My life is a well of infinite darkness. My home a place of no hope.

And yet this is where I’ll find the love that makes me whole.

A woman can only endure so much before she goes crazy.

My home has been burned by invading dark elves.

As I fled I was taken by rebel orcs.

They decided as a game they would see how long they could starve me before my life ended.

In a life where death is mercy, you don’t expect to find love.

And yet here I am – rescued by the orc named Brar.

He fights for me.

Kills for me. Defends me to his last breath.

With him I am no longer starved.

I am fed. Clothed. Content.

But most importantly…

I am loved.

Chapter 1

Brar

The humans have a saying, "Desperate times call for desperate measures." The fact that I've been around enough humans while we weren't trying to kill each other to know that saying shows just how desperate these times are.

Dark elves have come to Earth. The ancient enemy of my people found a way to follow us here after decades. The chieftains of the greatest orc clans have gathered. We're allied with humans against a common enemy, but their people are far more fragile than ours. And that's why Malik, the eldest and most respected chieftain, has called us together.

"Brar," Orza, chieftain of the Golden Hammer clan, calls to me as he takes his seat. I stand just off to his shoulder.

It's an honor to be joining the circle of mighty chieftains. Aquida the Wise, chieftain of the Golden Arrows. Harok the Great, leader of the Great Thunder Strike. Murdok the Vengeful of the Golden Warriors. Zhor the Traveler from the Black Rock Clan. Dhog the Ruthless, chieftain of Beheaders, Jurd the Unbroken controls the Night Raiders. And, of course, Malik. Everyone brought their second in command with them.

But I can already feel it; they look at me like I don't belong here.

Here we go again.

"Thank you all for traveling this far to be here today," Malik says.

I find it kind of funny since Malik is, or more accurately, was the chieftain of the Burning Suns clan near the southern coast. He left his clan to his son to help us with this endeavor.

"We are still uncertain about the exact number of dark elves that made it to Earth, but we do know that we do not want any more of them to show up. So, I'm proposing we form a team of our best warriors to hunt them down and prevent them from bringing more. After much consideration and discussion, the chieftains and I have selected members from each clan to take part in this effort. And they will be led by Brar."

I wasn't expecting that. Orza smiles. He knew this was coming and didn't warn me.

"I'll humbly accept this great hon—"

"That's outrageous!" one orc interrupts me. I turn to see Javar, of the Night Raiders, shaking his beefy fist in the air.

Javar is perhaps one of the biggest orcs I've ever seen. He's tall and broad, a solid wall of muscle and bone.

"This weakling hasn't earned the right to lead."

I'm not tall for an orc. There are even some humans taller than me. But why this orc would think a weakling could get to be second-in-command of one of the eight great clans is beyond me. 

I see Orza's knowing smile grow into an impish grin.

"Javar, are you saying that Brar, my second-in-command, is weak?" he asks.

"I thought I was pretty clear. He's too scrawny to lead." Javar punctuates his pronouncement by spitting into the dirt.

I don't know if he's trying to goad me into a fight or something. I'll have no problem taking him on, but it's been a pattern in my life, with people like Javar thinking that insults about my stature will upset me. It's just how I'm built. It's not a character defect or a fatal flaw.

It just means I've had to adapt. Small and lean means I'm fast. Faster than most of these orcs. There are undoubtedly many stronger orcs than me, but I'm tougher than I look. But since I've not been able to rely on pure physical strength, I've learned to fight differently from most orcs.

"Brar, prove you're capable of leading them in this fight," Orza says like it's an arduous task. Something grave, but his tone of voice doesn't match the curl of his lip. I think the old man enjoys watching me surprise the hell out of people.

I play along.

"Yes, chieftain," I say in a solemn voice. "Let's take this outside. I'll take on any and all who wish to challenge my position as leader."

The courtyard outside provides a wide, empty circle with one broken stone fountain in the middle—the perfect stage for a trial by combat. A crowd quickly gathers, with many looking at me like they think I'm just here to announce the fight.

I stand on the bottom edge of the fountain, causing a few orcs to snicker and comment about my height.

"Who would like to challenge me for the position of leader?"

Several orcs, including most of the seconds from the clans, form a line. I watch as Malik whispers something in Haizen's ear. Haizen was the second-in-command of the Burning Suns and followed Malik here, bringing with him his mate. The orc joins the lineup, most of them already boasting of their victory.

"Why are you all standing in line?" I ask. "Did you think I meant one at a time? No. All at once."

While the others laugh, with Javar sounding particularly boisterous, Haizen is the only one of them who eyes me wearily. He's also the only second-in-command not fighting me for my position, but he's well known for supporting Malik in all his decisions. 

"I wasn't joking," I shout to be heard over their jeering.

Javar gives one final huff of laughter before he spits in the dirt again. "Have the best shamans ready. You're going to need it."

"We'll see who will be needing a shaman."

I wave the challengers towards me.

With a mighty bellow, Javar charges at me. I don't know what he's screaming about. If he thinks being big and loud is going to frighten me off, he's sorely mistaken. I stand my ground as any orc would.

But while any other orc might choose to grapple with him, I know better. He'd flatten me. As would the other orcs a few steps behind him. I wait, ready to spring. Just before Javar is on top of me, I side-step him and kick backward, planting my heel in the back of his knee.

His battle cry transforms into a particularly undignified squeal of pain before he falls forward and smashes his face into the lip of the fountain.

The other orcs stop dead in the tracks. Javar doesn't move but does let out a pathetic groan. That's good. I don't think it would help inter-clan relations if I were to kill someone in the alliance.

"Well, what are you all waiting for," I say.

I don't give them time to answer and leap for the nearest one. I think I actually see fear in his eyes as I launch myself at him. The blow to his throat sends him staggering back. Orcs, as a rule, are solid muscle, and they can take a hit. So bringing one down without a weapon usually means a lot of grappling and trying to overpower them.

I'd obviously lose in a fight like that, so I studied and trained and learned all the weakest points you can hit someone to bring them down. And not just orcs. Dark elves, humans, naga, minotaurs–they may not all be on Earth, but I want to be ready in case they decide to join the fight. I used my head and learned all that I could before I trained my body to its peak.

I quickly drop three more before the others catch on that I don't fight like they do, and they need to change tactics. Several of them pull weapons from their belts.

Come on, guys. Don't make me do this.

Once they've grown more cautious, things get more difficult for me. But I can't say I mind watching the subtle shift in the crowd as they start to get more fired up instead of just surprised each time I take down a much larger opponent.

One manages to snatch my wrist in a vice-like grip. I look up to see it's Murdok's second, though his name escapes me. Many of my other opponents look pissed that the "scrawny" orc is kicking their ass, but his expression is all amusement. Though that shifts to shocked pain when I jam my fingers into the small space between the bones in his wrist, and his hand goes dead.

"You'll be okay in an hour," I say before driving my elbow into his face. "More or less."

The rest of the fight is brutal and bloody. But in the end, even as battered, bloodied, and beaten as I am, I stand tall... as tall as I can, atop Javar, and the crowd cheers.