Atonement

Bunelck watched from some bushes as Galliard lead his band of demon-possessed orcs away from the Mongol village. When they were out of site, he left his hiding place and crept back into the log cabin where they had found the Mongol leader. The bodies of the other orcs from the first troop were still cooling on the blood splattered floor where they had fallen during the battle with the Khan. Several had died by Bunelck’s own hand, but things had not gone as he had planned. The Khan could not know that one of orcs was in fact fighting on his side and then Galliard had arrived with his "reinforcements". Now this Khan was just a spiritless body standing frozen in place.

Bunelck sat down on one of the benches and removed his orcish helm, thinking. With any luck Galliard would assume that he had been killed with the rest of the orcs from the first troop. That, at least, would be good. Constantly playing the roll of a crude orcish buffoon had been a difficult task. If Galliard or the Master were to ever suspected who he really was, he would not last long.

Bunelck looked down at the orcish hands of the body he now possessed. They were strong and powerful hands, but certainly not the kind of power that he needed if he were to have the slightest prayer of stopping this madness. There had been too much pain and suffering for too many years. And it was all his fault. The blood of thousands was upon his hands. He had never met for any of this to happen but that would be cold comfort to the dead. So much destruction. How could he ever set this right? Tears of bitter regret filled the orcish eyes.

Bunelck's dark reverie was interrupted by sounds outside the cabin. He peeked out the window and saw a young Mongol warrior riding into the clearing holding a black bow high over his head. He quickly slipped out a back window and, once again, hid in the bushes watching.

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As Maraeda trotted into the clearing of the otog tosgon Baga-Bars grinned and raised the orgh bow over his head and shouted "URAGSHAA!", announcing their triumphant return. The only answer was a faint and lonely echo. Then he noticed that the door of the tsereg-ger was standing open, creaking softly as it swung slowly back and forth in the light breeze. Who had left the door open and unguarded?

Haruchai would not be pleased by this, thought Baga-Bars as he stepped inside in search of the Khan. The lower level of the cabin that the otog had adopted as tsereg-ger seemed to be deserted. Moving to the back of the room, he climbed the ladder to the second floor which held the small chapel of the Bugu-Han who had befriended the otog. Sometimes Haruchai and the Bugu-Han, Castile, would talk there.

The chapel room was in disarray. Benches were overturned and pools of blood covered the floor. The bones of several orgh bodies lay on the floor. Several orgh-jebei were on the floor and some of the arrows were even embedded in the wall. He recognized a flask of the explosive purple potion used by the orgh-bombers and some buyu-plants used by the orgh-bugu. Haruchai's favorite weapon, an exceptional kryss-hutga, was sticking out from a pile of bones. Haruchai himself was standing off to one side.

After the orgh Bidagud had visited the otog, the Mongols had set out to find who or what was behind the wanton slaughter of the orghs by the han. Even though the Mongols and the orghs were ancient blood enemies, the Khan Haruchai was wise to know that old enmity must be set aside in the face of this greater evil. Now it seemed that the orgh had attacked Haruchai right here in the ger. Baga-Bars shook his head. Why would the orgh attack now? Baga-Bars smiled. Haruchai had certainly shown these orghs the error of their ways though.

"Sain Bainuu!" Baga-Bars stepped forward saluting his Khan. "Meh got xara-harw." Grinning proudly. he offered the orcish bow to Harchai. Haruchai just stood there, making no move to take the offered bow. Not even blinking. "Ummm… You bish want orgh harw?" Baga-Bars said uncertainly, wondering if he had somehow displeased the Khan. Haruchai made no response. Baga-Bars reached out and touched the still form. It was like touching a cold and lifeless stone. "What dez orghs do?"

Maraeda whinnied and nudged a bone pile with his hoof, uncovering a small piece of parchment that had lain hidden underneath. Baga-Bars snatched up this scrap and struggled to decipher the han runes it contained.

My dear Galliard

Although our operation is progressing nicely, It has been brought to my attention that certain orcs have come to posses documents hinting at our plans. These orcs may have passed the papers on to the Mongols living near Yew. That these Mongol savages could understand, let alone move to thwart, our campaign is unlikely. However prudence dictates that we take no chances. The Mongol Horde is fierce in battle, but even a viper is no threat once it's head has been removed. Bring me the soul of this snake.

Proctor Alberrin

"Meh bish read dis han uyigur, Maraeda." said Baga-Bars sadly. "Meh get dat Bugu-xatun, Idugan Aigeran, maybe she read dis. Meh get all otog. Den we figure what wrong with Khan!" He went out onto the cabin balcony. After a moment’s hesitation he picked up Haruchai’s silver horn and blew a single loud and clear note. Then he carefully place the horn back in it’s place and settled in to wait.

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Bunelck watched as the young Mongol stepped out onto the cabin balcony and signaled with a silver horn. Before the last echo died, he turned and quickly made his way into the deeper woods. Shortly, this clearing would become a very unhealthy place for an orc. Once the Horde was assembled and saw what Galliard had done to their Khan, he doubted that the Mongols would be in the mood to listen to his troubles. Unless, of course, one of them was very good at spirit-speak, he thought with grim humor.

© 2001 Todd Bailey