“You need to learn to defer to your betters,” Felaern spat angrily. “And it will be the last lesson you ever learn.”
“You are such a melodramatic prick,” I replied calmly. “Let me get this straight. You were born into a wealthy family. People have always catered to your every whim, not because of anything that you have ever accomplished, but because of all the generations of achievers that have come before you. When your wealth fails you one time, you are ready to resort to blatant robbery to save face? The world will rejoice when you’re no longer in it. All your supposed friends will have a party, not in your honor, but because they don’t have to talk to you one more time. And I will smile when the light leaves your eyes and you draw your last breath knowing that I made life better for countless others.”
Alright, maybe Felaern wasn’t the only melodramatic prick in this conversation.
He hadn’t even drawn a weapon, although I could see a thin, expensive looking sword hanging from his belt. He obviously didn’t want to get his hands dirty. As I spoke, his brow furrowed with anger and, I kid you not, he growled at me. Finally, he screamed into the night air.
“Destroy him!”
The orcs jumped from their horses and started advancing in a loose formation. They looked composed and competent, as if this was not the first time that they had done this. Unfortunately for them, I had an ace in the hole.
“Light them up, Patrick!” I called out. “But leave the elf for me.”
The sound of gunshots erupted from behind me and to the left. Patrick had obviously maneuvered around so I was not in his line of fire. The shots were staccato. Two shots would ring out, then there would be a pause as Patrick assessed the target. Then the firing resumed, another two shots, and then another. The horses the orcs had dismounted from were spooked by the sound, ignoring their training and bolting into the darkness. Felaern was forced to fight his mount when it reared up in surprise, trying to throw him.
Patrick was a much better shot than I had ever been or, given my lack of ammunition, I ever will be. He didn’t hit with every round, but he did hit far more often than he missed. Immediately, the orc farthest to my left fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Then, the next orc in line collapsed to the ground in a soundless heap. In my peripheral vision, I could see Patrick calmly advancing in a slow shuffling walk, the pistol held steadily in front of him, decreasing the range between him and his targets. He looked like a hero in an action movie. This was obviously not the first time he had wielded a firearm in combat with another person.
The third orc, this one directly in front of me, froze briefly with indecision. That cost him his life as the next two rounds impacted him, knocking him back on his heels. When he didn’t immediately go down, Patrick fired another shot and that one did the trick, causing the orc to lose his balance and stumble to the ground. In the flickering firelight from the small campfire, I couldn’t really assess the extent of the damage to the wounded orcs, but it didn’t seem like they had a whole lot of fight left in them.
Unfortunately for me, the remaining orc could think on his feet. Instead of locking up, he charged me, quickly closing the distance between us and fouling any chance for Patrick to safely shoot him without risking hitting me. As I prepared to engage with him, I called out.
“Patrick, shoot the horse. The elf can’t get away.” Then I turned all my attention to my adversary.
Rapiers aren’t particularly effective against armored opponents. Any slash that I could deliver would likely be deflected harmlessly by the orc’s armor, and any thrust would need to be directed to a weak spot to be effective. The chainmail the orc was wearing was shaped like a long surcoat, the bottom hanging low enough to protect his groin but not his legs. His arms were guarded by boiled leather bracers, but the inside of his elbows were exposed and his throat was covered by a gorget. That left me few targets. His legs, his face, and small portions of his arms were my goals, unless somehow I got lucky and a thrust slipped its way through a vulnerable portion of his armor.
The orc opened with a slash, his blade swinging from right to left to bisect me at the waist. I skipped backwards, narrowly avoiding the tip of the blade as it cut the air with a perceivable whoosh. He didn’t overextend on the strike, his blade easily recovering into a guard position. He stomped towards me, once again closing the distance between us. I slid to the side, trying to keep my feet moving, Since I wasn’t weighed down by armor, mobility was my primary advantage.
My concentration was locked on my opponent but I heard more shots ring out and a horse screaming in pain. Then, there were more shots until Patrick’s pistol must have run dry. I really should have given him my other spare magazine.
I kept moving, dodging the orc's thrusts and swings. I knew I was on borrowed time. One misstep on the uneven terrain would spell my doom. I had to make the orc see me as a threat, to put him on his guard. He had to view this as a fight instead of a slaughter. Only then might he make a mistake that would allow me to prevail.
As another powerful slash went whizzing by me, I sprung forward to attack thrusting at the area just above the orc’s right knee. He tried to pull his leg back out of the way but the tip of my rapier burrowed into the flesh of his lower thigh. The wound wasn’t very deep but I had proven that I had teeth, that he couldn’t just lash at me with impunity. Too bad this wasn’t a duel to first blood. I would have already won.
I quickly sprung backwards and began evading again. Although the orc seemed to be slightly favoring his wounded leg, his combat effectiveness did not appear to be significantly impeded. His attacks remained powerful and it was all I could do to survive them.
I didn’t dare parry a slash with my sword. I could likely use it to deflect a lunge, but a full powered swing would likely either disarm me or ravage my weapon. I went on the attack, my blade flicking out to inflict a shallow cut to the orc’s calf just above his leather boot on his injured leg. I leapt back again, but this time the orc decided he had enough of my games. He bull rushed me. I had the presence of mind to keep the point of my sword low and out before me and it pierced the flesh of the inside of his other leg but then he was on me, his superior bulk carrying us both to the ground.
Stolen story; please report.
