Lord Dukker had rolled over onto his back as he floated downstream toward an unknown destination. He was acutely aware that he had a small grouping of ten arrows stuck in his lower back. He needed to remove those cursed arrows so he could magically seal the massive wound. He would not be able to heal himself by using his magic, so it would take him some time to recover completely. He would have to resort to conventional means to speed up the process. First thing first, I really need to get these arrows out of my back. How am I going to accomplish this? I can barely move, and I am using all of my energy just to stay afloat. The answer to his quandary was a painful one.
As he floated near to one of the banks, two of the arrows got caught on some rocks and were ripped from his body. Blood gushed from the wound as more arrows were caught in the shallows of the river and were torn free. After a few moments of excruciating pain, all ten arrows had been removed violently from Dukker’s back. He needed to stop the bleeding soon or else he would die. He gingerly reached out for some reeds to stop himself from continuing his uncontrolled journey down the Blaine. After several painful attempts at stopping himself, he grasped a handful of reeds and halted his progression. He pulled himself toward the low bank on the eastern side of the river until he had grounded himself in some shallow water. He lay there for several minutes before he mustered the strength to seal his wound with the magical shield he had used to protect his entire body. The bleeding stopped, but now he was completely vulnerable to attack now that his shield was being used to protect his gaping wound.
He remained where he was for several hours, waiting to get enough strength to move his battered body into the trees for the night. The sky began to darken when he finally crawled from the shallow pool he had been lying in. He made his way gingerly to the eaves of the forest, which was only twenty feet away from the bank of the river. This short distance took him a couple of hours to traverse. Once he made into the trees, the stars showed clearly overhead. He leaned up against a massive tree within the shadows of the Aran Forest. As he lay there panting from the effort, he tried to seal the wound magically so that he could begin the healing process. He closed his eyes and muttered a spell under his ragged breath. The gaping hole in the small of his back closed up and looked like there had never been ten arrows in it recently. The magical shield vanished, and he lay there exhausted from the use of his magic. His body was completely worn out from the effort it took to keep himself alive. He could steal energy from other living things, which process required strength he had not recovered yet from his prolonged use of magic.
As the moon appeared high in the sky above, Dukker used one last bit of magic to conceal his presence. He used a simple spell that made his body blend in with its surroundings. Once he had accomplished this task, he fell into a deep sleep and did not wake for several days. He used his healing powers from time to time while he slept in an effort to speed up the process. In all, he had laid there for seven days straight before he had healed completely. When he had enough courage to stand up, he winced from the lingering effects of his battle wound. I wonder what those orc generals have been up to while I have been otherwise engaged. He smiled at this thought and began to make his way through the tall trees of the Aran Forest toward the gathering place in Nodin on the other side of the river. Hopefully they were still there and in one piece.
***
Commander Fletcher Renar was in charge of the archers for General Sanjay’s army. They served King Derek who ruled the forest kingdom of Aran. Fletcher’s archers were some of the finest in all of Tuwa and were especially adept at finding high places to give themselves the advantage in a fight or an ambush. He was charged with protecting the borders of Aran from external foes. He had reported to General Sanjay several days ago that there was an orc army of immense size moving toward Tarisdell in the Black Forest. The general had relayed this vital information to the king, and they had been preparing to go to the aid of their elven brethren. While they were making their preparations, the commander returned to report another, more disturbing sighting.
“General Sanjay, I have seen the elven army being accompanied by a unified giant army hastening toward the crossing at the southwestern edge of the Landen cliffs,” reported the commander. “They were being pursued by that orc army we saw previously, and they were in company with what appeared to be elves.”
“What? Are you certain that there were elves with them?” asked the general, bewildered.
“Remember that we had received intelligence that there was a division among the elves some time ago, so this could be their army. I believe they refer to themselves as the high elves,” King Derek reminded them.
“That makes sense then. The elves must be retreating to Landen to take advantage of the superior natural defenses. How big would you say that orc army was? How many high elves were with them?” asked the general. His question was directed at Commander Fletcher, who immediately replied.
“I would estimate that there are three orc armies that are roughly one hundred thousand strong each. It appears that there are forty or fifty thousand high elves accompanying them. They are all led by a dark elf who commands a powerful brand of dark magic.” Fletcher had a distraught look on his face as he had said this. He could not help thinking that there was no way that their army could take on such massive numbers.
“Well, I am not too sure our hundred and fifty thousand troops would be able to handle such numbers. However, I do believe we could assist our friends in their fight against these treacherous forces. Commander Fletcher…” the king beckoned. “I want you to take your regiments of archers and cut off any retreat. If a group of orcs stays behind to build siege weapons, kill them all. Then report back to me.”
“How do you know that they would stay behind to make a siege works?” asked General Sanjay.
“Think of it this way: if you saw an orc army with massive amount of siege weapons and towers, wouldn’t you do whatever it took to destroy them?” the king asked wisely. “Of course you would. As a result of this, they would need to build a siege works to replenish and repair their siege weapons.”
“I see what you are getting at. So, Commander Fletcher, you will kill any orc that remains behind in the forest, but bring the high elves, if possible, to us. Do not harm any of them unless you have to. Maybe we could convert a few of them back to who they were before they left the elven kingdom,” ordered the general.
“I agree with the general. Please try to capture the high elves and bring them to me. I will deal with them personally. Maybe we could save a few of them. Those that do not change their ways will be put to death on the spot,” the king declared grimly.
“I will do as you have commanded,” Fletcher said with a bow to his king and a salute to his general. He did an abrupt about-face and marched off to his post on the northern border of the Aran Forest.