Richard Byers - The Colors of Magic Anthology

The fabulous chicken feast finished silently. Each orc reflected on the others' words. Finally, they retreated to the tent to await the morning.

A mild snow fell in the early hours before sunrise, but it only covered the tent with a light dusting. It took mere minutes to pack up and begin the descent into Balesh Pass.

Two hours later, the three orcs came to the site of the battle. Even after three months the area looked haunted and forsaken. Broken spears stuck out of the fresh snow at odd angles. Boulders were scarred by blasts from the magic unleashed at the battle.

Jonar walked along a low ridge that had served as his last stand as his routed forces had rushed past him, out over the pass and back to Balduvia. His thoughts turned back to the battle, and for a moment his eyes were there, watching.

He could see the long lines of orcs, standing in ranks six deep, swords, spears, and shields ready for the oncoming Kjeldoran infantry. On the enemy came. The Kjeldoran regiment closed to within a hundred yards, and then suddenly it changed formation. From the rear, pikes were brought forward, and the line shifted from a square with the flat facing the orcs to a diamond with the point threatening them. The point advanced.

Jonar did not know what to do. He knew the pointed formation had a far greater reach with pikes, and that it would split his line in two like a knife through butter. He watched in horror as his prediction came true. Jonar tried to plug the line with his own bodyguard of fifty warriors, but they could not hold long. Their fight gave the rest of the line enough time to retreat, however.

Over and over he replayed the moment in his mind. Should he have pulled back? Should he have enveloped? He ran the battle through his mind.

Without warning, an animal-skin-covered green goblin rose from the snow not ten yards in front of Jonar. His reverie ended in a flash. Without thinking, he drew his sword, an instinctive reaction from too many years in the martial profession.

The goblin eyed him warily. "You big general boss man?"

Jonar calmed himself and re-sheathed his weapon. He turned and the other two orcs did the same.

"You speak Orcish very well for a goblin. I am General Jonar. Who are you?"

"Me Tramas, Clan Champion for goblins of the Flarg mountains. Your mage promise us much to fight with you. We much need this victory, but we much need payment as promised." The goblin's eyes shrank to slits. "You bring?"

Jonar reached inside his jerkin and brought forth a small leather pouch. He tossed it to the goblin. It hit the ground and sank slightly in the snow. Tramas picked up the pouch, dusted it off, and looked inside. His eyes went wide. He pulled a diamond the size of his little fist from the pouch.

With a practiced eye, he turned it over and over, inspecting every facet. Finally, he put the diamond back in the pouch and dropped it in his own pocket.

Jonar took a step forward.

"Let me introduce my field commanders. This is Lavash and Jel, my brave and faithful associates."

The two stepped forward, bowed slightly. Jonar was impressed with the level of respect they showed.

Tramas nodded in acknowledgement and motioned with his right arm. Around the orcs, hundreds of goblins rose from the snow where before there had been none. The three orcs stood in awe. None had seen any hint of an entire unit of goblins, let alone right at their feet.

"I am impressed, Tramas," Jonar said. "Very impressed. I have never seen goblins that could… well, er, you see… I hope I'm not rude in saying…"

Tramas lifted his hand to stop the general. "You never seen goblins looked like they could fight. Me right, General?"

Again, Jonar was impressed. "Right," he answered.

"Goblin King know this. Goblins sent to fight so far just buy time. Many other goblins, many train for war. We now ready for war. What you think? Goblins only play Cricket?"

"No, no," Jonar backpedaled. "I think you'll do just fine." He swallowed his pride. "You will meet us at Mount Delapre four days hence. Will you be there?" Jonar's eyes bore into the goblin champion.

The goblin returned a bow just as the orcs had done. "We be there. You remember rest of payment," he said.

Jonar nodded, turned and walked back the way he had come. Jel and Lavash followed.

The march to Mount Delapre took another two days after Jonar and the two chieftains returned to camp. The orcs moved slowly through the freshly fallen snow in the high pass, pulling their carts full of provisions along after them. The line stretched out for nearly a mile as the four thousand orc warriors and attendant families trodded on.

Jonar went to each of the clans to tour the troops, show them that their leader was ready to fight. He found soldiers tired from the march but otherwise in good spirits. They needed to win, to show that they were not disgraced as they had been at Balesh Pass. They needed to prove themselves. Jonar could understand their feelings.

The disfavor shown to orcs in Balduvia had been a great blow to orc forces everywhere. The clans had fallen in stature and were falling on hard times as the war went on. They could use a victory.

Jonar was surprised to hear the soldiers talk of the goblins. A few hardened veterans sneered at the thought of fighting with the diminutive grunts, but many had heard the story that their clan chieftains had brought back. Clearly several were in awe at the way the goblins could sneak up on an army and ambush it. A few even boasted that they had seen the goblin king at the battle of Narmund Forest and that he was a sight to behold.

Still, the veterans sneered until they saw their general. Jonar made a point of telling all who would listen that the goblins were the key to victory. Several of the veterans argued-a bad sign indeed-but all had come around after seeing the general's eyes. Each veteran smiled, as if a great secret had just been shared with them. Their general had a plan, and that was good enough for them. Once the veterans agreed, the younger orcs all jumped on the cause with great fervor, to prove that they were just as tough.

The next day Jonar rose early. He couldn't sleep; he could never sleep when a battle was coming. The night before, a messenger had brought news that the Kjeldoran force was only fifteen miles away, camped for the night. Through the night, the Flarg goblins were to have harassed the knights, ensuring that they were not well rested for the battle.

Almost as if by magic, two goblins rounded a tent and came toward Jonar. He started but composed himself quickly.

"I am truly impressed with your stealth, " the general greeted them.

They bowed slightly. The one on the right stepped forward. "The knights are coming this way, " he said. "They know you here. They ready for battle. Tramas says tell you we destroyed several supply wagons. Kill many in last night raid. Much death. Still, they ride. Will come here mid-day. "

Jonar nodded, more to himself than to the goblins, as he thought through his preparations.

"Good. You tell Tramas to be here, with your clan, ready to fight, as we agreed. Tell Tramas there is a bonus for good fighting, too. "

The forward goblin smiled a big toothy grin. "Me get food before go back?"

Jonar smiled and waved him on. "Yes, but hurry."

The two trotted away, much more interested in food than their message. Still, Jonar thought, the message would get through. Tramas seemed to have his troops whipped into shape.

At an hour before mid-day, Jonar summoned an all-officers conference at his tent. The officers from both orc clans, chieftains, sub-chieftains, battle standard bearers, and family champions all stood in a loose semi-circle around the general.

"Today we fight the dreaded White Knights of Kjeldor. The last time we battled them, we did not fare well. We had the advantage in terrain then, so they couldn't mount, and they still came on. All of us bear the shame of that battle with us-I more than anyone."