by Ramy Vance
Across the room, Roy had taken cover behind the bar. He was lining up his shots carefully, taking his time. He inhaled deeply and fired, his bullet ripping through an orc racing for him.
Anabelle tightened her grip on the orc’s rifle and scanned the room for her next target. The bar was overrun with orcs, so it wasn’t a question of finding someone to attack but rather of selecting the right one to tackle. And she had to get away from the horde bearing down on her.
Jarok was her target. Once she eliminated the captain, the orcs would fold. It would be easier than fighting them individually. But Jarok was nowhere to be seen.
That was going to be a problem.
A plasma blast ripped through the air, heading for Anabelle. Instinctively, she threw up an arm and cast a barrier spell. Holy shit. She had forgotten much of her training.
What had she been trying to accomplish by shooting orcs? Annabelle was a high elf, a Traveler trained by the Enclave of Alshiar. She tossed the rifle to the floor—such barbaric weapons were beneath her. She should have known better. If her masters could see her at this moment, they would be mortified.
It all came flooding back to Anabelle as though she were hit by a wave. Every lesson, every second spent undergoing soul-crushing training. She’d been turned into a weapon that had been sheathed for far too long.
Anabelle allowed her body to slip into the first stance. She couldn’t remember the name of the pose, nor its purpose, but she knew she could trust herself, trust her training, her resolve. Tonight, she would remind Roy why she should be feared.
Anabelle surged forward, her hands glowing bright white. She slammed her fist into an orc in front of her, and he screamed in pain as her hand burned through his chest. She pulled her fist free and spun around, raising a shield instinctively to deflect an oncoming hail of plasma.
With hardly a breath between attacks, Anabelle dropped to a crouch, then sprang into the air. She flipped over the orcs racing for her and landed smoothly behind them. Her body hummed with manna discharges as she swept their feet out from under them.
Anabelle attacked with a glowing arc which sent a beam of light shooting across the floor, slicing through the legs of a couple of orcs.
At the bar, Roy was fighting off two orcs who were trying to overpower him. He grabbed one, snapped its neck, and ripped the gun from the creature’s dead hand. Roy tossed the weapon behind the bar, punched the second orc, and shot it in the head.
He was about to look for more orcs to eliminate when he spotted the bartender curled up in a fetal position behind the bar. He went over to the guy.
Roy shook the bartender. “You better get up, kid. My occupation isn’t protecting people. You want to stay alive? I advise you to keep yourself alive. What’s your name, kid?”
“Th…Thani,” he sputtered.
Roy grabbed the rifle he had pulled off the dead orc and thrown over the bar moments ago. “Thani, huh? You know how to use one of these?” He tossed the weapon to the kid.
Thani’s eyes bulged as he caught the rifle and stared at it, his lips quivering. “No…I’ve never use—”
Roy grabbed the bartender by the shirt and pulled him up to look over the counter. He pointed Thani’s rifle at one of the orcs and shouted, “Pull the fucking trigger!” Thani obeyed, and the orc dropped dead. “Good job,” Roy exclaimed, slapping him on the back. “Now, don’t forget, they’re trying to do the same thing to you, so stay under cover, all right?”
And with that, Roy shoved Thani back to the floor, both narrowly avoiding a plasma blast.
Anabelle had slid back into her old ways. It was as though she’d stepped into a surging river and had submitted to the current, allowing it to take her where it saw fit. Her body was no longer hers to control. It belonged to the War Dance.
As Anabelle’s body surged with manna, she tried to pull herself back together, remembering one of the first lessons she had received. Never get lost in battle. Never give in to the blood lust. Sometimes it was impossible to come back from such a place.
The manna in Anabelle’s body was fading now. It had been years since she had used magic, but there were ways around this for an adept manna user, ways she had been taught. Anabelle slowed her breathing, focusing on fire instead of light.
