Shades of Death

by Ramy Vance

  Terra ran toward Blackwell and Naota, who were both caught up in the troll’s huge fists. The creature wasn’t affected by their defensive attacks, its hide too thick to penetrate.

  Perfect. That means it can probably take a decent enough beating, Terra thought.

  She tackled the troll, and it dropped the two commanders. Both Terra and the troll hit the ground.

  Naota and Blackwell scrambled away as Terra turned and shouted, “We need to get that gate closed! We are not ready for anymore of this shit!”

  “On it!” Blackwell shouted. “Naota, bring in the guns.”

  Naota stared blankly at Blackwell. “From your tone of voice, I’m assuming you’re speaking about something big, right?”

  “Naota, I told you to bring the railgun. Three times. I told you three times!”

  Suddenly, Naota pushed him to the ground, then he helped Blackwell to his feet. “Sorry, I thought you were in danger. So, how are we closing the gates?”

  Blackwell groaned in irritation as he shot an orc who was running at them. He pulled its plasma rifle off as it fell. “Come on, we gotta go figure this out.”

  Terra was still struggling with the troll. It was stronger than any of the trolls she’d fought in the arena. And she was still getting used to the power difference between her suit and her former strength.

  Those were the thoughts on Terra’s mind as she was flung through the air. She hit the wall and the troll bounced on her, bringing its fists down on her chest, knocking the wind out of her.

  Anabelle and Grok were still locked in their fight only a few feet away. The elf’s hair was disheveled, the first time Terra had seen it in such a condition. She was practically drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, and covered in small wounds.

  Grok was not nearly close to Anabelle’s state. She still seemed in control. A little winded but, other than that, fine.

  Terra cracked the troll across the face, wondering where her axe had gone. As the creature slumped away, gathering its bearings, she called to Anabelle, “You want to trade dance partners?”

  Anabelle blocked a jab from Grok and backflipped away, landing beside Terra. “You think you can keep up with her?”

  “Can’t promise but might make things a little more interesting. Plus, I always like an orc who can get down.”

  Anabelle helped Terra to her feet. “I could use the breather. She’s fast. Really fucking fast.”

  “He hits hard. And smells like old scrotum. So, there’s that.”

  Terra and Anabelle stood back to back as they squared off against their new targets.

  Grok chuckled when she saw Terra raise her fists. “Really, human?”

  Terra spat and pounded her fist to her chest. “Speak to me with the respect I deserve. I am Terra, Hewn from Orc Bone, Chieftain to the Ul-Kurah tribe, Stewarded by Cire the Black, Slayer of the Four Champions, and Bane of Traitors to our Traditions.”

  Grok scoffed loudly. “To our traditions?”

  Terra kicked the plasma rifle in front of her out of the way and approached Grok. “Sorry. I meant my traditions.”

  “Do you think you’re more orc than me?”

  “Guess we’re going to find out.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Grok came at Terra. Faster than Terra could have imagined. Watching Grok attack someone else was not the same as Grok coming for you.

  The orc’s fist slammed into Terra’s stomach.

  She felt her insides churn and twist as her knees buckled. Her eyes crossed and her vision went blurry.

  Grok leaned close to Terra and whispered in her ear, “Still feel like an orc?”

  Ignoring Grok’s words, Terra focused on herself. She wasn’t going down. It was that simple, just like in the arena. It didn’t matter what was thrown at her. She didn’t know anything about magic, orcish and elvish rivalries, or any of that shit. And it didn’t matter.

  Grok reached for Terra’s throat.

  She grasped the orc’s wrist, twisted it to the side as she threw her weight, and rolled them both onto the ground.

  Grok went down fast, and Terra was on top of the orc before she knew what was happening. Terra cupped both of her hands together into a fist and screamed as she brought it down on Grok’s head. Terra’s exo-suit whirred loudly as it attempted to divert more power to her.

  The orc took the hit and lay there, dazed, staring up at Terra. Then Grok chuckled. “Shit and mother’s piss…you are an orc, aren’t you?”

  Terra smiled despite herself. “Yeah, kinda surprised myself too.”

