Bab 87: Angry Orcs
UNS Singapore, Command Bridge
"YES!" Cheers erupted as the crew and officers watched what happened through the choppy video stream from Claymore One's actions. Seeing the Necromancer get shredded by the mines, the whole bridge just stood up, cheered wildly and applauded.
"Great work, Claymore One," the Bridge Communications Officer, congratulated the team for a successful mission.
"Hey, hey," Captain Blake called out, "The mission is not over yet! We still need to determine if the Necromancer's death will it also affects the Undead army." He reminded everyone.
The crew quiet down, as they looked on hopefully on to their display screens hoping that with the Necromancer killed, the dead will no longer raise up.
-----
Uncharted Forest, Ambush Site B
Coughing from the gun smoke, Specialist Sergeant Tyrier pushed himself off from the top of Specialist Altied, who laid on the forest floor, moaning. Tyrier gestured to Specialist Lance Corporal Young to assist and treat Altied as he headed back into the clearing.
Splatters of dark red blood, bits, and pieces of Orc sprawled all over the clearing. Tyrier readied his weapon and head for the spot where the Necromancer was the last to be seen. The robed figure was so ravaged badly by the steel ball bearings from the claymore mines, that mostly of the Necromancer was scattered all over the area. Despite that, the upper half of the Necromancer torso remained behind with its female elvish face still lying there.
Tyrier avoided looking at the face, remembering what had happened to Altied earlier. He drew his single-bladed sword and hack down with all his strength, severing the head off. Digging into his pooches, he pulled out a drawstring bag of kosher salt and sprinkled them all over the torso and the decapitated head, before pouring a flask of alcohol liquid over the body parts and setting them on fire.
Salt being used is for purification will dispel any negative or evil energy, and the fire will destroy any chances of the creature from reanimating.
"Squad Three, what's your situation, over," Tyrier asked as he watched the flames consuming the body parts.
"We pushed them back, for the time being, they are still confused to where our location is," Squad Three replied. "But we got a huge bunch of really angry Orcs here!"
"Roger, extract yourselves and meet us at the designated rally point Alpha, copy?" Tyrier responded.
"Copy that, bugging out now," Squad Three replied as they fired a few more rounds and retreated behind the gun smoke, using it as cover for their retreat.
"Alright Squad One and Two, head to rally point Alpha now," Tyrier ordered, "Move it!" Tyrier wanted to see if there were any things left behind by the Necromancer, but apparently, everything got destroyed by the claymore mines. "Move it, people!"
War horns bellowed from within the Orc camps, "Detonate the rest of the mines at the other sites, keep them busy!" Tyrier ordered as he supported Altied's limp form. He chanted a quick strengthening spell, boosting his strength and fireman carried Altied over his shoulder, including all his weapons and armor, taking off in a quick jog into the undergrowth.
Squad Three led the pursuers back towards the ambush Site C, the angry Orcs crying out in bloodlust and excitement at the fleeing two figures, screaming vulgarities in their Orc tongue after them. The two elves hopped over a fallen log where they hid the detonator and quickly cranked the charge, and timed the trap just as the pursuing Orcs entered into the killing zone.
Other than bits of gore, blood, and broken pieces of equipment laid shattered all over, nothing alive remained in Site C, Squad Three without even a backward glance, sprinted off towards the rally point.
Squad Three was the last to arrive at the rally point, the rest was already assembled at the rally, with Squad Two on overwatch, keeping an eye around their surroundings for any signs of pursuing enemies. Young from Squad One was providing magical medical aid to the mind stunned Altied, was who slowly recovering his wits.
"What happened?" Specialist Corporal Doth jerked his head towards Altied and Young.
"He nearly got his brain fried by some chaos or dark magic," Tyrier answered. "Young saved his ass just in time."
"We got the target?" Doth asked again.
"Beheaded, salted and burnt," Tyrier gave a rare smile, "Alright, set up the comms array, let's see what further instructions Command has."
Doth nodded, gesturing his partner over as both of them headed off to high ground to deploy the portable communication array in their backpacks. Tyrier went to check on Altied, "How is he?"
Young peeled back the eyelids and examined the pupils of Altied and said, "He should be fine, with some rest, his brain just couldn't handle the backlash of some raw chaos magic." Young kept away his medical supplies, "Lucky he got high willpower and managed to resist the effects of the dark magic, if not," Young shrugged, his hands mimicking a pair of wings flying away. "I gave him 10 ccs of tranq-shot, it should sedate him till we can get him to proper medical aid.
Tyrier nodded and headed up to where Squad Three were setting up the comms gear. A small foldable antenna disk stood on top of a boxy device with dials and wires, with Doth hunched over it as he aimed the antenna disk into the skies, at roughly the position of where the recon UAV was scheduled to appear over.
"We got a connection," Doth said, nodding to Tyrier. "All yours."
"Claymore Actual to Thunderchief do you copy over?" Tyrier spoke into his comms set in his helmet.
"-derchief reading you loud and clear, over."
"Claymore Actual, requesting orders over."
"Thunderchief, Command wants you to standby for confirmation of undead activity, should threat is still red, go secondary mission, over."
"Claymore Actual, copies that, out."
"Damn," Tyrier groaned, he was tired so was his men. "Alright, pack it in, we go into hiding till night falls." He spoke into his all team channel.
