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The Fae Wars: The Fall

Page 17

by Lucas Marcum


  “No. They were about to, but you…” Acevedo gestured at the bodies. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. Anyone would have done the same.” The women looked at the remnants of Acevedo’s uniform and body armor, then at her boots. “Soldier?”

  “Yes.” Acevedo looked down at herself, suddenly very conscious of her partially-clothed state. “Or I was. Everyone is dead. I think it’s over.”

  “Not everyone,” the woman stated defiantly, “and until we are, this shit ain’t over.” She held out a hand. “I’m CJ.”

  “I’m Olivia.” Acevedo held out her hand. The woman’s shake was firm and confident.

  CJ pointed at the truck. “In the back, there’s a couple of duffle bags. My pants are probably too big for you, but you can roll them.” She turned back to the elves with a cold, calculating look in her eyes. “While you’re back there, get me the duct tape.”

  Acevedo nodded and did as she was told. Finding two large green duffel bags, she opened one. Startled, she noted it was full of guns. Pistols, several rifles, multiple loaded magazines, and dozens of boxes of ammunition in various calibers. Shaking her head, she opened the other bag and rummaged through the clothes she found there. Selecting a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved, button-up shirt, she looked at them.

  After a moment’s hesitation, she pulled off her filthy olive drab undershirt and tossed it away into the darkness, leaving only her boots and dog tags as the remnants of her uniform. She took the boots off quickly, just long enough to pull the shirt and too large pants on, and rolled the legs up, then put her boots back on. She stopped for a moment, staring at the duffle bag full of guns, then on impulse reached out and took a small pistol. Removing the magazine, she held it up and looked at it for a moment, then dug through the bag for magazines that matched. Finding two more, she stuffed the pistol into her pocket, along with the spare magazines. As she walked back to the front of the truck, she heard someone murmuring.

  “When she’s closer, follow my lead,” someone murmured as she rounded the hood of the vehicle. Exhausted and still shaken by her experience, it took Acevedo a moment to realize she still wore the enchanted ring that let her understand Elvish.

  “CJ!” she screamed, “They’re going to…” The elven soldier CJ had shot rolled over and kicked at CJ’s ankles. Startled, the woman stumbled back, reaching for her pistol. As she did, the three elves on their knees moved with horrifying speed. One of them leapt at CJ, bowling her over and landing on top of her. Acevedo could hear her screaming as the elf attempted to work his teeth into her neck. The remaining two elves had spun back-to-back, and Acevedo saw the glint of a dagger blade. Reacting on instinct, she rushed at them, remembering the pistol at the last second. Skidding to a halt, she reached into the pocket of the ill-fitting jeans and tried to pull the weapon out, but it got caught inside the baggy clothing.

  The elven soldiers standing back-to-back sprang apart. One of the captives leapt nimbly in the air, bringing his bound hands in front of him, and rushed off into the darkness, clearly going for a weapon. The other elf had his hands free, the wire hanging loose. He charged, raising the dagger. Freeing the pistol, she raised it at the rushing enemy, but a lightning-fast slap from the ranger sent the pistol flying into the darkness. The elf crashed into her, knocking her over. He landed on top of her, driving his knees into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. Weakly, she tried to hit the elven soldier with her fists, but he blocked her blows with ease with one hand and positioned the dagger for a strike with the other.

  With a savage grin, the elf raised the blade high over his head. Suddenly, the savage look disappeared, and the color drained from his face. There was a thump and clatter of the dagger hitting the asphalt. Dazed, he brought his arm forward and looked at it in horror. Acevedo saw that his lower forearm was missing, replaced by a stump that pulsed with the arterial spray of blood. The elf’s head was jerked back at an unnatural angle and a black, serrated blade ran across his throat, cutting so deeply, it severed his head. The corpse balanced for a moment, then collapsed into a heap next to Acevedo, who watched in a daze as the massive, black-armored figure of Durok blocked out the stars.

  The orc stood to his full seven feet and roared. He spread his arms, the dripping blade in one hand, and the elven head in the other. The elf on top of CJ whipped his head around and recoiled in horror. He rolled off the bloodied woman and tried to climb to his feet. Dropping the severed head and taking one long step, Durok swung his sword down hard with both hands, cleaving the ranger through his shoulder, the massive blow nearly severing the man’s torso in two.

