by J. K. Barber
“Just do it!” Jared screamed, his voice moving rapidly past anxiety into a full blown panic.
The young sorceress had never seen the woodsman like this, but pushed any speculation on the matter aside as she gathered the energy around her, shaping it with her gestures and her mumbled words.
Jared turned his face away from Katya, shielding his eyes and his face as she released a torrent of sorcerous energy. A loud crack like thunder, accompanied a bright flash of blue-white light that Jared saw even through his closed eyes and covering hands. Pain and then blessed numbness enveloped the woodsman’s arms as he fell forward onto the muddy ground. Jared opened his eyes and brought his arms up before him, wincing inwardly at what he expected to see.
Remarkably, the hunter’s arms seemed intact. He stretched his arms before him, opening and closing his hands and flexing his arm muscles. As he did so, the numbness in his limbs disappeared, revealing a small amount of pain, but nowhere near as much as he expected. Amazingly, there were no burns or blisters, like the last two times he had been struck by Katya’s eldritch blasts.
As Jared twisted his arms back and forth, assessing their condition, one thing he did notice was the rattle of metal. He was still manacled and chained. Following the chains from the shackles on his wrist, he looked behind him to see a length of thick wood about the length of his forearm, still smoldering on the ground. It was to this blackened log that the woodsman was still attached. Jared looked to Katya.
“I changed my mind,” the young sorceress said, a certain smugness to her voice. “I blasted the post instead of the chains. This way you can at least use your arms, even if it is in a limited way and neither of us has to try to reattach them afterwards.” Katya indicated Chyla with an inclination of her raven-tressed head. The young Nhyme girl was poking her pointy eared head over Katya’s shoulder, eyes wide with fear, but also a touch of excitement.
Jared stood, taking the lengths of chain in both hands and turning so that he could drag the blacked log through the mud to rest on the ground before him. Grabbing the chains closer to the length of wood, the hunter hefted the chain and wood in an experimental manner. Apparently satisfied with the weight of the timber and the length of the chain, Jared turned to Katya.
“Free Mala and let’s go.” The hunter turned towards the tent flap, bending slightly at the knees and listening for the sound of footsteps in the snow outside. Jared began to swing his makeshift weapon back and forth slightly, preparing to use it on anyone that heard Katya’s blast and came to investigate.
However, the sound that came to his ears was not the gentle crunch of snow under foot. It was the piercing wail of a woman screaming in mortal agony. Sasha had awoken and the image of her being roasted alive drove all other thought from Jared’s mind.
The hunter sprung forward, shouldering his way past the animal skin tent flap of their prison, hauling chain and wood behind him. All concern for their escape, all thought of the plan he and Katya had been hatching, all the pain of his body was gone. There was only room in Jared’s head for one concern: protect Sasha. There was only room for one plan: free Sasha. There was only room for one pain: the pain of Sasha possibly being gone from his life forever.
Jared squinted against the bright light of the day and its reflection off the snow on the ground. Barely able to see the figure before him as his eyes adjusted, the hunter swung his improvised weapon of metal links and wood into the figure’s head. Jared heard the satisfying impact of lumber on bone and his opponent went down in a crumpled heap. With no one else in the immediate area, Jared took a moment to let his eyes adjust. As his vision cleared, he looked down at the body of the orc before him. The side of the beast’s head was caved in, his blood staining the snow around him red and steam escaping the brute’s ruined skull. Jared looked closely at the orc’s face. While the creature’s face was scared, the marks were not the four parallel lines of an animal’s claws that the hunter was looking for.
Sasha screamed again and Jared leapt forward once more. Behind him he heard the desperate cries of Katya, Mala and the others, but they were inconsequential noise in the woodsman’s mind. Raising his head, Jared saw a large fire, banked on all sides by a low stone wall, its flames rising high as one of the orcs threw more logs into the blazing pit. Sparks rose into the air, caressing the writhing form of a female, lashed to a pole being lowered onto a rack to be suspended above the giant cook fire.