Her eyes burned fiery red as she renewed her manna, and she sprinted toward an oncoming orc. She flipped over him and snatched his sword away. As she landed, she concentrated on the blade, on moving manna from her hand into the weapon and the steel of the sword melted, replaced by fiery energy. With the manna-infused sword in hand, Annabelle spun to face the orc, and with one slash of the blade, the creature burst into flames.
It was time to find the captain. By now, Jarok would have sensed how the battle was going. He hadn’t been prepared for Anabelle to defend herself. Typical. Anabelle recalled her training. Just like an orc to hide behind a shield of bodies.
Anabelle directed her manna down into her legs. She wanted to end this fast.
Across the bar, Thani and Roy continued to fire at the orcs steadily pouring from the portal. The pair were making a reasonable dent in the numbers, but the orcs kept coming.
“How long is this going to keep happening?” Thani shouted.
Roy laughed as he pulled a grenade from his holster and threw it over the counter. “Ain’t you ever been in a firefight?” he shouted. “This shit doesn’t stop until everyone’s dead. Us or them! Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers!”
The grenade exploded, sending orcs flying across the room.
Anabelle darted between them, not bothering to attack any. She moved faster than they were capable of seeing. The captain was the only one who mattered; once he was dead, the portal would close. If she failed, the orcs would keep pouring through.
“Ah, so you do remember the old ways,” a voice whispered in Anabelle’s ear as she ran.
She stopped and turned to face Jarok, who had been standing behind her. How the hell is he doing that?
Jarok assumed a traditional stance, one Anabelle recognized: Scourge of Life. The orc captain laughed at Anabelle’s surprise. “Oh? Did you think your high-elf training is beyond the understanding of us simple orcs?” he taunted before springing forward to attack.
Anabelle was barely able to deflect his assault. The orc hit with the power of a freight train, and he was relentless. Attack after attack kept Anabelle on the defensive.
At last, Jarok stepped back. He inhaled deeply as his hands glowed bright white, then he struck, aiming for Anabelle’s chest. She threw her arms up, blocking what would have been a fatal blow, but the force of Jarok’s attack was still penetrating her defense. She’d dealt with the orcs easy enough, but now, fighting another adept, it became apparent how out of practice she was.
Fortunately, much to the irritation of past teachers, situations like these were where Anabelle thrived. She knew exactly what to do.
Anabelle imagined all of her manna leaving her body, surging out of her. As she envisioned the manna erupting from her in huge bursts, she felt it leaving, but if she lost too much, there was a good chance she would die. How convenient to have such a large pool of manna in front of her, ripe for the taking.
As Anabelle’s manna left her body, she focused on drawing it from any source possible—mainly Jarok. He must have sensed her intent because he tried to back away, to withdraw his attack. That was all Anabelle needed. She lunged for Jarok, grabbing him by the throat and sucking him dry of his manna as she slammed him into the ground. Then she cut the connection and leapt into the air, focusing as hard as she could.
She hit the ground with the force of a grenade and obliterated Jarok’s body, sending a shockwave through the bar. It threw every orc into the air, suspending them there for a few seconds.
Roy couldn’t pass up the chance to do what he did best. He held his breath as he lined up his shots, then unloaded his entire clip faster than humanly possible.
By the time Annabelle’s energy suspension ended, every orc in the ba
r was dead.
The portal closed, and Thani scanned the room, eyes suspicious. “Is it over?”
Roy vaulted over the counter and approached Anabelle. “That was an impressive show you just put on there.”
“Impressive enough to get me off these bullshit assignments?”
Roy sighed as Thani approached. “If I had my way, yeah, sure. But it’s not up to me,” he explained. “Myrddin wants you to stay in the public eye.”
Anabelle groaned as she threw her arms in the air. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she shouted.
Roy had turned his attention to the mess of orcs in the room. “We’re going to have to call in a cleanup crew,” he muttered. “Get this guy’s memory wiped.”
Thani’s eyes went wide as he dropped his gun. “Wait, what do you mean, wipe my memory?”