  Wrenching the sword out of the elf’s body, Durok whirled and thrust the barbed blade down hard, with one hand on the hilt, and the other on the pommel, through the back of elf CJ had shot as he tried to crawl away. There was a wet noise that ended in a grating crunch as Durok’s sword point drove into the asphalt. With lightning-fast reflexes, Durok raised his arm and covered his face just as a dagger flew out of the darkness and clanged off his armor. Not pausing to retrieve his sword, he drew a knife the size of a machete from his waist. With a primal roar, he charged out of the light cast by the SUV’s headlights.

  Still gasping for air, Acevedo rolled over just in time to see CJ sit up, her face bloody, and her pistol in her hand. She aimed from where she sat on the asphalt at the elven leader as he scrambled away, hands still bound, and opened fire. Several rounds struck him in the back, and he stumbled and fell. The pistol clicked, the slide locking back. Rising to one knee, CJ fumbled to change magazines as the ranger lord rose to his feet and ducked behind the still open door of the SUV. With a curse, CJ scrambled to her feet, raised her pistol, and advanced, then froze in her footsteps as a rifle cracked half a dozen times. The elf lord stumbled backwards, then fell, landing spread-eagled on his back. His face stared sightlessly at the sky as a large pool of darkness spread under him, staining the gravel on the shoulder of the road. Sitting up, Acevedo shook her head, stunned at how fast everything had happened.

  Blowing out a shaky breath, CJ advanced and peered at the fallen elven ranger, making sure he was dead, then turned and spoke into the dark cab. “Thank you, sir.” There was a reply too weak for Acevedo to hear, to which CJ laughed tensely. Suddenly, the lanky woman turned, raised her pistol, and pointed it over Acevedo’s shoulder. “Down!”

  The woman squeezed off several rapid shots into the darkness. Acevedo could hear the rounds pinging off metal, and heard Durok swearing in orcish, then the crashing of his armored boots as he rushed past. The orc charged CJ, and with a swing of his massive fist, slapped the weapon out of her hand. He then picked up the woman by the front of her shirt and growled in heavily accented English. “Stop.” He shook her once, staring into her eyes, then set her down. He dropped the severed elven head he held in his other hand at her feet, where it landed with a sodden thump. “Fight together, human.” With a final long, penetrating glare, he turned to Acevedo and asked in orcish, “Are you injured, Little Warrior?”

  Acevedo shook her head mutely in reply. With a sour look at CJ, Durok remarked, “By Ma’Krosh, you human women are ferocious. They will have to burn this world to the bedrock to defeat you.” With one hand, he reached out and hauled Acevedo to her feet. “Rise, Little Warrior. We must depart this place before the patrol is missed.”

  “I thought you were dead,” she blurted, feeling the tears welling behind her eyes. “I saw you fall. I thought…” She stopped and bit her lip hard.

  Contemptuously, Durok replied, “When I fall, it will not be at the hands of an elf.” Despite herself, Acevedo could only laugh helplessly. Durok turned to CJ. “Tell your warriors in the vehicle that I am not a foe.” Acevedo relayed this to CJ, who was staring at Durok, wide eyed.

  After a few seconds, she shook her head, collecting herself. “Uh…You’re an…” She shook her head, then reached down and picked up her pistol. “Friendly. Right.” She looked at the pistol, then the bodies scattered on the ground, and shook
her head, seemingly dazed. “Right. Friendly.”

  -14-

  “Sunrise”

  State Route 243, 17 miles north of Hershey, Pennsylvania

  As the SUV pulled away from the headless bodies of the elven soldiers on the side of the road, Acevedo took in a deep breath and blew it out shakily. She then turned to the man with silver hair next to her. His green and brown uniform was black with blood, and his face was pale. The name tape read ‘Schaffer’. Over the Army insignia, an expert combat infantry badge and a pair of jump wings with a single star over them was sewn neatly onto the fabric.

  Not taking her eyes from the road, CJ said flatly, “I picked these two up about 30 miles back. I think that one’s a general.”

  “A general?” Acevedo peered at the man’s uniform in the dim light of the dash. She could see the front of his uniform tunic was torn and missing. “How can you tell?”

