“It had to have been the orc,” Igraine said.
The entire party was weary, but none of them could sleep after the events of the previous night. They sat in the back room of the Inn while Burla served them bowls of porridge and more plates of sausages.
“J’akull is one tough customer,” Burris replied. “But this is not like him. Why would he want to kill our people? He needs us and our trade as much as we need him and the game he brings for us.”
“He is not part of Einsamall, is he?” Igraine asked.
“It depends what you mean. Einsamall is the name we use for our town and also for this area of the Northlands as whole,” Burris explained. “The orc is not townsfolk, but he is Unsworn like the rest of us and he lives in this area. He’s had his share of scrapes with some of the townsfolk for sure, but he’s been around for years and years and we’ve never had any serious trouble with him. It just doesn’t make sense for him to be behind any of this.”
“You saw him have words with our party yesterday,” Igraine said. “And then our paladin turns up dead! The same paladin that this J’akull Ironbones confronted in your inn! That is too much of a coincidence for us to ignore. As of now the orc is our best lead. We need to find him and bring him back here to be questioned.”
The gnome sighed. He did not believe that J’akull was behind the killings or that he had taken the paladin, but he had to admit that it looked bad for the orc and that he did not have a better potential suspect to offer up in place of 'Old Ironbones'.”
“I know someone who can find his lair,” Burris finally said, but before he could finish, the mage and the ranger entered the room. They were wrapped in their heavy cloaks with their packs upon their backs.
“Where are you going?” Igraine asked.
“We are headed back to the Castle of Four Sides,” the mage replied.
“What?” Igraine said. “We can’t leave now!”
“Our mission was to find out what is happening up here and to help if we could or report back if we couldn’t. We’ve now lost one of our own and we believe there is a chance that this orc is part of a hidden force from the Legion of Arethyr. There could be an enemy force who survived the Second Great War and has been hiding up here in the North.”
“That is ridiculous!” Burris snapped. “The Tundra Orcs never fought for Arethyr!”
“How would you know who fought for who? Weren’t you hiding up here in Einsamall during the war?” the mage shot back.
“Don’t presume that you know what I know,” Burris answered. “I was not born in the Far North. I’ve traveled in Mythoss. I’ve seen your tower of wizards, or at least I had seen it before it fell. I know something of the Realm and its people and I tell you the Tundra Orcs were never aligned with Arethyror his warmonger.”
“Then maybe this orc and his kin are with one of the other evil powers,” the Xylenrian ranger chimed in. “That is not important. What is important is that we need to return to the Castle to report what has happened. If the 5 Seats so wish, they can send a larger party to hunt down the orc or whatever else may be at play here.”
“These people will not survive if we leave them,” Igraine pleaded. “You go and you assure their deaths.”
“If we stay, we assure our own,” the mage answered. “I am sorry, Commander, but my first allegiance is to my Faction and my second to the 5 Seats. Staying in Einsamall and laying down my life for people who would not do the same for us when we needed help is a fool’s task.”
“Our mission was to help these people,” Igraine replied, making sure her words were firm and left no room for debate. “And I command you to stay and fight with me.”
The mage and the ranger were silent.
“Very well, Commander Igraine,” the mage finally replied. “You are our leader, after all.”
Igraine nodded and then excused herself. The exchange had shaken her, and she couldn’t avoid sleep any longer. Her body needed rest and her eyes closed as soon as her head hit the pillow on her bed.
Igraine’s eyes opened to see the light of the mid-afternoon sun shining into the room.
“They are gone,” called a voice to her left.
Igraine startled and turned quickly, but it was just Halvard who sat in the room beside her.
“What are you saying?” she asked as she rubbed the fogginess of sleep from her eyes.
“The mage and the ranger are gone,” he repeated. “They left shortly after you came upstairs.”
“Did you try to stop them?” Igraine said as she bolted out of bed. “How long ago did they leave?”
“I did not try to stop them. Their minds were made up and they will be too far away now for us to try to catch them. The mage used a transport spell. It may work, it may not, but they were eager enough to leave to try it anyway.”
Igraine swore and slammed her fist down on the nightstand beside her bed. It was her first command and she had now lost one soldier to violence and seen two more abandon their posts. General Delphina would not be impressed by her results and Igraine fully expected to be demoted upon her return to the Castle.
“Come on,” Halvard said. “You are awake. Now we must go.”
