Katerin crouched in the soft grass, not making a sound or moving a muscle. She was not but seventy feet away from the gates of the orc encampment. Brazen's stream of thought kept her mind from wandering, and worrying. 

She reached into her bag and pulled a small wooden box free. Inside was a strange tied-together clump of firecrackers, with a fuse sticking straight out of the top, and  illusion magic heavy across it.

Breath was hard to come by, until the orc walking a circuit turned to make his loop again. She watched him for a moment before lighting the fuse and creeping away. If this goes wrong, I'm dead, she thought to Brazen, echoing Lugaria's earlier words. She sprinted as close to the ground as she could, pulling a long fuse and placing boxes as she went.

Finally she reached the outer edge of her perimeter, and brought a flicker of flame to her fingertips—lighting the fuse and watching as it traveled towards the boxes.

She stayed crouched, and counted to herself. She was keenly aware of Brazen not far from her, as he watched for anything she might miss.

Loud noises erupted, and color sprayed up into the air. glowing and forming beautiful patterns before it fell back toward the ground. She grinned despite the feeling of not quite being able to breathe, and kept counting. Waiting to see orcs at the gates.

She rose from her crouch and pointed her finger at the first building she could see above the walls. A thin line of white-hot fire arced forward and exploded on impact at the top of the building, sending pieces of wood and clay showering down.

Sure that she now had their full attention, she waited and listened to the shouts and sounds of alarm.

We should go, Brazen warned, showing her orcs as they charged out into the grass.

I can do a little more, she insisted. She pointed to the next building and the next, and even the gates themselves, shooting small sparks of fire from her fingertips with a whisper, in the hopes to catch whatever she could alight. The magic pulled at her. She was using too much, too quickly, but she pushed those warnings away in time to hear Brazen's.

Katerin! We need to go.

The orcs had seen her now, and at least twenty were charging right for her and Brazen, with four or five ahead of the rest.

And there were some behind her, she realized, too late.

A thick hand knotted into her cloak and lifted her, slamming a fist into her stomach before throwing her into the dirt.

Before she could right herself Brazen's axe sunk deep into the orcs side, and it died quietly in the grass.

She froze, staring at the next orc charging her. He had a scar along his face that stretched across one eye. Her pause was long enough to grant her a stinging cut across her arm before she snapped her fingers and appeared a few feet away.

Brazen was beside her in a second. There's too many.

I noticed, she snapped. She planted her staff in the dirt, and unleashed a barrage of those unerring crystalline missiles into the charge. Letting the energy arc through the orcs in front of her. Let's draw them out.

She ran with Brazen right beside her until they were atop of another hill. She concentrated, willing her energy out to twist the fog so that it took on the shape of armored forms hefting weapons and charging.

It was a harmless spell, and easily distinguishable if you had the sense of mind to think it over, but it would have to be enough.  The orcs pursued them with agility and feral anger, but many paused to fend off the fog.

She fumbled for the stone in her pocket.

As her fingers grasped it, a hammer swung for her. She twisted hard to one side to avoid the blow, nearly losing the stone in the grasses. Brazen grabbed her arm to steady her, swinging his axe with the other.

A hand grasped Katerin's hair and pulled her to one side, but Brazen's axe freed the arm from its owner  before any true harm could come from it. She swung her staff in an arc, as she tightened her grip on the stone, trickling a bit of magic into the enchantment. Brazen gripped her cloak, his axe in mid swing to fend away any who dared get too close. 

They disappeared from the hilltop completely, as a sword slashed for her face.

Fykes was crouched uncomfortably under the floorboards with Lugaria and Agrata nearby. The largest building in the encampment was above them, and forward a few feet. He could see the flickering of candlelight, and the shadows the orcs cast.

Their best guess was that this was the war room, and the chiefs quarters, but if their best guess was wrong they would pay for it dearly.

He was trying very hard not to breathe. The smell down here was about as foul as anything he had ever experienced. Like a city that had forgotten about basic hygiene had baked in the sun for a week.