  With a twist of her lips into the flash of a smile, the woman replied, “Because I ripped his insignia off his uniform and threw it away. Two stars is a general, right?”

  “Yeah. A major general.” Acevedo pulled up the man’s tunic and peered at his abdomen. “This dressing is soaked.”

  “I know.” CJ’s voice was grim. “I’ve changed it a couple of times already, but I’m out of bandages. He’s bleeding to death. We need to get him help. Same with the guy in the back, but I think he can hang on for now.” She shook her head. “I didn’t want him to fall into the hands of the elves, so I had to get him away from where I found them.”

  Glancing over the back seat, Acevedo looked at the second injured soldier. He was semi-conscious. His breathing was labored, his eyes dully staring at nothing. His left leg ended in a charred stump, and he had had a tourniquet tied tightly just below the knee.

  “That was smart thinking,” a hoarse whisper came from beside Acevedo, startling her. She looked back at the soldier, who was now awake and looking at her. “The longer I can avoid capture, the better. Makes what I know of less use.”

  “Try to lay still, sir,” Acevedo replied, gently patting the man on the shoulder. “We’re going to try to get you to a hospital.” Looking up, she saw a road sign that read ‘Hershey Park and Attractions: 17 Miles.’ “There.” She pointed. “Hershey has a hospital. We can drop them off at the ER.”

  Wordlessly, CJ nodded. Schaffer closed his eyes and said, “It doesn’t matter.” He was quiet for a moment, the only noise that of the engine of the SUV. Acevedo thought he’d fallen asleep again when he asked suddenly, “You’re a soldier?”

  “Yes, sir.” She looked over at the dying man and met his eyes. “I’m Sergeant Acevedo. I was with a medical logistics company out of Norristown.”

  The general nodded and whispered, “Figures the NCOs would make it through.” He chuckled, then winced as the vehicle hit a bump. “Sergeant, I need you to do me a favor.”

  Wordlessly, Acevedo nodded. The general continued in his weak voice, “Pull over. Find a tree or something to park under and get me out.”

  “Sir, we can’t stop. You need help. We’re taking you to the hospital in Hershey,” Acevedo replied gently.

  “No use,” the man replied. He closed his eyes momentarily.

  “How do you know?” the petite sergeant asked. “There’s a trauma center there. It’s on the map.”

  With a weak chuckle, Schaffer replied, “Because during the retreat, the hospital used everything it had, treating our soldiers. No blood, no bandages, no anesthesia for the operating rooms.” He shook his head slightly. “They stayed at their posts until there was nothing left for them to work with, then they evacuated with us. Those civilian doctors and nurses were some of the bravest people I’ve ever met.”

  “There’s got to be someone left.” Acevedo’s voice cracked. “They can’t all be gone.”

  “We left a skeleton crew in the ER,” the general replied. “Probably enough for Captain Harris to make it.” His eyes flicked down to his blood-soaked uniform. “But I need surgery and blood…neither of which they’ll have. Plus, Hershey belongs to them. I can’t be captured.”

  “Sir, you can’t just…” Acevedo started.

  “Die? I can, and I will,” the man replied. His voice was firm. “I was born in Pennsylvania. I joined the Guard at 18. Enlisted, wanting to be a helicopter pilot,”—he laughed weakly—“but they said I was only smart enough for the Infantry.”

  Despite herself, Acevedo laughed with the man. “That’s so Army.”

  “Isn’t it?” Schaffer replied. “Anyway. Pull over. I want to watch the sun rise.” His piercing eyes locked onto hers for a moment, pleading silently, then he whispered, “Please.”

  Staring into the officer’s eyes for a long moment, Acevedo saw the man’s fear, mixed with quiet resolve. Quietly, she said, without moving her gaze from the man’s eyes, “CJ, when you can, find a place to pull off. The general wants to watch the sun rise.”

  CJ glanced over, opened her mouth to reply, then closed it and nodded silently.

  A few moments later, the vehicle slowed, and the tires crunched as CJ pulled onto a dirt road before pulling to a stop. Acevedo said to the dying man, “Sir, I’m going to have a friend pull you out of the truck, but I need you to stay calm.”

  “When my kids used to tell me things like that, I knew I was in for an unpleasant surprise.” The officer smiled wanly.