  Grok stretched and slugged Terra in the face, throwing the human backward. As Grok leapt to her feet, she was smiling too. Not the disconcerting, murderous smile Terra had seen before. No. Grok wore the same grin sitting on Terra’s face.

  “I…hm…there isn’t a chip. You know that, don’t you?”

  Terra stood and popped her neck. “Yeah, it’s been established.”

  “All I’ve ever wanted was a fight—one that would matter to me and only me. One that is going to feel right.”

  Terra couldn’t say she fully understood what Grok was talking about, but she did understand it on some level. It was the same conflicting feeling she’d experienced in the arena. The constant desire to escape, yet waking up every morning, excited about the next fight and what she might have the chance to take down. “You think I might be enough?”

  Grok laughed and shook her head. “No. But you might be the closest I’ll ever get. Try to enjoy this as much as I’m going to.”

  The orc surged forward. Terra tried to keep an eye on her movements, but it was impossible. Grok was already in front of her. She threw a jab at Terra, who blocked it instinctively.

  Grok smiled, her toothy grin reminding Terra of Cire’s wry, argumentative grin. “I’m not holding back. You understand that, right? I am going to kill you.”

  Terra threw right, which Grok easily blocked. But Terra wasn’t right-handed. Her left was coming fast, and it connected with the orc’s trachea.

  Grok stumbled backward, clutching her throat and gasping for breath as Terra lunged for her. She grabbed the Grok’s head, clutched it tightly, and drove her knee into it, breaking the orc’s nose.

  Terra rolled her shoulders and released a primal scream. “Fuck me, right? If you’re gonna kill me, fucking do it already.”

  Grok wiped the blood away from her nose. “Hm…Terra, correct?”

  “Yeah. But say it with some respect next time.”

  “Your name is too long. Probably given by a shaman. Let me give you a new name. The Unbreakable Bone. Live through this, and I’ll gladly pay you your proper dues.”

  Before Terra could blink, Grok was in front of her. The orc delivered a quick punch to the side of Terra’s head. Dozens of blows to her face followed, so many that she didn’t bother to count.

  Terra hit the ground.

  Anabelle had watched the fight out of the corner of her eye, reluctant to interfere. She couldn’t figure out how Terra had kept up with Grok.

  Jealousy was a new feeling for Anabelle, and she wasn’t dealing with it well.

  But she wasn’t stupid. Anabelle might not be able to take Grok, but Terra had begun to prove she was capable. And it had been important to allow Terra to do her best.

  But Anabelle had seen that was not the case. She had witnessed the devastating attack Grok had delivered. Terra was seconds away from being killed.

  Anabelle looked at the troll she’d been wrestling. “Sorry, dear, but playtime is over.” The elf’s hands caught fire and she shot out as much mana as she could spare, engulfing the troll in flames. Even if she didn’t kill the damn thing, her fire would ensure it wouldn’t recover for a while.

  She hoofed it over to Terra and Grok, throwing a handful of lightning at the orc, forcing her to step away and open a path to Terra.

  Terra looked up when she saw the elf above her. “Switching was a really shitty idea.”

  Anabelle knelt and cradled Terra in her ar
ms. “Yeah. You should have thought that one through better. You’re gonna get through this, though.”

  Terra groaned and flexed her chest. She struggled to her feet without Anabelle’s help. “You’re fucking right, I’m going to get through this. I’m gonna rip her fucking head off.”

  Grok was watching the two. “Huh. Gods and goddesses fuck me, I admire you, Unbreakable, but I could also kill you. But together…together you two are something interesting.”

  Terra and Anabelle looked at each other. “Uh, are we doing doubles now?” Terra asked.

  Anabelle shook her head. “Fighting together isn’t like it is in the movies. We don’t—”

  In the next instant, Grok was before them, swinging a wide haymaker at Terra. Anabelle slid in front of her and blocked the punch. Terra reacted instinctively. She grabbed Grok’s arm, straightened it slightly, and snapped the orc’s elbow.

  Grok screamed but didn’t back off. She headbutted Anabelle, who was closer. As the elf stumbled backward, Grok tried to grapple her.

  Terra grabbed Grok’s limp hand, gripped her shoulder, and pulled her arm out of its socket. Then she dropped low and punched Grok’s kneecap in.

