by Lucas Marcum
“Ok. Better than nothing. Keep them pinned down. If any more of them show up, you guys haul ass into the woods. No heroics.”
Ewart nodded grimly. “Roger that, Sergeant.” He glanced at Williams and Henderson. “We’re gonna need some ammo soon, too. We didn’t have that much to start with.”
Reaching to her magazine pouches, Acevedo handed him two 30-round magazines. “Make ‘em count.”
Ewart accepted them, turned back to the improvised gun position. He spoke without looking at her. “Hurry back, Sergeant. No promises as to how long we can hold here.”
Reaching over, Acevedo gently slapped his helmet, then raised her rifle and made her way back into the forest. A few moments later, disoriented, she paused to try to find her bearings. As she strained her eyes in the darkness, she heard the clear and unmistakable click of a weapon safety coming off. She froze and hissed, “Sir! It’s Acevedo!”
From the shadows, O’Malley’s voice growled, “Well, announce yourself, goddammit. I almost fucking shot you.” He stepped out from behind a tree, lowering his rifle. After a moment, he sighed. “Sorry. I guess we’re going to need to work out passwords or something if we’re going to be doing this shit.”
Blowing out a shaky sigh, Acevedo ran the back of a hand over her forehead. “Jesus, I thought…”
“Yeah, I know. Did you find them?” O’Malley gestured for her to follow him. The two soldiers made their way around a large tree.
“Yeah. Ewart, Williams, and Henderson were unloading the truck when this patrol hit them. The Airborne are gone. I guess they chased an elf and a bunch of orcs into the forest. While they were gone, another patrol found the truck. They killed a bunch of them and have a couple more pinned down. We gotta get back there. Let’s grab our friend.” Stepping behind the tree, Acevedo regarded the bound elf for a moment, then squatted down and exclaimed in surprise, “This bitch is awake!”
She peered at the elven woman’s face for a moment. The elf’s eyes glittered malevolently above the duct tape over her mouth.
Acevedo regarded her for a moment, then said in a clear voice, “Can you understand me?” The elf’s eyes narrowed, and her eyes spat fire at the NCO. With a frown, Acevedo said, “I don’t know if that’s a yes or just from me talking to her.”
“I know she speaks English. I heard her earlier,” O’Malley replied. There were more gunshots in the distance.
“Time to move, sir.” Acevedo stood up. “Grab her arms, sir.”
“I’ll move her. She’s not that heavy. Grab my pack. It’s got all her shit in it.” O’Malley stood up and, in a practiced motion, swung the bound elf over his shoulders. As he did, there was a guttural howl and another hail of gunshots from the direction of the truck. There were half a dozen of the deep barks from the .50-caliber, then silence.
Scooping up the assault pack, Acevedo led the way back through the dark forest to where the soldiers crouched behind the log. While O’Malley eased the elf to the ground, Acevedo took another fast look at the truck. A new body lay about three yards in front of the log, facedown. It still clutched one of the massive, barbed, black blades in its fist and was twitching slightly.
Ewart picked up his M16 and aimed it at the truck. Glancing over, he saw Acevedo and called, “The .50 might be toast, Sergeant. I think I finally fucked it up on those last few.” He nodded at the new body. “That one just jumped out, howled, and charged us. The last two are still staying in cover.”
O’Malley risked a fast look, then glanced at Acevedo, who was staring at the truck. Suddenly she turned to the bound elf, who sat next to a branch from the fallen tree, watching them. Reaching over to the elven woman, Acevedo ripped the duct tape off of her mouth and said, “Do you understand me?”
The elven woman’s eyes narrowed, and she replied in a fluid, melodic language, then spat in the young NCO’s face. Acevedo immediately responded with a hard slap to the elf’s face. “Don’t do that again.” She stared hard at the elf as if daring her to respond.
The elf glared back at her for a moment, the fury apparent in her eyes. After a few seconds, she spoke again, then using her bound hands, she pointed at O’Malley’s assault pack, made a circle of her fingers, then tapped the back of her middle finger. She impatiently repeated the gesture several times, then snapped her fingers and pointed at the pack again.
Staring at her for a moment, O’Malley suddenly got it. “She wants her ring. I wonder if that’s why we could understand her before, but not now.” Reaching into the pack, he fished out the two rings. He hesitated, unsure of which one to select.
