Bron woke, and found he could move again. He stared at the horizon where the wizard, his bodyguards, and his true friend and companion had disappeared. The light was already dimming. He couldn’t tell how many hours he’d been out. He felt the pain of several deep burns, courtesy of Carinus’ lightning. Fighting his way painfully to his feet, his first thought was to go directly after the wizard and Rhunal. Perhaps he could pick up their trail before the light was completely gone.

His first instinct was to run down the road, but Bron kept to the side, head swiveling to look for any threats. It seemed like he’d only been traveling mere minutes before the sun passed below the horizon. Fortunately, the pair of full moons replaced its light enough for him to follow the road.

Something about that observation bothered him enough to stop and think. And then he realized, the moons had been only crescents last night. But that was impossible. The last night he remembered was not a day ago. Something about his wounds concerned him as well. They ached, but not like fresh burns, rather the dull pain of mostly healed ones. He remembered the wizard’s bony hand and his command to sleep. He stopped in place, staring at the full moons. Despair crept up his body, and he shivered.

He’d never considered himself a skilled tracker. The fresh trail of Carinus and his bodyguard would have been challenge enough, several hours old. He could never follow their days-old trail. The road didn’t go much further north until it ended. Carinus and his bodyguard were already deep into the frontier.

Bron considered the wizard’s instructions to seek the orc village. Who was this orc chief the wizard had mentioned? He no longer had the stone hand to aid him. Carinus had taken it with him. But without Rhunal to empower it, he couldn’t use it, anyway. Once again, he was a one-armed man in a frontier where two was not enough. 

Bron and Rhun had been exploring enough to know how to get to the orc kingdoms. But if the human frontier was a harsh land, the home of the orcs was even more so. The chimera swarmed around that area. It was hard to travel that far without having one lurking nearby. And Bron was not so foolish as to think he could beat any of them. Even with Rhun’s magic and the stone hand to aid him, the creatures were ferocious opponents.

Coming to the end of the road, Bron made camp off into the bush, hoping it hid him enough. Half the night was already spent. Bron made a tiny fire, laying down next to it. A clump of leaves was his pillow.

He slept until impatience woke him, later in the day than he would have liked. Bron scoured the last stretch of the road for any signs of the wizard and his party. Nothing stood out. He could only imagine how easily the wizard could cover his tracks with wind magic, scouring even cart tracks smooth. The day passed slowly, and Bron’s frustration grew. The sun set, and he was no further from his original camp than he started. He lit his original fire and ate for the first time that day.

Despite his camp’s hidden nature, a figure appeared over the rise. A hefty cleaver clenched in his large, green hand. Bron stared back at the orc warrior for a moment. The fellow was as big as any of them, heavier than him, but a similar height. His initial alarm faded as the fellow made no further movement forward. Bron gestured towards his fire, raising a piece of his dried beef and vegetable cake. “Come and eat with me. I have enough food for us both. Leave the cleaver there, if you don’t mind.”

“I will keep the weapon on me. But I will not touch it,” said the orc, approaching at last. True to his word, he tied the weapon to his waistband with a thick rope. Bron knew the orc had the strength to snap it free in an instant.

The orc sat across from him at the fire, accepted Bron’s food, and ate in silence for a while, peering up at him from time to time. Once the meal was over, the orc finally spoke. “Why are you way out here, large man?”

Bron considered what to say, but in the end, decided it didn’t hurt to tell this stranger the truth. He hoped to get better directions to the orc kingdoms from him. His hope of finding Rhunal’s trail was gone. He spoke of the battle he and his friend, the she-orc, had fought against the wizard. He told of their departure days ago, after the wizard made him sleep unnaturally long. Her captors were days ahead of him now, and he did not know the way to their destination, the city of monsters.

“Out here? They’re all dead, and she as well,” he spoke casually, in that typically blunt orcish manner.

“The wizard brought many with him, ten to twelve. He is a skilled archmage as well, and had at least one orc in his party,” Bron said adamantly.

“Many people is worse. Attract more attention, larger beasts.”

“Maybe that would help her. If the circumstances were dire enough, they might set Rhunal free to aid them. For she is a sorceress.”

The orc was suddenly sitting upright, peering at Bron with suspicion. “Your friend the sorceress is a she-orc?”

Bron sensed something off about his guest’s tone. The orc had heard of her. It was too late to go back on it now. “Yes. Rhunal the sorceress is a she-orc. She will survive.”

“Then you are Bron the Stone Arm,” said the orc wanderer triumphantly. The fellow peered at him, his gaze lingering on his missing arm.

“Where is your stone arm?” 

“The stone arm was part of Rhunal’s magic. The wizard took it with him.” It was the first time he had acknowledged its loss to anyone, and he keenly felt it. 

“Can you find her without its strength? She may survive, but you won’t.”

“I will. I’ve got my sword. I will seek out the grey-haired chieftain.”

The orc laughed at him, glancing at the heavy blade. “You can’t swing it. You survived, but the wizard left you nothing. What can you offer some great chieftain?”  

The big fellow pointed to the bronze sword. “It is worthless to you. Give it to me instead.”

“Is this the way an orc acts as a guest?”

“You invited a guest. I am not that. I’ve heard many tales about Bron the Stone Arm. Consider me a rival. What will you achieve, lugging around a weapon you can’t even swing? It was a good meal. I can’t leave without testing the strength of Brondulf. Formerly the stone hand. You treated me as a guest. Will be a friendly duel. First blood only.”