by Lucas Marcum
“Durok.” Acevedo felt a wave of relief was over her. “Thank God.” She raised herself on an elbow and asked quietly, “What happened?”
“We crashed,” the big orc stated flatly. “Many dead.”
“Shit.” Acevedo squinted in the dim light. Durok seemed unscathed. “Who did we lose?”
“Both sky soldiers. The warleader in the crash, the warrior in the fight for the wreckage.”
“Jones and Martinez are…” Acevedo stopped, and closed her eyes tightly for a moment.
“Dead. Yes. They took many Shen’tin with them. Now they feast and fight at the side of Ma’Krosh.” The orc paused for a split second. “Or whatever deity human warriors believe in.” He held out an armored fist and opened it. Two regulation US Army dog tags lay in the palm of his gauntlet. “I retrieved these medallions, as is your death ritual.”
Slowly, Acevedo reached out, took the dog tags, and stared at them for a long time. She then put them into a pouch on the front of her body armor and sat up, elbows on her knees. “What about the captain? And the other orcs?”
Durok stared at her for a long moment, then answered slowly, “The captain was seriously injured. He ordered me to get you out, and to safety. The Uruk-ki are scattered, leading the Shen’tin away. Likely most are dead by now.”
Incredulous, Acevedo sat up. “You left him?”
“I did. He ordered me to.”
“You can’t just fucking leave a person behind, you green-skinned piece of shit!” Acevedo replied furiously. She struggled to her knees and looked around. “I need a weapon. I’ll go get him myself.”
The massive orc didn’t move, just remained on his knees. Finally making it to her feet, Acevedo wheeled in fury. “Get up, you pointy-eared fuck!” She stabbed a finger at the darkness and demanded, “Get your ass up and help me.”
“No.” Durok’s gravelly voice was surprisingly gentle, but firm. “His wounds were fatal, his chest and abdomen grievously injured, and the bones of his legs came through the skin. I could not have moved him if I had wanted to. His last order to me was to get you out and keep you safe.”
“GET UP!” Acevedo screamed. She slammed a fist into the massive chest plate of the orc’s armor. “GET UP! GODDAMN YOU!” Slamming both her fists into his chest, she felt a wave of hopelessness she hadn’t felt before threaten to wash over her. “Get up, you son of a bitch. Get up.” She fell to her knees, sobbing.
After a moment, the big orc wrapped her in a bear hug as sobs wracked her body. After several minutes, he leaned back and held out a pouch. Acevedo looked at it through her tears for a long moment, then took it, knowing what she would feel. The clinking of the dozens of dog tags inside was oddly familiar and heartbreaking to her as she took the bag, then clutched it to her chest.
In as soft a voice as Acevedo had ever heard from the orc, Durok said, “He gave me these to give to you. Also, these.” The orc held out a piece of gauze torn from a bandage. Acevedo unwrapped the small package, and her heart sank upon seeing the contents. There was a simple silver wedding ring and a single dog tag that read ‘O’Malley, Zachary Thomas 4458656552 O Positive Catholic’. The inside of the ring was inscribed with a date and initials, “ZT+AW 10/18/2008’.
Slowly, Acevedo closed her hand over the relics. After a few seconds, she looked up at Durok. “What do we do now?”
“For myself, I am unsure,” the big orc replied. “Perhaps I will go to the hills and fight with Ewart, if he lives.” The orc regarded Acevedo. “But your path does not lie that way. Your warleader told me to get you to safety.”
“What does that mean?” Acevedo asked quietly. “Where is safe?”
“Nowhere,” Durok replied with a twitch of his lip over his tusks, “but for now, we need to get you into the hands of the resistance.” He rose to his feet, towering over the petite sergeant.
Shaking her head, she replied bitterly, “You just got to this world like a week ago and stomped the shit out of us. How do you know there’s a resistance?”
With a shrug of his massive shoulders, Durok replied, “Humans always resist. It’s who you are. No one conquers you unless you decide you are conquered.”
“We’re getting our asses kicked, Durok,” Acevedo retorted acidly, “in case you didn’t notice.”
“Defeated is not conquered, little one. The conquered have submitted.” His gravelly voice took on a challenging tone. “Have you submitted?” His eyes stared piercingly down at Acevedo, who glared back, her temper flaring. “Well? Answer, human.” His tone was mocking. “Are you conquered?” He reached out a hand to assist her to her feet.
