Chapter 32: Chapter 32: In Lond Daer
Third Age, June 2939, ruins of Lond Daer Great Port.
As time passed, the once warm spring gradually transitioned into a scorching summer, and Minhiriath's land became increasingly covered in the green of plants.
For those enslaved by the Orcs, the only good news was that the June nights were no longer as cold as spring, and no one would wake up to find someone had fallen into an eternal sleep.
"Get up quickly, you lazy slaves! If you don't want to be picked to feed the Wargs, move your hands and feet faster!"
Early in the morning, an Orc stomped into a dilapidated wooden shack that couldn't even shelter from wind and rain, shouting in a crude voice. At the same time, he swung his whip, lashing at the people who had finally fallen into a deep sleep, leaving fresh bloodstains on their already scarred skin.
The whipped people awoke with a start, dodging the Orc's whip while numbly shuffling out of the wooden shack, starting their endless work with handcuffs and leg irons.
"Two less, only forty-two left."
A young male human, in a spot unnoticed by the Orc, counted the number of people who came out of the wooden shack. His feigned numb expression turned resentful, but quickly reverted when the Orc looked his way.
Alberto was the man's name.
His body bore the most scars among the group, and he was slightly larger in build than the others.
Besides whip marks, this young human male also had many scars from sharp weapons.
It was clear that he was a trained soldier before he was captured by the Orcs.
He and his comrades were ambushed by Orcs while patrolling in the wilderness. Although they fought back and killed many Orcs, the number of Orcs far outnumbered them.
After over eighty percent of his comrades were killed by the Orcs, Alberto was cut in the back with a sword. He lost consciousness and woke up to find himself brought to this place.
Alberto didn't know where he had been taken, only that it was a long-abandoned large port.
At this moment, he regretted not diligently memorizing the names of all the ruined ports marked on the map when he had looked at it.
The scorching early summer sun shone on his bent back, and the stones he worked hard to lift also felt warm to the touch, but Alberto's heart was cold.
His captured compatriots died or were injured daily for various reasons, and the Orcs intentionally did not feed them enough, yet made them do heavy physical labor.
This made it impossible for Alberto to find any chance of escape. He didn't even know when he would suddenly die like his deceased companions, either under an Orc's torturous cleaver or collapsing beside a pile of stones, becoming Warg fodder.
Just as Alberto was lost in thought, an Orc suddenly kicked him hard in the backside, almost breaking his waist. The sudden impact caused Alberto to lose his balance and crash into the pile of stones in front of him, blood dripping from his forehead.
"Hurry up! If this dock isn't repaired today, I'll throw all of you to the Wargs!"
The Orc's impatient voice came, followed by two "thwack, thwack" sounds, and two more searing pains on Alberto's back.
Then the Orc spat at the trembling Alberto, who was struggling to stand, before walking away with a mocking laugh.
"Ha…"
Only when the Orc was out of sight did Alberto let out a pained sound, leaning on the pile of stones, trying to alleviate the pain in his body.
But the pain not only didn't subside, it intensified. Because he hadn't eaten enough yesterday, his stomach also began to gnaw with an irritating hunger.
Damn Orcs.
Alberto cursed in his heart, afraid that if he cursed aloud, the Orcs intentionally hiding to listen would hear him, giving them a reason to kill him.
Although his current state was no different from being dead anyway.
Alberto mocked himself in his heart, then stood up and continued to laboriously move stones.
But just as Alberto lowered his head, shadows swept across the ground one after another—shadows cast from the sky.
At the same time, he also heard the Orcs' panicked voices.
What's going on!?
Alberto was about to look up and around when he heard a familiar whooshing sound—the sound of arrows plummeting with the whistling of the wind.
The whooshing was sharp and piercing, almost tearing one's eardrums. Each arrow seemed to have a life of its own, seeking its target.
He curled up beside the pile of stones. The stones were warm and hard, conveying a chilling sense of security through his thin clothes.
Dust and gravel splattered around Alberto. Each time an arrow made intimate contact with the ground, it stirred up a flurry of dust.
Although Alberto didn't know the purpose of the arrows' owners, as a soldier who had been on the battlefield, he knew the danger of stray arrows on the battlefield.
