Chapter 3

After stepping into the corridor, I knelt next to the guard and felt his hip for a sheath. A leather wrapped handle met my touch, the worn animal hide warm as if freshly used, the blade coated with the faint stain of red. 

The hall in front of me was just as dark and damp as my cell, dripping with humidity despite the cold that whirled in from the caged window. I felt along the damp wall in search of an exit, my finger running along the course stone that was lined with moss. 

A small shaft of light pierced the darkness making me squint. It was coming from a small crack in a door in front of me, a faint outline of a door cast a shart shadow onto the floor. I slowly pushed my war forward, the hinges obedient and well oiled. I stifled a gasp when I counted at least four orcs sleeping around a dying fire, the last crackling coals casting a firefly light against their sharp features.

I clenched my hand around the handle of my dagger and kept my breathing as quiet as possible, my shaky intakes drowned out by the loud snores or the sleeping monsters. The closest orc had his back to me, lying prone to a slit across his awaiting neck. The supple skin drawing my blade near, knife resting just below his jaw, pressed over a waiting trachea. 

My actions were quick and well planned, the mutilation of his jugular restricting the ability to scream, his neighboring soldiers still sleeping soundly on their mats. Warm blood coated my numb fingers, causing my grip to be loosened by the slick, viscous liquid. Red trickled down his skin, pooling on the floor and sinking into the wooden floor boards.

Weapons were laid out, neglected by their owners during their rest, light glinting off their freshly sharpened edges. My fingers itched for their hilts, embedded jewels glinting in the firelight as if begging me to wield them. The sword was heavier than I was expecting and the blade swung slow. My knuckles whitened, gripping the handle with forced, cracked skin stretching across bone. 

Approaching the fire, orc beneath my feet as the light danced through my bloodshot eyes, I held the sword above the awaiting chest. Letting the leather slide through my palms, rough edges scratching my sensitive skin. 

The heavy blade fell true, breaking the sternum with a nauseating crunch. The orc bolted awake, coughing up clots of blood that choked out his lungs. His restless struggles woke up his bedmates, the two orcs scampering out of their mats. I stood in the small space between the fire and their weapons, their carved features seeming to glow with anger in the low light. 

Retracting my blade I threw it into the fire, stirring up the dead coals, rolling from the stone pit to the dry wooden floor. The hungry fibers grasped at the open sparks, the flames licking at the parched lumber. Floor taking ablaze and the door to freedom behind me I bolted away from the looming threat of death. 

Shouts echoed behind me, cool air grasping at my skin like icy hands in the dark leaving the high flames behind me, the stone hallway casting sharp shadows in contrast. I winced with the plunging of an arrowhead to my left shoulder, sharp point breaking through just below my clavicle. I fell with my vision blotted, knees bruising on the floor, unaware of the condition that surrounded me. Yet, I strived hard and laboriously to seek out the orc that moved towards me, crouched with a vicious smile, and was shocked to perceive that he had a sharp dagger.

The orc lunged swiftly towards my bruised and fatigued body and brought the dagger in front of me. I twisted feebly away from the orc’s projected hand and hurled the dagger away. With a sudden spin, I stood and knocked the orc out of my way. With a fast pace, I retrieved the dagger and lunged towards the orc, piercing the dagger deep into the orc's nape. He lay then unconscious, paralyzed which then throttled him to death.

The final orc gaped at his fallen brethren that lay in a pile of their own blood on the floor. When the shock eventually faded from his face, it was quickly replaced with anger. The first punch glanced at my chin. I noticed too late that it was just a warm-up when the second punch doubled me over and expelled the last bit of choked air from my stomach.

I stood straight, eyes bulging with rage, and stared at my opponent, right in her shifty little eyes. The orc tried to stand tall, but I knew she was scared of me. I had her exactly where I wanted her to be. I kicked her hard in the chest and, with force, she toppled right over. Aside from the four resting that now lay dead, a fifth orc came forward and I took the first shot. The blow felt too sluggish, I knew the second I launched it. The spry, smirking orc ducked under it. 

Before I could even register the dodge, he sent another body shot, this one to my ribs. It sent fresh ripples of pain through my torso. I didn’t fall—I made sure I did not fall—but it was a lot closer than I’d have liked. 

