Village Maidens' Favor

Author's Notes:

What happens when worlds collide? The Corvusian Army has been sent into a strange fantasy world, like the ones in the books. Drake Squad has been tasked with patrol the frontier of this fantasy world, and there encounter many things both beautiful and terrifying... How will they conduct themselves so far from home?

All characters herein are 18+ in age.

Thanks to my steadfast editor, as always, KenjiSato.

Would love feedback and comments! Had this story half written for over a year and wanted to break it out for this Geek Pride event.

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Village Maidens' Favor

It's been about a month since we walked through that freaky portal. All the swirly purple lights and mossy ancient stone had me feeling some sort of way. But now, after a month of bivouacking it in the beautiful countryside of some fantasy land called Valenholme, it feels kind of worth it.

Sarge has us setting up a patrol base for the night in the hills along our route north along the ridge of the mountains, and has been yelling at us-- Drake Squad, First Company, Third Battalion-- about priorities of work for the past half hour. A lot of the boys, me too, I guess, aren't taking it as seriously as he'd like. All this time patrolling down cobblestone roads, past folks looking like they stepped out of a Ren-Fair, or were extras in a historical documentary about medieval times took the threatening feeling out of it.

With that spirit, I'm leaning up against the trunk of something like a large oak tree as I write this, listening to the birds sing away above me. It isn't like any bird song we have at home, but it's just as Tweedle-dee-da as anything you'd hear on our side of the portal. For the past hour, I've had my rifle lying next to me, with no sense of mortal danger or need to pick it up.

When they had secretly mobilized us and the spooks told us that we were gonna go through a portal to some alien world far off from our own, I figured we'd be fighting oversized bugs or moisty-looking grey men. They had tried to talk it up and make it sound like a seven-foot-tall troll would pop out from every corner and our best chance for survival was carrying a grenade launcher. Instead, everything seems so eerily familiar. It's just like home, but it's not. It's just like some other dimension that took the flashing lights and technology out of it, and left the green and old way of things.

Even down to the people, it's much the same. Humans, who would have guessed it? The intel girls must have known, but when I stepped out of the portal and there was no shit, just fifty dudes dressed in robes and tunics looking at me, I was a bit surprised. No amount of pre-briefing could have prepared me for this fantasy land.

Of course, there was Dobbins, who was too ready for this shit. That nerd played one too many games of Castles and Cave Drakes, and he is having the time of his life right now. Every little encounter just explodes his little nerd mind. From the group of bandits we drove off the dirt road they call a highway, to the gnomes who needed help rebuilding one of their tiny houses.

Hearts and minds. That's what command says we are here for.

Now, we are on a discreet hill so as not to disturb the local populace of a small village below. People still get a little freaked when they see us. We may be red-blooded humans, but we look really different. Digital green cammies, guns, helmets, and the fact we are two heads taller than them on average, make us stand out. Strauss, our squad's comms guy, theorized it was because we had better diets back home. Drink your milk kids...

Luckily, to avoid too much fear and panic, their king had sent out a proclamation of the alliance he had with the brass back in Corvusia. The scientists get to research this eerily familiar place, while they send us corn-fed boys out to drive off bandits and win hearts and minds.

But I'll tell you what's on my heart and mind-- those village girls below. We'd seen a few of what Dobbins called "fair maidens" frolicking around, doing their chores throughout the day. They had noticed us from time to time and looked rather uneasy. Honestly, I don't blame them, some of these dudes are creepy fucks, i.e. Dobbins (What the fuck is a fair maiden?). But we would just wave and stick to our patrol base, so after a while, they had gotten used to us. But that doesn't stop us from passing those binoculars around to take a look at 'em.

Greggor, our medic, has pointed out the variety of shapes and sizes these girls come in. Something only a doc would notice, I suppose. He has an eye to admire every curve and bump that sticks out from underneath their dresses and aprons. But to me, they look like nice girls, the whole place just is a simpler time. Not like the consumerism-hell hole we are from. What do the girls at home say? Not a cell phone in sight, just people living their best life?

Maybe the "aliens" here have it right.

---

"Heller, you going to fucking sit there daydreaming all day or you gonna get me my sector sketch?"

