"I'll be back. And if Brock's in a generous mood, I'm sure we could share you."
"Share me?" Sherok scoffed, "You'll be the novelty of the bedchamber Elena of the Straltaira, so you'll be the one shared. You might have to take a dick for the team."
"Only if he does." I laughed.
"He'd never!" Sherok snickered.
"I'm done Ranger," Gronk growled, "you didn't make it easy for me."
"Turn around, let me see it!" Sherok said excitedly.
As I turned, I heard the familiar whistle of an arrow over my shoulder and I hit the ground with reflexes honed to instinct. A split-second later, a volley of arrows rained around me, thudding into table tops, singing off rocks. I reached for my bow, only to see Sherok's fist already closed around it.
"Give it to me!" I shouted, but Sherok couldn't hear me anymore. A haft protruded from her right eye socket, her remaining eye staring vacantly as blood flowed from her nostrils. I heard the familiar twangs of bowstrings, and I scrambled under the nearby table. Another volley fell, and Sherok's body was riddled. Gronk gurgled, clutching the haft imbedded in his neck and falling to the ground. Arrows landed like hail, the sharp heads blasting through the wood above me. When the volley stopped, I dove out of cover, grabbed my bow and quiver of Yavara's Nadi arrows, and scrambled back beneath the table. The wails and screams of the wounded sounded from all around, their bodies lying in groups between the huts. Drawing my bow, I searched the tree line, knowing exactly where to look. These were rangers after all, and I knew how they hunted.
I saw a green cowl protruding from a high branch. I put one through his neck and searched for the next one. A bush moved unnaturally, and I fired into it. The ranger tumbled out, screaming at the flights stuck in his belly. At the sight of the wounded elf, a group of orcs surged from cover, and charged the tree line.
"Don't!" I screamed, but it was too late. They were cut down immediately, one after the other until a lone orc was roaring at the top of her lungs with her hammer high overhead. An arrow struck her shoulder, and she spun one way, then another struck her thigh, and she spun another. She danced to the rhythm of arrows until she was porcupined with them, and her hammer fell behind her as she fell to her knees, then her face. But her sacrifice wasn't in vain, for I'd been watching the tree line as she died. I drew my bow, and fired five arrows in quick succession. I missed on two of them, but the other three were kill shots. Then a series of very well-placed arrows zipped right past my head, and I knew I'd overstayed my position. I cursed, scrambled on hands and knees, and darted into a nearby hut.
Around a score of orcs were already huddled there, their eyes wide with terror.
"What the fuck do we do?!" One screamed at me.
"Get your crossbows and follow me!" I yelled, "They'll set fire to the hut if we stay here!"
Ducking at the hips, I sprinted from the hut, moved across the clearing, and dove behind a wall. It wasn't a brave maneuver; the leading runner rarely gets shot. The orcs following me were set upon by a volley, and four were cut down before the rest jumped the wall. Sure enough, flaming missiles came right after, sticking into the dry grass of the hut and setting it ablaze. Their path marked their archers, and I counted three rangers in the bushes and two more in the trees. Rangers operated in squads of twelve, which meant there were two more I couldn't see. The orcs pressed themselves to the wall, thirteen men and women, six with crossbows, seven with swords and spears. A mismatch to say the least.
"Now what?!" A she-orc screamed, her eyes wide with panic. I held up a staying hand, assessing my surroundings. The sounds of skirmishes rang throughout the village, squads of elves firing into scrambling packs of orcs. This was a hit-and-run mission, meant to take out key targets and sow chaos, but the elves that surrounded the village were horribly outnumbered, and wouldn't move from the tree line. They'd pick us off with eternal patience until we forced them out.
"Those with crossbows, fire into the trees at my command!" I yelled. "When we've launched our volley, those with melee weapons charge into the woods and kill everything that moves!"
I stood up, drew my bow, and fired a blind shot into the tree line. I was greeted a downpour of arrows. I dropped behind the wall at the last second, and screamed, "Now!"
