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This world’s just full of reminders of my issues… Fuck it, I’m just going to drink until I forget about it all.
THE END.
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PREVIEW OF THE NAGA’S MATE
The Worlds of Protheka is a vast and growing world. Check out the standalone series starter, The Naga’s Mate
The Naga’s Mate
By Celeste King
Available on Amazon here!
31
JEMMA
Irun through the woods, trying desperately to find anything that might give us any advantage as the orcs chase us down. But there are no sufficiently sharpened sticks, no properly club-like branches, or conveniently dropped swords just lying around. So, I keep running, hoping something will change because we can't outrun these orcs forever.
But some of us are going to falter sooner than others. The old or the young. They'll be the first to be captured again. We were all kept in a pen together, about twenty of us who were all snatched up when the orcs raided the low towns of the dark elf city of Liiandor. Well, twenty at the start, but that number dropped daily whenever the orcs got hungry.
Then one of the guards got drunk and passed out. We managed to reach his keys and unlock the cage. I told everyone to just run. But Ryan, one of the young men with us who'd always argued with me about everything, said we deserved revenge. I understand the impulse.
The orcs made us watch as they ate the others or butchered them to turn them into jerky. The lucky ones were dead before the orcs started. There were very few lucky ones.
I'd have loved to see these orcs choke on their own blood, but my priority was to get everyone out safely. Ryan wanted to stab someone. So, he took the guard's dagger and tried to cut his throat. But it didn't work.
Orc hide can only be pierced with weapons made of mithril. The guard was only watching over humans, so it must have been regular iron or something because all it did was wake the guard up. To his credit, Ryan did his best to slow the orc down. Paying with his life to buy the eight of us a few seconds was the best he could do for costing us the minutes we could have had otherwise.
I've been a survivor all my life, but I've also never been good at watching others suffer. I turn and see Sasha, only thirteen years old, lagging.
I turn to Mary and Joshua. They're twenty. Adults. Capable. They might make it fine on their own, but the others I worry about. I could keep running, let the others falter, and the orcs stop to gather them. I could be free. But I couldn't live with myself knowing I didn't at least try to save the others.
"Everyone, scatter. Make them divide up or pick a target," I say, hopefully, loud enough for everyone to hear but not loud enough for the orcs to find out what I'm doing.
Though this is part of my plan, I keep to myself. I slow down and fall in beside Sasha. Mary and Joshua look back at me. I wave them off. "Just go!"
Then I turn to the girl and point left. "Go that way. Hide if you can. Live."
I hope she makes it, but I can't waste any more time, not if I'm going to try to save the others. I turn and run. Not right for the orcs, but veering off to the right and back, putting me much closer to them than any of the others.
And then I scream. I'm terrified. Anyone with a lick of sense would be. But I lay it on thick. I need them to follow me. When I turn to look behind me, I think it worked. I don't know if they all are coming for me, but from the crashing sounds and roared curses hurled in my general direction, I'm sure I have at least a handful after me.
Next step: don't die.
I've been pretty good about sticking to that plan my whole life. I've survived thirty-one years, always trying to stay just one step ahead of death. I lost my parents young, growing up on the streets. And I did my best to keep the other street kids alive and out of the clutches of the dark elves who would use them for their twisted pleasures.
Sometimes I was more successful than others. I remembered each of the ones I failed. I keep it as a list in my head. Our three weeks in captivity made the list so much longer. And that's why I'm doing this. If I can save the rest of them, it'll be worth it.
But as noble as self-sacrifice may be, I'm not looking to become orc food. I want to survive, too. So even as I scream my lungs out, I run.
The sounds of breaking branches and stomping feet are getting closer. I turn just in time to see a machete coming at me. I dodge. Then there's another one to my right, and I manage to duck under that strike as well. I think I count five. That must mean most of them came for me.
I hope the others make it.
If I had a proper weapon, I might be able to take on one orc, but even that would be a challenge. Most of my fighting has been against other humans on the street, trying to harass other suffering humans.
