Chapter 6 - Allies 

Shakash watched as his small army slowly gathered and prepared its weapons and other gear for departure.  After weeks of sitting around the camp, most of the expected orcs had finally arrived, and they would march when night’s welcome darkness draped the land. 

                His force had grown to more than two hundred orcs during his wait.  The warriors he had inherited from the recently deceased Grrsh had been supplemented by several smaller bands of  orcs that had joined the massive number of orcs Agosh had gathered.  Shakash had hidden his camp in a nearly dry streambed, away from any paths that a traveler might take.  Even though few would dare venture out this far from the cities of men, Agosh had ordered his commanders to take no chances.  Each of the five camps was hidden as well as was possible, and the number of sentries posted was greatly increased.

                Agosh had been masterful in bringing the army together.  After joining Grrsh’s band with his own, he had made known his plan to invade the lands of the west.  Many of the tribes in the area had been easily convinced by the promise of blood and destruction that such an invasion would bring.  The prospect of being left out on the subsequent pillaging had led to others joining.  Still others had to be coerced through murder or battle.

                Agosh had taken command of the largest portion of the army, nearly five hundred strong.  The other four groups were smaller, each containing fewer than three hundred warriors.  One band was led by Grannh, Agosh’s shaman and advisor.  The remaining two were led by captains of two of the larger clans that had joined his forces, and their numbers had been increased with the addition of troops from the smaller clans.

                Now that all of the larger bands of orcs had finally arrived messengers had been sent to each camp that the army would begin marching west.  Some smaller bands had yet to report and would be forced to attempt to catch up with the marching army.  If they didn’t move fast enough, they would not be allowed to share in the spoils of war.

                When night fell, Shakash ordered his company to form into ranks.  Considering that orcs usually eschewed tactics in preference of brute force, it had been quite a challenge convincing them that charging directly into battle was not the most effective means of combat.  Agosh had been explicit, however, in his instructions to his commanders, and a few demonstrations of the price of disobeying battlefield commands had largely kept the troops in line.

                Not that the strategy they employed was complex.  There were three primary commands that were used: wait, shoot, and attack.  The archers were deployed in the back ranks of each force.  To avoid unnecessary casualties, the archers needed clear fields of fire to their enemies, which meant that the orcs wielding melee weapons had to be restrained from charging their foes immediately.  Once the enemy was closer though, the order to attack would be given and they could hack, slice, chop, and cut to their hearts’ content.  The archers would switch to other weapons and join the fray as well.

                Shakash ordered his officers to take their men to the road leading west to the lands of men.  The time for secrecy was over.  Even if they were spotted now a warning would be too late to be useful.  It would take time for the men to gather an army to fight them, and they would not be given that time.

                The troops made a fast pace once they reached the road.  Their eagerness for battle combined with days of rest to enable them to move rapidly down the road.  Shakash walked in the middle of his force, accompanied by a trio of officers.  One of these was a shaman from one of the smaller clans that had joined Agosh’s massive army, a half-mad orc wearing a shirt of bones.  Another was one of Agosh’s personal trackers, highly skilled at moving silently and quickly.  The third was not an orc at all, but rather a man.

                This man was one of the ancient race of Numenoreans.  He was a magician of great power, having sworn his loyalty to Sauron in exchange for knowledge of arcane dark arts.  Although such men were more common far to the south, along the coast south and east of the land of Gondor, they very rarely ventured this far north.  Yet nearly a dozen had arrived to join Agosh’s army, and now one accompanied each force, with the remainder at Agosh’s side.

                Shakash had asked, when he had last met with Agosh, what their purpose was.  Agosh had declined to answer, stating instead that he would see soon enough.  Shakash itched to know why men would be allowed along on this raid, which, in his eyes, would demonstrate with finality the utter strength of the orc race.  These Black Numenoreans would no doubt attempt to take credit for the orcs’ success, despite the fact that there were far too few of them to make any real difference in battle.

