Chapter Forty-Seven: Tracking

Chapter Forty-Seven: Tracking

It was several days before they caught their first signs of orcs.

They had been heading north east, moving slowly. Tom was unsure of which direction theyd run in during the night of the attack by the village-killer swarm, but he knew theyd eventually ended up a lot more north than they were now.

Tom sent Sere images of the orcs he had seen and fought, so that she would recognise them, and even sent impressions of the scents he vaguely remembered to Sesame, just in case. Most of the smells he remembered were vague, raw, unwashed, and animalistic, but he distinctly remembered the smell of an orcs breath as it blasted into his face as he fought them at the last.

Sesame assured him it was good information, and that he should be able to recognise the smell. He also thought it somewhat unnecessary; the bear felt like he would be able to recognise them by deduction too, orcs probably not smelling much like anything else in the Deep.

They were just about to wander into a clearing that Sere had relayed back to them, one which the brief images she sent Tom seemed almost familiar, when Sesame pricked to attention.

His great nose worked the breeze, and he began sending rapid thoughts to Tom through their bond.

Orcs. Sure of it. Faint, though. Very faint.

Tom relayed the information to Val. He felt her alertness ratchet up a notch.

Good job, bud, he told Sesame, giving him a brief scratch and sending positivity to him. The bear revelled in the attention for a moment, then sent another thought.

This way. He led them off through the clearing at a tangent.

The first day or so they lost the trail a few times, but always picked it back up within an hour. After that, it began to grow gradually stronger until, two days later, Sesame once again perked up.

Another trail, he sent. It crosses the first. Smells stronger. Should we follow?

Tom once again told Val, and she gave the go ahead. Sesame led them off, following the new trail hed found.

The next day, they arrived at a river. They carefully followed the trail west down the riverbank, and it grew stronger and stronger. Sere suddenly began to send images to him in a deluge, and Tom called Val to a stop through their wisps. She moved back beside him.

Up ahead, he said, speaking low. Rafts. Must be how theyre crossing the river. From the images Sere sent its where he trailed off, pained, then gathered himself again. Its where I managed to escape. Doesnt look like theres anyone there, at the moment, at least.New novel chapters are published on

Val gave him a brief squeeze on the arm, concern evident in her eyes. She thought for a moment.

We cross here. Too risky using one of their rafts. Weve got no idea how often they use the crossing. Maybe send Sere across, make sure theres no surprises waiting. Get ready to swim.

She handed him her bag, her sword, and her bow. Tom promptly stowed them in his storage, then stored his axe as well. He called Sesame over, and subbed him. He was sure the bear could easily make the crossing, but he was worried he would be conspicuous while doing so, and the extra strength would help him cross over himself, anyway. Val quickly subbed Scorn and Smitten too. Sere reported back the all clear from the other side, and they were ready to go.

They waded out into the water, and began to swim. It was cold, but not icy, now that winter was drawing to a close. Their Idealist constitutions meant it was even rather pleasant. Before he knew it, his feet were kicking the gravelly bottom, and then they were across.

They moved into the woods a little way before stopping to swap into dry clothes from Toms storage, redistributed their gear and weapons, resummoned their familiars, and then followed after Sesame again.

There were multiple trails now, strong, and they figured the raft crossing must be one of the main places the orcs were using to ford the river. All of the trails pointed north, to where the Nails loomed in the distance, enormous and imposing, glimpsed like hulking giants through gaps in the canopy.

A day later, just before noon, they were halted by a flurry of messages from Sere.

Tom pulled his wisp over to him, and, whispering into it, sent Val a message.

That was close. How long do we wait?

Too close. Make sure Sere has eyes on them at all times, if you can. We must be close.

Understood.

With that, Tom settled back onto his branch too. He set some of Seres bodies to follow the party of orcs, and sent the others out in a widening spiral from them. They saw no other parties before Val gestured to him that they should go.

He steeled himself, and they began trailing the orcs.

Within a few hours, the sparrows ranging to either side of them had reported more packs, all moving in the same direction. Once, they had to climb a tree again, as another twelve-strong pack of orcs passed nearby them, going the other way. Fortunately, they didnt pass directly underneath them, and were moving out at a sprint.

They followed the orcs the entire rest of the day, and a few hours after dusk. At that point, it became clear that they would not lose the trail. Sere had spotted several more parties, all moving the same direction: north, towards the Nails.

They climbed a tree for the night, and slept lightly, fitfully. Tom started awake at every single noise. Luckily, his Idealist constitution meant one nights poor sleep was no issue. The psychological effects of the pervasive fear were a different story though. He felt like he did on his first time in the Deep.

Upon thinking the thought, a smile came to his face. I survived then, and Ill survive now. One foot in front of the other, Tom.

When dawns first fingers of light clawed weakly at the sky above the looming mountains, they stirred, and climbed to the ground. The orcs seemed less active at night; Sere had seen only a single group heading carefully out towards the river. They needed to make as much ground as they could before they started coming and going again.

They hiked on, cautiously, alert, for hours more, and soon, the sun had fully risen and they had plenty of light to see by. Tom picked out signs of orc passage everywhere. With every broken branch, hanging from a bush, or upturned rock, or clawed print left in soft soil, his anxiety grew.

They had to be close now.

He sent Sere out as far as he dared while still without leaving any holes in the net of birds surrounding them that an orc might slip through. They had plenty of warning at each approach, and thrice more that day they had to climb trees to avoid discovery.

Once, the only tree nearby large enough to support their weight had no branches low enough to grab onto to climb, and so they crammed into a tiny nook in its massive root system, the tiny circle of wardpoles they hastily set as the only proof against their detection. That time, they were both a sweaty bundle of nerves when the group of orcs passed.

When night finally fell, they climbed a tree again. Neither felt much like speaking, their nerves worn thin and ragged. It felt like any unnecessary sound, and superfluous action, could see them discovered and captured. They had another fitful sleep.

The next day was even slower progress, and they barely managed to make it as far as Sere had ranged ahead of them the day before. They had to stop and hide almost every few hours, and Tom could see they werent going to get much closer.

He began to fret. The orc hive must be massive to support this much activity. It couldnt be. They needed to see it, had to confirm it with their own eyes, and yet, with the amount of parties coming and going, they could get no closer without being found. He didnt sleep at all that night, and he was certain Val didnt either.

As dawn rose on the third day since the river crossing, Tom sent Sere out again to scout ahead of them. The birds sent back a steady stream of images, an orc hunting party leaving, another returning.

And then, something new. Two orcs standing in a pair, both watching through the forest in different directions. One of his sparrows saw, from a nearby tree, the pair giving a snarled greeting to a returning party.

Sentries, he thought, and relayed it to Val.

They had found the camp.