Obould eased back in his throne and the moment of distress seemed to slip back from the edge of disaster. Of course with Obould, whose temper had left uncounted dead in his murderous wake, none could be sure.
"You were in the east," Obould said after many heartbeats had passed. "Near the Moonwood."
"Not so near, but yes, my king," said Dnark.
"Tell me of Grguch."
The blunt demand rocked Dnark back on his heels and crippled his denial as he replied with incredulity, "Grguch?"
"His name echoes through the kingdom," said Obould. "You have heard it."
"Ah, you mean Chieftain Grguch," Dnark said, changing the inflection of the name to put emphasis on the "Gr," and acting as if Obould's further remarks had spurred recognition. "Yes, I have heard of him."
"You have met him," said Obould, his tone and the set of his face conveying that his assertion was not assumption, but known fact.
Dnark glanced at Ung-thol, and for a moment the shaman thought his chieftain might just turn on his heel and flee. And indeed, Ung-thol wanted to do the same. Not for the first time and not for the last time, he wondered how they could have been foolish enough to dare conspire against King Obould Many-Arrows.
A soft chuckle from Dnark settled Ung-thol, though, and reminded him that Dnark had risen through difficult trials to become the chieftain of an impressive tribe - a tribe that even then surrounded Obould's tent.
"Chieftain Grguch of Clan Karuck, yes," Dnark said, matching Obould's stare. "I witnessed his movement through Teg'ngun's Dale near the Surbrin. He was marching to the Moonwood, though we did not know that at the time. Would that I had, for I would have enjoyed witnessing his slaughter of the foolish elves."
"You approve of his attack?"
"The elves have been striking at your minions in the east day after day," said Dnark. "I think it good that the pain of battle was taken to their forest, and that the heads of several of the creatures were placed upon pikes at the river's edge. Chieftain Grguch did you a great service. I had thought his assault on the Moonwood to be at your command."
He ended with an inflection of confusion, even suspicion, craftily turning the event back upon the orc king.
"Our enemies do not avoid their deserved punishment," Obould said without hesitation.
At Dnark's side, Ung-thol realized that his companion's quick-thinking had likely just saved both their lives. For King Obould would not kill them and tacitly admit that Grguch had acted independent of the throne.
"Chieftain Grguch and Clan Karuck will serve the kingdom well," Dnark pressed. "They are as fierce as any tribe I have ever seen."
"They breed with ogres, I am told."
"And carry many of the brutes along to anchor their lines."
"Where are they now?"
"In the east, I expect," said Dnark.
"Near the Moonwood still?"
"Likely," said Dnark. "Likely awaiting the response of our enemies. If the ugly elves dare cross the Surbrin, Chieftain Grguch will pike more heads on the riverbank."
Ung-thol eyed Obould carefully through Dnark's lie, and he easily recognized that the king knew more than he was letting on. Word of Grguch's march to the south had reached Obould's ear. Obould knew that the chieftain of Clan Karuck was a dangerous rival.
Ung-thol studied Obould carefully, but the cunning warrior king gave little more away. He offered some instructions for shoring up the defense of the region, included a punishing deadline, then dismissed the pair with a wave of his hand as he turned his attention to the annoying Kna.
"Your hesitance in admitting your knowledge of Grguch warned him," Ung-thol whispered to Dnark as they left the tent and crossed the muddy ground to rejoin their clan.
"He pronounced it wrong."
"You did."
Dnark stopped and turned on the shaman. "Does it matter?"
PART 3 Chapter 18 THE SURBRIN BRIDGE
The wizard held his hand out, fingers locked as if it were the talon of a great hunting bird. Sweat streaked his forehead despite the cold wind, and he locked his face into a mask of intensity.
The stone was too heavy for him, but he kept up his telekinetic assault, willing it into the air. Down at the riverbank, dwarf masons on the far bank furiously cranked their come-alongs, while others rushed around the large stone, throwing an extra strap or chain where needed. Still, despite the muscle and ingenuity of the dwarf craftsmen, and magical aid from the Silverymoon wizard, the floating stone teetered on the brink of disaster.