Anabelle crouched among the dead orcs. “Fuck that.”
She grabbed one of the orc’s blades and, with one swift swipe, cut off the creature’s head. Before Roy could say anything, she stormed to the bar window and kicked it down, sending glass flying everywhere.
A handful of paparazzi had hung around outside the bar, waiting for another glimpse of her. They turned to take their photos of her, all freezing when they saw what was in her hand.
Everyone stood there in shocked silence, staring at the orc’s head until someone shouted, “What the hell is that?”
Anabelle pulled her hair back, revealing her elf ears while her skin lost its human dullness and returned to its shining elvish glory. “My name is Anabelle Chase,” she shouted. “I am an elf from the realm of Elliyral. War is coming to you humans. Here is proof, and I’m the one who’s going to save your asses.”
Chapter Three
Roy and Myrddin dragged their chairs across the floor, creating a shrill shriek that made Anabelle’s pointed ears twitch.
“The stunt you pulled at the hotel was childish and shortsighted.” Myrddin’s dark blue eyes were unflustered, a calm sea.
Anabelle hated that about the wizard; it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. He even spoke with an air of mystery, as though he were only telling you half of the truth. Every statement was a riddle.
“We’re fighting over here, and it’s time for the humans to wake up to that fact,” Anabelle shot back.
“And a few pictures with a model carrying an orc’s head will…what? Wake them up?” Myrddin straightened his tie, his blue eyes twinkling. “You don’t change the entire course of history through a couple of ham-fisted public appearances. Anabelle, you haven’t had a chance to see the news yet, but the press is much more concerned with the nature of your relationship with that bartender than with the head of the orc you were holding.”
Anabelle couldn’t believe what Myrddin was saying. Could humans really be vapid enough to care more about a potential relationship than the head of a creature they’d never seen before?
“I should fire you,” the wizard said.
Anabelle stood, preparing to launch into a tirade, but Myrddin lifted his hands and cast a spell that made her sit down. What was more, she was now mute. “I should fire you, but I won’t. I won’t because of this man.” He nodded in Roy’s direction.
“That fight was something else,” Roy said. “I’ve never seen an elf use magic like that. Heard about it, you know. But from what I gathered, the magical martial arts weren’t practiced anymore. Things tend to get a little messy.”
Anabelle remembered the lectures she’d received from her various masters. Always talking about self-control. Keeping the battle within from seeping out into the real world. It was why elves had moved to wands for battle.
“I’m glad to see you’re still keeping the tradition alive. Roy, I trust you can take it from here?” Myrddin said as he got to his feet. The wizard strode to the door, then stopped to ask, “Should I unmute her, or do you prefer her this way?”
Roy stroked his chin before saying, “She does like to yell, but unmute her. I’d like her participation in this conversation.”
Myrddin waved a hand, and Anabelle felt her voice returning. But she didn’t say anything.
As soon as Myrddin was gone, Roy leaned forward. “You were like a force of nature in the bar. And I think you’ll be happy to hear you’re getting what you want.” He pulled out an envelope and handed it to her.
“Are you saying that I can finally stop telling the whole world what I’m eating and how often I work out?”
Roy tapped the envelope as he stood and headed toward the door. “Try not to screw this up, all right?”
She opened the letter and read the first few lines. By the time she looked up, Roy was gone. Anabelle turned her attention back to the letter. She smiled wider.
Chapter Four
Abby pulled out a bandana, putting it on as she ascended the stairs leading to the top of the barn on the Crookins farm. She’d been working in the fields all day and was exhausted, but tired or not, there was more work to be done. She entered the barn and closed the door behind her.
Most of the family had learned by now that when the barn door was closed, it was best not to bother Abby. None of the Crookins family could be said to have a temper, which was one of the reasons some folks suspected Abby might have been adopted. The other reasons tended to be less polite.
The inside of the barn was well lit by a series of lights running along the entire ceiling of the barn. There was hardly a shadow in the place. You also had to look hard to find any tools. Probably the least barn-like barn in the county.