Six orcs stood and fired wildly into the trees. One lucky bolt met its mark, sending a screaming elf from the branch. I shot off two more arrows, one making contact. The orc beside me lurched backward with an arrow stuck through his forehead, but it was the last one shot. The elves had expended themselves trying to shoot me, and under the cover of crossbow bolts, the seven charging orcs rushed into the woods unimpeded, and hacked down the remaining rangers. I heard the shrieks, and gulped. There was no doubt that I had known at least one of them.
"Fuckin' eh." The she-orc beside me sighed, lowering her crossbow, "I thought we-" and an arrowhead blasted from her chest, pitching her forward against the wall.
"Behind us!" I screamed, leaping the barricade. Three more crossbowmen were cut down trying to get over, leaving me with only one. The two of us raced alongside the wall, our heads bowed as arrows ricochet above us. The melee orcs in the forest charged after, two of them felled before they reached us. We ran right into another mass of orcs, all of them clutching melee weapons and cowering against the wall. A group of young men, barely past boyhood, not a tattoo on any of them.
"You can't stay here!" I yelled at them, "They'll just flank us! We need to rush them!"
"You fucking do it!" One of them yelled.
"Fine." I said, tossing him my bow, "You cover me! Oh, you've never used one those before? Well then, let me teach you in the short time we have left to live!" I snatched the bow from his hands, "Or you can grow a fucking sack, and earn your ink!"
"It won't mean shit if we're dead!"
"You're not going to die!" I yelled. In times of such terror, a confident voice yelling a blatant lie was all the comfort some needed. Adarian had taught me that. The orcs fixed their attentive gazes on me, waiting for me to tell them the secret to getting out of this clusterfuck.
"I need those with sword and shield to jump the wall and rush the tree line head on. Keep your shields high and your bodies low, and don't slow for a second. You'll be fine!" I assured them, "Just keep your shields at head to chest; head to chest, got me?"
"Yes ma'am!" One yelled. The others nodded.
"Those with javelins and spears follow me around the bend, and we'll hit them from the side. Got it?"
"Yes ma'am!" Most of them yelled this time, their faces set with purpose.
"On my mark." I said, and straightened over the wall once more, presenting a clear target. I fired one defiant shot, then ducked as a volley whizzed over our heads, "Now!"
The ten shield and sword orcs leapt over the wall, and two of them sprang backwards, arrows in their chests. The other eight ducked and kept their shields high as they sprinted, screaming at the tops of their lungs. I raced around the wall's bend with my spearmen, praying that the elves wouldn't notice the utterly exposed troop running parallel to their line of fire. My prayers were answered as the ensuing volley rained down on the attacking melee infantry, dropping two more. The other six had blinders on, focused only on the tree line, not yet noticing that I had lied right to their faces. They were a sacrifice, but it hadn't been in vain. My troop slipped around the bend, and charged head-on into the ranger flank.
"Fire!"
Spears and javelins shot through the air and into the trees. Five elves came screaming down. I aimed and fired two more shots, sending two more rangers tumbling from their perches. The melee squad finally made it, barreling through the brush as they screamed their war cry. Elves were no match for orcs in hand to hand combat, and the remaining rangers who hid in the brush were driven out and cut down. The orcs were brutal with battle fever, hacking off limbs in stay of a killing blow, making the rangers know horror and agony before the end. I wanted to say something to stop them, but I couldn't. I understood why they did it. Being pinned against a wall like a trapped rat while your brothers and sisters died around you would make a demon of anyone. The last elf mercifully gurgled his death scream, and the orcs cheered. A bird-call split the air. The encircling woodlands rustled with movement, and the remaining rangers retreated without a sound. It was over. I sighed, and lowered my bow. An arrow struck the barrel next to my face, the shaft twanging. It was a Nadi arrow, a message curled around the shaft. My eyes shot to the far end of the village, where a cowl could barely be discerned above the treetops. Adarian always was the best shot at Castle Thorum. His cowl disappeared, and I plucked the arrow from the barrel.
