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1
PAIGE
Acrid smoke stings my nostrils as I move up the steep hill in a slow crawl. There’s no sound but that of ravens cawing with delight over their huge feast. Honestly, I’m not sure what the orcs and dark elves are accomplishing with their turf wars other than feeding the birds. They are all going to be some fat fuckers after all this.
A battlefield between two immensely powerful races of beings is probably the last place a human woman like me should be. Especially considering I’ve brought along my ten-year-old sister, who’s currently hiding in a copse of trees at the bottom of this hill.
Make that she’s supposed to be hiding. I can see her little face peeking out from behind a tuft of waist-high grass. She ducked down among the bent and drooping blades when she sees me looking back, but she’s a second too late.
I grimaced, but there’s not much I can do about it. Not until I know what’s waiting for us on the other side of the hill. We saw the lights and heard the clash of the armies when we were hiking through this area yesterday.
It seems like the battle is done, but that doesn’t mean it really is. I have to look over the hill and make sure we’re actually alone. If there is even one solitary dark elf or orc, we’ll turn back and forget it.
If, however, the coast happens to be clear, we can scavenge the battlefield. There’s a surprising number of useful items left behind when two armies clash, and if you’re clever and patient, you can pick them up for yourself.
Of course, you have to deal with the smell of burnt flesh and the occasional rotting body, but this is a harsh world, and you do what you must to survive.
I reached the top of the hill, my hands gripping a half-buried limestone rock for support. I pulled myself up enough to peer over to the other side. I’m expecting carnage, and I am not disappointed.
The battle was fought in a valley that was probably pleasant beforehand. An orcish war machine lies on its side, all but one wheel busted off and half-burned into a charred, black mockery of its former function. Several fires are still burning here and there, one of them a pile of corpses. I make a mental note to stay upwind of that particular gore. The dark elves take their warriors’ bodies back while the orcs mainly burn them on the battlefield, taking only the sometimes-broken weapons back to be given to the next generation.
And as for humans, we usually burn our dead because nobody has the time or patience for burial any longer.
I glance over my shoulder and see Laney peeping out from behind the bush again. I motion for her to come up and join me as I stand up. Laney makes it up the hill even faster than me, her spindly limbs moving like cyclones.
“Wow,” she says when she stands beside me. “You weren’t kidding when you said it was a big battle. I wonder who won.”
“It’s hard to tell. Come on, let’s get what we need and get out of here before any more scavengers come along.” I sigh. What is the use of fighting every battle with Laney?
“You have a sword. I have my knife,” she says, brandishing a knife so tiny it could only be dangerous to a rabbit. “Let them try to take our stuff.”
I grimace at my sister, putting my hands on my hips. I hate how this war has made Laney grow up so fast. I sometimes don’t even recognize her anymore.
“I have a sword, yes, but I hope I never have to use it. You should hope that too. Don’t go looking for trouble, sis. You’ll always find it.”
“You sound like Grandpa.”
“Grandpa was smart. And so are you when you remember to stop acting like some epic hero in a story.”
The wind shifts, and the plumes of smoke drift our way. The smoke obscures the hillside we stand on like the fog of war. I start down the slope before I get a good whiff of the pile of burning corpses.
Laney follows along behind. Her prattle diminishes the farther we get down into the valley. At the bottom, she goes into a grim silence. She may be scrappy, but standing knee-deep among the dead is going to put a damper on anyone’s spirits.
We carefully pick our way through broken swords, sundered spears, and bits of metal armor, most stained with blood. The flies are going crazy on some of the bodies. One orc corpse has so many flies covering it that it appears as black as midnight.
I come upon a wagon upthrust from the ground. A pile of dirt and jagged rock protrudes from the covered top, making the whole thing sit askew.
“What happened here?” Laney asks, her voice unnaturally loud in the deathly quiet.
“Shh,” I say, holding my finger to my lips. I respond in a soft, quiet tone. “It looks like dark elf sorcery to me. They can make the ground come up like that under their enemies.”
“Cool.”
“No, not cool. Not if you’re on the receiving end.” I intertwine my fingers and squat to give Laney a foothold to step into. “I’ll give you a boost up. See if there’s anything worth salvaging in there.”
She puts her foot in my stirrup hands, and I lift her until she disappears over the edge. I hear her thumping around.
“It’s pretty dark, but I think I can rip a hole in the canopy to let in more sunlight.”
