Orc's Fire

I spent my life hating orcs. 
But I handed my heart over to one. 

I saw their brutality firsthand. I swore I’d never trust one.

But the battle-hardened orc that saved me is like none I had faced before.

And not just because he is smoking hot. 

An orc war camp is no place for a human. So why do I feel so safe here?

And why is this orc the first to make me laugh in a long time? 

He’s supposed to be my enemy… And I think I’m falling for him. 

The middle of a war is not the time to find my mate. 

But I know I’ve found the only one for me.

I should be afraid of the dark elves coming for us. I should be afraid of losing him. 

But now that I’ve found Zerdic, the only thing I feel…

Is loved.

Chapter 1

Zerdic

The smell of roasting meat draws me outside of my tent where young Kerthuc approaches me with a look on his face.

“Kerthuc, how are you holding up?” I ask him.

“Fucking freezing, sir. We’ve been out here for weeks now, surprised I still have fingers.” He’s honest, and I like that. Usually.

“Kerthuc, enjoy it. You’re living the best life. A soldier's life!” I tell him, patting him on the back.

“Rather be curled up with a warm woman, sir,” he jokes. 

“Give me a cold, damp field to sleep in and the blood of one of those bastard elves soaked into my shirt any day,” I tell him. “Averaging two raids a week on their supply lines, we are hitting them where it hurts, Kerthuc.” 

“We’re pissing off those dark elves good, sir,” he says proudly. 

“We certainly are. Now get yourself some food before Uanic eats it all.” 

“Greedy bastard probably would,” he says, hurrying towards the fire. 

We don’t mess around. If you're a dark elf out here on these roads, consider yourself dead. We’re getting heavy with their supplies, apart from the ale and wine, they are spoils for the men. They’ll drink that shit dry well before we hit base camp. 

I reckon we have one last raid in us. So, I have sent my scouts out, who will hopefully bring us good news by morning. I could stay out here forever painting the roads red with dark elf blood. But I have my orders and follow them like a soldier. 

With any luck, they’ll send us back out again since we are the best. I couldn’t do with sitting around base camp, growing softer by the hour and watching my men whore and drink themselves into oblivion.  

I watch them settle down for another night under the stars, another barrel or two of elf wine to help them through. They are a strong band and some of the most brutal orcs I have ever known. But I let them down and will never forgive myself for that. 

We used to number thirty strong, the fiercest war band you could imagine. We’d been through hell together. Each man owed the other his life at some point or other along the way. Then they made us take on some humans to ‘help.’

Fucking the worst decision I ever agreed to, and I am the one that has to carry that. Thirteen of us left now, unlucky for some. 

The first chance those humans got, they sold us out to the elves. We were twenty miles north, deep in elf country. We’d got word a senior transport of elves was heading east; they’d be sitting ducks on the road. It should have been an easy one for us. 

But it wasn’t. 

Of course, they made themselves worthwhile, the humans. They’d cook and mend our gear. Christ probably would have sucked us off if you asked them to. It was all an act. The crafty little fuckers had it all planned out. 

And for what? Some coin and a new pair of shoes, no doubt. None of us noticed one of them slip away that night. Why would we? They’d played the game well. The bastards had fooled each and every one of us. 

I remember one of them came up to me that night and brought me a full flask of ale.

“Good luck with the raid tomorrow, sir,” he said with a smile.

“We have them in the bag.“ I told him. 

I will never forget his face; it’s burnt on my memory, and I will see that face again one day. I swear I will smash into fucking pieces. 

That night would be the last time I’d shut my eyes with a thirty-strong war band and a clean conscience. 

“Let’s kill some fucking elves!” I shouted to my men as we rode out just before dawn. 

We took cover on the high ground above the east road. 

“Xerus, get your ass moving!” I shout, “I need you in position.” 

Xerus quickened his group into position. We’d done this a hundred times before and had yet to fail. 

We watched as the first horses came over the horizon. Our axes at the ready, our senses tuned for battle. 

That was when the first arrow struck Incor through his left eye, and my second in command dropped dead beside me. It was a trap. We had been betrayed. 

Arrow after arrow came from nowhere. We couldn’t fight back because the fuckers were hidden from sight. The thing about the dark elves is once they have the offense, you are fucked. 