Therefore, while dodging the arrows, he called out to his compatriots, telling them not to stand there foolishly. His compatriots also sought cover in the chaos, their cries of alarm intertwined with the whooshing of arrows.
Beneath the clear sky, the Winged Hybrids were like falcons in the sky. Their feathers, which transitioned from pure white to deep black, gleamed with a metallic luster under the sunlight.
They searched for every movement on the ground with sharp gazes. Under the Winged Hybrids' sight, the Orcs who couldn't retreat in time and were exposed outside of cover appeared helpless and vulnerable, like lambs to the slaughter, at the mercy of the hunters.
A slight tremor of taut bowstrings filled the air, and the arrows from the Winged Hybrids' hands cut through the sky, flying directly towards their targets.
"Enem—!"
The Orc who had been using the whip to torment humans stood on the desolate street. Its distinctive attire stood out remarkably amidst the decay.
In its mocking, pleasure-seeking gaze, which took pleasure in the whip as a toy and human screams as entertainment, there had never been fear.
However, as the shadows in the sky expanded and the arrows shot by the Winged Hybrids swooped down like falcons, a hint of panic finally flashed in this Orc's eyes.
Above Lond Daer, the sound of wings flapping was like a symphony of death.
It tore at its throat, letting out a heart-wrenching cry that echoed through the desolate streets, but was drowned out by the shriek of the arrow rain.
Although the Winged Hybrids couldn't achieve perfect accuracy, their speed in drawing their bows was undeniable.
The Orc with the whip became the Winged Hybrids' prime target due to its distinctive attire.
This Orc, who enjoyed abusing humans for pleasure, uttered its first word, and its roar abruptly ceased. Dozens of arrows engulfed its body, blood and muscle churning under the impact of the arrows. Sharp arrowheads pierced into its gaping, foul-smelling mouth and exited from the back of its neck.
The whip fell, and the already dead Orc's body swayed in the arrow rain. Each hit was accompanied by a spasm, and finally, it fell to the ground like the whip.
Soon, the arrow rain subsided, and the terrifying whooshing sound above Alberto's head ceased.
He took a deep breath, trying to dispel the confusion and unease in his heart. Then, Alberto's gaze fell on the corpse of the Orc who had just whipped him.
To be precise, it was the cleaver hanging from this Orc's waist.
Alberto suddenly lifted his head, noticing that half of the unknown creatures in the sky, which had been shooting down Orcs, were flapping their wings and leaving, while the other half continued to circle, seemingly scouting the situation below.
Because the Winged Hybrids could not carry much weight, the previous few rounds of shooting had already consumed the arrows they carried. The half that left went to resupply arrows.
He was certain that these creatures in the sky had discovered him and his hidden compatriots, but for some unknown reason, they had not taken any action against his side.
Alberto looked at his compatriots hidden near other piles of stone or wood not far away and shouted with his limited strength, "Is anyone injured over there?"
"No!"
"No one is injured on my side either."
"Those arrows seemed to deliberately avoid our positions."
Two or three answers, neither loud nor soft, came back. The replies he received made Alberto breathe a sigh of relief and confirmed that the main targets of the creatures in the sky were the Orcs within Lond Daer Great Port, not humans.
"Then make sure to hide well later! Remember not to be discovered by the Orcs; this might be our only chance to escape! Everyone, you all want to go home, right? You all miss the warm fire in the fireplace and the delicious bread on the dining table, right? So you must not be discovered by the Orcs, understand?!"
After Alberto shouted this, he used his hands and feet, stumbling to the side of the Orc's corpse, pulled out its scimitar from its waist, and then stumbled back to the stone pile.
Fortunately, the attention of the other surviving Orcs in Lond Daer was focused on the sky, and most were hiding in houses and had not come out, so Alberto's actions were not discovered.
Of course, this also had a lot to do with the Orcs realizing that the monsters attacking them from the sky were not human-shaped.
They believed that under an arrow rain of that scale, the enslaved humans must have already died miserably.
If the Orcs hadn't known that their own kind couldn't grow wings and fly in the sky, they would have thought it was Orcs from other places clashing with them.
After all, conflicts between Orcs from different regions were very common, even just the reason of disliking each other could make both sides fight until their heads bled.
