The Archfey and the Orcs

Edited by Pyrranha

by holyflpncows

When dawn breaks, there are piles of berries in the clearing.

They’re tart, but much better than more rations. Woad greets us while we eat and pack our things. Today, however, his name is apparently Katal. Fairies. I roll my eyes. We gather around to discuss our battle plan. Katal provides a very rough depiction of the orc camp in the dirt. I pace around the sketch while Feng Da and Shen Po ask Katal clarifying questions about the map.
I unsheathe my saber and draw into the soft soil. "From the sounds of it, the best approach would be to use the tree line to our advantage, spread out, and attack from all sides—similar to ambushing from the clouds with cloudships," I say. Shen Po gives me a dubious look at the mention of cloudships.
"That would make us more vulnerable," Feng Da argues. I eye him. What experience does he have with planning battles? With leading troops?
"It'd make them think we outnumber them and that they're surrounded. It'll sow enough confusion for us to take several of them out before they realize it's just a few of us." I sheathe my sword. "But by then, our numbers should be closer to equal." His stare bores into me.
"It's too risky," he shakes his head. "We should stick close to each other and funnel them into the tree line." I quell my frustration as everyone backs his plan.
Katal leads the way to the orc’s camp, staying uncharacteristically quiet. I examine the scene as we arrive. Katal's earlier depiction was surprisingly accurate, for the most part. The camp sprawls across a large expanse, hosting about a dozen tents, and a huge round table. It's hard to see from this distance, but the sounds of clashing steel confirm a recreational pit at the other side. And near that should be several prisoner cages, according to Katal's diagram. The only activity here seems to be the several orcs cutting down trees with bladed rams several yards in front of us and whoever is sparring on the far side.
We creep closer to the workers, noting a couple other orcs behind them, overseeing their work. Feng Da motions to Arslan to provide a distraction. Arslan places a hand on the hilt of his sword, and the sound of galloping hooves echoes out toward the working orcs. They immediately falter in their task, backing away in a confused panic. One of the taskmasters curses and moves closer to encourage the workers back to their task. She raises an arm, whip in hand, and an arrow thwacks into her shoulder. Fwip's cue. I take off to my left, without saying anything. Those tents house more foes, and I still believe in my earlier plan.
I run and pull in as much energy as I can. It's been a long time since I’ve cast this spell. What if it backfires? Too late to dwell on that now. The tents are close now, ready for the spell. I take an extra second, getting closer than I need. I touch the hilt of my saber, focusing my power, dodging roots and branches. Memories come to mind of running down planks and steel, right hand outstretched, splinters flying in front of my face. I release the gathered energy as I continue to run by, throwing my right arm out, palm flicking outward. “Knuse!” I shout, and an instant later four of the tents collapse, splinters erupting from the wood frames, followed immediately by a loud crack.
An elated breath escapes my lungs and I smile. I continue my run, readying a second attack, left hand still gripping my saber. Crack! My grin spreads even further as more tents go down, signs of movement being extinguished moments later. With my hair whipping behind me as I run, it feels close to being back on an cloudship, loud cracks resounding from the points I aim at. I feel my old surety, the confidence in my choices. It feels good.
From the corner of my eye, I see three orcs appear from dense brush. Damn it. Not good. I skid to a halt, slide my saber out, and smirk tauntingly. The women charge me. I retreat into the camp, luring them into my allies. I use my momentum to plunge my saber into the back of an orc engaged with Arslan. I yank my sword out from the woman and duck low. Arslan catches on quick and slices his greatsword horizontally above me, dark magic cutting through the air to slam into my pursuers. With this half of camp taken care of, Arslan and I move around the remaining forces, pinning the orcs between us and the rest of our group.
Shortly after, there’s no opposition left. I pick through the corpses, examining the weapons they carried while the others work on investigating the cages. As I do, I realize something fairly interesting about this camp. All the armed ones were female, while all the males were the few laborers we first saw. I heft a fine-looking short sword as I ponder the camp's hierarchy. Unusual, like many things out here. I tear off the red cloth dangling from the hilt and let my pondering change to the usefulness of the sword. It's short enough to not be in the way of casting spells and a better reach than my dagger. I sheathe it and buckle it to my belt as Arslan calls me over to a campfire to see what they rescued from a cage.
My muscles lock, freezing me in place as I reach the fire. An emaciated elf sits with the group. I look away, fidgeting. It’s not him, but I can’t bring myself any closer. He introduces himself as Ptili and gives his thanks to the group. Feng Da and Arslan lead the way back to the clearing, Katal long gone. I stay in the back, as far away from Ptili as possible. However, I still catch snippets of conversation. Ptili is slow in answering some of them, still a bit out of it. Those orcs are—were—part of a clan known as the Red Scarves and had captured him. He's part of a group known as the Earthguard, who are followers of the god Reliphe. He groggily explains more about the Earthguard and how they feel this land is holy, how it was once Reliphe’s domain, and so on as we fumble our way back to the forest clearing.
We take only a couple hours to rest and gather more fruit from the area before we set off to catch Umatoko, Ptili in tow—much to my discomfort.