All I could do was try and get the men out of there as quickly as possible. 

“Fall back!” I roared. 

I watched as one brave orc after another fell around me. I wished for an arrow to strike me, but that was not my fate that day. 

Only thirteen of us returned to camp; the humans had long gone. I vowed at that moment never to trust one of the weak, pale fuckers again. 

I gulp back the ale in my flask, close my eyes briefly, and embrace the little peace it brings me. 

You see, I am a soldier and have a job to do. 

“You dirty fucker!” Uanic roars. 

I glance across to the fire and see his arms outstretched, flying about like a madman spitting out his ale. It hisses as it dies on the embers of the fire. 

Laughter erupts from the rest of the men. I roll my eyes and wonder what the hell is going on. 

“Which one did it? I swear to the War God I’ll tear you limb from limb when I find out.” Uanic bellows. 

I know I am needed, so I finish the last of my ale and toss my flask to one side. 

“Calm yourself, Uanic!” I shout as I approach. 

I can’t help but smile as I watch the rest of them double over with laughter. 

“Was it you, Xerus?” Uanic hisses, pointing his finger at a laughing Xerus. “You’re always fucking me over!”

“Okay, okay, pipe down, you bunch of assholes, what’s going on?” I demand. 

Uanic looks at me, his face red with rage. “One of them pissed in my ale!” 

I look at him and try to keep a straight face. It can only be Xerus, but if I get him to confess, there will be a bloodbath. 

Only one way to solve this. 

“Now, Uanic, it seems they are only pulling your leg. Why would anyone want to piss in your ale?” I calmly say. 

“Cause I’m always the butt of their jokes, especially that bastard there, Zerdic.” He points at Xerus, who is still doubled with laughter. 

“Now, Uanic, wasn’t it Xerus who cut off the head of that dark elf who was about to spear you through the heart?” I say to him.

Uanic looks down at his feet. “Yes, but…”

“And didn’t you save Thrakka here by taking that arrow in the shoulder?” I add.

“Well, yes,” Uanic admits.

“There is a bond in those things, something others just wouldn’t understand. You are all brothers in arms.” I watch his face change. 

“Brothers in arms!” Xerus shouts, and the others follow suit with a roar of approval. 

“Now,” I say, “Let's toast to that as soldiers.”

Everyone raises their cups. I nod at Uanic, who reluctantly raises his cup.

“What is yours is mine. What is theirs is ours. That is our bond in blood,” I roar. 

The men cheer and swig back their drinks, including Uanic. Xerus jumps up and pats Uanic on the back, bringing him back into the fold. 

And I hope Xerus didn’t piss in Uanic’s cup.  

Chapter 2

Elen

I count it two days, and I’ve no idea where we are going. Some of the other women are getting sick — it’s biting cold at night, and the food they give us isn’t fit for animals. The dark elves are cruel beyond belief. 

They covered the wagon we are traveling in so we can’t see outside, and when it rains, it soaks through; the ice-cold drops soak the floor and what little blankets we have. 

I knew it was coming, the move. I overheard them discussing the order to bring us further north, that we were to be entered into service for an elf called Vesperon. Only the gods know the unspeakable things we will have to endure.

I look at their faces and see the misery of how they got here etched into their faces. One girl, Hilo, with beautiful red hair, can’t be more than nineteen. I watch as she suffers and can no longer bear it. I hand her my blanket; being cold is better than watching her suffer.

“Thank you,” she whispers. 

I smile. I’d seen her a few times before, dressed and made up like a doll, a plaything for the elves. I’d watched as they led her along the dark, cold corridor, and knowing what they would do to her made me sick to my stomach. 

The light has gone from her eyes, they’re dead. My light is still alive. It has not been easy, but I promised myself that one day I would be free; but what use would freedom be if the light inside you has died out?

So I simply packed my soul up and stored it away, hidden from the icy hands and lips of the elves, and when I am alone, I can unpack it and let its power surge through me. Fuel to get me through.

I know one day this will end, but it’s been so long now that the memories of my childhood and my family get thinner every day. It’s been years since I was free, my family murdered by the bastard orcs and myself stolen by disgusting elves.  

One of the women gets a coughing fit — her whole body convulses, and the pain it causes her is obvious. I move over to her and take her hand. 

