#iaafl

*****

  Sargulg wouldn’t get up. His sticky blood was slick all down his back, and his red eyes were like glass – they wouldn’t focus on either of them.

  Just three of them left, and no time. The air was getting harder and harder to breathe, and they had wasted too much time trying to escape through the hills – before they realised the liquid fire was running through the valleys as well, cutting off that escape.

  Vorluk was shaking his head. ‘Go, go. We need to go.’

  ‘We can take Sargulg. You take his arms, I take his legs-’ began Kulgol, stubbornly.

  ‘No, Sargulg is dead!’ Vorluk stood up and began to march off.

  ‘Not...wait!’

  Sargulg wasn’t dead – yet. But if they tried to carry him – they all would be. Kulgol looked between his last two friends, and a cold fear of being left alone threatened to overwhelm him. A few paces away, Vorluk halted to cough again, leaning over, his whole chest heaving. Kulgol looked down at his fallen friend, and hoped he’d die quickly of his wounds before the running fire swallowed him. Swallowed him into nothing, as if he’d never existed – only Sargulg’s mother would remember him.

  Very gently, Kulgol patted the face of his brother in arms. Then he stood, and went to where his last brother was coughing up something thick and black. He had been the scout in the hills, and had breathed in more smoke than any of them.

  ‘Come,’ he said, taking Vorluk’s arm, and putting it around his shoulders. ‘We go. Sargulg is dead.’

  Both of them had left their mothers at the same time – only three seasons ago. They were both taken earlier than usual. The Dark wanted younger orcs, because he needed many of them. The mothers said there was a battle coming, but all of them thought they’d know when.

  They’d never heard of a battle like this.

  ‘Stop, stop,’ Vorluk panted. ‘Look – men.’

  Stumbling to a halt, Kulgol followed his trembling hand, grabbing for a blade. They had been exchanging arrows with the men for days, and there had been a skirmish three nights ago – where Sargulg got his wound. But instead of the pack of warriors Kulgol feared, he saw only three figures, hurrying along parallel to them.

  ‘They go to the hill too,’ said Vorluk.

  ‘That one is small. Child,’ Kulgol pointed out.

  ‘Got arrows?’

  ‘No. Forget men, come on.’

  ‘We go to the hill too-’

  ‘Forget men!’ Kulgol snarled. There wasn’t time to worry about the men and the fire – one of them looked a lot more deadly than the other.

  He glanced back once at Sargulg, and wished he hadn’t.

*****

  The hill was crested with rocks – they looked climbable, but almost immediately Vorluk collapsed onto the dry grass, and lay there panting – his breaths sounded strange and raspy, as if there was something sludgy moving around in his chest. Kulgol had seen enough orcs and men die to know that this wasn’t a good sound.

  From the hill, they could see the black smoke rising, but also a blinding smear of orange. It was still coming for them.

  He collapsed next to Vorluk, and pulled at his mail shirt. It was digging into his skin again. He already had scars on his shoulders from where it constantly scraped, but he’d used parts of his undershirt to bandage orcs who were long left behind, making sores in different places.

  The smoke was getting thicker, and a noise on the other side of the hill made him leap to his feet.

  ‘Vorluk – men,’ he warned.

  He caught sight of them moving from one rock to another. There were only two of them now – a thin one, and a small one. He could only see one blade – shouldn’t be a problem if they’d lost their bows. He turned back to Vorluk...worryingly, he hadn’t stirred.

  Back with the orc mothers, there wasn’t much space – lots of children, enough food, no war or disease – but hot and cramped. It was a balance – more orcs meant a stronger horde, meant more safety in numbers. But too many, and the orc mothers wouldn’t be able to keep the peace – anarchy and injury in youth didn’t breed soldiers. Still...it could be pretty chaotic. At night, they slept in a heap, all tangled limbs – because being close together reminded them that they were many, and strong, and safe – and also because there was no room for bunks and bedrooms.

  In the raiding party, the soldiers still slept quite close. Vorluk most of all. He was too young to have such a sudden change thrown on him – it had been slowly breaking him for months.

  As the smoke thickened, Kulgol sat and stroked his friend’s head absently, as the fire spread slowly around the hill.

  Perhaps it would stop pouring. Perhaps there would still be a way out. Perhaps it would stop smoking.

  It didn’t, and when night finally fell, the rocks were lit orange and red. It was getting near impossible to breathe.

  ‘Vorluk – up on the rocks. Come. Come on,’ Kulgol coaxed him. In the end he had to half drag him up by his armpits. Clambering onto the highest point he got a shock – the men were already up there, arms around each other.

  There was a frozen moment where they both looked at each other, eyes huge and red in the smoke.

  Then he pulled Vorluk up, and squatted beside him. He and the adult man watched each other warily. Something about the way it held its young, and the thin frame of it, suggested it wasn’t a warrior but might be a mother. For a desperate second he envied the child clinging around the woman’s neck. It was the most he’d dared feel in a while, and he looked away, tears in his eyes. Perhaps it was from the smoke. Perhaps it was because Vorluk, once bright and cheeky, lay as though dead already at his feet. Perhaps it was because climbing made no difference. Now he could see further. Fire stretched right back to the mountains, and where it wasn’t pouring in rivers, the grasses were burning as far as he could see.

  There was no way out of this. Only death.

  ‘Vorluk,’ he murmured. There was hardly any response. ‘Vorluk...don’t want to be on my own...’ he said.

  With a crackle, the fire began to lick up the grass on the hill.

  Kulgol and the woman exchanged a look. In fighting the band of men, he’d had the opportunity to see both orcs and men who knew they were going to die. Her eyes were exactly the same. Without thinking, he reached out a hand to her.