Then she could get back to her quest of saving the villagers trapped in the world in between.
More people to add to my ever-growing family.
That thought alone gave her enough hope to keep going.
As she rushed down the road with her sword drawn, an Orc jumped out from behind a burning rickshaw. Her skin glowed a deep blue, and she spun away from his strike so fast, she almost lost her footing. The Orc growled and black spittle sprayed out from between his jagged teeth.
“Music box,” he yelled, sniffing deeply. “Musiiiiic boxxxx.”
“Yeah, no, buddy. That’s mine,” Maria said. She raised her sword, bringing it across her person.
The Orc snarled and took off after her. Maria stood her ground, swinging her blade up to meet the Orc’s own. The kiss of steel rang out over the roaring of the flames and beating wings of the nearby dragon.
Maria spun and swept the blade at his feet. The Orc expected the blow and jumped over it as easily as if he had been jumping rope.
However, he didn’t expect the magic Maria had conserved and released as the he jumped. The blue light smashed into the Orc’s chest, sending him tumbling down the street. He hit the front of a building; bricks and glass cascaded down over him. He was out cold.
Maria took a deep breath. The dragon’s roaring was distant now; not because it had fled the battle, but because Maria was beyond lightheaded. Such a magical punch was sure to drain her.
She leaned onto the ruins of a merchant’s stand and tried to catch her breath, hoping she wouldn’t run into any more Orcs or Dragon Tongue on her trek to the water tower. She needed all the energy, magical and otherwise, she could preserve in order to be successful.
Gotta keep going, she told herself.
The sword in her hand weighed as much as a full-grown person, and the music box in its satchel tugged at her shoulders, making her posture dip. She thought about shedding it altogether—a bad thought, she knew, but one that would at least make the journey more tolerable.
She took another deep breath, trying to steady herself. It wasn’t working as well as she hoped it would, but she had no choice other than to keep going.
Maria raised her head and forced her legs to move.
“Music box?” a gruff voice said from the end of the road.
Through the smoke, she saw the silhouette of a hulking figure. Another Orc. Great. Not just a regular Orc—as if I’d even know what a regular Orc is—but an Orc on steroids.
This particular Orc stepped forward out of the shadows. He wore a large golden breastplate that wasn’t quite large enough to cover his barrel chest and potbelly. It wasn’t a belly that looked soft to the touch, either, but a belly that looked as if it were full of the hard corpses of his enemy.
“You must be the witch everyone is after,” the Orc said, something akin to a smile showing on his face. His large teeth protruded from his lower jaw, sticking straight up. ‘Nightmare-inducing’ were the words currently flashing through Maria’s mind.
She forced herself to stand up straighter despite the obvious lethargy that had invaded her, and she stuck her sword out in the soon-to-be-trademarked battle pose of Maria Apple, copied from such great swordsmen as Obi-Wan Kenobi, Aragorn, and Inigo Montoya—Hello Orc, my name is Maria Apple. You helped kill Ashbourne, prepare to die…you slimy bastard. Not verbatim, but good enough.
“And you must be the Orc I’m going to kill,” Maria answered.
The Orc laughed deep and raucously. Maria almost plugged her ears to dampen the sound, yet she thought it wise not to. Her energy was best conserved for when she really needed it.
“Nobody kills Urlik! Nobody!” the Orc bellowed.
As the Orc charged, she realized that now was one of those times she needed it. She also realized that despite this moment being one of life and death, she could hardly raise her sword up for longer than twenty seconds, let alone do magic.
I’m not gonna just lie here and let this creature tear my head off and take the music box, though. If I’m going to die, I’ll take him down with me.
The Orc swung his sword in arc. Maria blocked the hit with her own blade, but the vibrations sent up her arms burned, and she was driven back some five feet. This large beast twirled with all the grace of someone three times smaller and swung again.
This time, Maria dove out of the way. Her landing was not graceful. She hit the stone walkway with a bone-clattering thud, and the satchel containing the increasingly heavier music box slammed into her ribcage, knocking all the breath from her lungs. She gasped for air, wheezing.
The Orc laughed again as he cornered her, raising his black sword with the deadly hook at the end.
“How lucky for me,” his voice boomed. “I stumble across the one witch the Widow would pay a fortune for, and that one witch barely breathes.”
Maria gripped her sword tight. She was preparing herself for the deathblow as she tried to scrabble away.
Her back hit the warm brick of a nearby building. Trapped. Dead end.
Fuck.
“Now not only am I gonna get to take her little toy,” the Orc pointed to the satchel and snorted, snot running out of his nose in thick gobs, “but I get to take her head back to the Widow. You know what that means?”
Maria didn’t answer.
“It means, witch, that I’m gonna be a very rich Orc.”
Maria still said nothing. Her eyes scanned the horizon. The longer she could draw the inevitable out, the more her energy would be able to recharge. Not to mention the longer she’d have to plan her escape from both this dead end and death.
“This is the part where you offer me an ultimatum, witch.”
“I have nothing to give you.”
“So be it,” the Orc growled, and raised his
