We walked back down, away from the ice and snow, to the river, then through the valley under the Great Mountain.
To something worse...
First, I thought they were Sleep trees. A long line of sleep trees all across the valley. They were not. There were all kinds of trees, with all kinds of bones thrown in them. The bones and skulls of thousands. Across the ground also the bones of The People were cast. Many bones broken and many skulls smashed, and the bones of the orc lay amongst them. Weapons too, and parts of weapons. Hundreds of skulls, too, were piled up in mounds, the hollow eyes staring down at me.
I held Tomm and wept. I had never seen such horror.
Perhaps Tomm had. He was silent. His cold eyes were dry and his gaze was far away.
There was a carved rock too, on the path by the river bank. Its runes read-
“FEY DIE HERE.”
I began to understand the meaning of the word ‘Fey’.
Then the orc came.
We heard them first, smashing through the trees. Then we smelt them. Then they were upon us.
Tomm and I threw our knives at the leading orc. One to the belly, one to the head.
Our bull charged on the narrow path, hammering two orc with his horns.
Then they were around us. They knew then to avoid the bull’s horns and mighty rear hooves. They came from the sides, stabbing up at us with knives and spears. Hacking towards our legs and the bull with axes.
I smashed one orc skull with my axe as it reached up to stab me.
Next, the bull was hurt and went mad. Thrashing with his hooves and butting and goring. Leaping in circles, frantic to kill orc. He spun and kicked and roared in pain and rage… and all we could do was hold on.
In a moment it was over.
The orc fled into the forest, or jumped into the river and were washed away.
Our bull calmed, and we caught our breath.
My legs and arms were cut, but not bad. But Tomm’s left leg was cut to the bone, and the bulls flank was cut badly.
“Wait here!” I shouted.
I leapt from the bull, into the forest, and searched for the leaves that heal.
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