Black Metal: The Orc Wars Read Online Free PDF

orc with an appraising eye. The youngling had disobeyed him, but the haunted look in the warrior’s eyes told Ghalik that this new knowledge was punishment enough. The orcs set out up river to return home as the carrion that circled the town descended into theirs.

“They build no walls, spend no gold, and forge metal for naught but war. We’ll take their lives with axe and hammer and put their bodies to the furnace.” --- Molin Bronzefoot, drawven armorsmith

The rough-cut boats made their way slowly up the river, the orc’s powerful strokes inching the boats along against the current. The run off from the morning melting had swollen the river, and the calm frozen river of night had become a treacherous afternoon ice floe. However, the orcs of the Angir were capable oarsmen and for nearly two days managed to skillfully avoid being sunk by the fast moving ice chunks.
    Since going up river was a much slower process the sun was almost at its height on the third day before the raiding party was near enough to home to see the smoke. It was rising up through the trees in several places, white and soft wisps quietly billowing upwards into the sky. Ghalik did not need to tell the group to pick up speed, at the sight of the smoke the orcs were already dipping their oars at a superhuman pace.
    They came around the bend in the river with spears poised, ready to repel any attackers whom sought to blindside them. On the beach there were many track and boat impressions on the coarse beach. The orcs were out of their boats and splashing ashore as they drew weapons and readied shields. After a moment Okada, the closest thing the Angir had to a scout, ran up to Ghalik to make his report.
    “It appears that a force of men landed here and moved up the trail towards home. From the freshness of the tracks I would say that they arrived only shortly after we began our journey back upriver,” reported the breathless ranger.
    “Did they return here, or to they await us in the village?” Ghalik questioned as he absently fingered his waraxe.
    “I believe they came back this way. The tracks indicate that they came back down the path and left with their boats. Whatever happened here, we are too late,” explained Okada as he looked down.
    Ghalik grunted derisively at Okada’s display of emotion, this was no time to grieve. The old wizard un-slung his waraxe and gave a hand signal to the waiting warriors, indicating that it was time to move in. The horde, which had only suffered minimal casualties in the raid, moved up the trail silently. Everyone moved with a quiet urgency, their dread of what the smoke most likely meant was hard to mask.
    The horde of warriors poured out of the forest and into the village, all secretly hoping that what lie before them would shimmer and disappear like a forgotten dream. They did not. Fires still burned and the smell of death was quite pungent and fresh. Ghalik ordered the group to spread out by clinching his fist then opening it again quickly, splaying out his fingers to symbolize his command. The orc warriors did as they were told and moved into the burning village.
    Ma-Gur ended up stalking into the village next to Okada, the two orcs exchanging a grim nod as they tightened their grip on their weapons and advanced. They moved in close to the winter larders, the smell of burnt flesh clinging to their nostrils. The two orcs reached the building, its primary structure of mud and sticks totally burned away to reveal the still burning hardwood support beams. All of the food and cooking supplies that the Angir had stocked to see them through the winter lie in burnt heaps of melted fat and stinking ash.
    As they stood in silent shock at the entrance to the burnt shell of the building they heard a small cry. Both immediately bared their weapons and prepared to fight, but no attack came. Again they heard the cry, this time the two orcs could tell where it was coming from.
    “The children’s warren,” gasped Okada