Orcblood Legacy - Honor

by Bernard Bertram

  “Do I have to marry the dwarf now?” Malice asked nonchalantly.

  Cormac instantly froze and dropped his sack of supplies to the ground in a loud crash. “Ye what!?” Seeing her dead-pan expression that proved her remark was sarcastic, the captain released an eruption of laughter. “Bahahah! Whew, lad. For a second there I thought we was about to turn this cave into a banquet hall.” He continued laughing to himself as he cleaned the spilled products, placing them back into the pack.

  The dwarf’s wholesome laughter was halted immediately, however, once Elethain stepped into view. All fell silent, waiting for the judgmental warlock to speak his mind. Visibly irritated, the elf simply continued walking until he reached the entrance of their shelter. Without a word, the three animated warriors fell into a half-circle formation at their commander’s sides and rear. Their bones scraped against the cold stone as they walked, softened only by what little pieces of tattered skin remained attached. The tattoos on Elethain’s skin danced violently, giving proof to his discomfort.

  Fangdarr half-expected the necromancer to turn on him then and there, in front of everyone, Crepusculus be damned. With the elf being so old and powerful, the orc could not fathom how he could hold onto such hatred. Over two-thousand years of pure hatred for his kind.

  “We should get going,” stated the elf to the group’s surprise. The magical etchings that covered his body were still raging from within their cage. Tensions ran high as no one wanted to point out the obvious—not against such a powerful ally on the day they hoped to cull a dragon.

  Aesthéa motioned to Elethain, requesting a private conversation. Irritated, but bound by duty, he reluctantly complied. Fangdarr started to proceed toward the elves as well before Bitrayuul stopped him. “Not now, Fang.”

  The large orc did not press further. He stood and watched as his new love began trading words with the disapproving necromancer.

  “Elethain, this is not for you to decide,” Aesthéa spoke calmly.

  Already the elf’s eyes had grown wide as his true emotions came forth. “It is not, but it is my responsibility to advise. And I advise that you stop this disgusti—”

  “Mind your tongue! Do not forget who serves whom, warlock. You will show respect!” she snapped back. His eyes fell to the floor in shame for a moment before looking up once more.

  “My lady, you are young. You are unfamiliar with the world and therefore easily swayed. You have not yet spent enough time around elven men. Real men. Your people. I, and the rest of the kingdom, would see you linked to one of your own kind rather than . . . an orc.” His distaste was clear. The way he spat the word ‘orc’ from his poison-filled mouth brought Aesthéa closer to anger.

  The druid raised her hand to calm her raging ally, still spewing his insults regarding the orc-blooded beings. “Fangdarr is with me. You will respect that. In addition,” she started forcefully with a commanding voice, “you will do all that you can to ensure the dragon is defeated and everyone is kept alive. Everyone.”

  Elethain narrowed his eyes at her. The elf realized that Aesthéa had already considered the possibility he would attempt to remove Fangdarr during the battle to prevent any possibility of her relationship going further. After considering all the options and alternatives in his head, the warlock simply bowed his head slightly. “As my lady commands.” He continued his bow as she smiled in return before turning to walk away. Elethain’s eyes remained narrow, watching her happily skip back into Fangdarr’s arms. Sometimes advisors must go against their commands for what is right for the kingdom, he thought. With that notion in his mind, the magical markings on his skin went from a raging storm to a settled sleep.

  Cormac, eager to break the tension, beckoned for everyone to leave. Fully rested, they all walked out of the cave ready to continue their search for the shadow dragon’s lair. The dwarf took up the vanguard, with Bitrayuul and Malice following. Behind them was the new couple, eager to stay near the other but not needing to remain in contact. Not now. The task at hand could not afford such distractions. Elethain took the rear, visualizing pushing a magical spear deep into the orc chieftain’s exposed back. The elf smiled at the visions, feeling the satisfaction at the prospect of bringing about the end of the orc that sought to undermine the elven kingdom with his manipulation of the young druid. He believed there was no way the orc could have wooed one such as Aesthéa without some form of treachery or force.

  As the sun hit its peak, the party realized they had travelled for quite a while. It did not matter. They had to find the lair today. Too close to the dragon’s hidden location, the party could not stop for another night or risk being ambushed again.

  At one spot on the path, Cormac stopped, placed his ear against the stone and gave it a hard tap with one of Tormag’s hammers—as he had done at several points throughout the afternoon. Listening to the resounding vibrations through the mountain, he could draw a rough idea of the layout in his head. Luckily, they were searching for a dragon, so this would not be a small dwelling. As such, the dwarf was waiting to hear the resounding chime of a large open space—one big enough to fit their godly opponent. No luck. The captain handed the weapon back to Bitrayuul before continuing on their path.

