The morning in the orc camp began with piercing screams.
For the first time in the history of the horde, someone dared to sneak into their camp and kill sleeping warriors. The orcs ran about like a pack of enraged wolves that had lost their alpha. Anger overwhelmed everyone—no one understood how this had happened. Some of the older warriors began whispering among themselves, expressing dissatisfaction.
—"The chief said the city would fall in two days, but now what?!"
—"For the first time in our lives, we're asleep, and someone cuts us down like weaklings!"
—"Why did we lose more than a hundred warriors in a single night?!"
The whispers began to spread through the camp, becoming more dangerous with each passing moment. The chief of the horde—a massive figure, with muscles like steel cables—emerged from his tent. His eyes blazed with fury, and even the most seasoned warriors instinctively looked away.
He knew—if he didn't drown this panic in blood, it would spread like wildfire and spark a true rebellion.
The chief approached the sentries, the ones who were supposed to guard the camp. They stood, not daring to raise their eyes.
—"Worthy warriors of the horde never sleep when the enemy is near!" His voice tore through the air like thunder. —"But you—you pitiful scum—let your brothers die while you slept like humans in their rotten cities!"
With one swift motion, the chief drew his massive battle axe. Before the sentries could even beg for mercy, their heads flew to the ground.
The camp froze.
Everyone knew the chief never punished without cause. If he had killed his own warriors, it meant the situation was truly dire.
The orcs said nothing, did not look at one another. They could feel fear starting to squeeze their hearts.
The chief threw the bloodied axe onto the ground and turned back to the crowd.
—"This was your first and last night of sleep! Those who cannot handle the pressure can bury their faces in the dirt and wait for me to chop off their heads!"
He approached the city gates and, without holding back, began shouting foul curses.
—"Cowards! Rats hiding behind walls! You're unworthy of the title of warriors! You are not orcs—you are rotten human slaves!"
He began threatening the most gruesome tortures he knew. His voice cut through the morning sky, echoing in the mountains.
Lenor stood, arms crossed over his chest, with a slight squint, watching the chief of the horde tear his throat out before the city gates.
Beside him stood Lianel, Naira, and Grimtar. Unlike the elf, they kept a serious expression.
On the walls, there was a feeling of a small victory. The orcs in the city stood proud—they had shown for the first time that they could fight not only with brute strength but also with their minds.
Lenor glanced at Grimtar, who was intently listening to the chief.
—"What do you think?" Lenor asked.
Grimtar did not respond immediately.
—"He's not just shouting," the orc said after a pause. —"He's trying to drown out the fear. If the horde realizes they can be slaughtered like cattle, they won't rush into death so fearlessly anymore."
Lenor smiled faintly.
—"So, it wasn't just an attack. We bit the snake by the tail. And now it's gone mad."
Naira clenched her fists, glancing at the chief.
—"We need to act," she said.
Lenor turned his gaze to Grimtar.
—"Do you have a plan?"
Grimtar slowly smiled.
—"Let's make it so they forget what sleep even is."
Lenor's smile grew wide.
—"Oh, I already like this plan."
The tactics for the new attack would be developed. But the city knew—they had a chance not only to survive but to wear the horde down.
Meanwhile, the horde, finally realizing their first true defeat, was preparing to strike back.
In the central square of the city, amid the ruins and the orc tents, a large bonfire blazed. Next to it lay a massive chunk of the wall, which served as an improvised table for planning discussions. Around it sat and stood everyone involved in the defense: dwarves, higher orcs, and a few seasoned fighters who had participated in the night attack.
Lenor stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze cold and focused. Beside him stood Grimtar, who silently listened to the conversation, observing those present.
—"We've struck them," Lenor's voice was steady and confident. —"But this is just the beginning. They're angry, they're more cautious, and now they're expecting a new attack."
The dwarves exchanged glances, and one of them spoke up:
— "We can't keep going like this. We need rest."
