It was easily the worst plan he'd seen in several years, but it had a glimmer of hope. He thought back to the Battle of Balesh Pass. That too had been a good plan, but it had failed utterly while worse plans had succeeded.
"If we can surprise them here on the approach to Mount Delapre," he said, "we can fight and retreat into the mountain passes above. They won't be able to chase us. You will have stronger magic in the higher ground. You should wait for us here-" he pointed to the mountain pass-"and prepare some surprises for those who chase us."
The mage nodded in thoughtful agreement.
"I see your thinking, General. Very well. Now, who do you have at your disposal?"
The general hesitated. His position within the orc hierarchy had been weakened. "I can only count on two clans."
The mage shook his head. "I am not surprised, General. In fact, I have foreseen this and have arranged for you to augment your force with the goblins of the Flarg mountains."
Jonar stood aghast. "Goblins? Goblins? I will not work with goblins. It is out of the question."
Elkan shook his head. "Get used to the idea, General. You will meet your new allies at Balesh Pass in two weeks. They will ensure that I have my victory."
Soon after his meeting with Elkan, Jonar found himself at the head of a large column of soldiers. They had collected at Lake Balduvia before beginning the march. Two regiments of orcs followed the general.
After two days' march through the passes leading south, they came to a large glade on the opposite side of Mount Kireshal from Balesh Pass. Jonar ordered camp set, though it was only mid-afternoon.
"We camp here. I want Clan Leaders Lavash and Jel to meet me here as soon as they can."
Ten minutes later, the two clan chiefs stood before him.
"Get your climbing gear. We're going to Balesh Pass."
The two chieftains looked at each other. Both shrugged, turned, and were back in another ten minutes, ready to go. Neither dared ask why they were going. It was too delicate a topic to breach with the general, who had been defeated only months ago just a few miles away.
Through the rest of the afternoon the three climbed Mount Kireshal, keeping to the south side for more sunlight. They wound along the upper trail leading down to Balesh Pass just as darkness fell. Throughout the long climb, not a word had been spoken.
Jonar stopped just as the sun dipped behind the mountain range. The party had come to a small crater dug into the side of the rock face. Pieces of metal and debris scattered the area, but they were ancient. The head of a venerable clockwork avian was slumped beside the path. The charring on its skull-now almost completely corroded-had been replaced by a strange stonelike substance. Almost three thousand years after the Brothers' War, Dominaria still suffered the effects of that conflict.
The shattered ancient mechanical bird was a silent reminder of that war.
Darkness fell rapidly in the mountains. The three set up their small tent and built a cooking fire on the rocky slope. There were no trees for cover from the wind, so they built a small wall out of rocks that they piled up to the windward side. It kept the fire from going out and stopped the wind from gusting too strongly through the tent.
It had been pleasant climbing weather while the sun was up, but now, in the darkness, the temperature began to plummet.
Jonar pulled three dead chickens from his pack, and he handed one to each of the clan chiefs.
"Where did you get these?" Jel asked, awestruck.
Lavash held his with a reverence usually reserved for holy artifacts. Chickens were rarely if ever seen in the mountainous regions of Balduvia. The air was too thin for them to thrive. Kjeldor had no shortage of chickens, and before the hostilities there had been a brisk trade for the tasty birds. After the war broke out, chickens were valued as precious commodities. For some in Balduvia, the lack of chickens was not terribly dire. To the orcs, it was the loss of their most revered food.
Jonar smiled and leaned back against a rock. "I have spies where no one would think to look. It is not easy, but I can get a few of these from time to time. Privilege of rank and all that."
The air temperature dropped. As they cooked the birds over their fire, Jonar leaned forward, as if to tell them a secret.
"In the valley below, we will find the key to our victory. Tomorrow, we meet our allies, the Flarg goblins. They have sent-
Lavash nearly dropped his chicken into the fire, he was so startled.
"Goblins?" he barked out. "What the hell are we going to do with them? We orcs have been much maligned in the past, but that's nothing compared to the goblins!"
Jonar held up a hand, silencing the chieftain.
"Balesh Pass holds many horrors for me, as you well know. I would not brave the elements, the mountain, and the sights I must bear tomorrow were I not absolutely convinced of this fact-we need the goblins. Without them we will be ridden down and slaughtered by the knights from the plains. "
The other two stared at him with disbelief, their prejudices showing on their faces.
"We won't fight with goblins, " Jel said flatly. Lavash nodded solemnly beside him.
Jonar sat silently for a few moments without movement. Finally, he leaned forward toward his two chieftains. He spoke in a calm, even tone that frightened the two orcs far more than any yelling ever could.
"You will fight with the goblins. Not only that, you will convince your warriors that the goblins are our salvation. Do I make myself clear?" Jonar did not mention that it was the mage who insisted that the Flarg goblins were to be their allies.
It was Jel and Lavash's turn to sit in silence for a few moments. Finally, Jel looked over at Lavash. Their general was clearly not in the mood for discussion.
"As always, we will do as you command," Lavash said, looking down.
"That is not good enough," Jonar returned, his eyes gleaming with the passion of his words. "You must believe it. Trust me-with the help of these goblins I will deliver a victory that we could not achieve otherwise."
The fabulous chicken feast finished silently. Each orc reflected on the others' words. Finally, they retreated to the tent to await the morning.
A mild snow fell in the early hours before sunrise, but it only covered the tent with a light dusting. It took mere minutes to pack up and begin the descent into Balesh Pass.
Two hours later, the three orcs came to the site of the battle. Even after three months the area looked haunted and forsaken. Broken spears stuck out of the fresh snow at odd angles. Boulders were scarred by blasts from the magic unleashed at the battle.
Jonar walked along a low ridge that had served as his last stand as his routed forces had rushed past him, out over the pass and back to Balduvia. His thoughts turned back to the battle, and for a moment his eyes were there, watching.
He could see the long lines of orcs, standing in ranks six deep, swords, spears, and shields ready for the oncoming Kjeldoran infantry. On the enemy came. The Kjeldoran regiment closed to within a hundred yards, and then suddenly it changed formation. From the rear, pikes were brought forward, and the line shifted from a square with the flat facing the orcs to a diamond with the point threatening them. The point advanced.
Jonar did not know what to do. He knew the pointed formation had a far greater reach with pikes, and that it would split his line in two like a knife through butter. He watched in horror as his prediction came true. Jonar tried to plug the line with his own bodyguard of fifty warriors, but they could not hold long. Their fight gave the rest of the line enough time to retreat, however.
Over and over he replayed the moment in his mind. Should he have pulled back? Should he have enveloped? He ran the battle through his mind.
Without warning, an animal-skin-covered green goblin rose from the snow not ten yards in front of Jonar. His reverie ended in a flash. Without thinking, he drew his sword, an instinctive reaction from too many years in the martial profession.
The goblin eyed him warily. "You big general boss man?"
Jonar calmed himself and re-sheathed his weapon. He turned and the other two orcs did the same.
"You speak Orcish very well for a goblin. I am General Jonar. Who are you?"
"Me Tramas, Clan Champion for goblins of the Flarg mountains. Your mage promise us much to fight with you. We much need this victory, but we much need payment as promised." The goblin's eyes shrank to slits. "You bring?"
Jonar reached inside his jerkin and brought forth a small leather pouch. He tossed it to the goblin. It hit the ground and sank slightly in the snow. Tramas picked up the pouch, dusted it off, and looked inside. His eyes went wide. He pulled a diamond the size of his little fist from the pouch.