Page 7 of Orc's Pride
They head off through the trees, their weapons balancing on their shoulders as they go. As the sound of them fades, I turn back to Gor.
“We’ll drag these two back to camp. I’m sure they’ll have much to say once we get them strung up on the rack.”
He chuckles at me. “The rack? Oh, you’re in a good mood today.”
It’s obviously a jest, but he’s not far off. Though my breakfast this morning had been interrupted, there’s nothing more fulfilling than the screams of dark elves first thing after waking up. Of course, some of the others on base don’t share the same sentiment, but they’re in the minority on that front.
Of course, what these dark elves will actually provide for us when it comes to intel will vary. Judging by their clothing, they aren’t high ranking. Which doesn't matter. Any information about the schemes of their predecessors is good information to me.
Even if at the time of receiving it, it seems insignificant. I’ve found over the years that the pieces to the puzzle will eventually reveal itself. Patience isn’t my strongest virtue, but that’s what I have Gor for.
“Alright, let’s head back.”
The dark elves both flinch when I step forward towards them.
“Y-You can’t take us back to your camp!” one of the shouts.
I laugh. “Good thing you aren’t going to a camp. I’ll be taking you to my base.”
The other one shudders at the mention of an orc stronghold. Good, they should both be terrified.
I grab one of them by the hair, dragging him behind me and through the dirt and sharp thicket.
“Come along, now! We can’t keep the others waiting.”
Behind me, Gor lets out a small chuckle.
“That’s one way to carry them.”
Looking over my shoulder, I grin. “Hurry up.”
4
Dana
Ilay there for a while, pain shooting through my spine and down to my lower back with each draw of my lungs.
It doesn’t feel like anything’s broken, but given that I haven’t had the courage to move yet, that assessment can soon change. Above me, the trees rustle with a soft wind that flows by, kicking up some of the leaves that had hidden the trap from view. They float over me like petals, coming to rest over my face and chest.
Damn it. Of all things to run into, it had to be a hidden trap.
Slowly lifting myself up, my back screams from the movement. I choke out a cough, getting my lungs back to working again to pull in my air into my body. I’m sore, but still alive—at least that’s a plus.
Craning my neck up again, I listen for the sounds of those battle cries in the distance, hearing nothing. Either I was successful in getting away from them or I was too far under ground level to hear anything.
I hope it isn’t the latter—being stuck in the middle of some kind of battle that would ultimately end in me either gettingcaptured as war fodder, or killed as calamity, would make this entire situation all for nothing.
I can’t disappoint Malik like that. I wouldn’t.
My hands find the side of the hole where the dirt is less firm and easier to dig through. A root brushes against my fingers, thick and strong enough for me to grab onto and haul my body upright. It’s painful and leaves me gasping for a few seconds while my vision swims.
Testing my limbs one at a time, I come to realize that while my leg aches painfully when I put pressure on it, it isn’t broken or snapped at a weird angle. A plus, even if it’s inconvenient and will slow me down.
Though, as long as I get this list to Malik, it will all be worth it.
Following the root up, I tug at it harder to knock some of the dirt away from where it clings. It seems to reach high enough for me to get out of the hole, but the only question is, will it hold me? I’m slim but I still have plenty of muscle on me that makes me less than lightweight.
I pat the spot over my chest, making sure that the piece of paper is still where I’d tucked it. It crinkles slightly in my ear, giving me relief than I expected it to. Months of hard work, months of exhausting myself to the point where I felt like I’d die at times—this little piece of paper is the only proof I have of any of it.