She'd known that their luck would run out eventually, that it was only a matter of time until they were discovered during their little trip through the orc-infested region. That it had to happen just then, on that narrow path along the cliffs by the Greyflood with heavy rain coming down and the blasted hillmen too far ahead to help, that was more than piss-poor luck. When a large tree cracked and came down behind them, effectively blocking their escape, it was all too clear what a neat little trap the orcs had laid, keeping them pinned between a high wall of stone and the rushing river. Despite this predicament Ameren felt completely calm as she jumped down from the saddle and drew her blades, watching the first orc come rushing out of the curtain rain further down the path.
Only one way out of this. Makes it simple.
Havaldr's panicked shouting caught her attention and she chanced a glance back toward the felled tree as she danced around with the orc, her blades partly missing their mark and only cutting shallow wounds. A shabby-looking goblin with an axe too heavy for its puny arms had clambered over the trunk and was trying to get onto the cart.
Weak, malnourished, skittish. He should be able to handle it by himself. He's going to have to.
"It's just a goblin! Kill it before it scares the horse!" called Ameren. There were more orcs coming up the path toward them now, and though ill-equipped with crude weapons and patchwork armour, their numbers alone may prove enough to overwhelm her.
And this ugly bastard is quick...
She and the orc went around each other again, the sound of metal striking metal ringing in the air, the foul creature losing its footing and stumbling a few steps. The orc flung one of its axes toward Ameren to keep her at a distance while it tried to regain its balance, completely in vain as she barely had to duck to evade it.
You have no more time to dance with this one, his friends are here.
She sunk her dagger deep into the orc's left shoulder, keeping it locked in and bringing her sword up in a fierce strike against its neck, the sharp blade lopping its head clean off and sending it rolling down the path past two charging orcs. There were pained shrieks behind her, apparently Havaldr had gotten a strike in on the goblin, keeping it at bay. Then a masculine voice which she did not recognise.
Looks like the odds are back in our favour.
A man armed with axe and shield had climbed over the trunk and was now running down toward the approaching orcs, taking on the bigger of the pair.
Past his prime, but he seems to know what he's doing. Good, perhaps we're getting out of this in one piece.
Indeed, it all looked like it was going reasonably well, the goblin had had enough and was trying to flee, the gift mercenary was cutting down the big orc with ease while Ameren swiftly jabbed through the defences of the other orc. The next pair of foes were almost upon them when she heard a scream of pain and a gleeful cackle from behind, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder to see that Havaldr had been struck by a spear and collapsed on the ground, a second goblin sitting on the felled tree, grinning from ear to ear. It jumped down and snatched the fleeing goblin's axe from the ground, setting off toward Havaldr. But the mercenary had dispatched of his foe and gone to aid the fallen man, causing the grinning goblin to hesitate when his prey was no longer unprotected.
He's safe as long as you don't let anything pass. Focus.
Ameren cut open the orc's chest and kicked its corpse aside just as the first of the remaining two came within range, bellowing at her as it swung its massive axe, then tried to backhand her when she slipped past and swiped at its leg. That blow became its undoing as she dodged and then dug her dagger down to the hilt into the orc's outstretched forearm, anchoring it between the bones and pulling as she leapt up and sent a sharp kick into the back of the orc's head. It stumbled right into the other orc and both were toppled, the smaller caught under the weight of its wounded ally. Before they managed to untangle themselves Ameren was upon them, both hands on the hilt of her sword and full force behind it as she stabbed the larger orc through the back, piercing its heart and sinking the tip of the blade into the pinned orc's shoulder. It gave a furious roar as its ally went limp and struggled to get loose, dragging itself backward and up on its feet as Ameren pulled her sword free.
Easy now, no reason to risk anything. Take your time.
With a flick of her wrist another dagger dropped into her left hand and she squeezed the hilt, taking a deep breath and flourishing both blades while she stepped around the corpse and narrowed her gaze on the orc. It barged into Ameren, its sword scraping against her side and then clattering upon the ground as she severed the muscles in the orc's upper arm. A swift thrust and a swipe later the orc sank to its knees, blood gushing from its slit throat and impaled gut.
The rain wasn't quite as heavy anymore and she looked around to ensure there were no more orcs coming their way. It seemed very quiet now that the noise of the battle had died and there was just the sound of restless horses and Havaldr's pained groans.
"You all right there, boss?" asked Ameren, having wiped off her blades and now making her way over to Havaldr. He had dragged himself to the side of the path and was sitting with his back against the cliff, spear still sticking out of his shoulder.
Doesn't look very pleasant, but it could have been a lot worse if our new best friend hadn't shown up.
"We were lucky that you came along when you did, otherwise I reckon we'd have been done for," said Ameren to the mercenary. He was standing next to Havaldr, his shield and armour splattered with blood and gore from splitting the goblin's skull open.
"Don't mention it. If it hadn't been for you I would've stepped into that trap instead. There is no other path leading south around here but this one," said the mercenary, then gestured toward Havaldr, "He needs to be seen to before he bleeds out, but I only know blades."
"An extra pair of steady hands is always welcome. If you can hold him still while I take that little splinter out I'd appreciate it."
Havaldr howled in pain as the spear was pulled out, but Ameren was unfazed by his agony as she cleaned and stitched up the wound. Branson, after all, doesn't give words of comfort. She helped him back on the cart and started to drag the corpses off the path while the mercenary went to find a way of getting his horse past the large tree trunk. She had worked the dagger out of the large orc's forearm before pushing the corpse into the river, wiping it off and checking the blade, then sheathing it. By the time she'd hurled the last orc from the cliff her breathing was strained from the effort, every cut, scrape, and bruise she'd attained in the battle made sure she knew of its existence and she was soaked to the bone from the rain, but at least it had rinsed most of the blood off her armour.
It's the small things you have to be thankful for. Not smelling like dead orc is a pretty good one.
She climbed up onto the cart and took the reins, flicking them against the horse's rump to get it moving.
Both of us surviving that mess is another.
