“Don’t start a fight if you don’t have to.” She’d seen me draw my gun.
“I’m not planning to.” I walked out with Fezzik in hand. “This is how I negotiate.”
“I guess that means I better be ready to cover you.”
“Guess so.”
All four orcs had gathered on the sidewalk to look at me. If they knew Willard was there, they ignored her.
One orc’s nostrils flared, testing the air. “Another elf is behind the house.”
“Deal with this one first,” one of his buddies said. “She is armed.”
“I’m armed because this is my house, and you’re creeping up on it like a neighborhood gang. What do you want?”
“What is she saying?”
“I don’t know. It’s the vermin language of this crotch of a world.”
Uh oh. These guys weren’t locals. Most of the orcs who’d taken refuge on Earth, those I typically dealt with, spoke enough English to get by.
Sindari, are these more of those Way Rovers?
I fear they may be. Two of them carry magical weapons.
Can you communicate with them?
I may be able to do so, but that would give away my presence at your side.
Your presence may keep them from attacking. Despite my gun, they didn’t look that worried. Two had crept off the sidewalk and onto the lawn, nostrils still sniffing.
Sindari roared, the tremendous noise rolling throughout the neighborhood. Distant walkers whirled to look back and then sprinted away.
I was imagining you communicating with them telepathically.
I am doing that now. I like to start a conversation with the power of thunder at the beginning of a summer storm.
Half our houseguests probably flung themselves into the bushes.
Do you wish me to tell them you’re the Ruin Bringer? Sindari asked.
The orcs were frowning around the yard now, looking vaguely in the direction the roar had come from.
I doubt that means anything to them if they’re not from around here.
Don’t be too sure. The Dragon Justice Court knows all about you.
Don’t remind me.
And they told the elves.
All four orcs roared—their roars weren’t as impressive as Sindari’s, but they conveyed suitable ferocity—and I expected them to rush at me. But they drew their weapons and paused as if waiting for something. Uh oh. What now?
An orc with a crossbow lifted his gaze toward the roof of the house. At first, I thought he was trying to trick me into glancing away so he could shoot me when I wasn’t looking. Then a surge of magical power came from the rooftop. I’d felt something similar before when a portal had opened.
A new enemy comes, Sindari warned me.
Fantastic.
He was crouched, ready to spring at the orcs, but he whirled to face me. No, not me. Whatever was coming out of that portal on the roof.
Before I could figure out what new enemy was emerging, and if I needed to worry about everyone in the back yard, the orcs charged at me.
One flicked his wrist, chucking something that had been hidden in his hand. I dove sideways and into a roll as a throwing star whizzed past and slammed into the siding of the house above Willard’s head. I opened fire before I finished my roll. Willard leaned out from behind the bush and shot at the orcs charging me.
My bullets slammed into the chest of the lead orc, but dull tinks instead of fleshy thuds told me he was wearing armor. As he sprang for me, I fired at his unprotected face, then rolled out of the way again. My bullet slammed into his eye, and he tripped and tumbled to the grass.
Willard’s bullets slammed into the neck of one of the other orcs, and he roared and fired a crossbow at her. I had enough time to rise into a crouch and shoot at the other two, but the air buzzed with magic as an invisible barrier appeared to protect them. My bullets hit it and bounced away. One ricocheted back and came within inches of striking me. It clanged into a drainpipe near the porch.
Sindari had rushed to the other side of the yard and sprang to meet a shadow coming down from the roof. Not a shadow. A four-legged, scaly creature with a wolf’s face and fangs. It was as large as Sindari, and when it crashed into him, they tumbled across the yard in a tangle of flying fur and snapping jaws. They crashed into the bushes along the property line as they bit and clawed at each other, growls and yips sending chills down my spine.
The two uninjured orcs drew swords and rushed toward me. I gave up on firing and pulled out Chopper. When the orcs tried to flank me and come in from both sides, I sprang away and skittered backward up the stairs to the high ground of the porch.
A gasp of pain came from my left. Willard? She was still trading fire with the other orc, but I worried that first crossbow bolt had hit her.
With my allies busy, I would have to take care of both orcs in front of me. I was prepared, blade ready and the railing of the porch steps providing some cover for my flanks, but then a tickle of power touched my mind. A magical compulsion urged me to drop my weapons and bare my neck to my enemies’ blades.
“That’s not going to happen,” I growled as I deflected a barrage of sword blows from the closest orc.
