Consequent to the warning, the elves and vampires turned restless, their rides—as if mirroring their riders—were whinnying, stomping the floor, and shifting in their spot, skittish. Done with his exchange with the vampire elite's head, Lugulus turned, facing his elves.

  "Zranduil," called Legulus, Zrandiul, who was leaning on the saddle and calming his ride down, since the horse was acting according to its training, run with its rider if it sees the flare. Upon hearing his name being called, Zranduil looked up. The horse calmed down, training forcing it to do nothing when its rider's name was called by a superior.

  "Yes, commander." said Zranduil, making eye contact.

  "Take the elves and place a deadlocked ambush wherever you want on this path, the only condition I have is that you must make it unpassable and effective." commanded Legulus.

  "Roger." said Zranduil. He turned in the other direction, his ride got excited, whinnied, he held the reins firmly. Five of nine elves were in front of him, the rest were swiftly falling in the line, each row boasting two warriors. "Elves follow me!"

  "Wait." said Val'rize, looking at Zranduil, who had turned to face the vampire. "I feel that you should lead my warriors too."

  Zranduil shifted his gaze to Legulus. He nodded.

  "Warriors, follow me!" roared Zranduil, his ride's forelegs kicking upwards.

  "Marry!" called Legulus. Zranduil had the common sense to not waste time on things not concerning him. Marry stopped. Turned. Zranduil dashed past the ranks. The others followed him. The three of them were the only ones left.

  "You stay with us." said Legulus, rotating himself with his ride to face the bend.

  "Roger." said Marry.

  Legulus tapped Storm's far side, a bit hard. Storm cantered towards the bend. Val'rize and Marry followed. They reached the bend. The other side was visible, a dirt path wider than the one they were in, the downcast shadows barely hiding anything. Legulus pointed to a bend tens of metres away, taking a left before going out of their field of vision.

  "That's where they will come from." said Legulus. "And that's where you'll be picking off as many of our enemies as possible."

  Marry nodded, unstrapping her bow and stringing it.

  "Roger."

  "What do we do?" asked Val'rize.

  "I will be providing back up for Marry and Ellorin." replied Legulus.

  "Then I shall provide back up for Cassian." said Val'rize.

  Legulus nodded, not taking off his eyes from the bend.

  The bow was plated white, embossed with gold carvings, and studded with golden Runes. The arrow's shaft was made of Aethorite—a rare metal most commonly found in the Aelinder Forest—while the arrowhead and fletching were gold; depressions in the shape of runes were visible on the arrowhead and fletching, while the shaft had inlaid golden Runes. This Runic weapon which was the result of the two elven masters of masters of Inscription—the art of carving the Runes, which stretches beyond the physical realm, the masters of this art given the title 'Inscriptors'—and Crafting—the art of creating an object suitable for Inscription and of preparing the above mentioned object for Inscription—was by far the most powerful bow in existence known to Elfkind, which was the renovation of an ancient artifact of quiet potency, handed over to Marry by the Elder after her recruitment into the small elite unit of the TEHG—The Elven High Guard—much like what had happened to each of them.

  "She a Runeweilder?" asked Val'rize.

  "Yes, she is." replied Marry, never one to be talked in the third person in her presence.

  Legulus nodded, eyes facing onward.

  "Who do you think our enemies might be, Marry?" asked Legulus, concentration solely on the opposite bend.

  Whatever might have been her answer, it was not to be shared. Galloping out of the bend and into their line of sight were the two scouts—Cassian and Ellorin—closely followed by huge, running, brutish figures, vaguely elvenoid. Orcs. These creatures were brutish, hostile abominations of nature, greasy, grey-skinned menaces with their lower canines rising till their noses as tusks amid crooked, unhygienic, boxy, disfigured teeth; their frame was huge, eight foot tall—and a foot taller than the elves—on average, and bulky, extremely so, their height the only feature allowing them the little agility they possessed; blood-red markings swirled, slashed, exploded or enveloped their features by birth; their thick head was adorned by huge braids predominantly done by the females to their males and themselves; their squashed, slitted noses started in between their yellow-orange eyes, slitted pupils set on those hypnotic—to non-sentient beings like animals—eyes; their greasy, rhino-like powerful necks was the only bridge holding their heavy heads above their monolithic, greasy torso and greasy, rhinoceros-thick-and-bulky legs. The only clothing they wore were tattered loincloths which flow till their knees predominantly worn by males, and tattered, sleeveless robes predominantly worn by females which flow till the beginning of their thighs. They were the smartest of the low-races, capable of making metal tools and weaponry, generally thick, rough and a very badly done finishing, a blacksmith's nightmare.

