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It’s probably stupid of me to think I can do something that the orc search parties can’t. Maybe Laney is right, and I’m wasting my time.
But if there’s even a chance I can find him or help to find him, then I have to take it. Besides, I’m going crazy sitting around waiting for him to come back. I shouldn’t have let him leave on such a sour note. I should have told him I’m not rejecting him. I’m just not sure how I feel yet.
I can’t stand the thought of him dying. I can stand the thought of him dying while thinking I don’t care for him at all, even less.
I set off on one of the game trails that crisscross the forest. I spot a big orcish boot print in the mud right away, so I know I’m on the right trail. Of course, there are already orcs searching, so it might be one of them. But Jovak has a particularly wide stride, and the boot prints are spread out far enough that I think it has to be the Longstrider.
I rush along the trail for a while, stumbling from time to time as the leaves overhead grow so dense the sunlight barely makes it down here. I can hardly see my hand in front of my face.
I have to keep going, for Jovak’s sake, as much as my own. I’ve been wandering around this land for quite some time too. I might not be the Longstrider, but I know my way around the woods.
The only weapon I brought with me is an orcish short sword. Yeah, short for an orc. For me, it’s a full-sized blade. I asked Jovak to show me how to use a sword. He taught me a few very basic moves, but I have no illusions about how long I’ll last in an actual fight.
But I get the feeling that what’s out here taking orcs isn’t something you can best with a sword anyway. Sorcery, the shamans said. I’m not equipped to deal with sorcery, but from what I understand, magic is weak on this side of the portal. Maybe there’s something I can do to help.
I march through the woods for hours, finding the occasional sign that the orcish search party has been through ahead of me. I find the boot prints, snapped twigs, broken brambles, and other trailblazing marks that give my heart hope I’m on the right track.
Then I find a place along the trail marked by numerous broken branches, trampled leaves, and boot prints all headed the same way. My heart thuds hard in my chest. This is it. This is where they left the road.
I start to follow, and then I hear something ... a sharp, shrill whistle that cuts through the heavy, humid forest air. No way was that sound made by an animal. An orcish signal, perhaps? There are many searchers in the woods. If I follow the sound of the whistle, I might not ever make my way back to this spot. The woods are that dense.
And yet, I get a strange feeling in my chest. For some reason, I don’t think I should follow the trail. I feel like I should follow that whistle instead.
I hem and haw for a bit and then ultimately decide to follow the whistle. Fortunately, it repeats every so often. I pick my way up the trail and then find myself standing at the top of a very steep hill.
My eyes widen when I see the signs that someone has tumbled down here recently. There are deep indents in the grass where orcish armor has gouged the terrain. I spot an orc-made waterskin hooked on an upturned root.
My heart skips a beat when I realize I know this waterskin. The red sun design on the flat part of the bottle gives it away. I remember Jovak telling me that the skin was a gift from their friends in the Crimson Sun tribe.
That’s Jovak’s waterskin, or I’m an orc with a pituitary condition.
Carefully, I pick my way down the steep slope. I don’t want to go falling down it, too, and wind up getting hurt. The whistle comes again, splitting the air from much closer now. I toy with the idea of whistling back, but for all I know, that would be a bad idea. It might confuse whatever orc is trying to send a signal.
Also, it would pinpoint my location in the woods. I don’t know if maybe whoever took the missing orcs is behind the whistle. It’s best if I remain silent for the time being and try to locate the source as quickly as possible.
I made it to the waterskin and picked it up, putting the thong over my shoulder. I hope I get the chance to give it back to Jovak. Maybe he’s the one who’s been whistling? Again I’m tempted to try to whistle myself, but caution rules it out.
Finally, I make it to a less steep portion of the hill, and not a moment too soon. I stop myself just before I reach the sudden drop-off. A sheer drop of at least fifteen feet precedes a wide, flat expanse. It looks like there used to be a homestead here or maybe a farm of some kind.
I skirt around the cliff until I find a less extreme, if much slower, path to the homestead. As I reach the flat terrain, the whistle comes again. I pinpointed the source as coming from the farthest end from where I stand.
Carefully, I picked my way across, my eyes on alert for danger. I draw the sword at my side and hold it awkwardly in front of me. I follow the signs of passage when the whistle comes again, so sharp that it hurts my ears.
I looked down and gasped. Another step, and I’d have fallen right into a deep, wide hole. No, not a hole. An old well, judging by the masonry on the sides. Someone built this with a great deal of effort, and probably the construction equipment that humans lost during the invasion.
I peer down into the well and can just see something moving at the bottom.
“Hello, down there,” I call out.
“Paige?”
My lips spread into a wide smile at the sound of Jovak’s voice.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I call down. “Are you all right?”
“I am not hurt badly, but I cannot climb out of this pit either.”
“Okay, it’s all right. Let me see if I can find a rope or something.”
