Heroes of Majestia: The Company of Flight Excerpt: Shortcutter Pass

Chapter II: Shortcutter Pass

 

Shortcutter Pass was as it sounded: a path that was carved into the mountain range making travel from any side of the mountain to another much shorter. Unfortunately, it was perilous and narrow with off-season inclement weather and wind throughout. No one was completely certain who made the pass. Some said it was a wizard who used magic to cut his way through the mountain rather than traverse over it, which would have explained the weather.  Others claimed it had been made by a group of orcs who could neither read a map nor use a compass, but were handy with a pickaxe, which explained the pass’ labyrinthian nature.

Either way, it was not a pleasant trip because of the blustery and frigid weather, the large gaps one had to jump across, the jagged rocks that enclosed the pass, the winding and twisting paths that were exceptionally easy to get lost in, and a few dead ends that were simple drops. It was especially unpleasant this time though as Asina absolutely refused to walk the pass demanding to be carried through via sedan chair.

Lennox screamed, “You can’t take a sedan chair through Shortcutter Pass!”

He, Daven, and other members of Dragon were in the armory preparing their equipment.

“Did you tell her she was a mad bitch for even suggesting it?”

“Well, the Captain didn’t say that exactly,” said Crag. “But he is desperately trying to persuade her against it.”

“What a bitch.”

“I’m confused,” said Daven. “I thought I had once heard that the princess of Talian was a very courteous and considerate young lady. But then this brat shows up?”

“Looks like you were fed some bull shit,” replied Lennox. “But seriously, there’s no one in the Company who’s going to carry her ass through the pass. We’re soldiers, not servants. Let those buggers who came with her do it. Hey! One of those lines rhymed.”

“Three coppers say you can’t name which line it was,” said Daven.

“Well,” began Crag, “the Captain is at least trying for that angle. I don’t know how successful he’ll be.”

“Then we’ll leave her here,” suggested Lennox. “Or she can go back with the main forces in a day or two.”

“Yeah,” agreed Adder, another flight member. “And should the Captain fail, when the path narrows, we’ll purposely get the chair stuck and just leave her there.”

Crag sighed. “I wish you guys were just a little more helpful.”

Flint walked into the armory. “Well lads,” he began, “that daft bitch can’t be dissuaded. But at the least, we won’t have to carry her. The five men who came in with them will be forced to do it.”

“Poor buggers,” said Lennox.

“When do we leave, Captain?” Daven asked.

“As soon as possible. We should reach Talian by early morning.”

“Early morning?” Lennox repeated. “You make it sound like we’re going to march through the night.”

“Well…”

“Oh, gods no! Shortcutter Pass is hard enough to manage by day. And the weather worsens at night.”

“I suggest you wear a scarf.”

Lennox seethed.

“Oh, and Lennox. The princess doesn’t like you very much—”

“I wonder why,” commented Daven.

“—so you’ll take point.”

Lennox shook with rage. “Gods… gods dammit!”

Within the next half hour, Dragon flight and the Talian troop were prepared to take Shortcutter Pass. The Talian carriage would be driven back when the rest of the Company made its way to Talian several days later. The sedan chair to be carried by the knights had been secured to the rear of the carriage and amazingly brought through the narrow tunnel the Talians had come through with Alena earlier.

Dragon and the Talians took an unceremonious leave through another underground tunnel leading to the western side of the mountain. Lennox, cursing his fate, led the party and was followed by Daven. Behind him was another seven members of Dragon, followed by the Talians who were escorted more personally by Crag and Flint, and lastly another eight members of Dragon. Being on point, it was Lennox’s duty to lead everyone through the maze of Shortcutter Pass, hopefully taking the most direct route to Talian, and lighting periodic torches to light the way and point out environmental hazards to everyone who followed.

As Lennox exited the tunnel, a biting wind robbed him of his spirit prompting Daven to push him out. Lennox reluctantly led ducking and bracing against the wind while constantly moving his torch around in front of him making sure he could see everything.

After stumbling on several rocks however, he turned to Daven and pushed him ahead. “Light the path around our feet and I’ll light the path around our heads!” he commanded.

“What if I hit my head into something?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be lighting the path above you.”

“So I only need to worry about you dropping your torch or failing to see an incoming attack?”

“Precisely!”

“Great…”

“With a head like yours, kid, you could make sergeant someday.”

Daven hunched over and kept the path lit for their feet while constantly bumping his shoulder, bow, or quiver into Lennox’s elbow. The going was glacial and several times they had to stop to make sure everyone was still behind them.

