“The Orc tribes in the eastern hills use symbols to mark their territories and tribes, The Black Fists, the Red Hand, and the Bloody Eye, to name a few.”

“Legion report on the Orcs of the Eastern Hills” IC 2562 (Present Day)

Chapter 18

Wil let out a resigned sigh, his back sliding down the wall as he slowly sat down and leaned against it. He had walked the entire unguarded length of the cavern wall, but he couldn’t find another exit.

He was stuck in this city, unless he could leave through the well-guarded main exit, or the equally well guarded back entrance they had traveled through yesterday.

Wil closed his eyes and rested, going over the plan in his mind. He would wait until Night, which should arrive in a few hours. Most of the city would travel to the surface, and he would try to sneak out behind them.

He was hiding well away from the rear tunnel entrance. Compared to yesterday’s escape, there were now over a dozen Goblins, led by an Orc, guarding the well-lit tunnel.

Wil had hidden behind a building half a mile away from the exit, tucked behind a pile of rubble and debris. He would check periodically to see if the guards had moved, before sitting back down in his hiding spot.

He closed his eyes to get some rest, he would need all his energy soon.

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Wil was walking down a garden path at his family’s manor house in Brookmoor. The warm summer wind and bright yellow sunshine, combined with the smell of flowers and herbs. His mother had planted them when he arrived here. She had told him that it reminded her of home.

The garden always put him at ease, regardless of his father’s mood.

As he walked, Wil felt anticipation deep in his heart. He was walking to meet his mother in the garden, her favorite place at the manor.

Wil knew that she was never truly happy living here, she smiled and played the part of the perfect loving wife, but she didn’t care for his father and only stayed out of duty.

Wil hadn’t seen his mother in years, not since he was a young boy. The longing that he felt to see her made him pick up his pace, running down the path that stretched impossibly long.

No matter how hard he ran, he couldn’t reach her. The garden just continued, extending into the horizon.

Abruptly, he was off the path and standing in the garden pavilion, where his mother would sit and drink tea. Wil remembered her sitting here for hours, staring out over the flower beds, softly humming while she embroidered or read.

Wil could see her now, her back to him as she sat. Her long, blond hair shining in the sunlight.

Wil could hear her humming, a tune that he didn’t know the name of, but one that she would softly sing to him when he was a child. She would tuck him into bed and hold him tight, humming this same tune as he drifted off.

Wil walked slowly towards his mother, she hadn’t seemed to hear him approaching. He could imagine the look on her face, the surprise at his sudden presence, before a wide smile would bloom her beautiful face.

Grinning in anticipation at seeing her, he slowly reached forward. He softly grasped her shoulder and turned her gently towards him.

His mother looked at him but instead of her beautiful face and warm smile, her appearance was a mask of blood. Her eyes were missing and in the empty sockets he could see a dark fire burning within. She smiled, her lips stretching far too wide, and he saw that her teeth were covered in blood.

“Look what your father has done to me!” She screamed, her mouth opening wide. An endless abyss that swallowed him whole.

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Wil awoke with a startled cry, his heart pounding in his chest. The vision of his mother’s dead and bloody face still fresh in his mind.

Taking deep and calming breaths, he tried to slow his racing heart. The dream had shaken him badly, he hadn’t dreamt of his mother in years.

Her death had been a dreadful experience, she was the only one who had treated him with kindness as a child. His father had been absent and cold, while his mother was the opposite, loving and kind.

Shaking his head and attempting to clear his thoughts, Wil picked up his belongings. He walked around the debris to check on the guards.

To his surprise, the passageway was clear. The army had left for the surface, and only a few goblins remained at the back entrance.

Moving carefully, he crept closer until he hid behind a pillar, only 20 or 30 feet away from the Goblins left to guard. There were four of them, two had sharpened sticks as spears, while the other two were carrying short bows. They were wearing rough leather hides as armor, while one also had a cooking pot on his head for a helmet.

Wil needed a distraction, and he knew a spell that could help.