                Nevertheless, orders were orders.  Shakash watched the man from the corner of his eye as they marched.  The human, who had identified himself as Tenor, was well over six feet tall, inches above even the other Numenoreans with whom he had arrived.  His short, well-trimmed hair was jet black, as was all of his clothing.  He was clad only in simple cloth, with no apparent armor at all.  Sheathed at his side was a curved dark sword, runes etched into the visible hilt.  He wore a short-bladed knife and a small pouch on his belt, and seemed to carry no other supplies.  He strode confidently, easily keeping pace with the orcs marching all around him.  A dull red glow lit his way, emanating from a strange crystal worn on a chain around his neck.  Strangely, the man could speak the orcish tongue quite well, and had no difficulties the few times he spoke.

                The shaman, by comparison, seemed barely capable of intelligent speech.  He often muttered under his breath, and occasionally seemed to converse with himself.  At times Shakash was unnerved by his spontaneous laughter, which seemed to have no cause.  The orc had such an insane glint in his eyes that few of the other orcs could stomach looking into them.  Shakash managed, usually, but afterwards he invariably felt as though the shaman had been eying him in the same manner that Shakash would eye a pot of elf-stew.  Cannibalism among orcs was far from unheard of, but it was done out of necessity rather than enjoyment.  The mightiest survived, even if it meant that the meek were dinner.  The shaman had given no name, so Shakash and the others had begun referring to him as ‘the shaman’.

                Of the three, Shakash only felt comfortable around the scout.  He had known Ghun even before Agosh’s army had begun to grow, and knew that this orc was not to be trifled with despite his small size.  His only blade was a long dagger, fashioned to resemble the fang of some beast, but Shakash had seen that dagger used with frightful effectiveness.  It was whispered among the clan that Ghun could hide in the shadow of a centipede’s leg, and Shakash himself had seen the scout emerge from what he had thought were plain walls of rock.  Ghun was also a master of the bow, and wore on his back an unstrung bow of blackened wood and a quiver made from the skin of a hill giant that he claimed to have killed himself.

                After two nights’ march to the west, as they were making camp for the day, the dawning sun revealed clouds of deep black building in the east and working their way westward, against the direction of the prevailing wind.  Shakash had seen such clouds before, a mystical darkness that blocked the light of the sun and enabled orcs to roam as though it were the deepest part of the night instead of the cruel day.  However, the veil of darkness had never before passed west of the Misty Mountains.

                “The darkness will be overhead by late afternoon, I believe.”  Tenor had moved closer to Shagash before he spoke.  “Your orcs will be able to move during the day as well.”

                Shakash grunted.  “It won’t last long, even if it makes it this far.”

                “You might be surprised,” the man whispered as he moved again to his position marching a few feet away.

                Shakash was indeed surprised.  Not only did the clouds pass overhead well before nightfall, they seemed deeper and blacker than any he had seen before, and they continued working their way west through the sky.  He wondered how Tenor had been able to predict the clouds’ movement.  Did the man have prior knowledge of the event?  And if so, why hadn’t Shakash been told?

                The orcs under Shakash’s command were the lead force of the army, and they got an early start, getting underway before the unseen sun had dipped below the horizon.  A few hours into their march, a lone rider galloped down the road toward them from the west.  Having been warned by one of his outriders, a lightly armored orc riding a warg, Shakash worked his way to the front of the column to meet it.

                He assumed that the rider would be an ally of some sort, though he couldn’t imagine who would be riding from the west, the direction of the enemy.  Several of the outriders had  challenged the rider, who had supplied the correct password and been allowed to proceed.

                The horseman that reigned in at the head of the column could have been an orc wearing a man’s skin.  His clothing was rumpled and filthy, his hair uncombed, and his horse unbrushed.  As the man spoke his eyes darted nervously around at the halted force of orcs.  “Are you in charge?”  His voice sounded nervous as well.

                “I am Shakash, a captain of Agosh’s army.  Who are you?”  Shakash stared up at the mounted man, who looked away with a hint of fear.  Shakash was pleased at the man’s discomfort.  It had been unnerving to spend so much time with Tenor, who didn’t seem at all unnerved by his presence among so many orcs.

                “I am Guth.  I have a message.”  The man’s voice was a little calmer now.  Maybe it had decided the orcs weren’t going to kill him.

                “What message,” Shakash growled out, fingering his axe.

                Guth decided that he should not have been so quick to feel secure.  Eying Shakash’s axe, his voice again trembled slightly with barely restrained terror.  “I was told to show you to the caves.”

