The betrayal by Taryn had shaken Ashar to his core. Despite the weight of the confrontation with his former commander, his resolve only grew stronger. But as the days passed, the full scope of the damage began to reveal itself. Taryn's actions weren't just a personal affront; they were a strategic blow to the entire rebellion.
The full extent of Taryn's collaboration with Drogath's forces was clearer now. Ashar had dispatched his most trusted warriors to follow the trail left behind by Taryn's betrayal. What they uncovered confirmed the worst of his fears: Drogath's army was mobilizing for a large-scale assault, and Taryn had been feeding them detailed information about their movements, their supply lines, and even the construction of their underground refuge.
Despite his growing anger, Ashar knew that the priority now was to prepare for what was coming. There was no time to dwell on the betrayal. The Orcs were coming, and Ashar had to ensure that the stronghold could withstand the onslaught.
***
Ashar gathered his inner circle for an emergency council. The room was dim, lit only by a few flickering torches along the stone walls. The faces around the table were tense, their expressions a mixture of fear and determination. Sarek stood at Ashar's side, his arms crossed, as grim as ever. Rylah, ever the strategist, sat with a notebook in front of her, scribbling down details as the conversation began.
"We don't have much time," Ashar began, his voice steady despite the chaos in his mind. "Drogath is preparing for an attack. We've confirmed that he's sending a full army to crush us. We need to prepare for war."
Rylah's brow furrowed as she looked up from her notes. "How large are their forces? We've heard rumors, but we need specifics."
"We estimate that Drogath has at least 2,000 Orc soldiers ready to march," Sarek spoke up. "They've been stockpiling resources for weeks, and we believe they have support from other Orc clans. Our spies say that they've received help from the Goblins to bolster their numbers."
Ashar nodded grimly. "Our forces are nowhere near that size. We can't hope to match them head-on in an open battle. We'll have to rely on tactics, guerrilla warfare, and everything we've learned in the past few years."
Rylah's voice was thoughtful. "Our advantage is the stronghold itself. The walls are sturdy, and the underground refuge is nearly complete. If we can hold out long enough, we might be able to exhaust their resources. But it's going to take more than just defense."
Ashar's eyes narrowed as he considered Rylah's words. "We've been preparing for a siege, but this won't be a simple attack. Drogath is going to throw everything he has at us. We need to break them before they break us."
"That means we strike first," Sarek suggested, his voice low and dangerous. "We use the tunnels to launch surprise attacks, hit their supply lines, weaken their morale. We make them believe this will be harder than they thought."
Ashar's gaze hardened as he nodded slowly. "I agree. Guerrilla warfare, sabotage, and psychological warfare. We'll take the fight to them."
The room fell silent as the weight of the decision settled in. Every person at that table knew that this was their last chance. If they failed, the stronghold would fall, and their rebellion would be crushed.
"We'll need to move fast," Rylah said, her tone urgent. "We can't give them time to organize. I'll coordinate with the scouts, start tracking their movements."
"And I'll gather the fighters," Sarek added. "We'll need a force ready to strike at a moment's notice."
Ashar's mind was already racing through the plans. They had to be ready for anything. But he also knew that the cracks were beginning to show in his people's resolve. The betrayal had taken a toll on their morale, and now the fear of the impending assault hung over them like a storm cloud.
***
Ashar made his way to the training grounds, where the young recruits were drilling in basic combat techniques. It was a chaotic scene—survivors from all walks of life, some fresh from their years of slavery, struggling to grasp the fundamentals of combat. The weak, malnourished bodies of the former slaves were now being trained to fight, but it wasn't easy. Ashar's heart ached as he watched them, remembering the days when they had been his people—beaten down by their Orc masters, but now trying to stand tall.
The sound of clanging swords and the heavy thud of wooden practice shields filled the air. Ashar approached a group of men and women, watching them spar. A young woman, no older than eighteen, was having trouble keeping her balance as she faced a taller, stronger man in their makeshift sparring ring. Her movements were shaky, and Ashar could see the fear in her eyes as she tried to defend herself.
"Come on, Leena," Ashar called out, his voice firm but encouraging. "You've got this."
The woman's head snapped up at the sound of his voice, her grip on the practice sword tightening. She launched herself forward, but her strike was sloppy, and the man easily parried it.
"You need to keep your focus, Leena," Ashar said, stepping forward and pulling the two apart. "It's not just about strength. It's about precision and timing. You've learned enough. Now, you have to believe in what you've learned."
Leena looked down at the sword in her hands, her chest heaving with the effort. "I—I don't know if I can do this, Ashar. I've never fought before."
"You're not just fighting for yourself," Ashar replied, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You're fighting for everyone who's ever been enslaved. For every person who has died at the hands of the Orcs. You have a purpose now."
Leena looked up at him, a flicker of determination in her eyes. "For them," she whispered.
Ashar smiled. "That's it. Fight with your heart. Not with fear."
He stepped back as the sparring resumed, watching the recruits push themselves harder, their movements more fluid, more confident. It was slow, but it was progress. Ashar knew that they wouldn't be fully ready in time for the impending attack, but they didn't have the luxury of time. All they could do was their best, and hope it was enough.
***
That night, as Ashar lay in his quarters, his thoughts turned to the prophecy. The more he thought about it, the more questions arose. The Orcs had enslaved humans because of a prophecy that foretold the uprising that would destroy their civilization. But why had they kept the humans under such brutal control? Was it because they feared them, or was there something more to it?
He had to know. And he had to find a way to use that knowledge to his advantage.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Ashar stood, heart pounding, as he opened it to find Sarek standing in the doorway, his expression grave.
"What is it?" Ashar asked.
"They're here," Sarek said simply. "Drogath's forces are just outside the gates."