An Ancient Truth
Copyright© 2026 by Asa Strong
Chapter 8
I found Tag’ar just behind the front line of archers. The orcs had withdrawn for the time being, and the sounds of the dead and dying from the battlefield in front of us easily reached our ears.
Tag’ar was giving orders to a wizened old dwarf as I pulled up next to him and dismounted.
“... make sure that you keep a lookout and retreat as soon as the orcs regroup.”
The old dwarf nodded his head and walked towards a group of dwarfs to his right.
Tag’ar must have heard me approach; he turned as I got near.
“How goes it?” I asked.
He shook his head, “Not well, but not as bad as it could have been.”
I looked out over the field and could see the orcs trying to regroup at the far end of the valley. They were in an unorganized mass, milling around like a herd of cattle.
“You think they will try again today?”
“I’m not sure,” he answered, “it is getting late in the day and there are only about two hours of daylight left.”
We both watched the group of dwarfs make their way onto the battlefield. I now understood the conversation Tag’ar was having with the old dwarf; they were trying to rescue those that had been wounded. Tag’ar and I both watched in silence as they went about their gruesome task. After a few moments, Tag’ar turned to me, “Donta, the elf cavalry did well. Sin’dal was a fool, and if you and the elves had not waited, all of them would have been lost.”
“Yes,” I answered, “those were my thoughts as well. But, Sin’dal paid for it with his life along with many of his kin.”
Again we returned to watching the recovery group as they carried back those that were wounded. They would carry them to the edge of our line and then hand them over to others who would quickly transport them to the rear, where the healers had set up.
There were still many dead and dying to be retrieved when the sound of the orc drums started. I glanced up; I could see that the black ones had finally managed to regain a semblance of order and had the orcs organizing into columns. It was a rather long process. The confusion was clearly seen from where Tag’ar and I stood. Finally, they managed to form ranks, and not long thereafter, they started to march towards us. The rescue party quickly transported the wounded that they could reach and started back towards our lines. By the time all had returned, the orcs were in position to advance.
As Tag’ar and I watched the orcs advance, he turned to me, “Donta, I want you to take charge of all of our mounted troops. I have no one to lead the dwarfs, and the elves will listen to you.”
I was surprised by his request, and immediately said, “Tag’ar, I’m not a warrior. Gait is much more capable than me.”
He shook his head, “Gait is a fighter and soldier. He is not a tactician, and that is what we sorely need. You have a good eye for the battlefield and the patience to wait until the time is ripe to strike.”
I looked at him for a long moment, and reached the conclusion that I could not refuse him. Regardless, if I felt I was not prepared, Tag’ar obviously felt that I was, and I would have to respect his decision. I nodded my head.
I turned back to the battlefield and watched as the first wave of the orcs marched within range of our archers. The bowmen immediately started in with a deluge of arrows. Many orcs were felled, but the missing ranks were always filled with another orc from the rear ranks. The tide of green bodies seemed endless, vanishing behind the far canyon wall and out of my sight. How many were hidden behind the ones I could see was only a guess.
The scene before me played out in the eerie, fading light of the late afternoon. All too soon, the enemy had reached our front line of archers. The bowmen made a hasty retreat, further down the canyon, and took up positions on the high ground on the sides of the canyon. The dwarf infantry, along with those elves that were fighting afoot, were positioned between the narrows of the canyon. I caught a glimpse of Torg on the far right, with Saraid at his side. Soon, I lost sight of both. The orcs charged, screaming their battle cries, and soon the dust was so thick you couldn’t easily see what was happening.
The battle raged for another hour. The enemy came in wave after wave of battle-crazed orcs, screaming their cries of death. Our line held, but at what price we could not tell. Some of our archers must have had a clear view, for many arrows flew from our side into the gathering cloud of dust. The thick dust obliterated any means of easily identifying friend or foe from where Tag’ar and I stood. The echo of the battle cries and clash of steel rang off the canyon walls, creating a din that made it hard to focus. Finally, the shadows lengthened, and the light started to fade. A series of strange drum beats were heard, and the orcs broke off and retreated.
As the dust settled, the carnage on the battlefield became clear. Orcs were lying in huge mounds in the narrow confines of the canyon. Occasionally, you could see the bright colors of the clothing of a dwarf or elf. I had no idea what our losses were, but the enemy’s were uncountable.
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