Page 26 of The Orc Warrioress and the Elf Lord

She wasn’t much of a horsewoman, but she’d grown up on a farm, and she knew horses well enough. Most of the horses she’d grown up with were work horses, not these sorts of horses—the kinds of horses that elves rode were half pets, half companions, half servants, she thought. Elves went riding for sport, and the horses they took along were not being used for service but simply for pleasure. It was a different relationship with a beast than she was used to.

However, of course, see how much the elves had cared for their horses. If they’d fled, they’d done it without their precious beasts.

Perhaps she was being uncharitable. Perhaps the owner of these horses was simply dead.

She grimaced.

She led the horse out and put a saddle and bridle on it. There were some already-stocked saddle bags hanging along with the rest of the tackle. She looked inside to see that they contained a canteen, a blanket, bandages, and other essentials. She brought one, attaching it to the saddle as well.

She did not mount the horse yet, but led it along and they took to the streets. The orc army was coming in from the north, going down the main street of Renegahan. She decided to get ahead of the carnage and cut across the main street closer to the palace.

This way, she could get to the southernmost gate without running into the army, at least she hoped.

The streets were so empty, she decided to mount the horse. She spoke to it in a low voice, calling it ‘girl’ even though she was not sure if the horse were male or female and did not feel like contorting to look between its legs just then. There were people who could tell a mare from a stallion just by looking at them, but she was not one of them. Maybe if it had been a plow horse, she didn’t know. These elvish beasts, they were so fine and tall, with long flowing manes. They were bred for speed and racing and jumping. They were bred for play.

That was what Dathor had said, though, wasn’t it?

The southern elves, they lived charmed and easy lives. They sought pleasure and ease, and they knew no hardship.

This was why it seemed appropriate to punish them perhaps, to give them a taste of all the pain they had been missing.

But she wondered, was the world that way? Was suffering ever doled out fairly?

Was anything fair?

The world worked according to natural laws, it was true. But fairness was not a natural law. It was an invention of people.

Why had people invented it? she mused, as she carefully swung up into the saddle of the horse, who allowed her there, and who obligingly took off.

Then, she and the horse were trotting down the white-stone streets of the capital city in the bright light of the morning, and it was so lovely it nearly made her heart ache. She felt as if she and the horse had somehow merged into one being. She could feel that she and the horse were communicating in a way that went far beyond words, that was skin on skin, bone to bone, sweat and breath and all the things that made natural beings understand each other.

Was this fair?

Was it fair to ride a horse?

Perhaps not to the horse, she didn’t think, but they seemed to have been made so perfectly for riding, did they not?

Still, this, the synergy between herself and the animal, she knew the horse felt it. What was that like for the horse?

She chided herself.

She was riding through a conquered city, trying to escape an army that would punish her if they found her. It was no time to contemplate these sorts of musings, no time at all.

When she got to the southernmost gate, it was guarded by elves in uniform. They were from the palace, but they weren’t kingsguard, because all the kingsguard were high-ranked elf nobility. However, the uniform was quite similar.

She stayed out of sight, trying to think of what she might do. They weren’t allowing people to leave through the gate, which seemed madness to her. There was a crowd of maybe thirty people, and men were crying out to let their wives and children through, please, that they must not be cooped up here to die inside these gates.

The guards had their swords drawn, and she could see that there were bodies at their feet. The guards were slaughtering their own!

This was very bad.

How had this happened so quickly? How had everything gone mad?

She could go and attempt to fight her way through the guards, but then they would see she was an orc. She could try to go find some other place to climb the wall. Then she must leave the horse behind, and she had grown rather fond of the horse, she had to admit. Also, the drop on the other side? Well, she might hurt herself. It was asking for a sprained ankle at least, but possibly a broken bone.

Haem help her, was she trapped in this city?

Perhaps she must simply go for the western gate. The streets seemed empty, and she could make her way with the horse. It was galling to be so close to the gate and not to get out, she supposed, but there was no way out here, and—