The gravelly and jaded tones of Sarge's voice forced Sub-Corporal Heller to put his pencil down at that moment. The sounds of the birds above were so peaceful, it was a perfect day for writing his notes, and not one to be wasted fortifying a position they would just abandon tomorrow. He had a book to write; after all, he figured folks back home would want to hear all about this place from someone who saw it firsthand, if it was ever declassified.

The corner of his lip curled as he was forced to put his notepad away in a pouch meant for ammo.

"I keep telling you boys not to let your guard down. This all seems comfortable and familiar, but if you paid attention, there is some dangerous shit out there. Don't let it catch you with your pants down... Heller."

Sarge never let up. He was a rather miserable bloke, the Army was his life. After a few divorces, he clearly decided to marry the stripes on his shoulder.

"Aye, sarge," Tag snapped back enthusiastically, with a mischievous grin, as the rest groaned and returned to their positions. The squad's jokester winked at Heller as he feigned devotion to his duty of laying in the prone with his rifle perfectly balanced.

"Shut up, Tag." Sarge rapped his crooked helmet, as he knew he was mocking him.

Reluctantly crawling back into a rut on the perimeter, Heller got into a prone position, rifle leaning against a small berm he had carved out earlier. His battle buddy, Dobbins, had been perched there "observing" any activity through his binos. But at that angle, he clearly was observing the sleek auburn-haired village girl below.

It's like he'd never seen a woman before. Maybe these girls were closer to what this nerd could even understand.

"You're quiet over there, Dobbs."

His usually over-analytical blabbering was silent. Heller didn't pay much attention to it and sighed, as he picked up a small note paper and doodled out his sector sketch. From the large, mossy-roofed house with the pig pen on his left, to the edge of the broken fence on his right-- that was his line of fire. He put a halfhearted effort into understanding the potential angles of attack therein, but his mind was off somewhere else; perhaps, he, too, was being sucked in by the visage of striking village girls below. He didn't need binos to leer at them. In particular, a pair stood on the edge of a garden, one with fiery red hair done up in pigtails, and another with bright silver hair neatly brushed that ran to the small of her back. They seemed to be arguing over something trivial, and looked cute every second doing it.

"No fucking way." Dobbs broke his silence.

"Yeah?" Heller had already decided he wasn't interested in whatever lame observation he was about to make.

"You seeing this?"

Heller rolled his eyes, giving his battle buddy a despising look, while picking up his rifle.

Looking through the scope, he tried to follow what Dobbs was frantically pointing out. Scanning the village, he saw a bunch of the villagers standing around, some of them grabbing things, others running. It didn't make too much sense, at least until he looked towards the opposite side of the village down the main drag.

Five huge hulking creatures, greyish-green skin, wearing rags and patched pieces of metal armor, and armed to the literal fang with spiked clubs and various rusted-looking cleavers.

"Orcs," Dobbs so confidently declared.

Heller didn't pay too much attention to labels for the shit he'd seen since he had been there, but with what movies he'd seen, he figured it was a pretty apt term for what they were looking at.

That's when the first screaming broke out from the locals. A general panic ensued below, as they scrambled to run for safety inside their cottages or put up a hasty defense. About half a dozen town guards in chainmail had formed a defensive line, but they looked just as scared as the rest.

"Sarge!" Heller yelled out.

His gruff NCO trotted over to see what the fuss was about. "What the fuck, Heller?"

"Trouble down below." Dobbs handed him the binos.

Sarge took a second to observe. "Get the fuck up! Let's go!"

His command summoned the seven-man patrol to their feet, weapons in hand. Heller slapped on his Kevlar and racked his carbine's bolt before giving the magazine a slap. A month of wandering the wilds and this was about to be the most action they had seen. The bandits ran off after they fired a few warning shots, he had a feeling these "orcs" were more of a stand-your-ground type.

It was a half-mile downhill sprint to the village from their position. The group of them had spread out into an arrow formation and Heller had the left flank of things. Dobbs, for being a nerd, was a pretty fast runner, his lanky legs carrying him like a gazelle. Heller's mind was focused on keeping up with him until he heard the shrill screams of terror and bloodshed

Entering the outskirts of the village, the horrified cries and terrifying scatter of objects, both living and inanimate, sent a chill to Heller's bones. He had seen some action before in Nubara, back on the other side of the portal, but never before a man lying cleaved in two by a giant orc. It was a gut check for all of the soldiers, yet they charged on.