Her eyes narrowing, Acevedo spat, “What do you think?” She slapped his hand away and stood unassisted. Pausing unsteadily for a moment, she caught her balance, then glared at the orcish warrior. “I’ll show you conquered.” Wobbling slightly, she snapped, “Let’s go.”
“I thought as much.” The big orc smiled, his terrible teeth glinting in the night. “Let us find you a weapon, Little Warrior.”
***
The two walked silently through the fields of central Pennsylvania. The moon had risen, offering a dim light to see by as they trudged silently through the fields. On the horizon to the east was a bright orange glow, with sparks shooting high into the sky. The occasional black shape of a creature could be seen. From this distance, they looked like bats, but the faint bone-chilling shrieks and occasional roar told otherwise.
Pausing, Acevedo pointed at the glow. “Is that the dragonship?”
“Yes,” Durok replied. His eyes glinted with the reflected glow of the inferno on the horizon. “I have seen this before, during the Winter War. It is a mighty and terrible sight.”
“You keep mentioning this Winter War.” Acevedo stepped in something that squished under her boot, and she looked at it with distaste. “What was it?” She shook the dung off her boot and continued walking.
His eyes constantly searching the night around them, Durok replied, “A tribe of Uruks rose in rebellion against the elves. These Uruks were savages, strong, hot tempered, and wild. They were natural warriors. Brutal, relentless, and not born to kneel.” He smiled briefly. “They were defeated once, at great cost in both Uruk and elfkin. The elves were fools to think they would not rebel.”
“But they did,” Acevedo stated.
“They did. After their armies were crushed, they lay quiet for a time, feigning defeat. They gathered their strength while accepting the lash.” Durok stopped and helped Acevedo over a small stream as he spoke. “Then they attacked. Small attacks here and there to keep the elven overlords off balance and distracted, and to make their lives uncomfortable.” He snorted derisively. “That was their downfall. They did not know when to stop attacking.”
“So they provoked the elven lords?” Acevedo asked.
“Yes. They caught and burned an elf lord’s son in liquid dragon fire.”
“Little fucker probably deserved it,” Acevedo muttered.
“No,” Durok answered calmly. “He was 10 cycles old.”
“Shit.” Looking down for a moment, Acevedo was quiet. “I guess he didn’t. But how many orc kids died because of his dad?”
“Thousands times thousands,” Durok replied, “and when the elf lords decided to burn the mountains, they sent in all their troops. Uruks, fae beasts, even some of the last remaining dwarfkin with their war machines. The monsters of the air and lands all served the elf lords and burned every city, every village and sietch. Still, the Uruks in the mountains fought.” Durok’s deep, rough voice was distant. “We finished them with swords and spears.” He looked down at Acevedo. “All of them.” He stopped and said in a deadly serious voice, “Save your strength. Bide your time, and when you strike, Little Warrior, hold nothing back…for the elves will not.”
Slowly nodding her head, Acevedo thought about this. Looking up, she saw a barbwire fence in front of her. Right behind it was a two-lane paved road. She looked left and right and saw no cars coming. She carefully cla
mbered through the wire, then waited for Durok, who merely stepped over the top of the strands.
Walking to the middle of the road, Acevedo squinted her eyes, looking. After a few seconds she said, “There’s a glow that way. If there’s a town…” There was a hiss and a thump next to them. An arrow appeared, sunk deep into the asphalt in front of her. Startled, she grasped for her rifle, forgetting she’d lost it in the crash, and started to scramble for cover.
“Stay where you are, please.” A clear, melodic voice emanated from the arrow. “That was a warning shot. The next will not be.”
Freezing in place, she locked eyes with Durok, who regarded her for a moment, then hissed, “I will return for you. Pretend to surrender. I will try to draw them off.” Surprisingly fast for his massive size, he whirled and sprinted away, heading for a nearby tree line. There were several more thwip! of bows releasing, and Acevedo saw an arrow strike the big orc in the shoulder. Not even breaking stride, Durok zigzagged but took several more arrows to the back. He stumbled, then fell hard on his face and was still.