One, two, three, four, he counted, listening for any more explosions. It had been a while now, and worry was knotting his stomach, and doing nothing to help with the smell around him.

She had Brazen, at least, and she was not stuck kneeling in orcish excrement and trash.

He sighed internally. Lugaria was good at this type of work. The hiding, and waiting. Judging by his expression, he had no qualms with what covered his boots. Fykes was glad that it bugged him, and glad that this was not something he would ever have to consider on a daily basis. Nothing down here gave him any inclination of inspiration.

He heard war horns, yells, and pacing footsteps somewhere in the room above him.

The noise intensified, and the footsteps above quieted. He kept his breathing even and kept counting, holding the stone out in front of him in one hand.

Katerin appeared in front of him, holding Brazen's arm. She took a deep breath, before her expression morphed and she suppressed a heave.

She had a cut down one arm, and a nick on her cheek.

Brazen scanned the area with a quick look, as Katerin cast a spell over them all, looking as though she was avoiding Fykes' questioning gaze. When her incantation was complete, her voice rang out in his mind.

What's up there? she asked, covering her mouth to ward away the stench.

Our chieftain, Lugaria said, watching the cracks of light above them.

What happened? Fykes asked, gesturing to her arm.

I got quite a few of their buildings. About fifty came after us, she said.

He pursed his lips, and squinted at her.

It looks like they almost got you, Lugaria said, with a knowing look.

Fykes gave a nod to show his agreement. Being careful was a part of the plan, remember?

She shook her head. We don't have time for this.

They waited a few seconds more until Lugaria signaled them forward, out of the stinking hole.

Hatch, is too nice a word for our way out of this pit, Fykes thought. Who would have thought an enchanted party trick would work.

They waited again, until the chieftain was turned away from them, then moved in tandem.

Agrata ran forward, little bolts of lightning arcing free from his weapon as he ran for the door with Katerin and Brazen following him.

Fykes and Lugaria charged the chieftain, blades pulling free of their scabbards.

Katerin caught a glance of the ground outside the front of the hut. Six more orcs stood around a fire. She threw her hand out, and all but one collapsed soundlessly—as sleep overtook them.

The remaining one fumbled for a horn about his belt.

The chieftain let out an angry yell as his guards fell into slumber, and hefted a heavy looking stone mace from his side. It had a pick off the back that resembled the fang of a snake, and it was vigorously stained with blood. He pulled it free and swung it in the same movement.

A soft hiss of sound reverberated from behind a wall, and a female orc extended her hand towards the chieftain, as she drew her own weapon—a long dirk— and lunged for Lugaria.

Agrata's next bolts arced for the remaining guard and slammed into his hand, causing the horn to fall onto the muddy ground.

Then Brazen reached him, and slammed his axe down before the orc had even a moment to reach for its weapon.

Katerin created an orb of acid with a snap of her fingers, let it float from her palm and into the midst of the spelled guards, as one stirred. Too much noise for that spell, she thought with disdain.

Lugaria had swung for the legs of the orcish woman, and left a shallow cut along her thigh.

Red and angry eyes locked on him, as the chief turned and the pick end of his mace swung forward, and across.

Lugaria dodged, but backed into the after effects of the female orcs spell. Ice erupted from the floor, and shards stabbed into the armor he wore. He stepped away from the chieftain and swung instead at the caster.

She made no move to dodge. Instead she only held up a hand.

His blade met something invisible, and the power of his blow numbed his arms. He swung again harder, and found that same uninvisionable force, but this time it broke in a crackle of energy and his blade left a cut down her arm.

She bared her teeth and staggered back, and he followed, not giving her the range she wanted for her spells.

Fykes moved about the room with the chieftain, holding his defense well. Both had a myriad of scratches, and though he thought he had dealt a life threatening wound, the orc seemed to simply ignore it. His expression was a mask of anger, and seething rage. The pick end of that stained, snake-like weapon bit into Fykes' thigh and he gritted his teeth, backing away as acid bit at his flesh.

The chieftain was relentless, and soon he was pushing Fykes around the room allowing him to only defend against the strange weapon.

