Prophecy's Daughter (The Endarian Prophecy Book 2) by Richard Phillips

Author:Richard Phillips [Phillips, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542047234
Publisher: 47North
Published: 2018-01-08T22:00:00+00:00

20

Mo’Lier

YOR 414, Early Autumn

For two days Arn had patiently observed the fortress from a distance. Things were approaching a head in the encampment south of Temple Hill. The military organization outside the fortress walls appeared almost ready to move as the last of the siege engines and equipment approached completion. Arn had identified the tents of several of the vorg and human generals, not a difficult task considering the traffic of lackeys going to and fro.

Of particular interest to Arn were the comings and goings of the robed priests, who issued forth from the fortress walls periodically. They usually moved in groups of thirteen, passing through the crowds of soldiers in twin columns, hooded heads bowed. Vorgs and human soldiers scampered out of their way whenever they approached, although the top vorg leaders did not show this sort of deference, coming out of their tents to meet with the priests.

Arn easily observed that the priests were unhappy with the pace of activities and spent considerable time berating the army leadership in front of their own troops. The priests would then return to their fortress. After they departed each time, the vorg generals stormed up and down in a fury, throwing weaponry to the ground, slapping nearby soldiers, and hurling crude gestures in the direction of Temple Hill.

Arn moved back into the wood line, lay down on the ground, propping his head on the folded priest robe, and closed his eyes to await nightfall.

Darkness came. Arn killed a human soldier who strayed outside camp boundaries to relieve himself. He put on the ill-fitting and shabby armor, finding the helmet exceptionally uncomfortable but adequate for his purposes. He bashed in the corpse’s face with a large stone and removed the few coins found in the soldier’s pouch, spilling a couple on the ground beside the body.

The robbery completed, he shuffled off, entering the encampment but staying well away from the fires. He staggered drunkenly, slumping down adjacent to a trio of drinking vorgs.

“Gad,” Arn muttered, staggering to his feet. “Oh, thought I’d soiled myself, but I see it’s just some stinking vorgs. Why we has to have such trash in the army boggles the mind.”

“Looks like a stupid human is about to get himself killed,” said one of the vorgs, who rose to his feet and wheeled around to face the drunken soldier.

“Yeah? And who’s gonna do it? Not you, unless you can ugly me to death.”

“Kill the bastard and cook him,” said another vorg as all three rose to their feet and rushed forward.

Arn sidestepped the first attacker, disemboweling him and whirling the dying warrior into the path of the two immediately behind while extracting his knife from its sheath. The trailing vorgs went down in a heap. Before they could arise, Arn turned and disappeared into the night in the general direction of the nearest human camp.

He ducked between tents and turned at a right angle to the direction he had been traveling, now heading toward the fortress itself. He

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