The Orc Camp

Chapter 5: The Huntress in the Hollow (Part 4)

They walked through the morning and into the afternoon, the forest gradually thinning as the terrain grew rockier. The ground rose in a series of low ridges, the trees giving way to patches of scrub and exposed stone. Lyra's feet no longer hurt, and that was a small miracle in itself.

She had also, reluctantly, taken Aelindra's advice. Covering herself was pointless when the elf had already seen everything. So she let her arms hang at her sides as they walked, her body moving freely through the forest. It was strange---the absence of the constant arm-clutching. The shame was still there, a hot ember in her chest, but it was easier to ignore when she wasn't constantly fighting a losing battle.

Aelindra talked as they walked---not constantly, but in comfortable bursts, filling the silence with observations about the forest, complaints about the weather, and the occasional dry joke at her own expense.

"---so there I am, hanging upside down from a tree branch, my bow at the bottom of a ravine, and the boar---this massive, angry thing with tusks like swords---is circling below me, waiting for me to fall. And Borin, my dwarven friend, is just standing there laughing. Doesn't even try to help. Just crosses his arms and says, 'I told you that branch wouldn't hold.'" She shook her head, silver hair swaying. "I didn't speak to him for a week."

Lyra found herself smiling despite everything. "What happened? With the boar?"

"Kael shot it. Our swordsman. He'd been tracking me from the ridge, and he put an arrow through its eye just as the branch snapped." She shrugged. "So I fell anyway. Right onto the dead boar. Bruised my tailbone and got covered in boar blood. Borin said it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen." She snorted. "Dwarves. Great craftsmen, terrible friends."

Lyra's heart quickened at the mention of the others. A dwarf. A swordsman. A mage. The words painted pictures in her mind---images drawn from a thousand half-remembered stories. "Borin," she said, testing the name. "He's really a dwarf? Like---shorter than humans, really strong, lives underground?"

Aelindra glanced back, her eyebrow arched. "You really have led a sheltered life, haven't you? Yes, he's a dwarf. Broad as a barrel, beard down to his belt, can drink an entire tavern dry and still swing his hammer straight. He'd be offended if he knew you had to ask." She paused, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Don't stare at him when you meet him, by the way. He hates that. Says it makes him feel like a zoo exhibit."

"When I meet him?" Lyra's voice squeaked slightly.

"Assuming we all make it to Thornwall in one piece? Probably." Aelindra shrugged. "We usually stay at the same inn---the Gilded Tankard, near the guild hall. Loud place, bad ale, but the beds are clean. If you're serious about this adventuring thing, you'll probably end up there too."

Adventuring. The word sent a thrill through Lyra's chest. "What's it like? Being an adventurer, I mean."

Aelindra laughed. "Exciting? Yeah, sometimes. When you're not knee-deep in a swamp, or running from something with too many teeth, or sitting through a three-hour guild meeting about supply requisitions." She shook her head. "It's a living. A hard one. Dangerous, too---I've lost friends. Good friends." Her voice dropped, and for a moment, something shadowed crossed her face. Then she shook it off. "But it's never boring, I'll give it that. And there's something about it---the freedom. No lord to answer to, no land to tie you down. You go where the work is, you fight what needs fighting, and you see things most people only hear about in bard songs. That's worth a lot."

Lyra listened, her heart pounding. "I want to do it," she said. The words came out before she could stop them. "I know how I sound. I know I'm not exactly impressive right now. But I'm a hard worker. I learn fast. And I've got nothing left to lose." She swallowed. "I want to go on quests. Help people. See the things you've seen. Maybe even learn magic."

Aelindra stopped walking. She turned, her pale green eyes studying Lyra with a new intensity. "You're serious."

"I am."

Aelindra was quiet for a moment. Then she smiled---a real smile, small and fleeting, but warm. "You know, I met someone like you once. A long time ago. She was also foolish and stubborn and way too optimistic for her own good. Walked into the guild hall with nothing but the clothes on her back and a ridiculous dream." She paused, her smile fading slightly. "She died in a dungeon three years ago. Cave-in. We never even found her body."

Lyra's stomach dropped.

"But," Aelindra continued, meeting her eyes, "she died doing what she loved. And if you'd asked her, she would have said it was worth it." She reached out and squeezed Lyra's shoulder---briefly, gently, her fingers cool against Lyra's bare skin. "If you really want this, you can do it. But it's going to be hard. Harder than anything you've ever done. And the first thing you're going to need---" Her eyes dropped pointedly to Lyra's naked body, and a wry smile returned to her lips. "---is some clothes."

Lyra laughed, a shaky, relieved sound. "I'm working on it."

"Work faster."

The afternoon sun was slanting through the trees when they crested a low ridge and Aelindra held up a hand, signaling a halt.

"Hold up," she said, her voice dropping to a murmur. "Look."

Lyra followed her gaze and felt her breath catch. Nestled in the hollow between two wooded hillsides was a cluster of rough-hewn structures---huts built from timber and hide, lashed together with crude ropes. Smoke rose from a central fire pit, and figures moved among the buildings: hulking, green-skinned figures with heavy brows and protruding tusks, their bodies draped in patchwork armor of leather and bone. She counted perhaps a dozen of them, going about their business---sharpening weapons, hauling firewood, arguing in guttural voices that carried faintly on the wind.

Her first instinct screamed: Orcs. Her blood froze: God damn it, ORCS.

She had seen their like before, in countless illustrations and animated scenes. But seeing them in the flesh was something else entirely. The green skin, the tusks, the brutal, heavy-boned builds---they were monstrous and human at the same time, and the combination made her skin crawl.