  Grok limped away, laughing under her breath. “Oh, you two. You’re just what I’ve been waiting for.” She quickly reset her arm and leg. “I’ve been waiting so long for you.”

  Blackwell and Naota were plowing through as many orcs as they could. They watched each other’s back, working together seamlessly, their hours of training together paying off. Blackwell had come up with a plan. Overload the Dark Gates with the charge from Naota’s tasers. But the tasers weren’t strong enough. They needed more juice.

  To boost the tasers’ power, the pair had collected cores from the plasma rifles they had lifted from the dead orcs. Blackwell wasn’t a genius like Abby, but he knew enough about electric wiring to make it work. Still would have been better if Abby had been on the mission.

  The other marines were doing their part to help with the growing mass of invading orcs but wouldn’t be able to keep going much longer. More orcish forces kept pouring through the Dark Gate, replacing those the squad took down.

  If the gate wasn’t closed soon, the whole studio would be overrun.

  Naota snapped his tasers back and grabbed another core from a plasma rifle. “Think this is going to be enough?”

  Blackwell checked the mound of cores at his feet. “Should be. Watch my back.” He knelt and got to work while Naota sheathed his tasers, picked up a rifle, and started firing.

  Anabelle and Terra looked at each other. “Uh, you wanna go first?” Terra asked.

  The elf’s right hand crackled with lightning. “Sure.” She ran at Grok and swiped at her face. But the orc easily sidestepped the attack.

  Terra came up behind Anabelle, aiming a right hook at Grok. As the orc raised her hand to block the punch, Anabelle dropped and swiped her leg at Grok’s ankles. The orc lost her balance, but she landed with her hand supporting her weight. She flipped herself upright and knocked both Angels backward.

  Grok went on the offensive, first swinging at Terra—who managed to block the attack—then aiming a punch to Anabelle’s gut. The orc alternated between the two Angels using an obscene amount of speed; it was all Terra could do to keep Grok’s blows from landing.

  Anabelle pulsed mana and an aura formed around her, pushing Grok back. The orc didn’t waste any time in unleashing her own mana aura.

  You kidding me? Terra thought. These superpowered assholes should be able to take care of themselves.

  Grok sped up her attacks, pushing Anabelle and Terra back. “Slow her down!” Terra shouted.

  Anabelle grabbed Grok’s wrist and froze it to her palm. The orc tried to pull away, but she was bound to Anabelle.

  Terra took advantage of the moment. As Grok tried to wrench herself away from the elf, Terra slid close to Grok, grabbed her neck, turned, and tossed her through the air. Anabelle dissolved the ice handcuff and blasted the orc with water.

  Grok was wiping her face when Terra grabbed Anabelle’s wrist and flung her at the orc. The elf’s hand charged with lightning, and she drove it into Grok’s chest.

  The orc backpedaled before regaining her footing within seconds, a burn mark smoking on her chest. She shook her head and rushed Terra, delivering three quick blows to her stomach.

  Terra coughed blood and fell to her knees.

  Grok stretched her fingers and a sharp bone shot from her palm. When they had first encountered Grok, she had revealed no necromancy talents. Now…now was different.

  Grok might have been hiding her powers, or she’d since received an upgrade courtesy of the Dark One. Either way, she was more dangerous than ever.

  Grok grabbed hold of the bone and swiped at Anabelle. The sharp tip grazed the elf’s cheek. As Anabelle backed away, Grok kicked Terra in the face and raised her hand. She aimed her palm at Anabelle and fired three ten-inch razor-sharp bone shards.

  Anabelle flipped out the way. As she landed, Grok appeared in front of her, shooting out another bone-dagger. The elf kicked up a stray rifle and used it to deflect the oncoming bone.

  Terra raced to them, crept up behind Grok, and put the orc in a chokehold.

  Grok smiled, and flame surged from her mouth, as though she were a dragon.

  Terra held on, but Grok pushed a wave of energy at Terra and forced her to release her hold. In shock, Terra and Anabelle backed away. But they moved too slowly; when the flame exploded, it sent both DGA’s soaring through the air.