"Fly! Flee! These beasts will make corpses of the lot!" The half dozen town guardsmen were full route in the opposite direction, as they found the main road of the village. Having thrown down their shields and spears, the cowardly defenders disavowed themselves of their duty and made for the hills.

"Heller, Dobbs, Spicer take the left flank. Greggor, Strauss, and Tag with me on the right."

Each team hugged the mossy stone walls of cottages and other structures. Their hearts raced as they kept their rifles shouldered. They could hear blood-curdling screams followed by beastly roars just ahead.

"By the gods!" A stout man turned an alleyway corner and ran into Heller, nearly setting them both on their asses.

Heller, for his part, nearly shot him, so out of his element and full of adrenaline. The man was frozen, looking at the muzzle of his rifle, it was as if he couldn't comprehend the human before him wearing such strange garb and carrying spears with no blades. He didn't have words to express his confusion, he only mumbled as they both stopped in the moment. Behind him, he shielded two women, one older, most likely his wife, and the other younger, the maiden with silver hair.

"Go! Keep running!" Heller shoved them back behind him. His eyes fixated on the girl, whose own fearful eyes pondered him for a moment. His eyesight, nor Dobbs' binos did the girl justice. As she heeded his warnings to flee, Heller couldn't help but look at her. She was the most inherently feminine girl he had ever seen. Not a touch of spray tan, hair extensions, or yoga pants. Just 100% natural woman. Down to how she carried herself was beautiful. If only the cries of bloodshed didn't pull his attention away Heller would have been captivated.

In the space of time Heller's attention was fixated on the daughter, The family fled behind them without further question. They did not take long to honor his command. The squad advanced, turning the corner to meet the chaos.

"All right, boys, this is it." Spicer, the youngest of the squad, a bandolier of golden brass around his neck, charged the handle of his automatic weapon like he was about to charge the trenches of Sud-del-ire.

Heller and Dobbs agreed with his observation and snapped their bayonets on the front of their rifles.

"Holy--" Dobbs was first to spin around, advancing no further than the corner and leveling out his rifle, as his jaw dropped.

"Aahhhhhhhh!" The piercing cry of a villager reverberated in the backs of their skulls. On the ground, not but a few meters from them, a girl was lying with her hands above her head, shielding herself, as a giant orc approached her.

Up close it was easy to understand how terrifying they were. Eight feet tall, built like a tank with giant muscles, giant fangs in their mouths, and all manner of weaponry and rusted plates of metal strapped around them. Their whole purpose in life was to spread destruction.

None of that spoke to the spear it carried between its legs. Neither did said spear dangle at that moment. It proudly stood to attention, unsheathed and prepared to do battle with its female foe. The red-headed village girl on the ground certainly knew such a weapon could only be meant for her. As she cried out in the most blood-curdling way, the orc grabbed her by the pigtails and raised her from her cowering position on the ground, bringing her face to face with its weapon as it growled lustfully.

"Ahhhh!" The battle cry of a desperate soldier rang out, as Heller body checked the large beast from the side. The orc was sent off balance, stupefied by the sudden appearance of strangely dressed humans. The girl, who was dropped back to the ground, looked just as surprised, terror still in her eyes as she crawled backward through the mud of the street.

Having knocked the orc off its feet, Heller acted first and wasted no time blasting it with several successive bursts of fire. Who needed a magical sword when you had the all-mighty 7.62x33mm? The heavy rounds blossomed the body of the orc with dark red buds of blood and flesh, as Heller left nothing to be desired. Once he was sure it wouldn't be getting up, he swiveled his head, catching his breath before landing his eyes on the girl.

Mud-caked but just as fiery, the maiden lay in the muck of the street, frozen. With eyes wide, she looked at a soldier in a uniform few from her world had seen. In her eyes, over the corpse of the orc stood a hero, but her mind, otherwise, was blank with fear. He couldn't linger too much on her, the adrenaline pumping through his veins beckoned him forward.

