“I don’t think she’s going anywhere,” he says with a sick grin.
Yeah, I don’t think she is, either. I have to win … I have towin. But how? How do I defeat a far more experienced opponent who can throw me around like a rag doll? My wrist still hurts from where he grabbed it earlier.
I need to trick him. Make him think I’m helpless, maybe.
He tries to circle around to where he can reach Laney, but I move in sync with him, keeping his path blocked. But as I move, I let myself stumble a bit. My movements are awkward and clumsy. On purpose, I mean. I should probably say, more awkward and clumsy than usual.
“Don’t let it cross your mind that I mind raping a dead girl,” he growls. “Or one with all of her limbs removed. We can burn the wounds shut, so you don’t bleed out and keep you around for days. All of the important parts will be left, or at least the three holes I care about.”
Ignoring his revolting commentary, I let the sword point dip a bit and grunt as if it’s taking effort to keep it up. Hell, itistaking effort, but I feign that it’s a lot worse than it actually is.
“You can’t even hold that sword, let alone swing it.”
“Fuck you,” I sputter as if I’m losing control. He grins and stops circling. Sleesak stands to his full height ... dropping his guard in the process, but I can’t land a hit before he raises it again ... and taps the flat of his blade onto his thick, meaty palm.
“All I have to do is wait until you can’t hold that blade any longer. Ah, there it goes now.”
“No,” I scream in defiance. I’m so terrified and upset I hardly have to pretend. “No!”
I let the sword shake badly in my grip, and then with a groan of despair, the tip drops to the dirt.
“There we go,” he snarls, racing toward me. He lifts his sword over his head for a two-handed blow, a killing blow. I guess he’s more interested in sating his anger than other baser desires.
Just as he steps in, I lift the tip right at his belly. He puts on the brakes, but it’s too late. Sleesak runs right into my sword.
The impact nearly wrenches the blade from my grasp. He gasps, his mouth flying open in a wide O. He staggers back, fingers pressed against the blood seeping from between them to run down his front.
“You cut me,” he says in horror and indignation. “You cut my flesh!”
“Yeah, well, I was hoping to kill you,” I say. I move in and try to finish him off, but his sword arm hasn’t slowed one iota. He bats my attack aside and swings at me, sending my sword spinning end over end through the air to clatter uselessly to the ground.
“Now you and your sister will die screaming,” the orc growls. My blow isn’t lethal. It barely even slows him down.
I silently apologize to Laney as death creeps toward me.
4
JOVAK
My duty is to my tribe. But there is no way I could live with myself if I’d let the Red Wyrm tribe do the unspeakable to a child. Even if that child is merely human.
I cross the crest of the hill and then plunge down the other side in a dead run. My legs move in a blur as I struggle to keep the run from turning into an uncontrolled tumble. My first foe is a bit too eager. He hauls himself up the slope, leading with his spear point. No doubt, he thinks that his greater reach will skewer me before I can bring my dual axes to bear.
Only I am prepared for just such a maneuver. When we’re just a few paces away, he makes his move, taking the haft of his spear in two hands and thrusting it upward. My black ax chops down hard on the spearpoint, chipping a fingertip-sized chunk out of the blade.
My red ax leaves his skull in pieces. Unfortunately, it gets stuck, and I leave it impaled in his head and leap over his falling body. I raise my remaining weapon in a two-handed grip and drop nearly fifteen feet before I swing it at the next Wyrm.
He raises his shield to parry the blow. I smash him to the ground, my blade deflecting off his shield … but while the metal of his shield protected him from my cutting edge, it didn’t hinder the impact a bit. The satisfying crunch of broken bone reaches my ears as his shield arm shatters.
He tumbles violently down the hill, but I have no time to worry about this foe. My next is already preparing to meet me. Having seen the fate of his brethren, this one is moving with more caution.
I can’t help but notice this orc is already wounded. His right hand is missing some fingers, and the bandage wrapped around the stumps is soaked with blood. A recent injury then, not one from the great battle. That’s good for me. Pain can make a warrior more alert, but it can also hinder his ability to think on his feet.
Unfortunately for me, he’s not alone. Another orc joins him, and from the way they adjust their stances, I can tell they’re used to fighting together. I slow my charge and come to a halt, blinking sweat out of my eyes. Never taking my sight off my enemies for even a second, I crouch and pluck a short sword from the battlefield. The tip is shorn off, leaving behind a jagged bit, but it should still be plenty lethal.
“Now is the time to run,” snarls the one missing fingers. I think he might be the leader, judging by the tattoos on his flesh.
“Yes, it is,” I reply. “I’m in a generous mood. I might not chase you down and slay you if you’re quick about it.”