"Shouldn't we have run into them by now?" I ask.

  My heavy boots are anything but stealthy as I crunch leaves and snap twigs with every step. Our chain mail rattles quite audibly, too. Only Reka can seem to move silently, and she isn't exactly scouting ahead as a ranger should. She's treating a combat mission like a picnic! We're holding hands and everything. Alice and Semuel trudge along behind, at least having the sense to have their weapons out. My battle axe rests carelessly on my left shoulder while my wife clings to my other arm.

  "Orcs are savages, dearest, but they possess a certain low cunning. This close to the village, they will not venture, except in numbers."

  Close? We've been walking for over an hour. Where the hell are they?

  Just when I'm wondering if we won't run into them after all, Reka drops my hand like it's on fire and nocks an arrow.

  Thwip!

  Her shot travels through dense foliage, and we lose sight of it. Everyone looks at Reka in alarm.

  "More cunning than I supposed. That was a picket, a guard placed on the outer perimeter of the camp as early warning. Gird yourself for battle, my fellows. We may yet have surprise on our side."

  Reka's eyesight is "keener than an eagle," so apparently she can spot an Orc at such a distance we don't even hear the arrow strike him.

  Suddenly feeling very vulnerable, I hold my axe at the ready, clutching the haft with both hands. Our path is narrow, with plenty of trees on either side for concealment, the perfect place for an ambush if they could get the drop on us.

  "Relax, these orcs are in the Stone Age," Reka comforts me. She scans the woods around us and nocks another arrow, but doesn't fire. "No weapon of theirs can pierce your armor."

  That's nice, but I'm only wearing a mail shirt and helmet. It only goes down to about mid-thigh. Leather bracers protect my wrists, but there is still bare flesh on my lower arms. A stone spear could definitely leave a scratch, more than a scratch.

  Thwip! Thwip!

  Reka tilts her head in confusion. "More scouts?" She pulls her bowstring back a third time but thinks better of it.

  "Honey?"

  "A reconnaissance in force! The main body will be just beyond. We must strike swift and true!"

  "Finally," rumbles Semuel, striking his hammer against his shield. The Dwarf mutters something that makes the hammer glow green for just a moment.

  Previously stony, Reka breaks into a savage smile, making her look almost unhinged. "Master Dwarf, can you curse Brad and Alice's weapons as well?"

  "Aye, by One Other, I shall. Hold them out for me, you two."

  The language he speaks is guttural, with lots of consonants formed in the back of his throat. I can't understand the words but feel the malice in them. As the green glow fades from my axe, I feel the truth of it. Agony. Those Orcs are about to suffer.

  "I can feel the pack moving, my lady," Alice warns. She still retains a spider's ability to sense vibrations.

  "They aren't aware of us yet," Reka assures her.

  Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!

  My wife shoots like a machine gun, and I brace for close battle.

  "There," she sighs, then changes direction. "Follow me, all of you. I've just cleared out all their scouts on this flank. They are marching on the village in force. 'Tis lucky we found them."

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  "How many?" Alice asks.

  "Hundreds," Reka replies, shocking me with her casual tone. These aren't pig men running like hell from a wildfire! This is an armed war party expecting a fight!

  "Peace, my love. We will catch them in the flank, on ground most unfavorable. I know exactly where, so follow!"

  There's nothing to do but trust her, so we all follow Reka, who is now truly in ranger mode.

  "Their women and children are close behind. This isn't just an attack, it's a migration," she says.

  "Why so loud?" Semuel demands roughly. "Do you mean to reveal our presence so soon?"

  She laughs. "Say it not so, my good Dwarf. Their scouts are dead, so they are quite blind. As for noise, well..."

  Reka points up ahead. Oh.

  We hear them before we see them. Birds and small animals flee from their column of march. The chaos and undisciplined carelessness are apparent. They chatter to each other in a language I don't understand, as oblivious to danger as if they were walking to the morning market.