  The moment Anabelle hit the ground, Grok fell on top of her. “Wondering what else I got up my sleeve?” the orc teased.

  An explosion went off, and Grok looked over her shoulder. Above her, one of the Dark Gates was on fire, its portal shutting down. “How the hell…” she muttered as she moved off Anabelle. She scanned the room for the source of the commotion, and her gaze fell on Blackwell.

  Blackwell held a shoddily made plasma grenade constructed from the left-over plasma cores. He saw Grok’s eyes fall on him. “Oh, fuck.”

  The orc sprinted toward Blackwell, but before she could strike, Naota stepped in front of Blackwell, shouting, “Senpai, do it!”

  The orc’s fist connected with Naota’s face, shattering his jaw. He dropped to the ground as Blackwell lobbed the last grenade at the gate.

  Grok attempted to grab the grenade but missed. She watched it explode on contact.

  The explosion threw them to the floor. Blackwell crawled to Naota to check if he was still alive.

  Grok pushed to her feet and stood watching the flaming Dark Gate. She approached Anabelle and crouched low until they were face to face. “You took care of my army, but guess who you’re locked in a room with?”

  As she spoke, the side of the studio exploded, sending concrete and debris everywhere. Grok glanced over her shoulder as dozens of marines stormed into the room. “Count yourself lucky. If you and your friend ever get your shit together, hopefully we’ll have a real fight. Maybe then you’ll be worth killing.”

  Without warning, Grok pressed her hand to Anabelle’s arm and fired a bone shard into the elf’s shoulder. “Something to remember me by.” She stood as Anabelle’s agonizing screams melded with the increasing roar of firepower. “Lich, I need an out.” After a second, Grok’s body glowed bright green and she vanished.

  Terra crawled over to Anabelle as the marines mopped up the last of the orcish invasion. She pulled the bone out of the elf’s shoulder. “Fuck. That does not look good.”

  Anabelle tried to sit up as Terra collapsed beside her. “You look like you got the shit knocked out of you.”

  “Funny, I was thinking the same about you.”

  “Good first interview?”

  “Oh, yeah. It was fucking great.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Persephone’s face was starting to clear up on Abby’s old television monitor. Her voice was still shaky, and it was difficult for Abby to understand her. “You’re breaking
up, I can’t hear you,” Abby complained.

  The image of the drow shook as though Persephone was tapping whatever object she was transmitting her video through. “Is that better?”

  This time, Abby could hear Persephone as clearly as if the drow were in the barn with her. “Perfectly. What’s going on? I been trying to get in touch with you for weeks.”

  Persephone smiled, fading into the darkness for a moment. “Same here. Connection underground is terrible. I had to surface for this one.”

  “Underground?”

  Persephone laughed heartily. “Yeah, I thought I told you. Drow spend most of their lives underground. It’s not normal for us to live above ground, out there with all the sunnies. That’s what we call surface dwellers. Or some people do. I never really cared for the term. But the dwarves love it. Ever want to get a rise out of one, call them that. They’ll lose their shit. But that’s not why I called—”

  “How exactly are you calling?”

  Persephone shifted uncomfortably. Abby still didn’t know the drow well, and she wondered why Persephone seemed awkward. “I ain’t upset or anything,” Abby offered quickly. “Just curious, that’s all.”

  The drow relaxed and leaned in closer to look at Abby. “I have a gnome friend down here, kinda like a surrogate dad. He’s really good with tech and tracking. He pinged a signal you sent out to your base and figured it out from there. Honestly, I don’t quite know what he did, but I didn’t really care. As long as I got a chance to talk to you.”

  Abby blushed and looked away from the TV for a second to collect herself. “I’m glad you did. How you been doing?”

  Persephone sighed loudly as she scratched her scalp. “Ugh, it’s been such a hassle since I got back. Reintegration is mind-numbing. I can’t wait until all of it’s over.”

  “Wait. What’s reintegration?”

  “Oh, I’ve been away for a long time. I mean, it’s probably been three or four years. And drow communities are very insular. Think of it as a debriefing. But one that you have to do with your family and close friends. Maybe an elder, if you’re unlucky enough. Thank the goddess that I didn’t have to do that.”