They are ambushed in turn by the forces of light before you can finish them

You whirl your weapons in either hand. The remaining orcs and goblins hesitate rather than charge in, looking nervous, as if uncertain if they should run or reposition.

A small flurry of arrows, crossbow bolts, and some magical ball that blew its orcish target back through the air a good thirty feet before his smashed body hit the ground seal their fate before anything more can be decided. One goblin remained, and is swiftly ended by another two arrows.

You pause a moment to take stock of this turn of events, and grunt as you pull the arrows out of your body, and sheathe your sword. Your new axe remains in your hands.

"Hold, there, mighty warrior! You... should have let me look at those first, it can be worse to pull an arrow out than leave it in, before it's been properly tended."

A cloaked figure steps into view, staff in hand. The source of that magical ball. A mage. You practically lick your lips, wanting a taste of his power. But you hold steady, gathering your nerves. You just got through one fight, and it would be better to wait until you have the upper hand before starting another.

Five more figures step warily out of the brush, looking around for further attackers. The forest is silent except for insects.

"We've been tracking that band of raiders for the last week. The ambush that you walked into was meant for us, I'm sure of it, and looked well planned for their kind. We have you to thank for springing their trap, and to thank again for coming out alive. Even Eridoss must have been impressed by your swift reactions and prowess." He gestures to a tall elf behind him, who's perfect elven face is marred by a massive ugly scar and a permanently surly, haughty expression, "I confess, we thought ourselves far too late and you lost already when their arrows flew and they rushed you, or we would have come to your aid a hair sooner," he smiles, "And a hair is all it took for you to cut down half their number."

Eridoss bows stiffly himself, "What you lack in finesse, warrior, you make up for in speed, strength, and bravery. You handled yourself well, better than we for leaving you for that moment to attend our own position." He sounds like he is choking on something bitter, "Your most pleasing victory stains our honor. Forgive us."

Apparently the remainder of the party are satisfied that the ambush is truly over, and sheath their weapons.