“Allow me, sir.” Acevedo pulled her pistol out, cocked it and placed it against the elf’s temple. She then reached out, took the two rings, and held them out in her open palm. Looking into the elven woman’s eyes, she said with a sweet smile. “Choose wisely. Any bullshit, and I’ll decorate the forest with your stupid elf brains.”
The elven woman froze, her face growing pale. She slowly and gingerly picked up the plain golden ring, carefully and obviously avoiding the ring with the opal on it.
She slipped the ring onto her finger and spoke. O’Malley and Acevedo could again hear the fluid, melodic language, but they could understand her. She said in a clear, precise tone, “You may lower your weapon. I am your prisoner, and you have a code of conduct. This is beneath you.”
With a hard smile, Acevedo replied, “So you DO understand me. Good.” She decocked her pistol and holstered it. “Tell those toothy fuckers out there trading shots with my men to surrender.”
Haughtily, the elf sat up straighter and replied, “I will not. It is against our code. Also, the Yrch do not surrender. They will fight to the death for their lords.”
Acevedo glanced at O’Malley with a questioning look. He nodded once, indicating that she continue. She turned her attention back to the elf and frowned. “No. You WILL order them to surrender. I’m not asking.”
“I will not,” the elf replied, “and you dare to give me orders? Do you know who I am?” She drew herself up again. “I am Elarin du T’Marte, daughter of the Baron T’Marte, and heiress to the Barony of T’Mar and its principalities. I am the…” She froze as Acevedo pulled out her folding knife and opened the blade, then slammed it into the log right next to her. The elven noble’s eyes grew large and locked on the blade.
“Let me be clear. I don’t give a shit who you are, or who your father is.” After a moment, Acevedo said in a calm, reasonable tone, “Now, I’m going to ask you again. You’re going to tell those monsters out there to surrender,”—she kept her eyes locked on the elven woman’s as she spoke—“or I’m going to cut your left little finger off. If that fails to persuade…” She tapped the knife, leaving it vibrating in the limb. “You’ve got a lot of other things to cut. Like your ears, for example.”
The elf shuddered involuntarily, then replied weakly, “But you have rules about prisoners…you aren’t supposed to…”
“Yeah,”—Acevedo smiled and leaned closer—“but here’s the thing about those rules. They only apply when both sides are living by them and not burning hospitals and executing noncombatants.” She pulled the knife out of the limb, pointed it at the elven woman’s face, and ordered, “Now tell them to surrender. This is the last time I’m going to say it.”
The elf hesitated a moment longer, then said in a defeated voice, “I’ll do it. Help me up.”
“Wise decision.” Acevedo closed and put the knife away and reached forward to help the elf towards the fallen log. Placing her hand on the back of the elf’s slim neck, pulling her pistol, and placing it against her side, Acevedo nudged the elf. “Tell them to toss their weapons into the road and come out, and we won’t harm them.”
The elf risked a quick glance at Acevedo and asked cautiously, “Is that true? They do not expect to be taken alive. They know no proper Yrch is ever captured, and if they are, the shame would make them kill themselves rather than return.”
Acevedo paused, listening to O’Malley order
ing Ewart and Henderson to the side, behind a boulder some 20 yards away, and replied, “Don’t you worry about that. Just tell them.”
“Very well, but if this doesn’t work, you have only your poor decision making to blame.”
The elven woman raised her voice and called out, “Uruk-ki! Et tu ali-ae!” Her melodic voice made even the guttural language seem beautiful. As Acevedo listened, she could hear the magic of the translation working.
“Soldiers of the Orcish Brigades! This is your lord lieutenant speaking! These humans demand your surrender. They promise no harm will come to you!”
There was a moment of silence, then a deep guffaw came from behind the bullet-pocked truck. It was followed by a string of the harsh language in a challenging tone. The elf scowled.
“What did he say?” Acevedo demanded.
“They laughed. They think it’s a trick and told you to come take them.” The elf shrugged. “I told you. They are animals—suspicious and distrusting, good only for manual labor and war.” More of the orcish language was yelled from the truck. The elf frowned and added, “They want to know why I am issuing demands for you.”