Daven and Lennox came to the first fork. Lennox leaned as close as he could to the wall trying to read what had been scratched into it so many years ago when the Company originally mapped the pass.

He turned to Daven. “Which way is Talian?”

“Northwest.”

Lennox examined the wall again before leaning back. “Do either of these look like ‘Northwest’ to you?”

“Gods…” said Daven. “If you were going to use me this much, I should have taken lead.”

“There’s still plenty of time for you to step up. The Captain would love to see such an enterprising young soldier.”

“Eat me.” Daven examined the wall. “This one,” he said finally. “It actually says ‘North,’ but the other says ‘West by Southwest.’”

“It’s good to have young eyes,” said Lennox, lighting a torch just right of the north pathway. He turned to make sure everyone was still coming before ambling down the path.

Several more times they came across forks which required Daven and Lennox to examine the directions carved into the rock and try to decide which way to take. As they did so, they would light a torch or sconce next to that path and it would be the responsibility of the last man to extinguish the torch so they couldn’t be followed.

All that was the least of their worries though as the wind became harsher as the night wore on and the princess’ sedan chair required some clever maneuvering in order to squeeze through some of the narrower parts of the path. It wasn’t long until it inevitably became stuck forcing the princess, whose mood had worsened with time, to abandon it for the cold world. One of the knights wrapped her in a blanket and there was a discussion about what to do. It couldn’t be left there as an obstruction, but Asina was adamant it shouldn’t be destroyed and could be freed if everyone stopped being so thick about it.

“Please listen to reason, your highness,” cooed Alezar. “What good would it do to free it now?”

“It is royal property!” argued Asina, shivering from the cold. “We can’t—we can’t leave it.”

“But—”

“No! I don’t care if you have to use your magic. Free it!”

Alezar looked back at the sedan chair. Sure, a little bit of magic could easily free it. But then, there were the knights to think of. Several times they had tripped or injured themselves carrying it through the crags. And what about the Company of Flight? Would they break a contract if Asina gave them too much trouble?

Alezar looked sideways at the princess before catching sight of Lennox and Daven far ahead everyone else. Alezar clearly saw Lennox say “What a bitch.”

As he was watching Lennox, he got an idea. “Very well, your highness. I will free it.”

Alezar turned back to the sedan chair and theatrically opened his arms. He then paused. “Oh, bollocks! What was that spell again? Oh, I think I remember.” Alezar pointed a finger at the sedan chair and uttered a word of power of Arcana, the language of magic. “Losgi!”

A fireball the size of a man’s skull accelerated from his finger tip and incinerated the chair in seconds.

“Alezar!”

“Oh, damn,” he said, trying to look as sheepish as possible. “That was the wrong one. I’m sorry, your highness. But it appears you will have to continue on foot.”

Asina growled, biting her fist until it bled. Behind her, Lennox was guffawing and slapping Daven on the back. As Alezar caught his eye, Alezar winked. Lennox winked back.

While the chair was now gone and the troop able to move much faster without it, they were still moving slowly through the pass as the weather worsened developing snow and hail. They were forced to deviate from their course and take shelter in a cave just off the path. Asina insisted a tent be built for her so she could have some privacy. The knights did so reluctantly while Dragon started a campfire.

“Quickly eat your supper,” ordered Flint. “Then hurry to bed. We have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow. Lennox, you take first watch.”

“What?!”

“Did I stutter?”

“Come off it, Captain. You’ve been giving me shit since before we left. What’s the deal?”

“My hope is that as you serve others, you may learn some humility and keep your tongue from wagging needlessly.”

“Honestly, Captain,” ventured Daven, “it’s really more his mind you should worry about. If it wasn’t so rotten, you wouldn’t have to worry about his tongue.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Lennox.

“It means you have manure for brains.”

“How? Name one time when I have been less than genius.”

“Well, you remember that time you ate a bovine pizzle and thought it was a sausage?”

This drew laughs from everyone, including Alezar and especially Cazzo and his men.

“I didn’t eat it,” said Lennox, blushing. “I was just…” He gesticulated vaguely, “you know.”

“That makes it sound even worse, you imbecile.”

“How so?”

“Because instead of just being a hungry idiot who nibbled a bovine pizzle, you become the poor dumb bastard who gave a full knob job to a desiccated cow penis!”

Roars of laughter followed.

“Would you kindly shut up!” screamed Asina from inside the tent.

Lennox’s eyes narrowed before he stomped off for the cave’s exit. “You’re next,” he said, passing Daven.

***

In the morning, Daven woke with a start when Lennox kicked him in the ribs. Daven groaned. “What’s your game?”

