Page 26 of Owned By the Orc Warlord
"Saved my life," Grimna says simply. "Threw herself at a dark elf commander who was about to put chaos magic through my spine. Took the full force of an uncontrolled magical discharge."
Pride and terror war in my chest as I examine her injuries. Unconscious but breathing, her pulse steady despite obvious trauma. The war paint she applies each morning has been partially burned away by magical force, revealing skin mottled with bruises and cuts.
But she's alive. Against impossible odds, facing enemies who've perfected the art of killing, she not only survived but saved one of my most trusted advisors.
"Get her to the healers," I order, though every instinct screams to carry her myself. "Grimna, report. What did you discover before the ambush?"
"Underground staging area in the old mining complex. Massive supply cache, detailed maps of our territory, cages full of escaped slaves." His grey eyes hold the weight of terrible knowledge. "This isn't random raiding, Rogar. They're preparing for a coordinated campaign to pacify the entire borderland region."
The strategic assessment confirms my worst fears. While we've focused on defending our immediate territory, dark elf forces have been positioning for a crushing offensive. Theescaped sacrifice we've harbored has become the catalyst for something far more dangerous than personal vengeance.
"Survivors from the ambush force?"
"Maybe. Zahra's charge broke their formation, and the magical backlash collapsed part of the tunnel system. We used the chaos to extract, but they had forces positioned throughout the complex." Grimna's expression grows troubled. "They'll know we discovered their operation. Whatever timeline they were following, it just accelerated."
"How long before they're ready to move?"
"Days, not weeks. The supplies we saw could support a significant force for extended operations."
I process the tactical situation while healers tend to Zahra's injuries. Multiple clan territories face coordinated assault by superior forces equipped with detailed intelligence about our defenses. Traditional strategy would call for immediate evacuation to more defensible positions, abandoning the borderlands to enemy control.
But evacuation means abandoning the refugee camps, the escaped slaves, the scattered orc settlements that depend on warrior clans for protection against dark elf persecution. It means accepting defeat before the battle truly begins.
"Khela," I call to my war leader. "Emergency assembly. All senior warriors, now."
The war council that gathers in the main cave carries tension thick enough to cut. News of the ambush has spread through the settlement, and the implications have every fighter on edge. We've known this conflict was coming, but the timeline's acceleration changes everything.
"The situation is simple," I begin, outlining Grimna's discoveries on the stone map table. "Dark elf forces are positioned for a massive offensive throughout the region. Theyhave detailed intelligence, superior numbers, and the element of strategic surprise."
"Evacuation?" asks Vex, his usual optimism tempered by the wounds he's still nursing.
"Evacuation means abandoning everyone we've sworn to protect. The refugee camps, the scattered settlements, the escaped slaves we’ve recently tasked to working in our fields—they'll all face recapture or death."
"Better than facing annihilation ourselves," Karg interjects. The older warrior's scarred face bears grim pragmatism. "We can't fight what we can't defeat."
"Can't we?" The question emerges rougher than intended, colored by protective fury and strategic desperation. "Zahra's intelligence proved accurate—she predicted their tactical patterns, identified their weaknesses. Maybe conventional warfare isn't the answer."
"You're talking about guerrilla operations," Khela observes. "Hit-and-run tactics, disrupting supply lines, making occupation too costly to maintain."
"I'm talking about survival. About adapting our methods to match the threat we face." I study the assembled faces, reading the mixture of doubt and determination in each expression. "We can't match their numbers in direct confrontation, but we know this terrain better than any outsider force."
"United resistance might work," Grimna says slowly. "But it would require coordination between clans that haven't spoken peacefully in generations."
The observation slices the heart of our strategic weakness. The orc clans operate as independent entities, each jealously guarding territory and resources. Ancient feuds and competing interests prevent the kind of unified response that successful resistance demands.
But desperate times create opportunities for unprecedented solutions.
"Then we convince them," I say. "Show them that cooperation serves everyone's survival."
"How?" Karg's skepticism drips like poison. "The Ironjaw Clan hasn't acknowledged our sovereignty in decades. The Bloodfang warriors would rather fight us than stand beside us. And the Stormbreak elders still blame us for the mining rights dispute."
Each objection carries historical weight. Generations of conflict have created resentments that run deeper than strategic necessity. Overcoming such ingrained hostility would require either overwhelming external threat or extraordinary leadership.
Fortunately, we have both.
"Zahra," I say, the name carrying more weight than mere identification. "She's proof that traditional assumptions can be wrong. That strength comes in unexpected forms, that cooperation creates advantages none of us could achieve alone."
"She's human," Vex points out. "The other clans won't care about human tactical insights."