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  Trailing the two scouts were these orcs, taller and bulkier than average; eyes a bright, blood-red colour unheard of in orc eyes; more brutish than any Legulus or Val'rize has ever seen, which were many; the ground was relandscaped as their powerful legs dug into the dirt floor and changed the lay of its land; projectiles flew from their huge paw-like hands, barely missing the two scouts, whose armour was the only thing protecting them, bouncing the projectiles back at the same force it came, taking care of a few orcs that way.

  Marry uttered a word of the Arcane-tongue just as the two scouts came into view. The Runes on both the bow and arrow glowed a resplendent radiance of gold. Marry let loose the arrow just as the first dozen orcs was completely in their line of sight, and the second were just rounding the bend. The arrow flew over the two riders in a blur of golden resplendence, quick as a thunderbolt. It met the closest orc—only a little more than ten metres behind the two scouts—in the head. A dome of golden light expanded from the point of contact and engulfed everything in a ten-metre radius, barely missing the two scouts. The light receded two seconds later, dimming by the split second. Nothing was left in its wake, giving the two an extra ten-metre lead.

  Val'rize's brows flew up inside his helmet before immediately lowering.

  The two scouts galloped past their fellow warriors. The two leaders turned. Marry let loose another arrow. Turned. And the three of them forced their rides into a gallop.

  The three caught up to the two by two hundred metres, as they had slowed down for them. The new formation was instinctive, born by years of experience. The two leaders heading the gallop, while the two scouts stayed in the middle, minding their sides, while Marry covered their rear.

  "Elaborate." ordered Legulus.

  Ellorin showed hesitation for a second.

  Then he spilled everything, just a brief and concise version.

  "We were pushing forward as usual, when both of us heard the sound of twigs snapping, leaves rustling, metal hitting metal and then, we heard it, the snorts, the very much orcish snorts." began Ellorin. "Instinctively we let loose of our flares. Immediately they broke cover and converged on us. They had us surrounded. But we managed to clear on exit to our rear and fled, retracing our footsteps, just as the protocol says we must."

  Legulus nodded. "Good Job. Keep it up, for we badly need all the skill we can get."

  All three of them nodded as they rounded a bend. Marry turned, an arrow already nocked, aiming at the bend's mouth.

  "What is your estimation on their number?" asked Val'rize, facing Cassian.

  "Seven dozen." replied Cassian, jaw firm, more composed, older and more experienced than Ellorin, who was very young in elven standards. "Not to mention the fact that they were stronger, faster and more coordinated than any orc I have ever encountered."

  They neared the next bend. The first dozen orcs rounded the bend, only thirty metres apart from them. Marry spoke the same word. Her bow and nocked arrow glowed. She let fly. The arrow thunked on the head of the nearest orc. The dome of light came. And went. Just as they rounded the bend and lost sight of them. They had entered a long stretch of uninterrupted path; it was wide, the ever-present shadows of the trees unable to reach the middle—the lighted area as wide as five metres—of the path.

  "Marry, this is your jackpot." said Legulus, pushing onward.

  The path ran for another two-hundred metres or so. Val'rize unsheathed his right-hand-sword. The blade slid smoothly, no rasp of metal-on-metal, just a clean, smooth, move. He clutched it calmly, hunched over the horse, sword slashing the air next to his mount. Val'rize had already noted the Shadowcover-symbol carved on the trunk of a tree fifty metres or so away.

  A few seconds later, Legulus had his right-hand-sword out, noting the Elvish symbol on a tree fifty metres or so away. Just like before, the movement was clean, smooth, and soundless. Subsequently, the two scouts had their primary weapon out too; a long, thin blade; and an improvised, metal sickle which had a jagged blade set into a metal staff as long as the vampire's forearm.

  They passed the mark and rode on. Marry shot a few more arrows, but these weren't as successful as before, as the orcs got used to the attacks and were doing their best to reduce the numbers lost, such as spreading, as they ran on, snorting and huffing—not out of weariness but out of habit—as they kicked the dirt into the air. As they rode fifty metres or so away from the mark, Marry noted that the orcs had passed the mark.

  Suddenly, from above the orcs, two logs came down in an arcing motion.