Ramsaur sat on the edge of the dark pit filled with orc raiders.
He looked into the dimness to see if there was any movement. He held a rock in his hand.
But that was just to reassure his friends that he was “guarding.”
All around him was movement, talking, people being helped, healed.
They were the living.
His job had always been with the dead though. He tended them. Even these. He felt like someone should watch them. He said it was just to “make sure” they were really dead and that they wouldn’t try to hurt them all anymore. But he knew in his heart, he was fascinated by the dead. There was a silence over them. A peace. And he wondered where their thoughts were now.
What kind of soul or afterlife did Orcs have?
His brother’s skull, around his neck, whispered, “they are dreaming now.”
Gressler had organized a makeshift hospital area so that the wounded were all accounted for and the healers had one place to tend to them all. Fernlove, the swan, was very skilled at deep wound healing. Fenzel, the Cleric, was using healing spells as well, and he was especially careful to reset and repair the wings of bumblebees. Sir Asa had already bound his own wounds and applied healing enough to help others too. He hobbled, but his cane was useful, this time more than decorative, but still elegant.
Cassie’s arm would be tender for a while, but it would heal now. Stench was by her side the whole time fussing, and she acted like she hated it but he knew she didn’t. She called him Sweet Bread just once but it might as well have been the thing she said over and over according to Stench’s personal account of the moment.
Madrijolopur had already healed from his injuries before, and was applying pond herbs to wounds of the humans and woodland creatures alike, praying over them, and allowing a healing soft green light to envelop the injured places. Carlotta translated for any of them treating the humans. She had to get around quickly. But she was hoarse too. As she made the rounds to the humans, she received more and more thanks and smiles for her lovely trick. She and Xini shared a look that would last her a lifetime in appreciation. Oh they would work together again, no doubt.
Emil and Roth had joined the group of humans and creatures talking about what the battle they just fought meant for their futures, and pooled together what they knew about the orcs.
Fade and Dame Brigitt were there. They said it might get worse.
They talked about orc strategies and orc raiders. And wizards they’d heard of. They made strategies for the future.
Someone mentioned Oof and his second sight and they all decided that they needed to take their meeting to him later to see what he might see.
Tourmaline could be heard above in a tree composing a new song. It was less alarming and more celebratory. Her voice was uplifting.
Something about the stars coming out after a storm.
The beaver brothers dragged some of their barriers one by one off into the woods, keeping a few in place in case there were other raiders to come.
The sun was setting quickly and Tourmaline’s stars were coming out. Thimble was sitting uncomfortably on the ground, waiting to become a mouse again. Able was with him.
“It may not wear off right away,” he said.
Thimble, his face, highly animated for a bear, said, “The spell is supposed to be over when the threat is over.”
Dame Brigitt walked over to him, “Maybe the threat isn’t quite over. We can use a big bear Barbarian, Thimble. Maybe Able can show you some new ways to use and fight with your bigger body.”
Able nodded. “I can make you an acrobat.”
Then, suddenly, a noise came from behind them all. From the pit.
And scrambling to the surface were all the orcs come back to hurt them again.
Everyone froze.
Then Emil called out, “Ramsaur, put down the dead things! No one needs them here right now!”
Folks breathed.
Someone laughed the kind of laugh you do when you are spent and tired and you want to believe in something funny again.
The orcs did not move. And Ramsaur did not move. But you could hear Tourmaline’s song in the trees, trimming the moonlit branches.
“The moon reveals/ all your friends/ standing after the storm. When the winds have died/ and the breeze is still/ and the clouds–they move on./ What we have/ is greater than what we had before/ what we keep/of what we see/ tells us we had more.”
And the orcs sat down on the ground together. The woodland creatures who had fought them and killed them looked at them now, not hidden away in a pit.
Perhaps if there had been another way. Or another method to save their own lives, they would have used it.
Fade said, “You know. They might still be useful after all.”
The orcs swayed to the song. Most of those gathered believed it was Ramsaur who was making them do this. But some weren’t sure.
Later that night, when everyone was asleep in their warm beds that they had fought to save, when the humans were back in the villages safe with their families, Ramsaur would be here with the orcs, though he would have them all under trees now, this time like they were sleeping.
His brother told him, “That’s better. Now they look like they’re dreaming.”
And Ramsaur would find his own dreams filled with orcs drinking at a tavern, singing and being happy they weren’t at war.
THE END. FOR NOW.
“Protect the Autumn Woods!” is an illustrated story by Jerome Stueart in 33 short flash fiction chapters. The story features D&D-inspired magic-using forest animals who fight to protect their homes. This story was at first a response to a prompt list created by Jenn Reese and Deva Fagan for an October Art Challenge in 2021. You can now read all 33 parts of the story, “Protect the Autumn Woods” with the search term, #AutumnWoods. “Protect the Autumn Woods!” Art Show at the Dayton Society of Artists (48 High Street, Dayton, OH) from November 1 — December 15 2024.
“Protect the Autumn Woods!” is adjacent to a larger show of amazing Dayton Artists, “Small, but Mighty.” Come see all of the art, any weekend, Friday 12-5, Saturday 12-5 to experience the art yourself.
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