“Monika, it’s okay, you’re okay,” I tell her, but it’s a lie. She’s pale and becoming weaker by the hour. The coughing fit calms, and she inhales a much needed breath. 

“Jarc,” she murmurs. I stroke her head.

“Who’s Jarc?” I ask.

“My husband, I need him,” she begs. 

“It’s okay,” I say. “You’ll see Jarc again one day.”

She probably won’t last another day, but sometimes a lie is better than the truth. 

“They cut his head off in front of me, my Jarc. He was a good man. Kind.”

“I am sorry about that.” I brush the hair from her pallid cheek. “Try to sleep, dream of Jarc.”

“Yes,” she says, “I’ll dream of him.”

I stroke her hair and watch as she passes into the safety of sleep. I hope Jarc is there, and I hope they kiss and hold each other before she’s forced back into this dark world we inhabit. 

I leave her and return to my place in the filthy wagon. I try to see through the cloth that covers us from the outside world.

Has it changed since I last saw it? Since my captivity, I’ve heard elves talk of war with the orcs. I hate the elves, but I still want the orcs to be wiped from this planet. They robbed me of my childhood, my mother and father. I hate my captors, but in this I hope they succeed. 

I hope my fellow humans outside have found the strength to fight back and rise up, but deep down, I know these creatures are too strong and cunning for a simple race like us. 

Maybe one day, I tell myself as our wagon rattles over the bumpy road that tosses us about like stones in a sack. Maybe I can help.

After my capture when I was much younger, I pretended I couldn’t speak. It was a veiled attempt to provoke sympathy in them that I soon learned didn’t exist, but their tongues became loose when I was around. I’ve heard many things. Things that might be able to bring them down.

The wagon grinds to a halt, and we jolt forward. 

“What’s happening?” Hilo asks me. 

“They have to feed us. They can’t let us all die. That wouldn’t suit them, “ I tell her. 

I hear them outside our wagon, the pitched voices that bring me nothing but hate for them. I look over at Monika. She still sleeps. I move over and shake her. She feels different. Heavy. Cold. 

“I’m so sorry, Monika. Hopefully, you’re with Jarc now,” I whisper, kissing her forehead, then pull the blanket over her face. At least she is free now, more than can be said for me. 

The back of the cloth is whipped up to reveal two of the bastards sneering at us. It’s appalling that all dark elves have this elegance and grace about them. They’re beautiful in a sickening way. 

“Time to eat,” one of them says with a smirk. 

“You see how good we are to you?” the other one says as he hauls a bucket of rotten stew up onto our wagon. 

“You need to be strong. Vesperon has the desire of twelve elves, he demands a lot from his pets.” He laughs as I stand to get their attention. I point to Monika and then move my finger across my throat to communicate her passing. 

“Oh, fucking shit, that’s all we need,” one of the dark elves growls. 

“This is your fault! I told you we should have checked on them fucking more, they will flay us alive for this!” the other shouts. I fucking hope they do. 

“We’ll just dump her; they won’t miss one of them,” the dark elf suggests.

“Good idea, my friend, good idea,”  the other dark elf adds. 

“You two!” the dark elf barks at me and Hilo. “Get her out of there, quickly!”

I look at Hilo, who seems terrified at the thought. I grab her arm, trying to give her strength. 

“She’s dead?” Hilo says to me. I nod.

“Right, less talk, more action. Get that sack of filth out of the wagon now!” He shouts as he pulls his whip from his belt. 

I hurry Hilo over to the body and motion for her to take the legs. I make sure the blanket covers her as we lift her body. She’s light — skin and bones all that is left of her. 

Some of the other women watch in horror; others bow their heads, unable to witness a fate that is staring them in the face. A few look ahead, stone-faced. This isn’t the first time they’ve seen something like this, and it won’t be the last. 

Hilo and I lift Monika’s body and carry it to the door of our cage. I jump down, and we lower her to the ground as Hilo climbs down to join me.

“Dump her over there, in that ditch,” the dark elf commands. 

We lift her and carry her from the wagon to the ditch at the side of the road. We lay her down gently on the cold ground and watch as Hilo kneels and kisses Monika on the forehead then begins to cry.

“Hurry the fuck up, bitches!” one of the dark elves shouts. 

I look up and realize how long it has been since I saw the sky.

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