"Gorbag part 3" by Erik Jensen

Darenya was climbing a tree from which she expected to get a good chance to shoot the black orc when he returned. She moved quietly, hoping to avoid attention from any of the enslaved birds. They'd be free of his tainted influence soon enough.

Suddenly she stopped. She had caught a glimpse of movement higher in the tree, something large. She froze in place, all senses at full alert. She was thankful she had been that careful. Slowly, she moved closer to the tree trunk, and caught a glimpse of skin boots. The animal skin that had been used was a light sandy colour. She moved slightly again, and saw a bit of dark skin. Just then, the person above her suddenly looked down. She had never seen a shadow elf before in her life, but there was no doubt: His skin was dark as a sun-tanned human, and his eyes were a rich brown. But they held little charm for her, as their expression demonstrated his intent just as obviously as the movement of his right hand to his short sword.

Gorbag stopped in mid stride. How could he be so stupid? He had forgotten his bow. He turned around and began running back, cursing himself for his stupidity. As he reached the clearing, he stopped dead in his tracks. His nostrils widened. There was a faint smell of something foreign in the air, something that made his upper lip curl to reveal a sharp tooth. His eyes wandered, his ears strained, but as it almost always was, his sense of smell first detected it. It was one of the shadow elves, and he was using something to disguise his scent. The scowl on Gorbag's face changed to show more teeth, and his shoulders rose higher. That elf was a magician of sorts, using magic to disguise himself. In the impressive catalogue of opponents in his mind, Gorbag began forming a tactic, while his left hand began to fumble for something on his chest, but under the chain mail.

Darenya knew that the shadow elf had used some sort of magic to make everything quiet around her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought of that as something she could use to her advantage; he was afraid of being heard, probably by the black orc. She immediately dropped to the ground. He followed her, landing unharmed and with elven grace from the drop. She drew a dagger and threw it, not at him, but at the metal roof of the storage building. She saw the fear in the eyes of the shadow elf, as he pointed at the dagger. It was deflected and fell almost silently to the ground near the building. She started running as she threw another dagger the same way. At least she could keep him occupied, but she was running low on daggers. He followed, albeit a bit slower, reacting the same at the throw of the second dagger.

She had three daggers left. She decided to make the most of them, and held one ready to throw if he tried casting a spell at her. She saw a gleam of evil in his eyes as his lips moved and he pointed to her. She tried to throw the dagger, only to have it and all her other weapons, pulled towards the shadow elf. His long black hair whipped around, as if in a sudden wind, and the weapons fell to the ground around him. She turned her back on him and ran as fast as she could, only to run face first into an invisible wall. She saw a black, but her consciousness returned with her seeing the shadow elf with an almost apologetic look on his face as he raised his sword to end her life. Then she was blinded by a sharp light, but it didn't hurt her eyes. The utter silence dissipated quickly, and she heard a roaring sound, as the beating of enormous wings. As the light faded, so did the sound. The shadow elf stood frozen in place with a look of utter disbelief on his face, looking at the black orc. The orc held up an small replica of a sword; it was the symbol of Palantharis, and it seemed the last place the light faded from was the symbol. The black orc took the leather cord attached to it and put it around his neck, and tugged the symbol beneath his chain mail. He drew out his axe from the harness on his back, and with a big swing cleaved the shadow elf. He muttered a work in orcish, his voice full of contempt, and he spat at the body. Then he looked at Darenya. He put the axe back in its harness and kneeled next to her. She tried to squirm away, but all she managed was to almost loose consciousness again. The pain was so powerful she felt nauseous. The orc placed his hand on her neck and whispered something she didn't understand. She only recognized the word 'Ch'lantor' which she knew was orcish for Palantharis. The pain diminished and she heard herself moan. He carefully and effortlessly picked her up, whispering quietly to her words she didn't understand. He blew air on her face through his nostrils. She expected it to have a foul stench, but the air was clean, and she felt herself slipping away to a place of quiet sleep.

Gorbag carried the poor elf to the storage house, where he made a small cot for her with leaves, twigs and her cloak. He eased her gently onto the cot. It had been a long time since anyone had been in need of his healing skills, but he had forgotten nothing. He went to the well and got some water, and he opened a small metal box from the storage house. It contained clean bits of cloth, and he cleaned the blood from her face. He had forgotten how fragile elves seemed.