"Command wants us to assess the situation of the undead activities, if they are still active, we will begin the secondary mission." Tyrier briefed his team, "Young, you hold the rally point and look after Altied. The Squad Two will reinsert back, and standby at the mass grave site and while I and Squad Three will head towards the Necromancer's suspected tent."
"Questions?" Seeing no one saying anything, Tyrier continued, "Rest up in rotations, we will move out when night comes."
-----
Uncharted Forest, Orc Frontline
Urka the Fierce stood at the back of a tree trunk, using it as cover from the deadly long ranged spells cast from Walls of the Pass. He watched a trio of Oerkin stone throwers in action, sheltered behind walls made out of thick logs, the Oerkin crew pulling the ropes of the trebuchet, and launching a rock almost the size of an Oerkin towards the walls.
"Warleader! Warleader!" A skinny Oerkin wearing a bright orange slash across his chest, signifying him as a messenger, called out to Urka from behind the lines.
"What is it?" Urka gestured him over, making sure they are behind the cover of the tree trunk.
"Something has happened at the camp! Smoke and fire!" The messenger excitedly gave his report.
"Slow down!" Urka roared, using his fist and thumping the head of the messenger to stop his babbling. "What happened at the camp?"
"Eh, don't know?" The messenger shrugged his shoulders as he rubbed the egg-sized bruise forming on his head. "Just seeing smoke where the Elder was headed to."
"The Elder?" Urka frowned, why has this idiot come to disturb him with such matters. "The Shamans should be able to take care of themselves, don't disturb me unless the camp is under attack or on fire!"
"Eh?" The messenger scratched his head, "Okey dokey," and scrammed off.
Urka shook his head and returned to watching the stone throwers at work. and not long later, the same skinny messenger appeared before Urka again. "Eh, Warleader..."
"What now?" Urka asked impatiently, recently he had been getting very impatient with how the war had been going on.
"More smoke and boom booms in the forest!" The messenger waved his arms to indicate the size of the smoke.
"Boom Boom?" Urka scrunched his face in confusion, "What?" Then it hit him, boom boom meant the sounds the thundersticks made by the cursed soft skins in the Pass. "Where?" He roared at the terrified Oerkin.
"Back at the camp!" The shaking Oerkin pointed a finger back towards the camp. That was when Urka heard several sharp cracks and followed claps of thunder coming distantly from the rear. He shoved the messenger away from his path and ran back, his warriors following closely behind.
As the entered the camp, he noticed the camp was in a state of confusion, warriors standing around looking confused, while the slaves huddled down in fear. A sudden ripple of sharp claps shooked the camp, Urka could feel a slight shock wave passing over him, "This way!" He waved his warriors. "To me!"
Appearing down a well-worn path in the forest floor, several Oerkin warriors lay dead or heavily wounded on the path, Urka kneeled down next to a wounded warrior and shook him awake, questioning him, "What happened?"
"Soft skins..." The wounded Oerkin coughed out, "That way..."
"Go!" Urka roared at his warriors. He grabbed a passing Oerkin warrior and said, "Alert the camp, the soft skins are attacking, be on alert!" And he ran after his warriors, just as another ripple of explosions went off, nearer this time, the shockwave causing him and his warriors to stumble.
"What is happening? How did the soft skins get behind us?" Urka cursed, as he ran along the path, before arriving at a clearing where a strong stench of blood and soiled bowels. A path of ground in the clearing was charred black, and as Urka neared, the smell of badly burnt meat assailed his nose. He looked around the carnage in the clearing, trying to piece together what had happened here.
Clearly, a very powerful spell had ravaged all living here, he couldn't identify most of the body parts, but he found scraps of blood-soaked robes among the litter in the clear. "Where is the Elder?"
His battle-hardened warriors upon seeing the scene, their faces turned pale, they shook their heads, unable to question Urka's question. "Find the Elder! Spread out!" He roared at the hesitating warriors. "GO!"
Despite their best efforts and trackers, the Oerkin could not find any trace of the Elder Shaman, even the fellow Shamans remaining in the camps couldn't even discover any sense of the Elder's aura. "We couldn't feel him at all, not even his Spirit!" One of hooded Shaman said to Urka.
"Curses! How about any trace of the soft skins?" Urka asked his lieutenants, who shooked their heads. "What have you all been doing all these time!" He roared angrily.
"No soft skin was seen returning to the Pass," One of them replied. "Nothing passed by the south path!" Another said.
"Keep finding them! Use the wind wolves!" Urka shouted angrily, "Find the soft skins and the Elder now!" He waved madly at his warriors, making them flinch back in fear and respect.
His warriors bowed and turned to their subordinates and started handing down orders and instructions, using kicks and punches to drill it into their thick skulls. Urka returned his gaze at the bloody site, the sticky blood already turning dry in the sun, attracting hundreds of insects and small creatures to feed on the mess.
"The Elder couldn't have been defeated?" Urka wondered, "No, the Elder is protected by the Spirits, even if I match against the Elder, I won't possibly win at all." But yet a doubt remained in his heart. He looked at the charred patch of grass in the middle of the clearing again, wondering what had happened here.
PERTIMBANGAN PENCIPTA 
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