A Single Spark

"Release!"

A dozen arrows from multiple angles fire at the red orc. Using the trees as cover to surround our target is easy work especially in our home turf. Even direwolves and greater bears fall after a volley or two. Even if half the shots miss, that's still six elven arrows aimed at vital spots. This time around, all of them hit. All of them hit and snap like twigs.

It's no fluke, no unlucky shot. This beast has skin rivaling dragonscale. Not a single arrow has made it flinch, let alone pierce its dark brick red skin. It turns its head up, towards another guard platform.

"Move! Get out of there!"

There isn't even a second's delay between me yelling at the guard and the sound of another explosion turning wooden planks into splinters. I look back at the red orc and its already pulling back its arm for another swing. It throws fireballs like it's throwing rocks - wild magic. A type of chantless magic often used by creatures closely tied to the primordial forces, like elementals... and dragons.

This is bad.

Most casters need to use chants to make magic usage efficient. Wild magic users draw from Gaea's magic itself. Which means a battle of attrition is no good. We'd sooner run out of arrows before the red orc runs out of fireballs.

The image of my daughter Illiana trapped in the basement of our home flashes through my mind.

"We need to evacuate."

Before the words leave my mouth, someone else behind me says my thoughts aloud. Amren, the village chief stands with bow in hand and a mortal fear in his eyes. His white beard seems to droop even more with his horrified expression. Behind him is another elf, kneeling next the unconscious Thena, casting healing magic on her wounds.

"We cannot fight it. The village is lost. Begin evacuation!!"

Despite his age and apparent fear, his voice carries loud and commanding, cutting through the chaos of the moment and causing a number of heads to turn his way.

"Shortblades! Rangers! Guards! Commence hit-and-run! Everyone else, gather the children and evacuate the village!"

I knew Amren was a decorated soldier long ago but it's only know I truly feel grateful for that fact. As a frequent visitor of the Deepwood's ruins and dungeons, I am technically a ranger by trade. So much of me wants to rush back to Illiana's side, but I will put my trust in my friends and neighbors to find her and keep her safe. Before my resolve escapes me, I grip the handle of my bow hard and run behind a tree for cover.

I nock an arrow and peek out in preparation. Green cloaks flash past me, rapid footsteps barely audible, then glints of steel. The shortblades rush towards the red orc from all directions. The beast reacts with a swing of its massively muscular arm. No doubt a single hit from it would knock any of us out cold, but shortblades are far too quick on their feet to get caught by such lumbering movements.

Two step back and one ducks, then like a wound spring dashes right past the red orc, twin blades slicing in a rapid flurry. The other two follow up with their own strikes immediately after the red orc's whiff.

Though we call them shortblades, they are know as vipers by outsiders. They remain hidden until the perfect time to strike with dual shortswords coated with actual snake venom that induces paralysis and death within a minute or two. For that reason, their blades are incredibly sharp, made to cut and not to strike.

And it shows.

A number of their swords have shattered and flew off. No doubt they were only aiming for what seemed like soft spots for small cuts and flesh wounds, not bone or cartilage. Resisting elven arrows is one thing but even the sharpest blades of the elven smiths?

A red fist is raised in the air. It opens its fingers and a searing flame bursts to life in its palm. Magic seems to spiral around and into it. Then the beast swings, not towards any of us, but to the ground below it.

The red orc is enveloped in a fiery blast. I turn away from the blinding heat it emits. In the aftermath, two of the three shortblades lie on the ground, half engulfed in fire.

"Release!"

On Amren's signal, I get in position, aim and fire all in one swift motion.

"Nakat"

About twenty arrows fly at once this time around. But they are no simple arrows this time around. I whispered an enchantment into mine: a blinding effect. The others surely would have done so as well, despite our reluctance to do so. Most of us do not specialize in using magic after all. At most, I can cast four more enchantments before magic fatigue takes effect.

Around eighteen hit the mark, but again, nothing. No visible effects, physical or magical. The red orc stands amidst fire and broken arrows. Its eyes reflect the dancing yellow flames. It pulls back its arm for another hard swing... and roars.

