The Colorless Land

Chapter 32: Clefts and Tunnels

It was Edmian who first noticed the distant noises.

Still a light sleeper, he was roused from an uneasy dream, looking about and wondering if the distant thumping and clanging had been a figment of his imagination. At first it seemed like it had. The path and the rocks around them were perfectly silent.

Then, suddenly, the noises resumed, and they seemed closer this time.

Edmian sat upright. It was pitch-dark on the path, the cliff-sides around them swallowing the faint glimmer of the moon and stars. He barely saw his own hands before his eyes. Only the quiet breaths of his companions told him that they were nearby.

Scrambling to his feet, he groped his way around the rocks until he made out Zamrod's bent figure sitting in the dark, watching over them. The dwarf did not seem to have noticed the sounds.

Edmian swallowed. He had never interacted much with the old mapmaker, and he did not get the feeling that he was very welcome. Should he disturb him? Would it cause any trouble?

"Awake?" Zamrod muttered before he could make up his mind.

Edmian gave a start and stepped closer, nodding. "Yes," he said. "I heard noises."

"Right," said the dwarf. "Orcs."

Edmian tensed up. He had never seen an orc, but the others used the word in a way that could mean no good news. "Orcs?"

"Aye. Live here." Zamrod seemed unmoved. "Doubt they've noticed us. Keep quiet and they might pass us by."

Edmian wondered if he should ask more questions, but the dwarf made no effort to shoo him away, and he decided it was better than bothering the others. "I thought they were dangerous," he said. "What is an orc?"

"Nasty fellows." Zamrod adjusted his posture where he sat, dark eyes glinting in the starlight. "Used to be elves once. Messed with forbidden magic and turned into monsters. Don't like elves much now. Or humans."

"Why not?"

Zamrod grunted. "Ask the elf."

Edmian was quiet. He wanted to ask more, but once more he wondered if he had overstayed his welcome.

Above the thumping and clanging came closer.

"They're up on the rock," Zamrod said as if reading Edmian's thoughts. "Doubt they're coming down here."

Closer and closer.

"But just in case," the dwarf added in an undertone, "go wake the others."

Edmian nodded and darted off. Within moments he was back with the group, reaching for the first sleeping body in his way and shaking its arm.

"Five more minutes," Evariel's voice came from the bundle of blankets.

Edmian shook him again, harder this time. "You can't," he whispered urgently. "Orcs."

"Yeah, I'll get up in a—what?"

Within a split second Evariel sat upright, nearly knocking his head against the rock. "Orcs?" he whispered back. "Where?"

"Up on the rock. They're coming closer."

Tripping over himself, Evariel leaped out of his blankets, gathered them up and stuffed them into his pack. "You wake the rest," he hissed, scrambling over their camp. "I'm packing up."

Edmian nodded and did as he was told. Only a few moments later they were all awake, clambering and groping to pick up their belongings in the dark and prepare for a quick escape.