Acevedo could hear someone wailing in anguish. After a few seconds, she realized it was herself. She dropped to one knee, staring at the still figure in the field. Hearing the crunching of boots on the asphalt, she rose to her full height of five foot four inches, and defiantly turned to face her enemies. The elves slid out of the darkness as silent as shadows, their bows still in their hands with arrows nocked.
These elves were different than the ones she’d encountered before. Their armor looked like deeply polished dark leather and was exquisitely crafted. They were all male, with handsome, chiseled features. They wore their hair long and pinned back with simple circlets of gold or silver. One of them had a dark tan, with midnight black hair and mesmerizing brown eyes. The one with a gold circlet on his brow stepped forward and spoke in a gently mocking tone to Acevedo.
“Well, well. What we here? A little human girl, playing at war.” He smiled, and even through her surge of hate, Acevedo found herself wanting to like this beautiful creature. “You’re lucky we found you. My rangers and I are far gentler than the Uruks we have out hunting and slaying the remnants of your pitiful army.”
Feeling a sudden surge of anger at the elf’s arrogance, Acevedo smirked and replied, “That’s a pretty big fireball over there on the horizon for a ‘pitiful army’.”
The elf’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, you’re a mouthy little one.” He drew a dagger. “Do you know what we do to mouthy slaves?” The edge of the blade glinted in the moonlight.
Her eyes locked on the blade, Acevedo bit her tongue.
“What, nothing to say?” the elfkin taunted her. “No mocking, disrespectful comments?” He stepped closer and tapped her cheek with the flat of the blade, making her flinch. “No, just silence for your lord.” He leaned in close to her face and inspected her from inches away. Acevedo scrunched her eyes closed and turned her head. “How impolite. I’m hurt. Truly.” The elf leaned back.
From behind the elf in front of her, Acevedo heard another voice. “Perhaps she needs to be taught a lesson, Lord Elarin. A demonstration of our…gifts.” There was a round of snickers from the other elves.
The elf in front of Acevedo tilted his head and considered this for a moment, then replied, “You know, Do’riel, I believe you’re right. Perhaps she does need a lesson in manners.” There was another chorus of laughter, underlaid with malice.
Feeling a cold prick against the skin of her throat, Acevedo gasped. Elarin stared into her eyes for a moment, then slipped the flat of the knife into her uniform top and slid it down. The enchanted blade sizzled as the magic cut through the protective plate, heavy canvas of the carrier, and her uniform with ease. Elarin gave a tug on one of her sleeves, and the remnants of her armor and top fell to the pavement, leaving her in her undershirt.
Another voice called out, “It’s such a hot night, my Lord. Perhaps she’d be more comfortable without those filthy pants.”
“Oh, that’s too true.” The elf lord stepped close to Acevedo and nuzzled her neck. He smelled faintly of sweat, pine trees, and campfire smoke, all scents she’d once loved. Now, she clamped her eyes tightly closed and turned her head. She felt the knife blade slip into her waistband and again heard the sizzle as the blade rent her uniform pants. A few moments later, she stood, clad only in her underwear, undershirt, and boots.
The group of elven soldiers laughed again. Acevedo clamped her eyes closed tightly and steeled herself for what was next.
A boot hit the back of her leg, and she fell forward onto her hands and knees. The asphalt scraped her bare knees and dug into her hands. A fist wrapped itself in her hair, and she gritted her teeth. The pain as the fist lifted her was immense, bringing tears to her eyes. She was hoisted onto her feet and found herself face to face with the elf lord again. He leaned in close and spoke reasonably.
“Many women enjoy this, you know. It’s considered a privilege to have an elf lord take you. It will be far easier on you if you don’t…” With all the strength she could muster, Acevedo brought her knee up hard into the elf’s groin. He grunted, his face going white as he clutched his injury. Acevedo followed it up by spitting in the elf’s face as he collapsed to the ground.
One of the other elves, the one with the flawless tan and brown eyes, stepped up and gave her an open-handed slap to the face that knocked her flat on her back and left her dazed. The elf took off his belt while staring down at her. His voice was low and full of rage. “The lord would have been gentle. I will not be.” Nearby, Acevedo could hear the elf lord gagging as he tried not to throw up and felt grimly satisfied. One of the others knelt near the elven lord, checking on him.
