Author's notes:
--There is no sex in these chapters but there will be in chapter 2. This porn has a plot.
--Content warnings: Depictions of violence/war. Discussions of suicide and sexual assault (these two things will never be depicted in this story, but they will be discussed).
Chapter 1: Fort Katkasad
Commander Aris Alvander of His Majesty's Victorious Crimson Battalion urged her horse through the mountain spruce grove. The trees, older than the Second Age, towered above her and her elf soldiers. There were no birds to be heard, only the anxious buzz of insects. She did not like it here, and ever since they had entered this wood, her muscles had felt as tense as a bowstring.
Elves were at home among the trees. In the olden days, her people would build their homes in the canopies of great forests. In the more rural parts of Elven Country, people still lived above the ground in raised villages. Aris had been born in such a treehouse. She had spent her youth climbing like a squirrel among the branches of an ancient 200-foot-tall oak.
But the war had taken a lot from her. She was no longer a child. Trees were no longer homes. They were potential cover for an ambush. She would not have led her soldiers through this wooded pass if there had been any other viable route.
"Do you smell smoke, Commander?" said her lieutenant on the horse beside her.
"A brush fire," said her scout. "There was one reported just a day's walk north. Nothing to worry about."
"No, it's closer than that," the lieutenant said. "Like someone has made camp nearby."
"Your mind is playing tricks on you," the scout said.
"Lower your voices," Aris ordered. "Especially in a place like this."
They pushed forward. The summer heat became more noticeable. Even up in the mountains, the dry air was scorching once noon approached. They paused only briefly to collect water. The creek was low and emaciated due to it being the dry season. Her subordinates were thirsty, but Aris ordered them to cork their canteens and not to drink a single drop until after they made camp. The water needed to be boiled first. She had lost five soldiers to orcs already, and she did not care to lose anymore to river sickness.
And they would have to camp soon. The hottest part of the day was approaching, and it was dangerous to continue marching through such conditions. But they could not do so until they made it out of the woods where the ground was more open and danger could not sneak up upon them. They would head for higher ground, up past the tree line.
Aris leaned down over the creek to wash her face. It had been such a long time since she'd had a proper bath. In seven days, they would make it to the rendezvous point at East Ravenhill, and there would be plenty of clean water there.
When she was almost finished, a noise tickled her sharp elven ears. A step in the brush nearby, a snap of a twig, barely audible. She froze for a moment, then lifted her hand in the air, and her company fell still and silent.
With a deep breath she solemnly pointed to her scout. He was a young elf, in his first year of His Majesty's Service. He understood what he needed to do. And he understood that if he went into the bush to investigate, he may not return. His eyes went wide for a moment, then his expression hardened. He pulled his dagger from its sheath and stepped over the creek toward the noise, disappearing into the bush.
The time dragged on as they waited for the scount's signal. Thirty seconds became a minute, though it felt like an hour. There was a rustle. Out of the bushes burst an orange blur. It scrambled down the bank and splashed through the creek in front of them. A pine deer. Its spotted fawns followed after. The animals scrambled up the opposite bank then sped into the woods.
The scout emerged after. "Just our four-legged friends," he said. "Nothing to worry about."
The company sighed with relief. Aris dipped her canteen back into the water.
But then the scout shrieked. Aris looked up and he was gone.
Her lieutenant called after the scout. "Polis! Polis! Are you alright! Signal to me!" He drew his sword. He was about to run into the bushes to look for the scout when an arrow stopped him.
He stared down at the arrow in his stomach for a moment, completely unsure what to make of it. The elf soldiers were also frozen.
Aris unfroze them. "Defensive formation! Weapons drawn!" she cried. As the lieutenant crumpled to the ground, the Elves formed a circle on the creek bank, back-to-back. The lieutenant's blood stained the creek red, but there was no time to deliver first aid.
Another arrow landed in the neck of the first pikeman. He fell, and the circle closed tighter to fill the gap he left in his wake. A third arrow came for Aris, but she raised her buckler to block it.
There was nothing more dangerous than an unseen archer. This was a trick the orcs had learned from the elves. The beasts were cleverer than the Elf King often gave them credit for.
An orc charged roaring from the bushes, his spear preceding him. Her second pikeman lowered his weapon, and stuck the charging orc like a pig, spilling his indigo blood into the creek. But the pikeman could not free his weapon in time to stop a second attacker who came from the trees with a crude iron sword. The sword-wielding orc stabbed the pikeman in the kidney.
And then the forest erupted. In a moment it seemed there were twenty beasts charging at them, and only five of Aris's men remained. Another arrow claimed the Elf standing next to Aris just as an enormous Orc swung at Aris with a club. She was forced to break the circle to dodge his blows. He was almost twice her height and easily four times her weight, but she was faster. She ducked when he swung at her head. As he pulled his weapon back for another swing, she moved in closer to him and stabbed him in the stomach. He crumpled into the water next to the fallen lieutenant.
Two enormous brutes grabbed Aris's second pikeman. They broke his neck with a twist of his head. When Aris turned around, only two Elf soldiers were standing. Turning around was a mistake. An enormous greenish hand grabbed her sword arm. With her left she pulled a dagger from her belt and stabbed her assailant. But in order to do this, she had to drop her buckler.
And then there was only one other elf left. And then it was only Aris.
She would not surrender. She would not allow them to interrogate her. She would not allow them to torture or rape her. She chose an orc at random and charged him with her dagger, but he grabbed her wrist faster than she could move, and quickly forced her to the ground. She was face down in the creek. She could not breathe. She thrashed and kicked.
A knee pressed down into her back. Her hands were bound behind her. Her ankles were bound as well. Finally, they removed her from the creek to let her gasp for air. A sack was thrown over her head. One orc pinned her on her back while another cut the laces to her boots and pulled them from her feet.