The orc went in for another shot, but I shoved him off. I covered the distance between us and threw my bloodied knuckles towards his stomach. He fell, tripping over a loose stone, but quickly stood back up.

It was unreal. Between the pain in my guts and the obvious cracks in my ribs, the sight of the orc on his feet after he patented my left-right-left was not something I wanted to see. Finally, I threw a hard blow that the orc failed to duck and knocked him to the ground.

He writhed in pain below me as I let out a shuddering breath. As I started to wonder how I would keep him contained and unable to follow me, I noticed the glint of the dagger that still lay on the floor. I picked it up and with one jerk of my wrist, I slit his throat. His eyes went blank almost immediately and I let him fall to the floor. I then reluctantly flickered my eyes towards the mutilated bodies that surrounded him. Inhaling the strong smell of blood that lingered around me, my nostrils stung at the metallic scent that seemed to haunt me.

I looked down to my chest, all the adrenaline and my pounding heart left to forget the arrow that protruded out of my collar. Keeping the arrow in kept me alive, the puncture wound stayed plugged with the wooden rod. 

Gripping the head, I snapped the stone off leaving a jagged splintered end. Reaching over my shoulder I gripped the feathered end of the arrow, taking a deep breath before pulling the shaft out from my flesh. A guttural scream wrenched itself from my lungs as hot blood trickled down my chest, soaking the thin tunic that did little to stop the chill from seeping into my bones. I pressed my fingers to the wound, desperately trying to put pressure to stop the endless flow of blood. 

As I hobbled down the hall, I wiped the blood off the dagger and looked around for my confiscated gear. The room that once housed weapons and supplies cracked with heat and fire, rendering my efforts useless. The dark corridor led to more empty rooms, whichI was grateful yet skeptical of. 

Near a well adorned bed, covered in pelts and silks, lay clothes and boots, much too big, but better than nothing. I found strips of fabric that I used to wrap my chest, layering the thin linen across the puddles of blood that slipped down my skin. Slipping on the boots, and lacing up the cloak, I studied myself on the bedpost as I readied to leave. Comfortable with my gear, I pushed open the door and walked out into the woods.

My breath puffed in the air before me, well into the winter now, guessing I had been locked up for months. I weaved through the trees along the Azsare with little more than my memory to guide me. I had roamed these woodlands since a very young age but had never been back since the orcs had taken over. My people used to own the land from the West of the Azsare mountain line to the Eastern Shore.

Cresting the hill, I broke free of a dense patch of needle leaves and tripped to roll freely down the embankment, a natural landslide that served my purposes more effectively now that it was covered in snow and sped my escape from the jail back behind.

I followed the Orion constellation with my eyes, allowing it to guide my past the lightly scattered beech and conifer trees that peppered the land along with the nearby village, casting a soft shadow along the gray carpet of snow - beckoning me forward. The night had always exhilarated me, allowing me freedom seldom experienced in my station. Behind the cloak of darkness, I could run like the tall-horned stag, waving its whitetail in a gesture of peace instead of alarm. I started to laugh, breathless and sporadic, it was an even cadence that mingled fluently with the nightly chorus sung by the woodland beasts.

As the canopy overhead thickened, my steps grew muffled by the pine needles that blanketed the forest floor, the ground no longer cold beneath my soles. I paused. The trees were much thicker in the lowland territories, once a wetland that cradled the Azsare River generations before when the orcs had built the dam, cutting off the elven lands of their principal water source.

It seemed like it had been years since I had been free and the faster I ran through the moonlit forest the wilder I felt. I took a deep breath of the cold air, my throat burning from the air scratching at my tender innards, exhaling to create a puff of steam towards the sky. I sighed and looked up at the stars, something I never thought I would have to miss.   

I sank to my knees letting the loose snow that piled around my legs slowly melt. I closed my eyes and felt small tears slide down my cheeks and a great sob escape my raw throat. I lifted shaking hands to my face, pressing the palms against my frozen cheeks. I wiped the tears away with my wrists, not wanting them to freeze.

I pulled my cloak tighter around my shoulders and slowly stood up. I continued forward hoping I would reach Eastcliff before the night ended. It was dangerous to be out at night, let alone without the company.