Thinking carefully, Wil began to form the Spell Matrix for an illusion. The illusionary matrix would shift and move as Wil fed mana into it. He pulled out a piece of fleece from his component pouch, before tossing it into the matrix.

The fleece disintegrated as it touched the matrix, the shifting construct suddenly solidifying and collapsing into a humanoid shape.

Wil guided it into the shape of a large Orc, the same one that had chased him yesterday. Tall, heavily scarred, with a massive, spiked hammer. The Orc appeared behind the ruins opposite of Wil.

Commanding the image with his mind, Wil had it step out from around the corner. It stood glaring menacingly in front of the Goblin guards. With a cry, the Goblins all scrambled to stand and look alert.

They cowered in front of the Orc and spoke rapidly in a language Wil couldn’t understand. They appeared to be frantic at the Orc’s appearance, gesturing wildly with their arms while they babbled.

Wil, not being able to make the image speak, had the Orc point at the group. He made a ‘follow me’ gesture and turned around to walk away.

Surprised, all the Goblins hurriedly followed the rapidly walking Orc illusion. Wil took the opportunity to run out of the Cavern through the now unguarded passageway.

Wil ran down the passage, letting the illusion fade as his concentration failed. He wasn’t worried about the Goblins coming back to investigate the ruse, he would be long gone by then.

He ran past the ruined building and to the ledge that he had fell off the day before. Carefully making his way across the ledge, Wil was cautious to not rely on the rope.

Hopping across the gap, Wil made it to the opposite side and crawled through the low passage.

Standing upright, Wil didn’t see any Goblins in the cavern where they had found the chest of jewels, so he quickly made his way back to the tunnel entrance, not encountering a single Goblins or Orc.

Wil struggled to climb the steep tunnel as he finally smelled fresh air. He could feel the cool surface air flowing down the tunnel.

Finally, he made it to the surface. The Night air was cool around him. He looked up at stars and black moon in the sky, trying to judge how long it had been since the sun had fallen. He could judge that it had only been a few hours since the sun had gone down.

Laughing in delight at finally making it back to the surface, Wil walked into the forest while looking for the path. He doused his torch, not wanting to be seen on the path, since the forest would probably be filled with Goblins and Orcs.

Seeing the path, he followed it out of the forest and into the fields surrounding Whitewater. As he cleared the last trees, Wil could see an orange glow in the distance.

Hurrying, he found a low rise in the nearby field in order to get a better view. To his horror, the glow was coming from the town.

Whitewater was ablaze in fire.

Wil was too far away to see it in detail, but the flames were reflected off some of the clouds in the sky, dying it an angry orange and red. Wil could hear shouting and screaming in the distance, but he was unable to make out any of the words.

He swiftly left the small rise, walking through the fields towards the town. He was wary of being spotted by the goblins on the road.

Wil was alone, still injured and he could only cast minor spells with his remaining mana. He couldn’t risk fighting a group of Goblins. Being in no condition for a fight, he crept through the fields, stopping and listening periodically for any noise.

It took Wil almost two hours to pass through the fields and arrive at the outskirts of Whitewater. Kneeling amongst some tall brush, Wil observed the situation, trying to find a way to enter the town.

The battle was still raging in front of him, with the Goblins surrounding the walls. He saw that the gates were broken open. It appeared that something massive had smashed directly into them, knocking one onto the ground and bending the other backwards.

Goblins and Orcs were fighting Legion soldiers where the gate once stood, the fighting fierce, with no side giving way to the other. Arrows were raining down from the humans on the walls, falling on the goblins at the gates.

The Goblins were firing back at the archers with short bows, but the distance was in the Human’s favor. Packs of Goblins riding wolves were roaming the battlefield, occasionally leaping over their shorter brethren to attack the human defenders, the wolves’ powerful jaws dragging people from the feet.

The chaos of the battle meant that Wil wouldn’t be able to enter the town unseen, and he was on the wrong side of the battle lines to risk the attempt. He could only settle down and wait for an opening.