  When we get closer, I realize what Reka was talking about. There is a bend in the path, channeling the Orcs into a choke point between a cave and a small river, but also preventing those behind from rushing to help those in front in any kind of haste. It's perfect.

  Visual range. They're big, but completely unarmored, clad only in loincloths. My cursed dark axe will massacre them. I know it in my bones.

  "Alice, you're in tactical command. Disrupt the Orc formation and place Brad and Semuel where they can do the most damage. Watch each other's blind spots and show no mercy. Now forward!"

  Thwip! Thiwp! Thwip!

  Under the cover of arrows, I follow Alice, with Semuel lagging behind. Poor Dwarf, with his short legs, always struggling to keep up.

  Alice and I have fought together before. We only need body language to communicate. With only a slight indication from her sword arm, I comprehend her plan. I'm the bait.

  "Raaaagh!" I cry.

  The first Orc I cleave with my axe looks so surprised that I almost laugh. Half a dozen are down with arrows in their hearts, throats, and eyes, and they still don't realize they're under attack.

  Blood! Blood! Blood!

  Semuel smashes one in the knee, and I decapitate the poor bastard as he stumbles.

  Another Orc points to us and is about shout a warning to the rest, but Reka silences him with an arrow to the throat.

  Oh! She's killing the ones who notice us first! Smart.

  It's a chaotic, greasy mess as I swing my axe in wide arcs. Every time I bite deep into green flesh, sending red blood spraying. We've achieved total surprise.

  As easily as they fall, I start to realize why Reka wasn't scared of the prospect of fighting hundreds. In my peripheral vision, I notice Alice dropping one after another with precision thrusts right to the heart.

  My next victim screams like a banshee after I bisect him, really bisect him. With one horizontal cut at the waist, one Orc is now two pieces. The top half screams in jibberish for a long time before bleeding out, adding to the general confusion.

  An Orc with more guts than sense charges me, but I easily sidestep his spear thrust and bring my axe down, splitting his skull. Brains cling to the blade as I cut down another on the backswing. They know we're here now, but there isn't a hell of a lot they can do about it.

  Slow, I think, as a small group tries to mount some kind of effective resistance. Big bastards, yes, but I can dance around them all day, even in armor.

  Dancing around is no problem! The ground is much in our favor, forcing them to come at us one at a time, while I have plenty of room to move. Idly, I think about turning this into a game.

  One! Two! Three!

  I try to keep a running tally, but lose count when six becomes seven.

  67! Haha!

  After losing my fear in the campaigns against the monsters around Malmark, this battle feels almost shockingly easy. The longer things go on, the more Orc bodies we stack, the more I realize Alice's strategy.

  I'm like a boulder in the river, forcing the Orcs to flow around me on either side. Those who slip past are dispatched by Alice and Samuel on the flanks. Orcs, being the big dumb monsters they are, keep rushing me no matter how many of their buddies I drop. Reka has to be out of arrows at this point, so I have no idea what she's doing.

  Gradually, the flow becomes a trickle, and organized Orc resistance tapers off.

  "Everybody okay?" I call. "Sound off if you are!"

  "Yes, my lord!" Alice replies.

  "And I, great berserker!" Semuel praises me. I wonder if I'm blushing under the helmet.

  "Reka? Honey?"

  There's no reply.

  No. It can't be!

  "REKA!" I cry as loud as I can.

  "I'm fine, Brad!" comes the equally loud reply carrying across the small river. How the heck did she get all the way over there?

  With an inhuman, likely magically assisted leap, my wife bounds over and returns to my side. Heedless of the blood and gore I'm covered in, I embrace her, staining her pristine purple ranger outfit.

  "I'm fine, my love, truly. The survivors wish to surrender," she informs me.

  "Surrender?"

  "Yes." She kisses me on the helmet where my lips would be and looks down at our Dwarf friend, who is even dirtier than I am. "Semuel, would you be willing to perform the Curse of Submission?"

  Brad fighting the Orcs