The second orc stood slightly back, his eyes intent as he stared at me. He had to be the magic user.
Even as I relied on years of battle training to parry and block the closer orc, I focused my mind on the insidious mental attack. As Freysha had instructed, I imagined ferns growing up to wrap around my mind and protect me from compulsions.
The magic-flinging orc scowled and produced another throwing star. Knowing I couldn’t deflect that and parry a sword at once, I switched from defensive to offensive against the one I faced. I flowed halfway down the stairs, trying to place myself so that he was in the way of the one with the throwing star.
My opponent was momentarily surprised by my speed and aggression, and I spotted an opening as our blades crossed over his head. I twisted and slammed a side kick into his groin.
The other orc chose that second to spin his throwing star at my face. I ducked as I retracted my kick, my other foot precariously close to the edge of the step. The throwing star almost took off my braid on its way to embed itself in the door.
Gunfire from the side almost made me jump. It was Willard. Her orc was rolling on the lawn, grabbing his arm, and she was firing at the magic user. He’d been busy attacking me and didn’t have his defenses up. Bullets slammed into the side of his torso and one skimmed the top of his head—he ducked in time or it would have burrowed through his ear.
I leaped down the stairs to press the sword fighter while his buddy was distracted.
A canine squeal of pain came from the bushes. Sindari had come out on top, his teeth sinking into the neck of the scaled wolf.
The orcs exchanged glances, then sprinted toward the side of the house. Even the injured one leaped up and raced after them.
Terrified that they would run into the back yard and get hostages, I yanked out Fezzik again and fired after them. But they didn’t run into the side yard. They climbed up the trim at the corner of the house, somehow finding handholds to support their massive bodies, and made it to the rooftop even with Willard and me firing at them.
Their magical defenses were back up and our bullets bounced off. They disappeared onto the rooftop where I could sense the portal still open.
I ran out onto the lawn, hoping to get another chance at them, but as the silver portal floating behind my turret came into view, two of the orcs dove through it. One paused and glowered back down at me.
“You harbor a fugitive,” he snarled in his own language, my charm still translating, “and we will be back with powerful allies to collect him. Then you will die horribly, mongrel bitch.”
I fired at his forehead. Alas, the bullet bounced off. He gave me what was likely the orc equivalent of the middle finger and walked backward into the portal. He and it disappeared, leaving one orc dead in the yard and the beast pinned under Sindari.
I’d thought it defeated, but with a great thrashing, it tore away from Sindari and rolled onto the lawn. Half of its throat had been ripped open, but it wasn’t dead yet.
Willard and I opened fire, careful not to aim close to Sindari. Fortunately, the creature, despite having a strong magical aura, didn’t have any shields. Our bullets pierced its scaly hide and sank deep. It howled with pain.
Sindari pounced, rolled it onto its back, and raked his claws into its belly, tearing out entrails. The creature twitched in its death throes, and I lowered my weapons, looking toward the roof where the portal had been.
The orc’s threat rang in my mind, and I feared it was an honest one and that he would be back. With reinforcements.
3
In the aftermath of the fight, I wanted to rush back to check on Amber and Thad and everyone else—and see if Freysha had gotten the gnome to wake up—but what was I supposed to do with the bodies? The orc had died off to the side and behind a bush, but the scaly wolf creature lay in the middle of the front lawn. Any dog walker or couple with a stroller who passed by would see the eviscerated—thank you, Sindari—corpse and blood spattering the walkway leading up to my porch.
“Is it dead?” Willard stepped up beside me, gore and grime on her T-shirt ensuring it would need the attention of a triple-powered, late-night-infomercial stain remover.
“Yeah. You’ve got a van or something that picks up the bodies of magical creatures, don’t you?”
“You know I do.” Willard pulled out her phone. “You’ve left enough of them behind for me to have picked up.”
“Usually, I leave them behind on someone else’s lawn.”
“I’m aware. Don’t think I’ve forgotten the dragon you left in the Sammamish River. We had to get a helicopter to airlift the corpse out.”
While Willard called her contact, I kept watch, my sword still drawn. For the moment, the neighborhood was quiet, though from the lawn, I could see down the street and across to Green Lake where a vigorous soccer game was going on while people jogged on the paved path that followed the shoreline. I was surprised the fight hadn’t drawn attention, but the road construction had probably drowned out the gunshots.