As the guards shook away the short-lived effects of Katerin's spell, she, Brazen, and Agrata dispatched them with as much precision as they could muster. Fear hastened their movements, and kept their thoughts on finishing this and getting away before the ruse was discovered.

The chieftain pushed Fykes into a corner and grinned, though that smile faded quickly, as a staff slammed into the orc chieftains back, unbalancing him. It struck again, across his legs. Katerin had bought Fykes a second he desperately needed.

He changed his grip on his weapon, and began a slow and careful series of attacks. Slashing high, thrusting, and feinting, before pushing his advantage.

Lugaria was tired and annoyed, but finally he found a weakness to exploit, as the orc he faced reached forward, grasping for his shoulder. He lowered into a crouch and drove his blade forward, cutting her side deep.

Whatever spell she cast was powerful, and he could feel the energy in the air as it tried to harm him, and failed. She snarled and he watched as her eyes changed, from deep and dark and distinctly orcish, to something serpentine.

Her form shifted, and now in front of him was no longer a pale orc, but a shimmering emerald snake of equal height with a man. Fangs struck out for Lugaria, and he backed into a wall to avoid the poison dripping from them.

The snakes tail lashed out and hit Katerin several feet away, throwing her face first into a wall.

Agrata fired bolt after bolt, felling every orc he saw and backing up Brazen's every swing. One orc found the horn at its belt and blew out a half note, before Agrata shot it dead, leaving it riddled with little holes that arced with electricity.

Three more orcs found their deaths as he fired.

But the illusions were fading, and they were running out of time. Much longer and the whole of the camp would be here, and they would not survive.

The chieftain swung his weapon out for Katerin as she tried to collect herself. The blow ground into her shoulder, and she instantly knew something was wrong, as she heard the sizzling of the substance on her cloak.

She spun to parry his next blow with her staff, and caught the sight of magic from the corner of her eye as it swirled around the head of the snake that faced Lugaria. She snapped her fingers, and pulled the spell apart before it could even form.

But in her distraction the kick that came for her knee connected heavily, and she dropped to the floor, raising her staff in panic to block the incoming blow from the chieftains strange weapon.

The snake recoiled in shock and struck out at Lugaria in a final attempt to survive.

One fang caught his forehead in a glancing blow, and blood fell into his eyes, blinding him.

The snake hissed and turned to slither away, the floorboards creaking under her weight. Lugaria heard the sounds, and swung out in an arc with his blade cutting into its back as it tried to maneuver free of his reach.

The chieftain cursed and swung for Fykes again, his heavy mace head meeting armor, and stealing away Fykes' breath as he circled the orc.

He then swung for Katerin with the bladed pick, driving her away before he turned, and lunged for Lugaria.

Lugaria parried the blow with some difficulty, and turned so that he would face both the orc and its serpentine companion.

"We need to leave," Agrata said, his tone strangely calm. He was in the doorway now, firing bolts of energy as he spoke. "They're coming back."

Katerin's staff connected with the back of the chieftains knees sending him tumbling forward into Lugaria's perfectly aimed strike.

As Lugaria wrenched his sword free the chieftain fell, gasping out a curse as he died.

The snake hissed, and lunged forward knocking Lugaria aside and sinking her fangs into Fykes' arm.

Fykes grunted, dropped his sword, wrapped his other arm around her head, and tightened his grip. He jerked violently to the side, pulling them both to the floor, leaving the snake tangled and over extended in his grasp.

Lugaria's sword cut cleanly through its throat, leaving Fykes holding nothing but a head that quickly reverted back into the shape of a female orc.

Fykes shuddered, and got to his feet with a grimace. He glanced to the door of the hut and saw over a dozen orcs had now all turned their attention towards the room.

Katerin reached down for the mace frowning at its strange shape, as Agrata and Brazen ducked inside the building, running toward them.

"Lets go," Fykes said, grabbing her arm and pulling her away, toward the back of the building. Every muscle ached. His hands shook, and his heart beat like a hammer in a forge.