Alberto used the scavenged scimitar to cut the thick rope between his handcuffs, then picked up the scimitar and used all his strength to hack at the slender iron chain between his leg irons, emitting bursts of metallic clanging sounds. The iron chain broke under the impact of the force, but the scimitar was almost ruined as a result.
However, Alberto finally gained temporary freedom.
He stood there, panting heavily, looking at the shackles he had just broken free from, a relieved smile on his face.
Moreover, Alberto was not the only one doing this.
Under Alberto's example, the bound humans, like those who had long awaited rain, began to search the Orc corpses for objects that could be used as weapons.
A burly man pulled a sharp, short knife from beneath an Orc corpse. He gripped the hilt tightly, the blade glinting with a cold light in the sun. Then, with a heavy swing, the short knife cut the thick hemp ropes binding his hands and feet. As the restraints were removed, his eyes revealed the same emotion as Alberto's.
Not far away, another man unfastened a crude iron axe from the waist of an Orc corpse near him. After using it to break free from his shackles, he immediately began to help his companions break the restraints on their hands and feet.
It's a pity that Orc Captain didn't appear, otherwise I could have tried to get the key from his corpse.
Alberto thought to himself.
Then, he picked up the scimitar, which was already blunted and chipped, and tiptoed to his compatriots.
By this time, many compatriots had already broken free from their restraints and were helping other elderly, women, and children smash off their hand and foot shackles.
"Albert, only you here have been a soldier. We'll all listen to you. What should we do next?"
One man spoke first, and several other men who still had strength nodded vigorously, while the elderly, women, and children all looked at Alberto with the same expression.
With the chance to regain freedom, the faces of these enslaved people were no longer numb; they became lively.
Just as Alberto nodded, intending to say something, he suddenly faintly heard Orc Captain's angry roar: "You fools, even if you can't shoot down the enemy, don't let these scum in the sky fly so recklessly! Quickly blow the horn and tell those cowards not to cower in their rooms; get out and shoot arrows!"
A muffled horn sound echoed through Lond Daer, and the agitated air was filled with tension and a murderous aura.
The tranquility of the Great Port was completely shattered; every inch of land, every building seemed to vibrate, responding to this sudden war drum.
The dilapidated houses were like startled beasts, and Orcs poured out from the shadows one after another like an iron current. The roars of the Orcs intertwined with the horn, as they raised their bows and arrows towards the Winged Hybrids in the sky, aiming at them.
There was naturally movement in the houses near Alberto. He immediately whispered, "Everyone, get down and hide, stop what you're doing!"
The people around him followed suit, concealing their bodies where the Orcs could not see them.
Orc Captain stayed in the central house of Lond Daer, squinting through the window at the Winged Hybrids flying in the sky, his heart filled with doubt.
Because he had never seen such creatures and couldn't understand why they suddenly massacred Orcs.
But Orc Captain made a big mistake: he exposed his coordinates when his side had no effective means to stop the enemy's aerial units.
The Winged Hybrids immediately marked the house from which the muffled horn sound came as an important target. One Winged Hybrid immediately flapped his wings and flew away from his companions, descending rapidly towards the ground.
By the Greywater River, several Orc corpses lay on the ground, their black blood seeping into the surrounding water.
The Lion Hybrid and the nearly hundred Scale-skinned Hybrids behind him were shaking off water droplets from their bodies while resupplying arrows for the returning Winged Hybrids.
Tarnes, riding Torrent, also appeared beside the Lion Hybrid, exchanging words with him.
The arrows were from Tarnes's spatial backpack inventory; although not many, they were enough for the Winged Hybrids to use.
In the sky, the Winged Hybrid descended next to Tarnes and the Lion Hybrid, and said hoarsely to the two, "We've found the command room where Orc Captain is located."
Tarnes silently looked at the Lion Hybrid and nodded.
The Lion Hybrid bared his teeth, revealing sharp fangs, and made a ferocious laughing expression. "Good."
Then he prostrated himself on the ground, with the Hybrid Greatsword hanging on his back, and the next moment, he ran like a true lion.
The Lion Hybrid's mane glowed crimson in the sunlight, and behind him, the scale armor on the Scale-skinned Hybrids, shaped like dragon scales, also shimmered in the sunlight. Their muscles undulated with their running movements; the sound of their marching run was like muffled drumbeats played on the ground.
(End of Chapter)
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