A dozen or so tables were scattered around the space, most of them covered with the guts of computers, cords and cables, CPUs and RAM boards, the barn giving the impression of being the ghost of a RadioShack.
The floor wasn’t any better. There was no sense or planning to the technology mess dominating the barn. That didn’t seem to bother Abby. She stalked through the maze of terminals, monitors, and technojunk until she reached her worktable.
Grabbing her welder’s mask and rod, she got down to business. Sparks flew as she worked on a drone.
It was roughly the size of Abby’s torso, and she was a tall girl for her age. The device looked like something out of the future, unlike the drones she had seen flying over the different farms throughout the county. She had based the design on old science fiction pulp covers, and it had an alien flair to it.
Abby had worked on the code for nearly three months now, trying to get everything perfect.
Building the mechanical parts of the drone had been easy. The code was where the art was.
Abby pulled up her mask and studied the drone as she ran her fingers over its blackened steel casing that was barely visible in the dark metal. “Hopefully, this’ll work,” she muttered as she hurried over to the computer monitor.
The computer booted up fast, flashing a green DOS programming screen. Abby typed in her credentials and collapsed back into a rickety rocking chair.
Her pa couldn’t see how she worked like this, surrounded by junk and old things. But it was the way Abby loved it.
A knock sounded on the door. It creaked open, and Pa shuffled into the barn. He was a tall man, face chiseled with age and weathered by time. He kept his hair short, but he let his beard grow wild and gray. When he laughed, his eyes seemed to darken.
“Working hard, huh?”
Abby left the computer and approached him. She didn’t want him to have to make his way through the mess. His sight was beginning to go, and he didn’t stand as straight as he used to. A bad fall could put the farm out of business for a couple of weeks.
“Tinkering, you know,” Abby answered.
“Come out with me. It’s brighter in here than in the fields.”
Abby chuckled as she followed her father out of the barn to where he sat on a nearby bale of hay.
Pa picked at the straw. “You finish those fields yet?”
Abby crossed her arms and stared at her dad. “You really come up here, banging on doors and all that, just to ask me
about the fields?”
Pa laughed as he stuck a piece of hay in his mouth and began chewing. “Nah. I didn’t. Came to see how you were doing. Missed dinner yesterday. And breakfast this morning. I’m assuming you’ll be skipping lunch too.”
“Might be. Got a lot to work on.”
“Any of that work on them fields?”
“Why you on at me about the fields? You know I always get ‘em done. What is it that you’re always saying? ‘Don’t come at me cross-eyed?’”
“Yeah, but the phrase ain’t quite what you’re thinking of.”
“Stand by it. Don’t cross-eye me, Pa.”
Pa chewed on the piece of hay as he chuckled. “Just worried about you is all.” He finally sighed. “Skipping meals and working the hours you are ain’t the healthiest. Some would say it was markedly unhealthy.”
Abby stood and stretched, reaching down to touch her toes before cracking her knuckles. “It’s just for the day. I’ll be in for dinner and start eating you out of house and home bright and early tomorrow.”
Pa rose and patted Abby on the head before scooping her up in his arms and hugging her tight. “That’s what I like to hear,” he said before dropping her back on her feet. “I love you, Abs.”
Abby smiled as she shoved her father away. “I love you too, Pa. Now you best get back to work before Ma gets after you.”
Pa waved Abby’s concerns away as he headed toward the house. “I’d be more worried about you,” he joked. “Last time I saw her, she said she was coming in to check and see if you’d cleaned that barn yet. I’ll tell her you have. Give you a week’s head start.”
Abby watched Pa amble back to the big house, watched his slight limp, and the way his spine angled forward. Then she went into the barn and sat back in front of the computer.
It took Abby the better part of an hour to finish proofing everything, but by the time she finished, the code was perfect. Or as perfect as Abby was going to get it. She shut off the computer and cleared her throat. “Bobby,” Abby commanded. “Operate.”