Iron Blooded

This time my speed wasn’t enough to save me. The blow of the axe struck me in the shoulder knocking me sideways and into the dirt. The pain came moments later, leaving me breathless as I scrambled to find my fallen Dagger.

Four Orks stood over me, and the one that had struck raised his axe over his head.

“No,” the voice was calm, low, but unmistakably human. I looked up and saw him standing among them. He was tall, bald, and inside his dark hood I could see the curve of pointed ears. August? No, this creature was different. His skin was pale, his eyes narrowed to catlike slits.

At the sight of me, his lip curled in distaste.

“If you kill him now any information dies with him.”

A gleam of metal in the firelight caught my attention and I spotted Iron Fang in the dust by the boots of one of the Orks. I needed to get to it. I resisted the urge to look around for Astrid and instead focused on the Orks in front of me. One leveled a spear at my neck, another two stood behind me. A fourth had his arms folded, standing by the side of the cloaked elven figure.

I couldn’t afford to make a show of looking for Astrid, I just had to hope that she was somewhere nearby. A sharp blow to the side of my head made my vision dance. One of the Orks behind me had struck me with the butt of his staff.

A pair of dark boots came into my vision, followed by the smell of smoke as the elf, or whatever he was, knelt beside me.

“What is your name?” He asked. His voice was like ice but I knew better than to underestimate him. I defended my mind the way Lord Blackthorne had taught me, heart pounding as I waited. No mental barbs came. So, he wasn’t a mind mage.