When I hit the ground, his weight drove the air from my lungs. I was in an all too familiar position, on my back with a larger opponent on top of me. I really needed to do some grappling training. Stronger opponents kept knocking me flat on my ass time after time and I needed a counter other than running away. I had lost my grip on my sword when I was driven to the ground, and was forced to engage him open handed. Have I mentioned that orcs were very strong. At least this one was. He began raining down blows on my head with his fists and elbows. I tucked my chin and covered up, letting my forearms take as much of the beating as I could. I bucked my hips, trying to overbalance him to allow myself to move to a more favorable position, tried to pull up my knees to gain some leverage and cover my body. No matter how I wriggled and writhed, though, some of his shots got through and soon I was whimpering with every powerful strike that I absorbed on my arms, and blood was running down my throat because my nose was broken again.
I stopped guarding my face with my left arm, reaching down to try to draw my belt knife. That was a mistake as I immediately started eating more strikes. The orc was tireless, punching and elbowing me over and over like a machine and my strength was beginning to flag. I had almost managed to free my knife when I heard a low, unfamiliar voice.
“Get off him!” Then there was more weight on top of me, crushing me and making it hard to breathe. The orc stopped striking me and tried to roll off of me, but I heard sickening crunches and his head kept bouncing off my raised right arm. Finally, I slipped the knife free and plunged it into his throat, sawing it back and forth. I tasted more blood but much of it was not my own. Then, the weight suddenly lifted and the orc was pulled off of me.
A large hand extended towards me, and I grasped it, grateful for the help getting back to my feet. Above me loomed the large man I had purchased, the one with the vacant stare. As I was drawn to my feet, the blood splattered fist-sized rock he held in his right hand dropped to the ground. I was embarrassed that I didn’t know his name. Without thought, I dropped my knife and lunged forward, hugging him.
“Thank you,” I managed to say.
And that, my friends, is the power of community.
The elf! Damn it, I had forgotten about the elf. Spinning around, I began hobbling over towards where I had seen him last. I couldn’t see any horses in that direction and wondered if he had managed to get away. If so, we were in big trouble. Huge trouble.
When I made it back over to where I had seen him, I realized that he had not gotten away. He was seated on the ground, disarmed, staring at me sullenly. He cradled his right arm with his left one, his right hand flopping around and the bones of his wrist close to piercing his skin.
“He was thrown when I shot the horse,” Patrick said. “I don’t feel great about shooting that horse. I hope it survives.”
Behind me, I could hear the babble of the last wounded but still conscious orc cut off with a scream. My people had a lot of pent up anger, and apparently he was a fine target.
“You have to get me help,” Felaern said to me. “If you don’t, you will never know a moment’s peace. My family is powerful, our warriors are strong. They will come after you. They will hunt you relentlessly. You will know pain, so much pain.”
Man, this guy just wouldn’t quit with the rich villain monologues. If I let him go, I am certain the next words out of his mouth would have been something about sharks that could shoot laser beams out of their eyes, or at least this world's equivalent. Fireball casting squirrels maybe?
“Let me tell you what I think,” I said, interrupting him. “You were embarrassed by the amount of money you spent for the slaves you managed to acquire. After repeated warnings not to spend any more money, you did so anyway. When you got home, you expected to be chastised. Maybe something drastic would happen, like your allowance would be cut. Maybe you would be placed into seclusion, withdrawn from polite society for awhile. That would shame you. So instead of going home and fessing up to your spending spree, you grabbed the most loyal of your goons and headed out here to try to avert your own little personal catastrophe. You had to make things right. But you couldn’t tell anyone where you were going because then they would have known what you had done. I don’t think your family has any idea where you are or who you were chasing. For all they know, you ran away from home for a while to dodge responsibility for your actions. Nobody is coming for us. Nobody has any idea where you are.”
“Please, have you no decency?” he whined. “If you will get me help we can pretend this never happened. My family will reward you quite richly.”
“Pretend this never happened? Pretending that you didn’t ride out with a group of warriors intending on killing me and stealing from me? You are a pathetic waste of skin.”
“There is one thing you fail to consider,” he replied. “My family has retainers in the Mages Guild. They will use their magic to determine what happened to me. Then they will know, and you will suffer.”
“Oh, cut the crap. If they do, they do, but you are not walking away from here. When they find you, if they find you, it will be in a hole out in a farmer’s field on the side of the road. And who can say what will happen if they do come for me? Maybe I can prune several branches of your family tree while I am at it. If you are representative, I think the world would be a better place for it.”
In terror, he bolted upright and headed towards the road in a slow shuffling walk. I let him take a few steps and then bounded forward, delivering a side kick to the small of his back and sending him sprawling to the ground. Then, I nodded at Patrick..
“Keep him here,” I directed.
Walking back over to where I had dropped my sword and knife, I scooped up my weapons. While I had my discussion with the elf, my nose had stopped bleeding and I was breathing easier. Stalking back to where Felaern was, I noticed that he had once again drawn himself up into a seated position.
“Look at me,” I said. Then I dropped the illusion that covered my hand and I wiggled my fingers at him. “Notice anything missing?”
Then, without another word, I lunged forward with my rapier, piercing his chest. It took a little time for the light of life to finally depart from his eyes. I stared at him with a hard look on my face for every moment of that time. And I was right, the world was a better place for his passing.
Just as I promised, Felaern and his henchmen were buried in shallow graves a couple of hundred yards off the road in a patch of sparse woods. It took a couple of hours to dig the holes with the meager tools that I had purchased or brought with me from Resource Camp 3. Many people helped dig and the rest worked to camouflage the signs of struggle in our camp. Nobody got a lot of sleep that night, but the little sleep I managed to get was restful. I slept like a baby.
At the crack of dawn, we broke camp. Within an hour of travel, we intersected a road that headed to the west. Turning that direction, we plodded down the roadway, the next steps on our journey to find a place that we could call home.