Lenor tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a barely perceptible smile.
— "We will rest during the day. But they won't."
Grimtar grunted.
— "You want to wear them down without sleep?"
Lenor nodded.
— "Deprive them of sleep, and they'll be weaker than any weapon."
The dwarves glanced at each other again. Their elder blacksmith leaned toward the wall fragment, resting his large, calloused hand on it.
— "We have an idea," he spoke up. "But we need magical crystals."
Lenor squinted.
— "Crystals?"
Grimtar intervened.
— "They exist."
Lenor slowly turned his head toward him.
— "Where?"
Grimtar stepped forward.
— "The orcs found them in the dungeon before you arrived. It used to be a storage, but we don't know who it belonged to. Later, after the hunts, our people started adding their trophies there too."
Lenor pondered.
— "Why haven't they been used before?"
Grimtar glanced at the wall fragment, as if trying to find an answer.
— "They're weak. Kano ordered to sell only the blue ones and stronger. The rest, we just... stacked."
Lenor turned his gaze to the dwarves.
— "How weak?"
The elder blacksmith turned to his brethren.
— "Bring them."
A few orcs stood up and disappeared into the passage that led to the dungeon. It took some time before they returned, carrying large wooden boxes.
When they set them down on the wall fragment, the dwarves approached. They opened the boxes, and inside, faint light flickered from the gray and green crystals.
The dwarves' eyes lit up.
— "This is a real treasure," one of them mumbled.
Lenor bent down, took one of the crystals, and examined it closely.
— "Can they kill an orc?"
The elder dwarf placed his large, rough fingers on the edge of the wall fragment.
— "The gray ones—no. They'll leave wounds, but not fatal ones. The green ones... Yes, those can kill."
Lenor spun the crystal between his fingers.
— "How do we test them?"
The elder dwarf raised his head.
— "You can just throw them. But they're light, they won't fly far. Even if they're thrown by them."
He nodded toward the higher orcs standing nearby.
Lenor paused for a moment, then sharply raised his gaze.
— "What if we tie them to arrows?"
The dwarf squinted.
— "That might work."
He turned to his brothers.
— "Show them how it's done."
The dwarves eagerly began working, teaching the orcs how to properly tie the crystals to arrowheads so they wouldn't fall off mid-flight.
Lenor watched the process until Lianel approached him.
— "We need a test shot."
Lenor silently nodded.
They climbed up to the wall. Lianel took an arrow with a green crystal attached. She aimed, drew the bowstring back.
The arrow shot into the air and struck the orc square in the chest, who was standing among his comrades.
For a moment, it seemed like nothing had happened.
And then—an explosion.
Several orcs screamed in pain, one fell dead, and others were thrown backward, torn apart by flying shards of stone and flesh.
A roar echoed from below.
The chief stepped forward, his face twisted with rage.
— "Sneaky bastards! You're not orcs! You're rats! You're cowards!"
Lenor slowly shifted his gaze to Lianel.
— "Shut him up. He's exhausting me."
Lianel released another arrow, aiming directly at the chief.
But he reacted quickly. With a swift movement, he grabbed one of his subordinates, using him as a human shield.
The arrow didn't hit the intended target.
Lenor watched calmly.
— "He's fast," he muttered. "No worries, you'll catch him sooner or later."
He turned back to the dwarves.
— "How many arrows do we have?"
— "Fifty," replied the elder blacksmith.
— "How many can you make by night?"
— "One hundred and thirty. But it's not enough."
Lenor nodded.
— "Not enough," he agreed. "But it'll be enough to create chaos."
The dwarves returned to their work.
Lenor approached the edge of the wall and looked down.
— "We need them to hit the gates directly."
Naira stepped forward.
— "I'll take care of that."
Lenor lifted his gaze to her.
She smiled.
— "Now, they'll hit those gates like never before."
She turned and walked away.
Grimtar sighed.
— "Don't even start."