                “Caves?  We didn’t come here to hide in a cave!  Who sent you?”

                The man shivered visibly as Shakash scraped one claw-like fingernail along the blade of his axe.  “I...I was told to wait down the road by a man named Putri.  He said to wait for the orcs and take them to the caves.  When I saw the orcs riding on wolves I assumed the army was near and came at once.”  His last words had come tumbling out together as he hastened to give the message.

                Shakash growled under his breath, and the man jerked on his horse.  Putri was the apparent leader of the Black Numenoreans and one of those marching with Agosh’s force.  He should have been told to expect a messenger!  The fools were lucky that his outriders hadn’t simply speared the man on sight!  “Fine.  Show us these caves.”

                Shakash took two dozen of his warriors and Tenor with him as they followed the rider.  Ghun crept through the shadows off to the side, unbeknownst to the horseman.  Shakash hoped that Ghun would be able to provide warning if this were some kind of trap.

                A mile to the north of the road, the man dismounted and led Shakash’s party to a large stony hill.  In the side of the hill was a gaping hole.  Massive mounds of freshly turned earth showed that the excavation was done recently.  The soft scent of freshly turned earth still lingered in the air. 

                The hole itself was not what caught Shakash’s interest, however.  Sitting outside the hole, using boulders of various sizes as seats, were a number of massive humanoid creatures.  They stood at least ten feet tall and had skin the color of weather-beaten stone.  Near some of the creatures lay crude clubs made from stone or the trunks of fairly large trees.  The largest, apparently a leader by the way the others moved around it, had an enormous shovel propped over his shoulder.  They were trolls, and Shakash counted at least a dozen of them.  Loud grunts and thumping noises emanating from the hole in the earth revealed that more were hidden within the burrow.

                As Shakash stood gaping at the presence of these mighty servants of Sauron, the air off to his left seemed to crackle and took on the smell of rock struck by lightning.  Looking that direction, he was surprised to see a man suddenly appear from nowhere, then another.  A moment later, several orcs popped into view as well.  They were led by Agosh.

                “I see you met our friends already, Shakash.”  Agosh glanced over at the trolls.  “And now you see one of the reasons we brought the Numenoreans along.  They used their magic to bring the trolls this far west to help us in our battles.”

                Shakash was surprised, to say the least.  He had heard tales, of course, of such magic: spells that could transport people or things great distances in a heartbeat.  He had never before heard of such magic actually being used, however, let alone seen it with his own eyes.

                It made sense to use such magic in this manner.  Trolls would perish to the slightest rays of the sun, which turned them into nothing more than massive stone statues.  The Misty Mountains had their share of such statues.  Even though a troll getting caught in the sun was a rare occurrence, the statues weathered slowly and would likely last as long as the mountains themselves.  Understandably, trolls didn’t like leaving their caves and caverns any more than they had to.  For this reason, many orc clans had worked out agreements with trolls.  The trolls would help guard the orcs’ caves in exchange for shelter, food, and some coin.  Although it wasn't exactly rare for trolls to join in battle outdoors, Shakash had never even heard so much as a legend about them joining a raid so far from their homes.

                Agosh continued. “With these trolls, we will be unstoppable!  They can tear down the walls of the pukescum’s cities!  The whiteskins will have nowhere to hide from us!”   Agosh had a victorious gleam in his eye.  “In two nights,” he went on, “we will begin with a city called Bree.”

                The leader gestured to one of the Numenoreans with him, who began to chant in some arcane language.  “Be sure your warriors are ready!”  The man finished his incantations, and a round section of the air beside him seemed to blur.  Without a word, the man stepped into the portal and disappeared from view.  Agash followed, leading the remainder of his companions.

                Shakash acknowledged his leader’s work with a smile.  Finding the means to bring trolls along would bring even greater awe from his army, and might even instill some loyalty in the trolls who were included.  This raid would not just terrorize the farms and small villages of the west, like every previous raid he had heard of.  This massive army that Agosh had gathered would be attacking even the mighty cities!  Shakash couldn’t begin to imagine the amount of gold, weapons, and slaves they would gain if they were able to sack the cities of the west.  And everything crammed together in tight little packages for them!