Escaping With The Orc Enforcer

Chapter 1

Hera

The air burns my lungs as I run, but I’m not ready to give up yet. Surrender means a certain death. The Sword Hammer Base is as good as lost, but maybe my life can still be saved.

I knew it was coming, sooner or later. We all did. We were powerless to stop it, even while we watched the insanity that was unfolding. 

First the Wind Cleaver base fell, but the Burning Sun clan didn't know they were meant to take the fall. They were a front to protect the Sword Hammer base, where the real secrets lie.

Then, the Sword Hammer clan became too greedy. Their methods were sloppy, and they left a trail leading right back to us, throwing us at the feet of the Burning Sun's commander, who is not known for his forgiveness or mercy. 

The base itself didn't matter. It was never real, at least not as the home it pretended to be. It was only meant to house the crude experiments and hide them from sight. 

We are all the byproduct of their experiments, pawns in the game played by a few twisted orcs. Experiments that went on…well, as long as I’ve been alive, anyway. I assume longer.

I am one of those experiments. At 24 years old, I’m proof that the mess we’re in has been a long time in the making. It isn't my mess, but that doesn’t seem to matter now.

It’s over now. They’ve used us as far as they could. Now that we’re a liability to their secrecy, they’re cleaning house. Taking out the trash. Tying up the loose ends.

I’m a loose end. So, I run faster than I ever have, holding my bleeding arm still and gritting my teeth through the pain.

I can’t die here, not now, not like this. I must survive, so that I can help others at bases just like mine. Others who will be next in line as targets.

My friends gave their life for this cause. As long as I survive, it doesn’t have to be all in vain. I couldn’t stop their deaths, but I can prevent any more.

We had planned and prepared for this. We knew it would come to this eventually, and we had been biding our time as we planned. But then I botched it all.

We infiltrated The Burning Sun clan, having rehearsed exactly what needed to happen. We had it perfect. Every detail accounted for, and it should have been foolproof.

But I betrayed my own group when I saw that baby.

A baby, and the orc trying to save him. My half-brother.

Why did I let it get to me? He doesn’t even know who I am. Or that we’re related.

It was my own weakness, and I just couldn’t follow through with it as we planned. All because I was facing someone who shared half my blood.

I trip over my own feet in the dark, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. I put my arms out to catch myself, forgetting that I’m injured. As soon as I make contact, my wounded arm buckles from the sharp, stabbing pain that races from my shoulder to my wrist.

Damn Inzo, for getting me into this mess. If he hadn’t interfered with our attack on the Burning Sun clan, I wouldn’t be here now.

But even now, I know that it’s not Inzo’s fault. He was protecting his clan. No, this is the fault of the father we share.

If you can call him that. Father might be a bit of a stretch, at least on my end. More like “the monster who bred me in a twisted science experiment to create a half-human, half-orc blend.” Yeah, that sounds more accurate.

And of course, let’s not forget the role of that bastard Baar. He had been by my father's side until his death, and then, he had no qualms taking over the experiments he had been stealthily organizing for decades without detection from his chieftain. I hear he even reclaimed his role as an Elder among the Burning Sun clan. 

That may explain his new found bravery as he's never outright attacked me himself before. He’s got quite a starring role in the events of tonight, though. What a busy orc he is. And so modest, always refusing to take credit for his hard work.

I writhe uncomfortably on the ground, hissing involuntarily from the pain in my arm. I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to push aside the hurt. At least long enough to push myself back to my feet.

Heavy footsteps are drawing close, and I can feel my throat begin to close in panic. I don’t want them to see me wounded, and do my best to make my face stony.

I roll onto my back, turning to see them coming. At least they won’t stab me in the back. A group of orcs approaches, crunching twigs and leaves loudly underfoot.

They’re dressed in dark clothing, which seems to be more for show than practicality. With the noise they’re making, the clothes certainly aren’t going to hide them, and there’s no one close enough to see anyway.

I know, of course, who they are and why they’re here. They’re Baar’s private army. There’s probably a dozen of them, all grinning maliciously. Even in the dark, I can sense the bloodthirsty look in their eyes.

They know that they have me penned, and fan out into a horseshoe, cornering me. Behind me is a cliff, with an abrupt drop off. Tactically, they have the advantage, as there’s nowhere for me to go.

Not like they didn’t always. Twelve versus one was hardly a fair fight.

“Die obediently,” one sneers. “And we won’t torture you much.”

“There’s no escape,” another adds. “So, make it a quick death. Do us and yourself a favor.”

I laugh, coldly, and try to look steady as I get to my feet. I move slowly, so that they won’t see the pain on my face and do my best to hide the fact that I’m injured. That will only make things worse for me, I know.

“Where’s the sport in that?” I ask, trying to sound confident.

One rushes at me, his sword drawn. I stand perfectly still, only darting aside at the last second. The blade gets stuck in a tree behind me, and he swears.

Two exchange a look, wordlessly, and each grab for an arm. I pretend to thrash against them, as though I’m trying desperately to escape and can’t.

I look human, and most people assume that I am. My half-orc blood isn’t easy to spot, from the outside. But this also means that I am stronger than I look. Taking advantage of people who underestimate me is often my greatest asset.

I put it to good use right now. They carelessly hold my arms. When they begin pulling me toward the other orcs, I seize the opportunity to jerk my arms suddenly. It throws them off balance. They fall into each other, and I am free.

For now, anyway. I realize that no matter how much fun I have with them, the orcs outnumber me. There’s only so many ways for me to delay the inevitable.

I have no weapon. I am hurt. I am on the edge of a cliff.

The future right now doesn’t look very bright. So, I think, I might as well try something big. Being cautious isn’t going to help me now.

If they capture me, I am as good as dead. I don’t want to go out like this, here. I back away from them, my mind and heart racing as I try to think of a way out.

They draw closer, slowly, not wanting to move too hastily. I’m rapidly running out of space, and there’s still nowhere to go. With the cliff only a few feet behind me, there’s no reason for the orcs to hurry. They have me where they want me, and they know it.

Finally, I hang my head, defeated.

“Fine,” I call out. I stretch my arms wide. “I give up. There’s no way out.”

They all seem to share the same, malicious sneer, weapons pointed. I close my eyes, imagining the surprised look on their faces, and lean back over the edge of the cliff.

“Except down,” I call out and free-fall backward.

The wind rushes past my body, whistling in my ears. I stifle the scream that rises in my throat, not wanting to give them the satisfaction. They will not hear me scared; I won’t allow it.

I just hope that it’s quick and painless. Because this, almost certainly, is going to be where I die.