“Tell them you are our prisoner, and their brethren are dead.”
The elven lieutenant glared at Acevedo for a moment, then sighed and called out, “These humans have defeated me in single combat. Under the rules of the Aoemeri Convention, I have remanded myself into their custody until an exchange can be negotiated.”
There was a moment of silence, then howls of deep laughter came from the trapped orcs. One of the orcs called something out in their guttural language. The words were unintelligible, but the taunting tone was clear. The elf lord flushed, the crimson tint to her fair skin visible even in the darkness. The orcs yelled again, then continued to laugh.
The elven soldier spat bitterly, “They mock me. They say I have shamed my family.” There was a clatter in the street as a massive black crossbow hit the asphalt. It was followed by one of the black-bladed barbed swords. A moment later, a massive shape stepped into sight. Acevedo felt her jaw drop as the orc was revealed in the moonlight. The armored shape was helmeted, with a twisted snarl hammered into the iron faceguard of the helmet. The figure was massive, nearly seven feet tall, with a broad chest and massive arms.
As Acevedo watched, the dark figure removed the grim helmet, revealing his features. The creature’s face was twisted and grotesque, with two large tusks protruding from his lower lip. His head was shaven and covered in old scars. A large slash ran down the left side of his face. His eyes glittered alertly from an overhung brow. In his ears, he wore multiple small gold hoops and another in his right eyebrow. He was clad in the flat black armor characteristic of his people. There was a large red diagonal slash painted on the right shoulder, and his left rondel bore an intricate insignia of a dragon with three heads pressed into the black metal. The rest of his armor was well used, bearing the signs of heavy fighting, with nicks and scratches in it, but very much intact and functional. His gauntlets were massive and bore spikes over the knuckles, as did his elbows and knees.
The orc stood with his hands on his hips for a moment, apparently aware of the effect of his appearance, then spoke in a surprisingly even tone. His eyes stared into the darkness where the soldiers crouched.
The elf’s face darkened again, and she muttered, “He doesn’t want to talk to me. He wants to talk to whoever’s in charge.”
Glancing at O’Malley, Acevedo replied, “He looks important. Is he an officer?”
“Not exactly,” the elf replied with distaste. “He’s…it’s hard to explain. He keeps the other orcs in line, makes sure they train, and passes on orders. He is responsible for discipline in combat. Sometimes he beats them when they disobey, but he’s not a taskmaster or a war party leader. Those are different orcs.” The elf hesitated, then added, “I don’t know what the Yrch call them, but he’s dangerous.”
Acevedo heard O’Malley chuckle from the darkness. “That’s a sergeant if I’ve ever seen one. That big motherfucker is the most sergeanty thing I’ve seen since ROTC.”
Eyeing the massive orc waiting in the road, Acevedo asked, “You want to talk to him, or should I?”
“No leader of civilized soldiers would stoop to talking to a…” the elf interrupted.
Acevedo slapped the back of the elven woman’s head, hard. “Shut up.” She looked at the orc again, then called out to O’Malley, “I’ll talk to him.” She poked the elven officer. “Does that ring work for humans?”
The elf hesitated, her eyes suddenly cunning. “Well, it…”
“Stop,” Acevedo snapped with a glare. She pointed her finger at the elf. “I’ve got four sisters and two little brothers. I can tell when people are lying to me. If you lie to me, I’m going to start where I left off with the knife. Comprende?”
With a sullen look, the elf replied, “Yes, you can use it. You should be able to use most magic items that don’t require actual spells.”
“Good.” Acevedo reached over to the elf’s hands and removed the ring. She looked at it for a moment, slipped it into her pocket, then called out to out O’Malley, “Sir. You still got that duct tape?”
O’Malley tossed the tape, and Acevedo placed a square firmly over the elven soldier’s mouth. As she did, the elf protested in her singsong language, her eyes blazing, but Acevedo simply pressed the tape harder, then said, “No bullshit from you, or you’re going back to elf-daddy in pieces.”
The elf narrowed her eyes, but she sat back quietly. O’Malley moved up next to Acevedo. “Ok. Here’s the deal. Don’t get too close. Tell him he and his guys can leave, and we won’t fire. We don’t need any more casualties.”