“Come on. The Captain has ordered me—uh, us—to scout ahead and take point again.”

“Us, huh? Somehow I doubt that. Why don’t you push off and leave me be? Last night was worse for me than it was for you.”

While Lennox had only needed to endure a couple of hours of hail, Daven suffered freezing rain and for an hour longer than he was supposed to. He had at one point passed out from the cold.

“Either you scout with me, or I force you to give a cow penis a knob job. And not a dead one! Now, up!” He kicked Daven again.

“Alright, alright.” Daven rose, packed up his belongings, and followed Lennox out of the cave choking down a bitter apple.

“The Captain wants us to mark the next further routes with chalk,” said Lennox, holding up a piece. “But we’re not to go any further than the Razor Crags.”

“And how far is it to the Crags from here?”

“No idea.”

Lennox and Daven set out examining pass after pass, path after path, drawing a small chalk line next to the path the rest of the flight would take. The ground developed a noticeable decline, and about an hour before noon, they reached the Crags: a terrible labyrinth of sharp and jagged boulders as far as the eye could see. The dangers included falling rocks from the cliffs above, cutting oneself on the rocks, and getting hopelessly lost. And with all the progress made by Daven and Lennox, if they continued to put room between themselves and the others, they would make themselves easier targets to enemies. So they took a rest. All the while, they could hear something in the distance.

“What is that?” asked Daven.

“Voices, I think.”

Daven looked confused. “What species?”

Lennox shrugged. “Orc…?”

Orcs were a brutal and tribal species of humanoid. Generally, they were bigger and more muscular than humans. Usually they were shunned from human societies for their terrifying looks and customs, which gave rise to the belief that they were evil. But their twisted, scarred, and beaten-in looks and brutish customs were the result of not being accepted by the civilized species. Smart, educated, and even attractive orcs did exist and would even have relationships with humans resulting in the crossbreed called Orkans.

Two kinds of orcs existed: mountain and swamp, or in Orcish, Mal-orku and Mos-orku. The only real difference between them was their skin colors and builds. Mountain orcs were typically shades of murky red to brownish grey and quite muscular. Swamp orcs came in tones of green and dark grey, and were more slender.

There was one more type of orc: Cyth-orcs. These were orcs that had allowed themselves to be possessed by the Cythraul, the demons and dark spirits created by the god of evil and darkness, Dyavolat. They had white or black skin, and were capable of all the atrocities that Cythraul and Gythraul, Cythraul incarnate, were capable of.

“Mountain orcs?” suggested Lennox.

“Mal-orku?”

“Look at you. So fancy being able to speak Orcish.”

 Daven ignored him. “Mal-orku don’t come this far down the mountain. They’re awfully close to the plains. A little too close.”

“Indeed.”

Lennox and Daven heard familiar voices and around the corner popped Flint and Crag.

“Sorry it took us so long, boys,” said Flint.

“The princess has been bitching the whole way,” added Crag. “She’s tried several times to get one of the men to carry her.”

“Really? Fascinating,” said Lennox dryly. “We may have company in the crags ahead.”

Flint jumped slightly. “Who?”

“Orcs, possibly,” answered Daven.

Flint turned to Crag. “Tell Alezar and his men to keep quiet, and call up some of the lads.”

As Crag turned back, Flint turned to Daven and Lennox. “Scale these walls and see if you can espy who it is.”

Daven and Lennox rolled their eyes, but did as they were told climbing the rock face behind them and slowly peered over the edge. There was no one to be seen, but there was a trail of black smoke rising out of a circle of rocks.

“A possible campfire about thirty yards away,” reported Daven.

Crag returned with a few more archers and Alezar.

“What’s the problem, Captain?” asked Alezar.

“There’s no problem yet. But we may have some orcs not too far from here.”

“Orcs? They’re awfully far south. Unless… Yes, yes. It’s possible.”

“What’s possible?”

“Ever since King Talianus took his rule, trade between Talian and some shady groups have opened, including a nearby tribe of orcs. The king claims they’re not dangerous, and so far, he’s right. But, it’s possible it’s the same group. They may let us by.”

“It’s also possible they’ll try to kill us without a second thought,” retorted Flint. “Lads, get to the top of the rocks and scout out important targets. Prepare to fire on my command.”

Dragon did as they were ordered, and crept along the rocky ledges as quietly as possible.

“Please, wait,” said Alezar. “Let me talk to them. If they meet with and listen to me, we can avoid needless bloodshed.”

Flint’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. But if you get killed, it’s your fault.”

“So be it.”