Deep, bestial, rageful.

Multiple balls of light shoot out in a spray, a barrage of fireballs. I count at least eight before one of them hits the tree I'm hiding behind. A deafening blast is the last thing I hear before my vision comes to abrupt end.

...

...

...

My ears are ringing. I feel something wet on my face. I smell smoke. I smell blood. I feel cold dirt on my cheek and see the whole world sideways. I see someone's feet, walking towards me, stopping in front of me. Red feet.

The red orc picks me up from the ground with a single hand. It brings me upright and, gently, puts me down on my feet. I lose balance immediately, but catch myself with a step forward. I look up slowly, until my eyes meets the beast's. Black eyes, with a hint of brown. I see my reflection on its eyes: bloodied, battered, and surrounded by burning trees.

Its tusks pointing up move, no it's opening its mouth. It speaks, with a voice heavy and grave, in the tongue of the deepfolk. I'm well-learned. I've been exploring the Deepwood for years. But I've had little opportunity to converse with the deepfolk. What it said however, was unmistakable.

"Leave the Deepwood."

-

-

-

"Have you lost your mind?!"

Udraq bellows at me with a rage unlike anything I have seen from him. Having this conversation in his yurt does little for privacy when everything he says is heard by all those right outside.

"Do you have any idea what you have just done?! To us?! To our clan?! Did you even think about the repercussions of your little 'raid'?"

With a heavy sigh, Udraq sits on his bed of monster furs, grabs the dark brown bottle on the barrel next to it, and fills his drinking horn to the rim. I recognize the bottle: ale traded from visiting dwarves years ago. He chugs it down and starts speaking with a much calmer demeanor.

"A red orc. I would congratulate you for achieving ascension, if not for what you did. The only other ascendant I know of was old Bodif."

"A belly big enough for three orcs and a heart big enough for all. A shame he passed before he could see us come of age. Especially you, following in his footsteps as clan chief.

Udraq puts down the bottle and his drinking horn on the barrel.

"Griz, other clans have raided the elven villages in the past, those were regular wood orcs. The elves would respond by increasing security to deter any more attacks. But a red orc? News of that will travel across the lake. Their king will hear of it, see it as a threat best nipped at the bud. Now they will come for us. For all of us."

"No. Not all of us. Not necessarily."

Udraq eyes me tiredly.

"Explain."

"A red orc attacked an elven village. Alone."

"Griz."

"If you banish me from the clan, disown me and pronounce me a rogue threat, then offer the elves aid in hunting me down, you can curry their favor and seek better relations."

"You really have lost your mind."

"Or you can follow me down a different path. You, our brothers and sisters, the entire clan."

Udraq stands with clenched fists and squinting eyes.

"Is this about the title of chief again?"

"The title of chief is nothing more to me than a means to an end."

"The end of peace and our proud lineage."

"The end of their trespasses and thievery!"

I step forward with a shout. He does not budge, not even a flinch, but he does not interrupt my speech either.

"Udraq, the lines were made clear long ago! We keep to our side of the lake, we keep to the Deepwood. They stay in their side, in the Elvenwood. They crossed that line. The only reason we never enforced those borders was because our clans are fragmented, separate raids do little against their unified kingdom, but now, with the Lord-Human's wisdom-"

"Lord-Human? Gods above, this isn't about territories is it? This is about your obsession with humans and their long abandoned ruins."

"I met one."

Udraq scoffs near instantly.

"Oh, you've met one."

"At the sealed tomb close to our village, I went there after my challenge this morning. The tomb opened and the Lord-Human emerged to grant me this power. It is how I ascended. The wood nymph and and the wolfkin hunter was there as well. If you won't take my word, go and take theirs."

Udraq stares at me, pure disbelief slowly turning into doubt and concern. I am well aware he not once took my words regarding the ancient humans seriously, but he knows me all too well, we grew up together after all. I do not speak frivolous lies, especially when proving a point. It takes nearly half a minute of staring each other down before he finally opens his mouth.

"Show me."