“I am not leaving these people!” Igraine said.
“Aye. Neither am I,” Halvard replied. “The gnome found us a tracker. We do not run from this fight. We go to seek it out.”
“What manner of creature are you” Igraine asked in amazement as she looked at the fox-like creature before her.
“I am a Vulpyne,” came the reply in a small voice that matched the small size of its speaker. “Bylur Frostfurr is my name!”
“Your race is not known in our kingdoms,” Halvard said, explaining the look of surprise on Igraine’s face. “Not even in the colds of Bjorngar have we seen your kin.”
“Well met,” Burris said. “I am so used to Bylur here that I hadn’t even remembered that I had a similar reaction when I first met him and his family. Natives to this area, by what I can tell. But that’s not important right now. What is important is that he can help you find J’akull.”
“We do not have much light left,” Bylur said. “Heading out now would be bad. We go at first light. Good?”
Igraine began to protest that there was no time to lose, but the Vulpyne tracker was unmovable in his insistence that they had to wait until morning. Eventually, Igraine stopped arguing, realizing that there was no changing Bylur’s mind. Whatever was out there waiting for them would have to wait another day.
Igraine and Halvard found Bylur by a fire that next morning just as the first rays of light began to make their way into the sky. The tracker had a frying pan on the fire as he cooked up a few of the sausages links that seemed to be part of every meal in Einsamall along with some chunks of heavily seasoned potatoes.
“For you,” he said as he offered food to his two new companions..
Igraine accepted a plate and passed another to Halvard.
“Eat up fast, then we go!” Bylur said as he devoured the food in front him and licked his lips to clean up any last bits of greasy goodness.
The pan sizzled in the snow as the Vulpyne cleaned it off and clipped it to a pack that he then hoisted upon his back.
“Come!” he said. “I will take you now.”
Igraine and Halvard struggled to keep up with the tracker. Despite the small size of his legs, the Vulpyne was incredible fast and agile and his furry, pawed feet allowed him to seemingly bounce off the icy terrain as he easily navigated the landscape before them. Even the armor that Bylur wore did not seem to slow him up as he bounded ahead with his walking stick in one hand and a small blade at his side.
“I am surprised to see you in heavy armor,” Igraine said, more to break the silence than anything else. Neither Bylur nor Halvard were big talkers, and it was too quiet for Igraine’s liking.
“The North is dangerous,” Bylur shrugged. “Armor keeps me safe.”
“It’s not too heavy?”
“Too heavy for me? No! Look, I can still jump!” Bylur said as he bounded before them, clearly proving that his choice of armament did not impede his mobility.
Suddenly the tracker stopped.
“Shhhh,” he said. “Stay.”
Bylur motioned for Igraine and Halvard to get down. Once they had crouched down, the tracker took off, bounding ahead and making his way over a large snow drift. He returned a short time later and quietly reported what he had found.
“The orc’s cave is near, “ he said. “We must be quiet. He is a hunter. He can hear. He can smell.”
The trio made their way quietly forward, eventually finding a spot where they could clearly see the mouth of a large cave, but where they were also somewhat hidden from view.
“Did you see J’akull?” Igraine asked.
“Shhh!” Bylur scolded. “Look and see.”
They waited in silence as the cold winds whipped around them. Igraine pulled her cloak closer and wondered how long they would have to wait for some sign of their quarry.
“There!” Bylur whispered, pointing to the horizon.
Three shapes began to emerge from the distance. One was very small, one quite large, and one was very, very large.
“They come,” the tracker said. “Stay down.”
The sun was getting low in the sky and it shined from behind the three approaching forms, silhouetting them against the horizon. As they grew closer, Igraine began to make out what she was seeing.
The Tundra Orc, J’akull Ironbones, was the large form they had seen. He trudged along holding his bone club. In font of him waddled a small goblin-like creature with the same ice-blue skin as the orc. This was the smallest of the three approaching forms. Igraine had seen her share of goblins during the Second Great War, but never one like this. His little red eyes darted about as he scouted ahead. Igraine hoped that he wouldn’t see them, and thankfully his gaze never drifted their way.
The final form, and the largest of the three, took Igraine’s breath away and it suddenly made the direness and danger of their situation very, very clear.
“Isbjorn,” Halvard whispered before translating. “It’s an ice bear.”
To be continued...
Published on 07.25.25