score any hits on that orc-she wasn't really trying to-but her weaving feet had the creature reacting with its short, hooked blade, striking at her repeatedly and futilely.
As Innovindil rolled across his torso, Tarathiel reached across with his left hand, and she hooked her right elbow over it, and he stopped his rotation completely, except with that arm, playing with Innovindil's momentum to send her spinning out to his left.
At the same time, as soon as she had cleared the way, the male struck out with his right arm, his sword arm. The poor orc, still trying to catch up to Innovindil, never even saw the blade coming.
Innovindil landed lightly, her momentum and spin bringing her right across the path of another orc, her blades slashing high, stabbing low.
In that one short charge and spin, the elves had five orcs dead or dying.
"Oooo," said Pikel, and he looked down at the berries in his hand doubtfully.
Then he caught a movement to the side, moving through the brush, and saw a pair of orcs lifting bows.
He threw before they could fire, the two dozen little explosions making the orcs jump and jerk, stinging and blinding them.
Pikel's arms went out that way, his fingers waggling, calling to the brush around the pair of orcs. Vines and shrubs grabbed at the creatures, and at a third, Pikel realized with a giggle, for he heard the unseen orc roaring in protest below its trapped companions.
Ivan didn't have the grace or coordination of the warrior elves, and in truth, their deadly dance was impressive to the dwarf. Amusing, but impressive nonetheless.
What he lacked in grace, the yellow-bearded dwarf more than made up for in sheer ferocity, though. Rushing past the orc he had chopped down, he met the charge-and hard-of another, accepting a shield rush and setting his legs powerfully. He didn't move. The orc bounced back.
Ivan chopped that leading shield arm hard, his axe creasing the shield, even digging into the arm strapped under it. He jerked the weapon free immediately, lifting the orc into a short turn and forcing it to regain its balance. The dwarf struck again, this time getting the axe head past the blocking shield, chopping hard on the orc's shoulder.
The wounded creature stumbled back, but another rushed past it, and a third behind that.
Ivan was already moving, taking one step back and dropping low. He grabbed up a rock and threw it hard as he came up, thumping the closest orc in the chest, staggering it. As its companion came past it on its left, Ivan went past it on the right. His axe took the stunned orc in the gut, lifting it into the air and dropping it hard on its back.
The second orc skidded to a stop and started to turn-and caught Ivan's axe, spinning end over end, right in the chest.
Ivan, orcs in hot pursuit, charged right in, bowling over the creased orc as it fell and collecting his axe on the way. He kept running to a nearby boulder and leaped up and rolled over it, landing on his feet and falling back against it.
Orcs split around the boulder, charging on, and expecting that Ivan had run out the other side.
His axe caught the first coming by on the left, then went back hard to the right, smashing the lead orc from there as well.
Ivan hopped out behind the backhand, ready to fight straight up, but he found the work ending fast, as elven blades, already dripping orc blood, caught up to his pursuers.
There, facing the dwarf from either side of the boulder, stood Tarathiel and Innovindil. Much passed between the three at that moment, a level of respect that none of them had expected.
Ivan broke the stare first, glancing around, noting that no orcs were in the area except for dead and dying ones. He heard the clatter of the remaining creatures fleeing in the distant trees.
"Got me eight," Ivan announced.
He looked to the orc he had hit with the backhand, blunt side of his axe. It was hurt and dazed, and trying to rise, but before the dwarf could make a move toward it, Tarathiel's sword sliced its throat.
The dwarf shrugged. "All right, seven and a half," he said.
"And yet, I would reason that the one among us who scored the fewest kills was the most instrumental in our easy victory," said Innovindil.
She looked up to the tree to where Pikel had been sitting. A movement to the side turned her gaze, and