Sha’dru knew the armorer, so she arranged for them to get proper gambesons and spears for the road. In addition, they both brought their own bows and travel gear as previously agreed. They met the traders at the gate. The caravan was just finishing its preparations for the journey. There were also about a dozen warriors from the chieftain's warband, but as they had established, they were only to accompany them to the borders of the clan's lands.
Gra’sha was in a good mood. She and Sha’dru were to walk in the rear guard, protecting the last of the five heavy wagons, which were loaded to the brim. Her new shield looked noble, and she kept glancing at it with satisfaction as they waited for the journey to begin. It was a three, or in bad weather, a four-day march to Riverbend. She had been on multi-day journeys before for large, organized hunts, but she had never been to the riverside settlement itself, so the prospect of the visit excited her further.
They set off, and after the first hour, she concluded that this was the slowest-moving caravan, if not in the world, then at least on this side of the river. When they finally reached the old willow that marked the conventional boundary of Urg’hur's dominion, the impatient warriors didn't stop with them for a rest. After a short break for a few sips of water, they started their journey back. In such a large group, no one and nothing had bothered them on this stretch. It felt emptier after they left. The rest didn't last long; after a little over a quarter of an hour, the watered and tended animals were pulling the wagons again. According to the plan presented in the morning, the caravan master intended to reach Lonely Rock before dusk, which was not impossible at this pace but required short and infrequent breaks. They planned to set up camp there for the night, protected on at least one side from the elements and other threats by a solid rock wall.
The willow was already far behind them. Two men from the east walked with the orc women, but apart from a few basic phrases, they didn't know the local language. Besides, they kept a slight distance, unaccustomed to the company of the inhabitants of these lands. So the two women chatted among themselves in hushed voices, without neglecting their duty to watch their rear.
"Over there, in that blackthorn on the hill. Isn't that some goblin scout?" Sha’dru asked as the sun was slowly setting.
Gra’sha stretched to get a clear look, and then continued walking without glancing in that direction again. They were far away, but she was almost certain there were two small goblin figures there, so she replied quietly, "Two of them, even."
"I'll let them know. It might be something, it might be nothing. The caravan master should know," she said and went ahead to pass on the news.
The decision was to heighten their vigilance. Additionally, just in case, all the guards reached for some form of ranged weapon. The mere fact of being watched didn't have to mean someone would try to enrich themselves at the caravan's expense, but it was one of the possibilities. After all, incidents of this kind had thinned their ranks enough that now, on their way back through this region, two orcs had been hired and assigned to protect each wagon on top of their remaining forces. Across the river, things were much quieter in this regard, hence their help was needed only as far as Riverbend.
The warriors agreed that they hadn't heard of any free goblin bands in the area numerous enough to pose a real threat to the forces they had here. Of course, in the Marches, the situation often changed quite dynamically, so nothing could be ruled out. More likely, it meant scouts in the service of one of the clans or other raiding groups that weren't yet large enough to carve out their own piece of land but not so small that they couldn't harry smaller settlements or caravans.
It was early dusk when they reached Lonely Rock and made camp. Double watches were ordered due to the incident from a few hours before. Gra’sha was impressed by the thoughtfulness with which the caravan master had arranged the wagons in a semicircle against the rock wall, using them as an outer line of defense. The camp was thus well-protected. Sentries sat on the wagons, shielded by bucklers attached to the specially extended edges of the roofs for this purpose.
"The only clan in these parts is the Bloody Oak clan, but they're no bandits. I don't think their scouts would venture this far south of their lands," Sha’dru began as they sat together on the roof of a wagon after supper. In the middle of the night, the two eastern warriors who had walked with them by this wagon were to relieve them.
"It's probably some independent force. If we're lucky, they're small enough that they'll leave us alone," she replied reassuringly and went back to observing the surroundings. But deep in her heart, she hoped that something would happen, because then she could once again drink the spiritual energy of a fallen enemy and experience that feeling of domination and power. The thought that such a desire lurked within her frightened her a little, and she began to explain it to herself as a desire to test her newly discovered strength.
For the past two weeks, she had been trying to look within herself to better understand the nature of her gift. Her preliminary findings suggested that what she had collected on the battlefield far exceeded anything she had ever "received" in places of worship or on other occasions. This surplus, which was not used to heal her body, had solidified within her, as if thickening and becoming part of her own inner flame. This had significantly strengthened her body, although visually, the physical changes were very subtle. She also realized over time that not only had her battle wounds disappeared, but also all her old scars, minor and major, blemishes, and any other damage she had carried on her body. She wondered if there were other orcs or other beings with a similar gift who would know more about how to use it properly, but she had never heard of any. She did know, however, she should not talk about it with the shamans for her own safety, and she intended to heed her mother's warning.
The rest of their watch passed in quiet conversation, punctuated by silences that were comfortable for both of them. Their replacements climbed onto the roof, and they went down to the small tent they had set up earlier, where they only kicked off their boots and untied their gambesons before lying down to sleep.
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"To arms! To the wagons!" shouts echoed through the camp. The warriors leaped to their feet and, grabbing their ready weapons, jumped outside to assess the situation. Both had been taught by Overseer Dur’var that a boot on your left foot wouldn't do you much good if a stray arrow or the point of a blade reached you through the tent flaps. Apparently, however, the enemy was only just approaching. So they put on their boots and helped each other efficiently don their gambesons. Armed with spears and shields, they ran together to their assigned wagon. Peeking out from behind it, they saw a grim group of orcs and goblins, dusty from life on the road, maybe two dozen strong. To make matters worse, a massive mountain ogre was with them. Most clans didn't give them shelter, rightly believing them to be too unpredictable allies. Not a single one lived in the stronghold of Wolf Rock, but apparently, in raiding bands, they were welcome company.
