtake him. Reaching for his mana, he wordlessly cast out energy towards the massive minotaur. The beast hit the forest floor, snoring as loud as an angry bear. Drovic cast a complex sleep spell. The spell would drain his life mana from him; however, it would be easier for him to dispatch the beast with a spell than his favourite daggers.

The beautiful lady of the woods snapped into action just as fast as Drovic’s daggers. Relishing that some mortal was trying to disrupt her plan, the illusion of beauty disappeared, and a raging, hellish banshee showed her true colours. As the minotaur toppled to the ground, she realized a scream that shattered the trees around Drovic. Punching holes as large as an Orc fist into the rough bark of the ancient Oaks. Drovic was already in a dive around on his pathway around the thieving Orc party. The daggers reappeared in his hands as two orcs moved onto the path to block his future escape attempts; however, Drovic bent his legs into a squat as he came out of the dive and launched himself up. The hungry Orc axe cut into the ground between his legs.

With his jump in the air, the second Orc punched out, just missing the nimble assassin, and his fist when passed his leg by an inch causing the Orc to stumble forward. The metal fist leads in the direction of the stumble. Drovic kicked out, and his right leg landed on the face of the stumbling Orc, and the blow caused a cracking sound. It led to a shower of blood pouring out of the dumbfounded Orc. Drovic pushed off the Orc’s face as the original Orc’s rippling muscles tightened, and he could free his axe from the earth’s embrace. Drovic bent his back into a tight spin, landing on the axe shaft and, with his free hands, drove the daggers into the Orc’s eye slits. The helm stopped the blades from killing the beast, but it did blind the Orc, causing it to go into a blind rage. Drovic released his grip on the daggers as he heard the Banshee scream again, yelling at more Orcs to attack the unwelcomed phantom.

A black arrow raced across Drovic’s field of vision as it passed inches from his face. It found a home in the blinded Orc’s throat. The Orc’s body went limp with his live blood streaming from the wound the arrow created. With the dead husk falling forward, Drovic lost his balance and tumbled forward to the ground. Knocking the air from his lungs with a stabbing pain caused his vision to go black for a second, which is all it took the Orc archer to send another arrow flying towards Drovic. With a crackle, the arrow slammed into the hero’s breast. He cried out in pain; however, he had to move, or pain would be the last thing he had to worry about.

Pushing the pain out of his mind, he jumped to his feet and charged toward the archer. The Orc has survived many a battle to gain a rank of standing among the already dead heavy armour Orcs but seeing this phantom charge at him after the rest of the troops had fallen put the fear of the dark gods into this lone warrior. The Orc took hold of his wits and let loose another arrow in hopes of putting down this ferocious foe. Drovic was prepared this time and was using the natural cover of the forest, and the arrow slammed into the side of an old pine. He dashed forward the last few strides and withdrew the arrow from the wound.

He gripped it in his bloody hands and stabbed the Orc, the arrowhead finding a home in the collar bone, “How do you like being hit with an arrow,” Drovic screamed as spit and blood came flying out of his mouth. The Orc fell to the ground, slowly bleeding out from his own arrow. The banshee was still screaming for more to attack the lone human, but she soon realized she was alone. Then she cut off the flow of magic, and her image disappeared in the morning mist.

Drovic pulled open his satchel pocket and pulled out a red glass bottle with a thick wooden cork on the top. Using his teeth, he bit into the cork and pulled it free. He then poured the thick goo over the arrow wound. The goo began to fill the hole, and with one good hand, he spread it out over his wounded breast. Then pressed hard, the goo hardened into a tight shell. “Now that this bleeding has stopped let us see what the big deal was all about,” Drovic whispered.

Drovic began walking carefully towards the sleeping minotaur and the chest they died trying to defend. The creature was in a deep sleep, with drool coming out of the beast’s mouth and a large amount of snot dripping from its nose. With disgust towards the creature, Drovic kicks it as hard as he can, heel first into the creature’s eye. The beast awakens with a sudden shock to the system. Drovic bent down and grabbed the beast by the nose. Hooking two fingers to the creature’s large nose, he pulled it to face him eye to eye. In his free hand, he held one of his daggers right below the minotaur’s eyeball, the dagger lightly piercing the creature’s eye lip. Blood slowly began to drip down the blade towards the guard.

The beast could see the dead bodies of the heavy armoured Orcs around him and noticed that his mistress was gone. The beast snarled at the little human who dared to be bold with him; however, he knew this man was not to be trifled with. “What do you want?”

Drove explained, “Is not it simple, my dear cowman. You have information, and I want to know it.”

Laughing a deep laugh but trying not to move, “Even if I tell you all I know, I would be as good as dead. From your daggers or my mistress’s rage.”

“Ahhh, a businessman after my own heart. You know the score well, sir. I am up. I do not remember how many kills of your comrades, and your mistress has fled from my silver beauties. But you still wish to wager a deal. I respect that.”

“What is it you wish to know to spare me, my life.”

“Who are you working for?”

“Working in such a poor term for it, working is a word to define me getting something for my labour. I am not so lucky. I am working for a group looking for something within that old mountain. Most of the creatures that attacked the town were no better than enslaved people. I am one of them. I am not so well off as these Orcs, but it was either work for the mistress or have her tan my hide for a floor mate.”

Drovic released the creature’s nose, and with a quick snap of his wrist, the snot splattered off his hand. “That sounds bad, Mr. Cow. However, I do not care.” Drovic went and casually sat on the chest he won in battle. “Feel free to sit up. I do not want to kill you as of yet, and let us discuss this fairly.” With that statement, he waves to the minotaur to sit up.

The beast begins to rise and looks Drovic right in the eyes, “What stops me from charging at you right now and killing you, dead!” With that, he snorted and started to glare.

“What stopped me from cutting your throat as you slept under my spell? What stopped me from butchering all these Orcs. Nothing, but I did it all the same. The question you should ask yourself, Mr. Cow, is, do you think you can crush me before I end you?

“Good points.” With that, the minotaur walks over towards the edge of the clearing and pulls a stump of a tree straight out of the ground, moves towards Drovic, and places it with a loud thud on the ground. “I want to live and be damn stupid to risk it all for someone else’s riches.”

“So, let us make a deal, tell me what I want to know, and you leave the north forever.” With that, a nod was given by both parties.

Clearing his throat, “Alright, I worked from a group of enforcers. They raid villages up and down the coast of Jordan’s fall. I made some good coins; we were then hired by these Orcs that you see among you now. They are called the Iron Legion. They believed that they were born from the power under the mountain. They are looking for a way into their old home.” He took a deep breath, “I hope you are a man of your word; these guys are evil. I am not an upstanding citizen, but the things I did were nothing compared to them.”

“Is that all you know, the Iron Legion?” That last word seemed to hang in the air and take on a life of its own.

“Yes, the thing you are sitting on should let them into the mountain. It was locked up secretly in that town. What is your.” With those two daggers landed in the beast’s throat.

“That is enough talking for you.” Drovic walked over to the soon-to-be-dead mercenary. The impact of the daggers caused him to fall off his stump. “Stupid beast, neither they nor I would have kept you alive.” With that, he turned around to open the chest. It was beautiful. It was an edge in gold and made from the finest of hardwoods. The lock had already been blasted open, causing damage to the fantastic craft, which could have been thousands of years old and carefully cared for.

He looked inside, and as the chest, what was inside was simple in its beauty. It was a map and a wrench. Nothing else but Drovic could feel the magic wave over him. This was what he was looking for. This is what he had killed for, and not just these Orcs. It was all coming together; the Iron Forge would be his. Then he went to the task of sneaking back into town.