  “Yes, but this…this is different.” Acevedo hesitated, then deciding that honesty was the best policy, said bluntly, “We have an orc as an ally. He defected when we captured an elven lord and wiped out his patrol.”

  The general raised his eyebrows at that, then shook his head and laughed weakly. “Even if he was hostile, there’s nothing I could do. Let’s see him.”

  “Durok,” Acevedo said, “come around here to the passenger side.”

  “I obey.” The deep rumble from the rear of the SUV was punctuated with the chunk of the rear gate opening, then a noticeable rise in the height of the vehicle as the orc’s massive weight was removed. Acevedo pulled the general up into a sitting position, away from the door.

  The door opened, and Durok’s massive, armored shape filled the doorway. He scooped the injured soldier up in his arms like he was carrying a child and stood. Acevedo scrambled out after him and looked around in the pre-dawn light. Seeing a tree next to a small creek, she pointed. “Put him there.”

  Wordlessly, Durok walked to the tree and laid the dying officer down. Schaffer looked up at the orc for a long moment, then said, “You fellas gave us a hell of a fight.”

  “He is a warleader?” Durok asked Acevedo.

  “Yes,” Acevedo replied. “He was the commander at the Gap.”

  “I do not know this ‘Gap’,” Durok rumbled. “Is it the fortress in the hills?”

  “Yes, at the base of the hills,” the sergeant replied. She crouched down next to the general, and gently helped him take a drink from a canteen CJ had handed her.

  Durok scrutinized the man for a moment, then said, “His warriors were very skilled and tenacious. We lost many thousands of Uruks at the hands of his men.”

  “What’s he saying?” Schaffer asked weakly.

  “He’s saying your men killed many orcs during the defense,” Acevedo replied, “and your…our soldiers were very skilled.”

  Schaffer nodded and replied, “Tell him if those damn dragons hadn’t broken the lines, I’d have kicked him and his army’s ass back to Philadelphia.”

  Durok knelt, his eyes locking onto the generals as Acevedo translated. A brief flash of his tusks broke the scarred face as he smiled, “It would have been a battle for the ages, Warleader.” He reached down and gently propped the man’s M4 under his arm, lying it across his lap. “You go now to your gods. One day when I join Ma’Krosh, I shall see you across the table, and we shall feast together and sing of our battles.”

  Schaffer nodded as Acevedo translated. He took a ragged breath, then asked the orc, “What’s your name?”

  “I am D
urok ur Okran. I formerly served the elven lords but have now joined the human warriors. Together, we shall burn their cities and break their bodies and spirits.”

  Schaffer looked at Acevedo, who explained, “The elves have kept orcs as slaves for generations. They’re pretty mad about it.”

  “I can imagine,” Schaffer replied weakly. He looked at Durok. “You bastards are tough. We could have used you on our side.” He smiled faintly. “Maybe next time.” He winced and pushed his free hand into his abdomen, then looked up again. “Help me sit up.”

  Gently, Acevedo propped the general against the trunk of a large oak tree, then sat down next to him. She took his free hand in hers and held it.

  The man looked at his hand, surprised, then smiled. He looked at Acevedo. “How old are you, sergeant?”

  “Twenty-four,” Acevedo replied simply.

  “Where are you from?”

  “I was born in the Bronx, but we moved to Philadelphia when I was about 10.” She smiled, her mind wandering to happier times. “My dad left Cuba when he was 19.”

  “You’re about my daughter’s age,” Schaffer said. His voice was growing weaker. “She’s in naval flight training in Pensacola.” He took a ragged breath. “Can you check on my family for me? Let them know where I am?” His voice was unsteady. “Let them know, I’m sorry and I did my best.”

  “They know, sir,” Acevedo replied. “We all know you did everything you could. There’s no shame for anyone. We fought our hardest, but we couldn’t win.”

  Durok, who’d been listening intently to Acevedo speak, suddenly rose. His massive frame towered over the two soldiers sitting in the dirt. “Tell your warleader, songs will be sung of him. Songs will be sung of the human warriors of the Battle of the Iron Hills, and for 1,000 years, their bravery will inspire young warriors.” Acevedo smiled and translated for Schaffer.

 

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