Jared howled with rage, drawing the attention of the orcs as he rushed forward. A huge blue-skinned form rushed out from behind one of the crude tents, only to be blasted in the chest by a blue-white ball of sorcerous fire. Jared barely had time to register the creature’s presence before he was past the orc’s smoldering corpse. There was no need for the woodsman to turn. He knew the blast’s origin and pressed on. Another orc came into view directly in front of Jared. Barely breaking stride, the hunter hauled on the chains on his wrists, swinging the log to which they were attached and driving the thick length of lumber into the orc’s side. There was a sound of breaking ribs and the brute fell in front of Jared. The woodsman drove his knee up into the orc’s face, blood from a shattered nose spattering across the white snow, flinging the creature onto his back. The hunter took one step forward, drove his heel down onto the orc’s exposed throat, leaving the brute to spend his last gurgling moments gasping for breath in the cold snow as Jared continued his relentless course towards Sasha.
As Katya would describe when she told the story later, she was never quite sure what was happening next until it was over. Suddenly, the orc’s camp erupted with the sound of guttural screams and snarling beasts. The snow around the camp seemed to explode with every kind of animal they had seen on their journey across the Frozen March and quite a few they had not. Snow white eagles, owls and other birds flew from the sky clawing at the eyes and exposed heads of the orcs. White powder was kicked into the air as alabaster wolves, leopards and bears rushed into view attacking the ice orcs, tearing and biting with vicious claws and ferocious teeth. And then, barreling through the orcs’ camp, knocking aside the blue-skinned brutes like a child bats aside an unwanted toy, leaving falling tents in its wake, came the largest creature that the young sorceress had ever seen. It was easily twice the height of any horse Katya had ever known and three times as wide. Covered in white fur, stained with the dark red blood of the orcs, the gigantic bear impossibly leapt in the air, landing on a pair of stunned orcs, crushing the life out of them in an instant with its great weight. The bear then turned its attention to the orc holding the pole to which Sasha was lashed. The great ursine lashed out with a back-handed swipe of its massive paw, knocking the red-haired swordswoman from her position above the fire to fall helplessly into the half-melted snow around the fire pit. The orc manning the cooking fire vainly reached for his sword, only getting the blade halfway out of its sheath, before the massive jaws of the enormous white bear clamped down on the orc’s head. There was a momentary struggling from the orc before a vicious twist of the bear’s head tore the blue-skinned creature’s skull from its shoulders. The orc’s body stumbled around for a moment, its neck a font of dark red blood which steamed in the frigid arctic air. It sprayed onto the snow, into the fire and all over the gigantic bear’s fur, before the headless creature tumbled into the blazing pit where he had been intending to roast Sasha alive. Looking at the trio of Illyanders for a terrifying moment, the huge bear turned and loped away from the pit, descending on another group of orcs.
Katya caught up to Jared, Mala following her closely to fall in beside the young sorceress. “Without my staff, my spells won’t be as accurate,” Katya said, pausing to blast an orc that was rushing the trio with a wild arc of blue-white lightning, “but I’ll do what I can.”
Mala scooped up the sword of the orc after it had staggered a few more steps to fall dead at her feet, his life torn from him by Katya’s spell. The swordmistress hefted the blade in her hand, getting a feel for the sword’s weight and balance. “We’ll take what we can get Ka
tya,” the steel-haired woman said to her charge. Mala turned her attention to Jared. “Ready?” she asked the hunter.
Jared nodded and made a noise halfway between a grunt and a snarl, walking forward with determination towards the fire pit. Mala followed, placing Katya between herself and the hunter.
Despite the confusion of the animal attack, there were still more than enough blue-skinned orcs to keep the trio of Illyanders occupied. Each step forward was met with resistance. Mala was a blur, weaving her sword in front of her in an almost impenetrable web of steel. In her wake, a handful of dying orcs bled out onto the snowy ground. Katya, flanked on both sides by the swordmistress and Jared, lashed out with blue-white lightning, blasting back the onrushing orcs. Half a dozen or so blackened, smoldering corpses lay scattered about the camp, an unheeded warning to the ice orcs that continued to rush the three humans. The hunter for his part, though hampered by his bonds, had grabbed the chains stretching a small length between his hands and was using the metal links to fend off sword blows. As he did so, Jared struck out with his elbows, knees and feet, taking the orcs by surprise. The blue-skinned creatures were apparently unfamiliar with the Eastern fighting style that the woodsman had been taught.
