Jemma
I run through the woods, trying desperately to find anything that might give us any advantage as the orcs chase us down. But there are no sufficiently sharpened sticks, no properly club-like branches, or conveniently dropped swords just lying around. So, I keep running, hoping something will change because we can’t outrun these orcs forever.
But some of us are going to falter sooner than others. The old or the young. They’ll be the first to be captured again. We were all kept in a pen together, about twenty of us who were all snatched up when the orcs raided the low towns of the dark elf city of Liiandor. Well, twenty at the start, but that number dropped daily whenever the orcs got hungry.
Then one of the guards got drunk and passed out. We managed to reach his keys and unlock the cage. I told everyone to just run. But Ryan, one of the young men with us who’d always argued with me about everything, said we deserved revenge. I understand the impulse.
The orcs made us watch as they ate the others or butchered them to turn them into jerky. The lucky ones were dead before the orcs started. There were very few lucky ones.
I’d have loved to see these orcs choke on their own blood, but my priority was to get everyone out safely. Ryan wanted to stab someone. So, he took the guard’s dagger and tried to cut his throat. But it didn’t work.
Orc hide can only be pierced with weapons made of mithril. The guard was only watching over humans, so it must have been regular iron or something because all it did was wake the guard up. To his credit, Ryan did his best to slow the orc down. Paying with his life to buy the eight of us a few seconds was the best he could do for costing us the minutes we could have had otherwise.
I’ve been a survivor all my life, but I’ve also never been good at watching others suffer. I turn and see Sasha, only thirteen years old, lagging.
I turn to Mary and Joshua. They’re twenty. Adults. Capable. They might make it fine on their own, but the others I worry about. I could keep running, let the others falter, and the orcs stop to gather them. I could be free. But I couldn’t live with myself knowing I didn’t at least try to save the others.
“Everyone, scatter. Make them divide up or pick a target,” I say, hopefully, loud enough for everyone to hear but not loud enough for the orcs to find out what I’m doing.
Though this is part of my plan, I keep to myself. I slow down and fall in beside Sasha. Mary and Joshua look back at me. I wave them off. “Just go!”
Then I turn to the girl and point left. “Go that way. Hide if you can. Live.”
I hope she makes it, but I can’t waste any more time, not if I’m going to try to save the others. I turn and run. Not right for the orcs, but veering off to the right and back, putting me much closer to them than any of the others.
And then I scream. I’m terrified. Anyone with a lick of sense would be. But I lay it on thick. I need them to follow me. When I turn to look behind me, I think it worked. I don’t know if they all are coming for me, but from the crashing sounds and roared curses hurled in my general direction, I’m sure I have at least a handful after me.
Next step: don’t die.
I’ve been pretty good about sticking to that plan my whole life. I’ve survived thirty-one years, always trying to stay just one step ahead of death. I lost my parents young, growing up on the streets. And I did my best to keep the other street kids alive and out of the clutches of the dark elves who would use them for their twisted pleasures.
Sometimes I was more successful than others. I remembered each of the ones I failed. I keep it as a list in my head. Our three weeks in captivity made the list so much longer. And that’s why I’m doing this. If I can save the rest of them, it’ll be worth it.
But as noble as self-sacrifice may be, I’m not looking to become orc food. I want to survive, too. So even as I scream my lungs out, I run.
The sounds of breaking branches and stomping feet are getting closer. I turn just in time to see a machete coming at me. I dodge. Then there’s another one to my right, and I manage to duck under that strike as well. I think I count five. That must mean most of them came for me.
I hope the others make it.
If I had a proper weapon, I might be able to take on one orc, but even that would be a challenge. Most of my fighting has been against other humans on the street, trying to harass other suffering humans.
But I don’t have a weapon, and there are five of them, all trying to cut me in two. I fling a handful of dirt into an orc’s face and make a scrambling run. There’s a small ridge. If I can get to the top of that, I’d have a better vantage point to pick out where to run next.
My lungs are already burning, and my legs feel like they’re on fire, but I push past the pain and run. I skid to a halt when I see that on the other side of the ridge is about twenty feet of empty sky, followed by treetops.
I don’t know how far it is to the ground. The canopy is too thick. But I’m sure it’s more than enough to kill me.
I turn, and the orcs have cut off my chance of escape. They know they have me cornered, and they advance slowly. Not out of caution. No, they like the taste of fear in their meat. But I don’t plan on giving them the satisfaction.
But my options here are limited. I can’t fight them. I can’t outrun them. But I can jump.
I had a good run. There were a lot of things I never got to do. Like, learn to read. Fall in love. Get drunk. Have kids. Raise a family. But maybe me dying here means Sasha can live to go to do those things for me. Maybe it means Mary and Joshua can figure out they’re crazy for each other. Maybe it means all the others get to be free.
I feel the tears on my cheeks. At first, I hate myself for crying, for being weak, but then I realize I’m not sad. I’m happy. It’s a good death.
The orcs advance towards me. The leader, an orc who’s half a head taller than the rest with a big scar on his nose, says, “There’s nowhere left to run, little girl. Why don’t you come here before you fall? You gave a good chase. But it’s over.”
“Fuck. You.”
As far as final words go, they are not the most eloquent, but I never learned to read, so I haven’t had the chance to study up on famous last words. Oh, well.
I fling myself off the cliff, hoping that the impact is enough to kill me instantly. I deserve that, at least—a quick, painless death.
When I smash into the first branch, I realize that’s not going to be what I’ll get. The impact knocks the wind out of me, and I crash into more and more branches. I think for a second, I don’t have to die, but I can’t get a hold on anything able to support my weight and continue to fall.
The last ten feet is an unobstructed path straight to the ground. Every part of my body hurts. I’m sure I’m dead. It’ll just be slow and painful. Darkness starts to creep in at the edges of my vision, and just before everything goes black, I hear a subtle hiss.