Poor little girl, he kept thinking to himself. A nasty bruise she had made herself there, but his master had healed it. Her head had been shaken too, but all had been healed by mighty Palantharis. It was the work of that mage. Oh, how he hated mages. To think they could find no better ways to use their magic. Selfish and thoughtless they were. His master also disapproved of them, and with his magic he had crushed the mage's magic. He finished cleaning her face and went to bury the mage.

Darenya woke in the dark. She heard the familiar sounds of the night forest, but she couldn't see the stars or the trees. She turned her head and realized she was in a building. The gate was open, and when she saw the clearing, she remembered what had happened. Quickly she oriented herself, and just next to her was the black orc. He sat on the ground, breathing heavily, his head hanging down on his chest and his eyes closed. She quickly looked around for her weapons and saw them in a neat pile in the corner of the building. As silently as she could, she got out of the bed. The black orc made a snoring sound and moved a little, but he didn't wake. She moved like a shadow to her weapons, and she found her longest dagger. Then she returned to the orc. He had underestimated her. Of course, she was only alive because he was going to question her, but he would never realize his mistake. Standing right behind him, she saw that she could make a good thrust downwards between his neck and shoulder, burying the blade in him. She steeled herself and struck.

Gorbag woke to a searing pain. His first thought was that the shadow elves were here and he got to his feet. His breathing was difficult, and he realized he had a punctured lung. The pain in his right shoulder was intense, and it almost crippled his right arm for now. With his left arm he searched for the blade, even as his feet quickly carried him away from danger. He found the dagger and pulled it out with a pitiful yelp. He spun around, the dagger in hand, to confront his enemy. All he saw was the poor elf girl, so he thought the enemy might be invisible. He smelled no other presence in the room, so he quickly started moving again as he began to stab and thrust at random. He realized that the shadow elf would have to have stood right next to the elf girl when he struck. He moved quickly in that direction, quickly shoving her aside to get her out of danger's path. After a few seconds of probing attacks, another pain shot into the back of his left thigh. He spun around and saw the elf girl standing with a bloody dagger in her hand; there was no doubt, the dark blood was his. She lunged at him again, and he just stood there incredulously. She had attempted to pierce his chain mail but had vastly underestimated the sheer thickness, and the knife sprang back harmlessly. He dropped the dagger and held up his uninjured left hand, trying to get her to stop, and she cut a gash on his palm. He reflexively withdrew his hand and took a few steps back, still not understanding why she was so cruel to him. She was not mean, he was sure of that because the mean shadow elf had tried to kill her. Had he done something wrong since he was being punished like this? His breathing was difficult, and the pain was threatening the cool of his mind. She feinted and tried to pierce the chain mail at his soft belly, without any luck. She quickly picked up the dagger he had dropped and attacked him with both. She cut him on his legs, on his face and on his hands, not able to set in a final blow.

Finally Gorbag lost control. His instincts took over as his thoughts were drowned in pain. His right arm was compromised, but she had become careless in her wild attacks. Suddenly, he stomped his iron boot on her foot, immobilizing her. Then the claws of his left hand made a quick sweep from down left to top right, making four gashes. His fist clenched as it was high, and it fell like a hammer on her small frame, sending her to the ground. He proceeded to kick her in the stomach with his right iron boot, an attack which might as well have proved fatal. He snatched a dagger from the ground, lifting it, preparing to strike. He never did, since the look of her beaten form beneath him brought a very different pain with it. He bumped to the ground next to her, pulling his legs up to his chest, confused, shaking his head, clutching his wounds, mumbling to himself.

Darenya was astonished at what had happened. Although in severe pain from her stomach and foot and bleeding from the long cuts from his claws, she was alive. She fought her way to the wall to sit up and try and get things back in order. Her view was blurred, but she did see the black orc sitting there, babbling. She almost wish she could escape the pain in unconsciousness, but her instincts didn't let her slip away.

Thus they sat throughout the night, bleeding, in pain, afraid and confused, and each of them very much alone with their suffering.