Unfortunately, with each step, sword stroke, spell and strike, the Illyanders were spending more and more of their already depleted vitality. Long days of abuse, near starving conditions and dehydration quickly began to take their toll.
Mala slipped as she bent down to retrieve a second sword from the ground. Taking advantage of the opening, an orc slammed a huge two handed hammer into the swordmistress’ shoulder. Seeing the incoming maul at the last moment, Mala was able to roll with the force of the blow, lessening the impact. However, the older woman was still sent sprawling at Katya’s feet.
Trained for such battles from the day she had shown sorcerous talent, the raven-haired young woman, did not hesitate. Weaving her hands before her in a tiny lattice of fingers, Katya shouted her arcane words and a wave of crackling energy sprung from her hands. The eldritch arc of lightning struck the large orc which had attacked Mala, sending him flying backwards into another hulking blue-skinned figure. The pair fell into a tangled heap on the ground, but soon began to stir, regaining their wits. Katya’s spells were rapidly losing their initial devastating force.
Mala clambered to her feet, cursing herself under her breath. “My apologies, Katya,” the swordmistress said to the young woman. “I’m sure you’re used to a younger, spryer partner.” Mala’s tone indicated she was trying to make light of her misstep, but underlying her words was a tenor of doubt.
“Nonsense,” Katya replied, her own voice tired. “We’ll show these brutes a thing or two before we…,” the young sorceress’ trailed off, her attempt at humor dying in harsh reality of the matter. Fully rested and properly equipped, the trio would have had difficulty dispatching so many foes. Injured, half-starved and poorly outfitted, they all knew their chances were slim.
Mala fended off another orc, her left sword moving slower now because of her injured shoulder. Her right sword, however, still managed to stab through her opponent’s exposed throat, spraying the snow behind him with dark red blood as it exited out the back of neck. Swordmistress Mala had forgotten more about battle than these orcs would ever know and Katya knew it. Yet, even a skilled sword was only useful if the hand that wielded it remained healthy.
The older woman took advantage of a momentary respite to turn to the young sorceress. “If we don’t make it, I want you to know…”
Katya forestalled Mala’s words. “I don’t want to hear it,” the raven-haired twin said, her voice full of anger, but her eyes beginning to well with tears. “We’re going to make it.” Katya looked to her sister, lying half burnt and unmoving in the muddy snow. “If only so I can…”
Now it was Mala’s turn to interrupt the younger woman. “I know,” she said, her weary tone portraying none of the confidence of her words. “I just want you to know, that it is an honor to fight beside you. You girls do Dara proud.”
Any further words were cut off as Jared threw an orc over his hip, causing the creature to land helplessly on his back at Mala and Katya’s feet. Without hesitation, the grey-haired swordmistress slipped her appropriated shortsword between the orc’s ribs, abruptly ending the brute’s life.
Katya looked to the brown-haired hunter beside her, his face a mask of rage behind his filthy locks. Jared sported a score of cuts all over his body and the anger that fueled his attacks was fading. The woodsman had borne the worst of the orcs’ beatings and this, combined with fresher wounds and lack of food, were slowing him down. His feet and knees were moving with sluggish force and each time he blocked a strike with the chain between his hands, his reaction was getting slower and slower. Soon, Katya feared Jared would not even be able to lift his arms, much less deflect the sword blow of a far stronger orc.
The sorceress took a moment to catch her breath, as Mala and Jared dealt with a pair of opponents, leaving Katya blessedly unoccupied for the space of a few heartbeats. The young woman knew her limits. They had been drummed into her mind from a young age and yet she had already spent herself long past what she had thought she could bear. A year ago, Katya would never have thought herself capable of casting so many spells, expending so much energy given her state, but somewhere, somehow, she had found the strength to keep on going. But even she knew she was near the end of her reserves. Soon, she would speak the words, make the gestures and nothing would come. There would be no arc of blue-white energy, no devastating force to drive the ice orcs away. And then she would die. Katya found herself asking the Mother for a quick end at the point of an orcish sword and not cooked to death like her sister. Katya shuddered, her mind imagining that and a dozen other horrible ways to die.
