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My second ax is of human manufacture. The entire thing, from hilt to angled cutting edge, is made of metal, and a damn fine steel it is too. The red paint has long worn off the handle, as well as the business end, but some traces of it remain near the pommel and the conjunction between handle and blade.
I found this ax inside of a crumbling human structure. It was within a glass case hanging on a wall as if it were to be protected or perhaps revered. I took it because it looked sturdy enough to use as a tool or a weapon, but I mainly use it to cut flesh, not wood.
I was told by one of the humans at our camp that this ax belonged to a special class of humans calledfirefighters. Of course, I’m not sure how much good an ax would be against a fire. It seems like a bucket, and a source of water would be far more useful.
I had hoped that my people would start calling me Jovak Two-Edge rather than Longstrider, but it didn’t take. My tendency to wander alone has been ingrained deeply in how my tribe sees me.
Whatever is waiting for me over that hill could be hostile. Or there could be nothing, just more dead bodies torn asunder by steel or spell.
I lean in and let my long, powerful legs eat up the terrain. All of the walking I do has made me leaner than most of my kin. That, and … but it’s not important right now. All that’s important is keeping myself on the edge of readiness in case I have to do battle.
The top of the hill approaches. I stand straighter and find myself atop a steep incline leading down into a little valley. It was probably a pleasant valley for a walk at one time before the battle. Now the green grass is torn and burned, charred black. Trees lay sundered into a thousand splinters by magically produced lightning bolts. And, of course, the dead are everywhere. I believe the dark elves won because I don’t see any of their bodies laying about. They must have collected their dead.
But not all of the Red Wyrm tribe have departed. I see a half dozen milling about at the base of the hill. And they see me. One of them looks up, his helm flashing in the dying rays of the setting sun. He points at me, and the others look my way.
Damnation, I hadn’t wanted them to spot me. Now, I have to make a decision. They would have to fight their way up this steep hill to reach me, in which case I could easily run back down the other side and disappear into the woods before they could find me.
Or I could charge down this hill and slay them all. My blood burns for battle. I am an orc, after all. Or, at least, mostly.
But it would be irresponsible for me to indulge in my bloodlust when my tribe has not heard from me in days. I should probably leave. They don’t seem overly interested in trying to come after me, anyway.
I see why a moment later. They have prisoners. Two forms huddle together inside an iron cage on the back of an orcish wagon. Dark elves? No, not likely. They are too small. Humans are my best guess. Humans who came to scavenge among the dead a bit too soon, or perhaps, too late.
Not my concern, of course. So what will it be, Jovak? Will you charge down there and seek battle among the Red Wyrm Clan? Or will you turn and flee to your own people and toward the responsibilities you have shirked for far too long?
Then, I hear something that decides the matter for me.
I hear a child scream.
3
PAIGE
Afew moments ago, I was locked in a cage awaiting an uncertain fate. Now I’m outside, ostensibly free, and my fate is certain.
That doesn’t mean my fate is going to be any more or less pleasant, however.
It all happened so fast. I’d been holding Laney against me as she recovered. The orcs milled around, watching my wagon burn while one of their scouts picked over the rest of the battlefield just to be certain they hadn’t missed anything of value.
The orcs had all looked up the hill Laney and I had descended not so long before this. I couldn’t make out what they were so upset about because the cage’s wooden roof blocked my vision. I figured it was trouble, though, from the way they all gripped the hilts of their weapons.
One of the orcs said something I couldn’t make out ... I think it was the orc word forenemy... and then they began making their way up the hill. All save one.
The smallest, weakest orc of them all remained behind. His green eyes locked with my gaze, and I knew what he had on his mind. Revolting as it was, I was more worried about Laney’s fate than my own.
“Come here, you,” he said, throwing the cage door open. “You’re mine. Sleesak will no longer have to wait for the bruised, battered, and whimpering seconds.”
His hand closed on my wrist, and he dragged me out of the cage. Even though he was small for an orc, he was still many times stronger than me.
Laney had recovered at that point and tried to stop him, throwing a rock that dinged off the orc’s helmet. He almost casually backhanded Laney, sending her tumbling to the ground. Laney’s scream of rage and despair could have been mistaken for fear by someone who didn’t know her as well as I did.
Seeing my kid sister smacked down like a common dog made my blood boil. I grabbed the nearest weapon I could find, an orc sword. The damn thing washeavy, but I got it up in front of me with two hands on the hilt. I stood between the orc and Laney.
This brings me to the present. The other orcs are shouting and causing a ruckus on the hill, but I don’t dare take my eyes off what’s going on right in front of me.
“Oh, look at her,” he says with a snicker. “You won’t be cuttingmyfingers off, little meat.”
“I was thinking of something a little lower,” I snarl. “Something you’ll be sure to miss.”