They advanced in a loose formation, which became even more scattered after being slightly thinned upon entering the range of the defenders' bows. They ran toward one wagon, most likely intending to bypass it on both sides and pour into the camp.
"Focus the defense here!" the guard commander yelled, and with a few other armed men from the east, he took up a position on the left side of the wagon. The two warriors with a few other guards took their places on the other side. The sentries on the wagon roofs didn't stop firing their bows, but in the dim light of lamps and small fires, they couldn't see well enough to hit their targets after the raiders had spread out significantly. When the raiders reached the wagon, the forces were still even. The sentries, not wanting to risk shooting their comrades, abandoned their bows and took the spears instead, to guard the wagon’s roof.
Gra’sha shielded herself and prepared to thrust with her spear. First, however, she parried a javelin, which slid off the well-angled surface of her shield, losing its momentum and doing no harm as it fell into the grass behind her. Sha’dru was right beside her, and she intended to fulfill the promise she had made to her.
The head of a spear flashed, striking toward her, but she was faster. Holding absolutely nothing back as she had during her last training, she dodged and let her opponent miss. As he was pulling back the shaft, she slammed the rim of her shield with all her might into the wood just behind the blade's mounting. The shaft splintered like a piece of kindling broken over a knee. From behind the surprised orc, a goblin armed with a long knife leaped out, flying with a cry toward Sha’dru, but before he could reach his target, he was met by Gra’sha's spear. With a fury, she slammed the goblin impaled on the point against the ground behind her, shattering his bones, and flicked him off the blade in one motion, like an unwanted morsel of stew from a knife.
Before the mature, slightly taller orc in front of her could draw the hatchet from his belt after discarding the useless spear shaft, she swung her shield and, aiming for his neck, struck with the rim. In a reflex, the warrior tried to duck and likely counterattack with the hatchet he was already bringing around in a crosswise swing, but instead of his neck, the shield smashed into his face at eye level. Bones cracked with a snap, and the gaping wound made an unpleasant squelching sound as she ripped her shield from it. He dropped the hatchet from his hand and fell limply before her, dying.
She had waited so long for this moment. The spiritual energy of the fallen warrior, instead of returning to nature, was greedily absorbed by her, this time completely consciously. Battle ecstasy took over her heart, but not her mind. The familiar tingling in her muscles was weaker than last time, yet she still felt an incredible surge of strength and let the feeling carry her as she faced the next opponent. In this state, she gave the defenders a decisive advantage, and after a few jointly felled opponents, the goblins began to retreat into the dark night, and the few remaining orc raiders gave up the attack on this side and ran off to join the group on the left.
There, due to the ogre's presence, the defense was suffering heavy losses, so the defenders from the now-free right side joined them to offer resistance. Gra’sha, however, went around the right of the wagon to challenge the ogre. The goblins scattered before her in a frantic retreat, and their kinsmen from the other side of the wagon joined them. Goblins always had a good nose for saving their own skin. The lumbering ogre let them pass and came out to meet her, leaving the orcs to attack the defenders. He clearly had no intention of following the goblins' lead. Once enraged, he was not inclined to yield ground.
His studded club was already wet with blood. With a fierce expression and a low roar, he charged toward her. He was at least twice her height. Sha’dru was right behind her, but the rest of the armed men had joined the other defenders. Gra’sha had no intention of waiting for his attack. Preemptively, she also rushed forward and, nimbly dodging a blow, thrust the head of her spear into his calf. Too shallow, she thought, and shielded herself from a blow from his clenched fist. She felt his strength spread through her entire body. Her bones seemed to be intact, but she was still knocked slightly aside. Blood dripped from her nose, but she just blew hard through her nostrils so it wouldn't interfere with her breathing and charged again.
This time he swung from the side, and she had to support herself with her shield to keep from falling after ducking very low to let the weapon pass over her. In a lunge, she straightened up sharply and stabbed him twice. The first pierced his ribs but certainly didn't reach his heart; he had a massive torso. The second went under his collarbone, and before she could pull it out herself, a painful blow from his fist struck the shield she had raised at the last moment. This time, she was thrown to the ground, tumbling a good distance away from him. She was bleeding from a split lip and was badly bruised. However, she felt energy welling up in her most damaged areas, restoring feeling and control to the hand holding the shield. Unfortunately, she had dropped her spear. But as soon as she raised her head, still on one knee, she heard a loud, "Catch!"
It was Sha’dru, throwing her own spear. She caught it just in time, got to her feet, and, fueled by both anger and the power surging within her, she rushed the ogre, this time putting all her strength into the blow, wanting to settle the fight. After three leaps, with the most powerful swing her arm could manage, she threw the spear at the lunging ogre. It pierced him and only stopped halfway through at the base of his neck. Uncertain whether to pull it out or push it further in, he fell to one knee, his gaze clouded, and held the wounded spot around the embedded spear. Gra’sha grabbed her shield with both hands and rushed him, then smashed him in the temple. Once, twice, three times… until he fell at her feet, and all his massive spiritual energy began to leave him.
She couldn't restrain herself. She drew it all in, down to the last drop, and broke into ecstatic laughter. She looked at the gap between the wagons, where the raiders, now without the support of the ogre and their goblin companions, were decisively losing. She looked at Sha’dru, who was watching her without fear and with a certain satisfaction, and wanted to take a step toward her when she realized there was apparently a limit to how much energy she could draw at once, and she had just exceeded it. The world spun, and she drifted off into the black of unconsciousness.