A yell from her right brought the young sorceress out of her reverie. Instinctively, she raised her hands, ready to strike one more time with her sorcery, but there was no opponent on which to spend her last dregs of magical energy. Instead, there was only Jared, his hand outstretched like the edge of a knife as he ducked his shoulder, driving his rigid hand in a forward motion into the throat of the ice orc in front of him. The creature dropped his crude blade, his large meaty hands going to his throat. The ice orc had a few seconds to clutch his crushed windpipe before he fell to his knees in the snow. Jared drove the heel of his foot into the creature’s chest, sending it falling backwards and the hunter staggering forwards, leaving Katya’s side.
The sorceress was about to protest her abandonment, until she looked around. They were now mere paces from the huge fire pit. Katya looked to her left and saw an expression she knew must be mirrored on her own face on the visage of Mistress Mala. The steel-haired older woman looked exhausted, yet at the same time amazed. They had made it, somehow. The Great Mother had guided them through the snow, mud and an army of ice orcs. Katya turned around, looking at where the three of them had been. It was only perhaps a hundred yards from the tent in which they had been held captive to where they stood now, but it had seemed as though they had walked miles, fighting for every inch.
Seeing the devastation in their wake now, Katya realized that in a way they had. Strewn across the ground in the intervening distance between their tent and the fire pit were at least two dozen orcs, dead or dying. Some sported sword wounds at various points across their bodies, all of them fatal. Some of the dead creatures were blackened to various degrees where sorcerous energies had blasted them, leaving them smoldering in the muddied snow. Other ice orcs lay writhing in pain, their limbs broken or twisted in unnatural ways. However, most lay with their eyes wide open, staring lifeless at the bright sky overhead.
Katya turned towards her companions. Mala was still where she had stood before, beside the young sorceress, a pair of crude shortswords held tiredly in her hands. Jared on the other hand was several paces away, closer to the fire pit, lifting a familiar partially charred figure in his arms.
Katya and Mala rushed to Jared
’s side, the hunter already kneeling beside the red-haired swordswoman in the snow, cradling her. The young sorceress moved, half in a fog, as the fantastic scene played itself out around her. It was as though the Great Mother, finally having had enough of the orcish blight that rose like a festering blister on her body, had sent every animal that walked on or flew above the Frozen March to purge the blue-skinned creatures from the world.
“Jared,” Katya gasped, her voice incredulous.
The hunter looked up from Sasha’s body. The swordswoman lay unmoving in his arms, the dirt and blood on his face streaked with the tears that were pouring from his eyes. “Huh?” Jared said, dumbfounded at first, but then his eyes focused on the sorceress. The woodsman’s hand darted out, still wearing the chains of his captivity, grabbing the front of Katya’s robe and pulling her down to her knees beside him. “Heal her!” he shouted, his voice a tortured mixture of anger, fear and despair.
Katya reached up, gently but firmly prying Jared’s hand from her robes. “Of course,” she said gently, gesturing for the woodsman to lay her sister on the ground. Jared stared at her dumbfounded, refusing to release Sasha’s still form. Maneuvering her hands around the hunter’s arms, Katya quickly checked her sister. There were horrible burns down her left side and back. The young sorceress saw exposed bone on her sister’s side beneath charcoal black skin that was beginning to crack and flake off. Katya tried to keep her feelings in check, as she assured Jared that Sasha would be alright, but even she heard the doubt in her own voice. The raven-haired young woman choked back tears and revulsion at the smell of burnt flesh. Katya forced herself to relax with a supreme effort of will and every ounce of training she had received in the Sorcerer’s Tower. She would need to concentrate if she were to help Sasha. Still, Katya could not keep the tremble from her hand as she raised it to her twin’s mouth. When she felt breath on her palm, she sighed in relief. “Thank you Mother,” she said, raising her eyes briefly to the sky.