Part 2:4

Ben frowned and silently mouthed: “What?”

Seth had turned pale, and his chin trembled. He wasn’t ready to face Brack. Not yet, it was too soon, he needed more time.

Ben crept toward him and took him by the shoulders. He leaned in close and whispered: “What’s wrong?”

Seth flinched and blinked a few times before licking his lips. His voice quivered: “Nothing. It’s fine, I’m fine.”

The older boy’s frown deepened and his eyes searched Seth’s. He shrugged and pointed back the way they had come, indicating that he should go back, but despite the trembling in his hands and legs, Seth shook his head: “I’m fine, really.”

Ben nodded and headed back to the bushes, leaving Seth to gather his wits. He remained against the tree for several minutes, staring, as if he could see Brack beyond the thick bush. He then ran a hand through his hair and crawled back to join his two friends. Tugul’s face was contorted in a scowl, and he kept shaking his head. Ben was saying something with a complex series of hand signals that Seth didn’t understand, and by the look on Tugul’s face, he was sure the orc didn’t like it. Ben glowered and repeated the signals, each hand movement more exaggerated than the last, and the orc shook his head more insistently with each gesture.

A voice rose above the calm of the forest and Seth turned back to watch the camp. Brack had given the command to mount up and they had formed a column. Most of the viscount’s men had been killed or captured with Duke Edward’s timely arrival, which now left him with only a handful of knights and a few men-at-arms. They had also discarded their insignias and surcoats, and now wore hooded cloaks to hide their armor. To a wayward traveler, they were just another ordinary company—or more like bandits, Seth thought.

With a hand signal the column began to move, and the viscount sat atop his dark horse watching as they filed into the forest. “They’re leaving,” Seth whispered, his fear of Brack overridden by the potential of losing him again. But Tugul and Ben hadn’t noticed, they remained locked in their silent argument. “Ben,” he whispered louder, tapping the boy on the shoulder, “They’re leaving!”

Ben turned to Seth with a murderous scowl: “What!” he said, his tone a whispered shout.

“They’re leaving.”

Ben parted the bushes, cursed, and picked up his spear. The orc grunted and placed a hand on his shoulder. The boy glanced at the hand and shrugged it off: “I’m going,” was all he said, before bursting through the bushes with a screeching shout.

Seth’s mouth dropped open and he stared wide-eyed as Ben charged into the clearing. The last man in the column pulled on the reins and his horse reared and turned. Two more men-at-arms brought their horses around and Ben lifted the spear over his head and hurled it at them. The weapon flew wide, and the men laughed.

“Who are you boy?” The first shouted.

Ben stood in the middle of the clearing, chest heaving, arms out to his sides, and his hands curled into fists.

“Didn’t your mother teach you it’s rude to throw sticks,” another said, drawing laughter from the other two.

Brack trotted along behind them. He pulled his hood back and stared at the boy.

There was nothing in his look to suggest that the Viscount recognized him, and the thought brought a chill to Ben’s blood. “Look at me,” he yelled.

The Viscount’s expression remained unreadable. “We are to remain unseen,” he said calmly. “Leave no trace.”

“My Lord,” the three men said in chorus. The first drew his sword and spurred his horse into a trot, his face grim.

Panic surged through Seth, and he jumped to his feet; his head and shoulders clearing the top of the bushes. “Run,” he screamed.

Ben dived out of the way as the horse bore down on him, the rider swinging his sword low, passing within inches of the boy’s head.

A blood-curdling roar sounded across the clearing and Tugul erupted from the bushes. He charged forward with his mighty sword held above his head. Startled, the horse reared throwing its rider and bolted. Tugul continued his charge toward the remaining men-at-arms.

Seth’s gaze shifted from the orc to Brack. The Viscount was staring at him; his eyes were narrowed, his face twisted in a sneer, and he rubbed at his arm where Seth had cut him with the dagger. His head swiveled back to the orc. “Kill it,” he commanded, pulling on the reigns and turning toward the forest. He glanced over his shoulder at Seth, then spurred his horse and galloped away.

Bringing their horses under control, the men drew their swords and charged as the orc bounded toward them.

Tugul leapt, swinging his sword in an arc. The blade smashed through the sword of the first man-at-arms and continued toward his neck, cleaving his head from his shoulders. The orc landed, pivoted, then dashed behind the last slashing with his sword and slicing through armour and flesh. The man arched his back, dropped his sword, and fell to the ground.

The first rider who had been thrown from his horse staggered to his feet, glanced around, saw the orc and fled into the forest. Ben growled and went to chase him, but Tugul’s meaty hand grabbed him by the scruff and lifted him off the ground.

“Let me go, let me go,” he squawked, kicking and swinging his arms. He struggled and twisted, held in mid-air until he tired and slumped in the orc’s grip. As the man disappeared into the trees, Ben’s face went slack, and his head bowed. “It’s fine, you can let me go now,” he said.

Seth stumbled from the bushes, the branches and thorns catching at his clothing. Never had he seen anything like that. His mouth was open and eyes wide as he stared at the dead bodies on the ground. The epic battles in the stories his father had told him never had any blood—or headless people. He moved around the orc, keeping his distance, and staring at the bloody sword still clutched in his hand. He shuddered trying to shake off the grim scene.

“Ben,” he called, running toward him. The boy was slumped on his knees among the carnage. “Are you okay?” The older boy didn’t move, his head downcast and staring at nothing. “What in the world were you thinking. You nearly died,” he said, his anger rising. “You could have gotten us killed!” the last word came out as a shout. Ben looked up, eyes brimming with tears. He flashed a wild look and Seth instinctively took a step back.

“You’re alive aren’t you!” He said, fiercely.

The look in Ben’s eyes and the tears threatening to escape cooled Seth’s anger. He stepped forward and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Ben slapped his hand away. “Get away from me,” he said quietly.

The sting of rejection hurt more than the slap and Seth snatched his hand back. “I-I’m sorry. I just wanted to help.”

“Get away from me!” Ben shouted.

Wincing, Seth looked at Tugul who was searching the bodies for anything of use. Their eyes met and the orc frowned. He wasn’t angry, Seth thought. It was sympathy, maybe empathy? He wasn’t sure and turned away, walking back to the bushes, and sitting down.

It was mid-day by the time Ben got up and walked into the forest. He had remained slouched on his knees and staring into nowhere the entire time. The only movement was the wind ruffling his matted hair, and the tears that had trickled down his face had dried, leaving clean trails on his cheeks. Seth had sat at the edge of the clearing, under the shade of the trees, watching. Eventually he grew bored and laid back. Now, unsure of what to do, he sat up and looked at Tugul who was meditating on the far side of the clearing. The orc had spent most of the morning removing any evidence of battle and dragging the bodies into the forest. He opened his eyes and watched as Ben disappeared into the trees. Once the boy was gone, he looked at Seth, held his gaze for a moment, then stood and walked the opposite direction into the forest.

“H–hey, where’s everyone going?” Seth called, jumping to his feet. “You’re all just going to leave?” He turned to where Ben had left the clearing. “Great. Was safer on my own anyway.” He drew in a deep, sharp breath, held it for a moment, then picked up his bag and followed Ben.