Desperate Acts

Amala is again betrayed by Prince Edwarren in his desperation to escape.

8.

Desperate Acts

 

Amala waited several minutes - which felt like hours- before she dared slip out from beneath the table.   The guardhouse was empty, but she didn’t know for how long; she had to escape while she still had a chance.   The Drow girl glanced around the room.   It was littered with bodies, weapons and debris from her battle with the Orcs.  

 

Prince Edwarren had left her to die.   The thought kept crossing her mind, which, while it certainly didn’t seem out of character for the man, it was still shocking to her in light of her attempt to rescue him and his men.

 

Glancing out of the guardhouse door, she was relieved to find that there were no guards around the building, but still there were a number of the brutes nearby, throughout the pass.  

She doubted she could fight her way past them with her badly bruised hip and arm, so that left stealth.

 

She quietly closed the door and glanced around at the bodies in the room.   One of the Orcs had a smaller frame and wore a long studded leather coat buckled across the chest and running down to his knees.   Cringing in disgust at stripping a corpse, she unbuckled his coat and slipped it over her mail and cloak.  

Thankfully, the armor was not as typically filthy as most Orc armor, nor was it covered in blood.   The fit was snug with her chainmail and cloak beneath, but it was good enough for her purpose.   She picked up his sweat soaked helm and swallowed hard, revolted at wearing the helmet.   Still, after steeling herself, she slipped it on her head.  

 

Thankfully it fit very well, the design hid her white hair and, if she kept her head bowed and stayed in the shadows, her red eyes and black skin as well.  She chose one of the pole arms that had been used against her as well as a small wooden shield.  After making sure no one was around, she slipped out of the guardhouse, shouldering the pole arm, and walking purposely but still casually as if she were a small Orc guard patrolling the area.

 

Remembering that an Orc had lowered the portcullis that blocked access to the pass from a position to the left of the great gate, she headed in that direction, careful not to walk too directly toward it so as to not arouse suspicion.   Orcs were all around, but most of them were hurriedly trying to set up the ruse of an Imperial ambush upon the prince’s troop of soldiers.  

 

Right in front of the large cranking mechanism that raised the heavy steel portcullis was a campfire with ten Orcs around it.   Most were seated and eating, but several kept close nervous watches up the pass toward Southgate, or toward the southeast, where a line of torches told of another band of Orcs taking the narrow cliff-side path to their village, in pursuit of Prince Edwarren and his men.   To the south were the bulk of the Orc forces and Amala knew they would easily swarm over her if she tried to get past them and head for the four lakes district.  Her hope was north, toward Southgate.

 

The portcullis was down, and the close placement of the thick iron bars made it absolutely impossible for even a small child to slip through the gate.   It would have to be raised, and she doubted she would be able to convince the ten Orcs to raise the gate to let her through.

 

“Hey you!” One of the Orcs called as she neared them.   She bowed her head and continued to advance, trying to calm her nerves for the fight she was about to face.

“Hey!   Quit wandering around and get back to your post or I’ll report you to Nord.   Hey, did you hear me?   You’d better jump, whelp, or I’ll-“

 

Amala ended his threat by suddenly ramming the Orcish pole arm through him.   She had both swords out blazingly fast, in spite of her aching arm and hip.   Two more Orcs around the fire fell dead before they could even stand up.   The fourth Orc had his sword most of the way out of his scabbard before he found his sword arm suddenly lacked a hand.   Screaming in agony, he fell to his knees, but Amala had moved on to the fifth Orc, who had the foresight to get his shield up as he backed away from her.  

 

Orc number six rushed her with a roar, swinging a nail embedded club.   Her first swipe knocked his club out of his hand along with the tips of four of his fingers.   Her second swipe sent him dead to the ground.   Orc seven jumped her from the right, but rather then tackling her to the ground as he intended, he found himself sliding up her blade. 

 She pulled her blade free quickly, but Orcs nine and ten saw the hellish glow of her eyes from beneath the Orc helm and wisely turned and ran like jack-rabbits, screaming ‘Demon!’ at the top of their lungs.  

 

Amala didn’t savor her success but immediately went over to the cranking mechanism and using all her strength, began to turn the noisy contraption, which seemed to only inch upward.   The screech of rusty metal filled the night, alarming everyone in the pass that the gate was being raised.   Shouts went up from all over the narrow valley and she ignored the intense pain of the bruise on her hip and frantically turned the winch that raised the gate.

 

It went up unbelievably slow and she knew she’d never get the thing high enough for the locking clip that held it in an open position, to snap in place.

 

Behind her she heard the running of feet, but she had nothing else she could do - if she let go of the winch and tried to dive underneath the partially raised gate, the portcullis would immediately drop, probably pinning her to the ground.

 

An arrow whizzed by her and broke against the side of the rock wall of the pass.    She felt another one stick into the shoulder of the leather coat, thankfully stopped from going into her by her chainmail.   She wasn’t going to make it.   She was plotting her last stand when suddenly there came the sounds of shouts coming from the path to the Orc village, followed by the thunder of hoofs.  

 

The Orcs advancing toward her turned at the sound, but Amala knew it had to either be Orcs on horseback about to run her down, or else the wicked prince and his men had managed to get horses and were hoping to somehow get through the pass. 

 

Either way, she had to keep lifting the gate, and straining every muscle in her body, she pulled and turned as the sound of horses bearing down on her grew louder and louder.  

 

With a click, the locking mechanism on the gate caught.   But before she could even move away from the winch to the open gate, four warhorses roared toward her, trampling Orcs beneath them as they raced flat out.   

 

In an instant three passed through the open portal, and she saw the gleam of steel just in time to duck as a sword blade zipped just over her head and crashed into the metal locking mechanism holding the gate open, in a shower of sparks.   The metal piece snapped free and the gate immediately fell, but not before the last rider went through.  

 

Amala looked on in stunned horror as her avenue of escape again was closed.   Halfway up the pass now, the last rider suddenly reined in his horse.   He was wearing Orc armor and cloak, but even through the bars of the gate she could make out it was Prince Edwarren.  

 

He raised an Orc sword to her, “I thank you, dark Elf, for once again you have helped us escape.   Sorry that I cut off your route, but we can’t have them racing after us can we?   Good luck; who knows, you are a devil of a swordsman, maybe you’ll manage to get out of this pickle you’re in.   If you do make it, come to my coronation; after seeing your elegant swordsmanship, I’d love to dance with you at the ball!”

“I’m a coachman - I’ll be working that night, Your Highness, delivering the ladies to the ball.”   She snapped back at him as he merely laughed and turned his horse to ride off.

 

Spinning around she saw what seemed to be a hundred pairs of yellow Orc eyes staring banefully at her. But among them was one pair of human eyes.   Baron Bristane stood a short distance away, amidst the Orcs frowning at her.

“Your luck has just run out, dark Elf.  You’ve ruined my plan, but I will have revenge.”   He turned to the Orcs around him, “I will give 100,000 pieces of gold to the one of you who lays her head at my feet.”

 

The Orcs glanced at each other for a moment, and then with gleams in their eyes, slowly moved forward, drawing their weapons while forming a semi-circle around her.  

Amala knew she couldn’t win this time, but with a silent prayer to Yesh, she once again pulled her swords from their scabbards.  To her dismay, four of the Orcs in the semi-circle around her had bows with arrows notched.    In the distance she heard the sound of thunder, but she knew that the storm was about to rage around her.

 

Reviews

[Elina]

"...probably pining her to the ground." I think you were wanting "pinning," here.

All I can say is, you've done an excellent job of making me greatly dislike Edwarren. Haha!