The elf standing over her tossed his belt aside and kicked her legs apart. He snapped to the others, “Hold her arms.”
The other elves seized her arms and pushed her down to the asphalt. Acevedo swore, kicked, and fought as hard as she could, but the elves were stronger than they looked. Suddenly the elves froze, looking down the road to the east. One cocked his head, listening, then snapped an order in Elvish.
A few seconds later, the moonlight was replaced with bright yellow light, and she could hear the crunch of tires. An older model SUV pulled up and stopped about 15 feet away, almost within arm’s reach of the vomiting elf lord and the elf who was attending to him. It sat motionless for a moment. The elves holding her arms released her, and stood, reaching for their bows. The elven soldier on top of Acevedo looked up.
From behind the lights, a woman’s voice could be heard, asking “Is this the road to Harrisburg?”
The elf standing near the incapacitated lord stood and pointed at the vehicle. “Turn around and go back the way you came, human. This does not concern you.”
“It’s just that I was trying to get to Harrisburg, and I got lost, and the GPS isn’t working.” The woman’s voice came again. “If you can…”
Furious, the elf stepped to the window of the vehicle and ordered, “Get this filthy vehicle out of here now…” He froze, his eyes widening, and started to step back.
The woman’s low, satisfied tone was crystal clear in the stillness. “Gotcha, bitch.” The night was split by a brilliant double blast of fire and the familiar boom of a shotgun. The elf’s head disintegrated into a dark spray, splattering over Lord Elorin, who’d fallen to the ground. As the elf’s body crumpled, the door flew open, and a shape vaulted out gracefully, the spent double-barrel shotgun clattering to the pavement.
With a speed Acevedo couldn’t believe, the woman pulled a pistol from her waistband and put five rounds into the chest of the dark-skinned elf who’d been on top of her moments ago. He looked down in shock at the holes in his leather chest armor, then collapsed in a heap, twitching. As he fell, the woman scooped up the fallen elf lord, put an arm around his neck, and placed the muzzle of her pistol in his ear. The remaining three elves had drawn their bows with incredible speed, and held them taut, bowstrings to their cheeks, their eyes locked on the woman. T
he two groups faced off, staring at each other in the yellow light of the truck headlights.
In a clear, commanding voice with a hint of Texas drawl, she declared, “Listen up, fucksticks. Drop the bows and knives, or I decorate the highway with what little brains your friend has.” The woman was slim, with a dark complexion, and thick, wavy hair tied up in a red handkerchief. She wore well-worn jeans, a flannel shirt tied at the waist that hung open, and a white undershirt. Her eyes were intense and locked on the three remaining enemy soldiers.
The elven soldiers looked at each other, then at Lord Elarin, who motioned for them to drop their weapons. With a final glance at each other, they lowered their bows, then tossed them into the darkness. Their daggers followed, vanishing into the night.
“Good,” the woman said to Acevedo, not taking her eyes off the elves. “Honey, I need you to get up.”
Scrambling to her feet, Acevedo moved towards the woman, who said, “In the driver’s side door cupholder is a roll of electrical wire. Grab it.”
Stepping over the gruesome remains of the elf by the door of the SUV, Acevedo grabbed the roll of electrical wire. Looking at the passenger seat, she started. An older man with a silver crewcut in a bloodstained army uniform lay slumped in the passenger seat, not moving. An M4 lay in his lap, his hands senseless on the heat shield and grip. After a split second of shock, Acevedo shook her head and moved back around the door.
“You three. Get on your knees,” the woman commanded the elven soldiers. They slowly got onto their knees. Speaking to Acevedo again, she said, “Ma’am, if you’d do me a favor and tie these fellas up, I’d appreciate it.”
“Gladly.” Moving behind her erstwhile captors, Acevedo tied the men’s wrists together tightly, taking a grim satisfaction in the small grunts of pain as she tightened the wire.
“Thank you, darlin’. Now, if you’d be a dear and tape up this little shit, we’ll be in business.” Taking the wire, Acevedo wrapped Lord Elarin’s wrists tightly. The woman then forced him over next to the rest of the captives, then holstered her pistol and pulled her shirt over it. Turning to Acevedo, she looked at her, the concern evident on her face, “Did they…”