"Go, run!" he told her. It took several shouts and some coaxing. Finally, she knew enough to crawl to her feet, still unsure what she had just witnessed or where to go. In shock, she disappeared to what Heller hoped was safety.

More gunshots rang out by that time. Sarge and his team on the right were engaging with an orc that was battering the door of an inn-like structure where several villagers sheltered, "The Busted Keg," if the violently swaying sign above the orc's head could be believed. It amazed the men how many rounds the beasts could take as they engaged them at range.

"Keep firing! Don't stop 'til he falls!"

Ahead, a few villagers brave enough to fight back were holding off one orc with spears the fleeing guardsmen had dropped. By the looks of it, the orc was just toying with them for sport, enjoying the fighting for as long as it could. Heller wondered if these orcs were sentient, or just beasts full of rage. They obviously had a bit more smarts than an ape, with their weapons and tools. But what really motivated them outside the lust for blood and depravity?

"Move, move!" Strauss grabbed the collar of a brave villager, who was holding a broken window casement with both hands as a shield. He had been rocked with a blow from the orc's mace just moments before. He was a wee lad with a fierceness in his eyes. Behind him, an old man with a spear had the look of revenge. If it could be told, the two bodies beyond the orc that lay hewn must have been their family, a tragedy that deserved a bit of blood lust on their part.

"Hey! Steady on! I ain't about to leave 'em standin'!"

But there were more efficient ways to deal with these orcs, and as Strauss grabbed them backward and cleared the way, Spicer let loose with the Hog.

A steady stream of thick bullets rattled off the belt-fed machine gun as the orc, regardless of its tattered armor, was riddled. Most of the villagers ducked for cover at the sound and sight of it, the magic of the off-landers they heard only in rumor, here manifested before their eyes.

"He's down." Strauss let the two villagers' collars go. "Seek shelter with the others." He shouldered his rifle and took a few shots at an orc that was smart enough to duck around a corner.

They had the initiative by then.

Bullets flew, unhuman growls and curses were thrown, and townspeople rejoiced as the last of the orcs began to flee before Drake Squad of the Corvusian Army.

As things settled, the village slowly came back to life. Cheering replaced the sounds of destruction, and the sobs for those who were lost were subtle. All together, three villagers and one town-guardsman were killed that day. Sarge took a quick headcount of his men as the village broke out in celebration, a sigh of relief crossed his rarely relaxed face as he counted all seven alive and well.

"Heros!" They called them, as dozens circled the soldiers. Promises of payment, gifts, and all manner of hospitality were thrown to them.

While a few of the younger soldiers were eager to explore those options, Sarge put a stop to it.

"We seek no payment. We are soldiers of Corvusia, here to defend civilians and spread our hopes for peace between our nations." His words were mechanical as he read off a script he was given from a higher command.

That went over most of the villagers' heads, they all oohed and aahed at his eloquent words, but these were not eloquent folk.

"Errant knights! Rangers from afar! I insist you stay in my home tonight! We will feast and drink in your honor!" a man, more finely garbed than most, proclaimed, to much praise, an invitation to the men.

"Isn't there a constitutional amendment against that?" Tag, who was known for always having something to say, said not-so-subtly.

Sarge threw him the signature look, to which Tag raised his hands innocently and smiled. With a shake of his head and a gruff sigh, Sarge turned back to the man who presumably was in charge of this village.

"Sir, we don't require any lodging, we have a camp not far from here that will suffi--"

"Is the humble home of the mayor of Reddenshire not to your satisfaction?" He rubbed his beard in a dejected fashion.

"No that's not, I... uh." Sarge had begun to stumble around. He wasn't the sort of guy you put in public relations.

"Fine sir!"

Heller's skin crawled as Dobbs interceded. His tone and use of fragrant words gave him second-hand cringe.

"We humbly thank you for your offer of hospitality!" Dobbs let his rifle hand in front of his interceptor vest do the talking as he flamboyantly flung his arms about in conversation.

Sadly, enough the village people seemed responsive to it, after all, they acted much the same. Which Dobbs had picked up on.

"What my commander, here, is saying is that we seek not to impose upon you the burden of our presence. We are humble warriors who do not require lavishness."