“No surrender?” Acevedo asked, surprised.
“Where the fuck are we going to put him? He’s massive, and we don’t even know where we’re going after this.” O’Malley hesitated. “No. Tell him he and his men can walk away, and go back to the elves, or whatever the hell he wants. If it helps, tell him this was a negotiated cease fire, and no one surrendered.”
“Okaaay….” Acevedo frowned at the huge orc, then asked, “Um. How do I do this, sir?”
“How the fuck should I know? They didn’t cover accepting orc surrender in officers’ basic,” O’Malley replied irritably. “Just get him to fuck off, and we can get out of here.” He sighed, then added in a more reasonable tone, “Just be friendly. Tell him who you are and what the situation is, that we and our friend are leaving, and if he gives us any shit, we’ll kill her.”
“Okay,” Acevedo replied. She looked at the massive orc again and sighed, “Well, here goes nothing.” She set her M-16 down against the log and stepped out into the moonlight. She walked with a firmness in her step she didn’t feel until she was about a dozen feet from where the orc stood, silently watching her approach. Coming to a stop, she reached into her pocket and withdrew the ring. Holding it out in the flat of her palm, she displayed it to the orc, who merely glanced at it, then went back to examining her intently. She slipped the ring on and immediately noticed a slight, subliminal hum. Seeing the orc’s helmet sitting on the asphalt, she unbuckled the chinstrap of her combat helmet, removed it, and looked up at the orc, who was easily three feet taller than she was.
After a moment, the orc spoke. The language was still guttural, but the words were clear and calm, in a reassuring baritone. “Well met, little one. Do you speak for your warmaster?”
“I do.” Acevedo swallowed, then asked firmly, “Do you speak for yours?”
“No,” the orc replied, “I cannot.”
Taken aback, Acevedo replied, “Why not?”
“Because he lies dead on the pavement next to you,” the orc replied, “and the scrit-dropping elf lord is no longer her own master, so I do not speak for her, either.” The orc regarded the petite NCO for a moment, then said, “I speak for myself and the warrior who remains. That is all we need.”
“Very well.” Acevedo took a breath and said firmly, “Our terms are this:
You may leave. Go down the direction you came and rejoin your army. We will not harm you. Should you resist, we will kill you both.”
“This is where it gets more difficult, little one. I cannot simply walk away,” the orc rumbled.
“I am Sergeant Olivia Acevedo of the United States Army,” Acevedo snapped. “You will refer to me as ‘Sergeant’.”
“A thousand apologies, Sergeant.” The orc regarded her for a moment with a tilted head. “You must be a ferocious warrior,”—his hooded eyes flicked towards the dark tree line where the rest of the soldiers crouched—“to assume such a position and command such fierce fledgling warriors.” He looked at the pile of orcish bodies on the pavement. “Your warriors fought like the human warriors of old. These dung mongers did not.” He turned his head and spat. “Lesser clans. They know nothing of war. Not like us.” Suddenly he crouched, his armored elbows on his knees, startling Acevedo. His face now almost at her eye level, he regarded her again, then said, “You captured the lord lieutenant.” He said it as a statement, not a question.
“We did,” Acevedo replied, “and no, we’re not willing to trade her back.”
The orc chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. “Why would I want an elf lordling? She is of no use to me.” He regarded her for another long moment, then asked suddenly, “You go to kill elves?” His eyes bored into hers.
“Every single fucking one of them,” Acevedo replied hotly, “and when we’re done killing the ones here, we’ll move to their world, kill them all there, too, and burn it to ash.”
“Vengeance,” the orc stated. “An honorable goal, but it will not be easy to defeat the Imperial Forces of the Elari Empire.
“I don’t care. They will burn for what they’ve done to our home,” Acevedo replied, the anger clear in her voice. “Now, you can leave, or we can kill you and your friend where you stand.”
The orc eyed her for a moment longer, then nodded and replied, “Perhaps the tales about humans are true after all.” The orc stood, once again towering over Acevedo, who glared up at him defiantly. He reached up to the rondel on his left shoulder, removed the logo of the dragon, and dropped it on the ground, crushing it with a massive bootheel. He then looked at Acevedo and declared, “I will join your war party, as will Legionnaire Furo. We will help you kill elves.”