Alezar wound his way to the camp, which the flight was now looking down into. It was indeed an orc encampment. There were about ten canvas tents pitched with about twenty or so orcs below. It looked as if they were only starting breakfast.

Flint drew his bow and aimed at what looked like the chieftain. He whispered orders. “Daven, take the one on the right of chieftain. Adder, the guard at the other end of the camp. Crag, the lone soldier over by the rack of weapons. Lennox, hit the one sitting at the feet of the chief.”

“What?” said Lennox. “The one that looks like it has tits?”

“I think those are breasts,” said Daven.

“That’s ridiculous. Orcs can’t have tits. If they did, that would mean there are female orcs. And no such thing exists.”

“How do you know?” asked Adder. “Have you gone around and sexed all the orcs in the world?”

“Yeah, where do baby orcs come from?” added Daven.

“They spring out of the ground,” said Lennox matter-of-factly. “Just like dwarves and goblins.”

“Next, you’ll claim there’s no such thing as male faeries and mermen,” said Crag.

“Well… there aren’t.”

“How do you know?” asked Daven.

“I just do.”

“Shut up, all of you,” hissed Flint. “Yes, Lennox. Take the one with the tits. Now, wait for Alezar. If he looks to be in trouble, don’t hesitate.”

Alezar appeared from around the far corner and knocked his staff against the ground to get the orcs’ attention. “Hail, humble brethren of the mountain! Hail, Chief Malgoth!”

“Who are you?” growled the chief suspiciously.

“It is I, the wizard Alezar. Advisor to his highness King Talianus!”

Chief Malgoth made a strange snort that sounded like a human “Oh.” “Lord Alezar! Hail! What brings you to the High Fells?”

“I was sent by his liege to employ the Company of Flight for the upcoming war with King Jeremy the Wicked.”

“The Company of Flight? The archers?”

“The very same.”

“Cowards. Real soldiers fight with the axe and club.”

“I’d like to see you face a mass cavalry charge from a hundred yards away and not shit yourself,” replied Lennox, under his breath.

“That may be,” admitted Alezar. “I confess I know nothing of physical combat. Regardless, I am under his royal majesty’s command. Do I, my men, and the Company have your blessing to proceed back to Talian?”

“Blessing? Of course. Proceed and leave us be.”

“Thank you, your eminence,” said Alezar, bowing.

Alezar returned back to the passage and was joined by Flint and the others as they leapt down from the ledges. “Do you see, Captain? There was no need for force.”

“Yeah. Thankfully. But still, we have to be careful.”

“Of course,” nodded Alezar.

“Hey, Alezar,” interrupted Lennox. “Perhaps you could settle something for us: who was that orc sitting at Chief Gargle’s feet?”

“Malgoth,” corrected Alezar. “I don’t know, but I am sure that that is the Chief’s current concubine.”

“Concubine?!”

“Yes. What? Are you surprised to hear that orcs can be female? Weren’t the breasts a giveaway?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” said Lennox, rubbing his forehead. “Next, you’ll tell me that there are male faeries and mermen.”

“There are.”

“What?!”

Some members of the flight snickered.

“If you’re through being puerile, can we continue?”

“Yes. Let’s,” said Flint, leading.

Daven leaned over to Lennox and whispered, “You should ask about female goblins and dwarves.”

“Shut. Up.”
Daven, Adder, and Crag burst out laughing.

 

***

 

On the magical world of Majestia, the child sorcerer King Jeremy the Wicked threatens to sacrifice the kingdom of Talian to the ominous Black Moon as his prelude to universal conquest. Talia, the princess of Talian, learns through divination that King Jeremy is not all he seems and sets out to discover the secrets behind his evil. To aide her, she enlists the help of the mercenary Daven, a member of the archery corps known as the Company of Flight.

Along the way, they encounter twisted monsters, mad mages, a draconic demigod, and a wacky sorceress. Stumbling their way through adventure, romance, and evil, Daven and Talia forge their legend as they become the first in a new crop of Heroes of Majestia.

Inspired by the works of JRR Tolkien, Terry Pratchett, Glen Cook, and HP Lovecraft, Bryan C. Laesch has created a unique and entertaining fantasy series. A new legend has begun.

 

***

If you enjoyed this excerpt from Heroes of Majestia: The Company of Flight, you can purchase it here on Amazon. Available in both Kindle and paperback editions.

More About the Author:
Amazon: My Author Page, My Influencer Page
Facebook: Bryan C. Laesch, Bawdy Scholar
Patreon: Bryan C. Laesch
Twitter: BryanofallTrade
Youtube: Bryan C. Laesch, Bawdy Scholar