  On the jagged horizon, the sun had nearly completed its descent. The party had been sure to move slowly but efficiently throughout the day in order to conserve energy. Unfortunately, none had expected it to take this long to find the drake’s cave. But the Tusks were vast, expanding the entire southern and eastern edges of Crein. All they could hope for was that Crepusculus had not taken habitation far. With a sigh, Cormac turned to request the hammer once more. Bitrayuul already had it extended before the dwarf even had to ask.

  “Aye, thanks, lad.” He lifted the hammer lightly, no longer caring enough to give a hard pound against the stone. Nor did the captain put his ear against the rocks. He just tapped the hammer lightly, not expecting to find any sign of a large cave underneath. By the time the steel clanged he was already walking away; however, his dwarven ears twitched when he heard that familiar sound. Countless years of working with stone and living within a mountain made it unmistakable. The dwarf immediately returned to the boulder and placed an ear against it. His lips curled into an incredulous smile.

  “Oh?” Cormac pondered to the stone as much as to himself. The hammer raised high before crashing down into the rock, followed by his ear. His eyes lit up and his smile grew wider. “Ahah! We’re here, lads!”

  “Finally!” Malice groaned, leaning against a rock.

  “Are you sure?” Bitrayuul asked the dwarf. Cormac’s face twisted to an absurd expression, as if he was offended by such a question. “Alright, so how we do get in?”

  The dwarf tapped once more, closing his eyes to draw the layout in his mind. “There’s an entrance to the east, big enough for the drake to fly in.”

  Knowing their target was close renewed their motivation. Each was ready to finally bring the journey to a close. However, they could not call the journey resolved just yet. There still remained the largest task yet, and whether it would be successful remained to be seen. Nevertheless, they moved forward with eagerness. In short order, the group managed to find the cave entrance. It was immensely large, able to fully compensate for the dragon’s entire wingspan and formidable size. They stood in the threshold, remembering just how massive Crepusculus was. Fangdarr turned away from the hole to look at the valley below.

  The orc’s eyes gazed at the view; a desolate wasteland for as far as one could see. Curious, he asked the party, “What is this place?”

  Elethain laughed openly, mocking the orc’s ignorance. “Elves call it Ifildé, meaning wasteland. In the common tongue, it is known as the Hollowed Vale. It is a vile place, filled with disgusting creatures.”

  Fangdarr grew annoyed with the elf’s condescending attitude. He turned back toward the entrance. As the orc was about to step inside, Bitrayuul stopped him. “Fangdarr, wait.”

  His brother looked at him in c
onfusion.

  “We can’t just go in blind,” the half-orc continued. “We need a plan.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  DESTINY

  Bitrayuul wrapped a stray bone in oiled linens and presented it to his mother. “Here, you are the only one who’s eyes cannot shift.” She cast him an angry glare as if the half-orc had just insulted her before grabbing the torch.

  “Will the dragon not be alerted to our presence with the light?” she asked.

  “Normally, you would be right. Though, I do not believe Crepusculus has any trouble seeing in the dark.”

  The assassin remained silent. Part of her wished to remain outside the cave. Malice was widely outside of her comfort zone. Picking off orcs and drunkards in the cover of forest or the midnight alleyways of Riveton was where her strength lay. Fumbling around in the pitch of caverns hosting a demonic fiend resembling a god among mortals hardly seemed like her skillset. Internal debates ran rampant in her mind as she considered abandoning her companions to prolong her own safety. After all, how much assistance would she be? A human with a pair of blades and eyes that begged for more light. Would she not simply be a burden . . . or bait?

  Malice watched as the group discussed their plans together, arguing over the best tactics. She considered leaving then and there, simply slipping away and never returning. The woman nearly gasped audibly as her foot started to step away of its own accord. Then another. Was she really doing this? Her mind scrambled. Malice could no longer think straight, though her feet continued.

  No!

  The steps ceased with her mental outcry. Despite only taking a few steps, Malice was heaving heavy breaths from the struggle. After a moment, she realized that she had commanded herself to stop. All became a blur. So much confusion clouded her mind that she could hardly stand.

  NO!

  Her eyes shot wide open in a moment of clarity. Malice had finally found a resonating truth that halted her retreat. She needed her allies. Without them, her blood would have soaked into the earth—deep within the Lithe, where Chakal would have spread his gleeful smile and resigned sigh at a task finally achieved. No. That wicked glee had been denied due to her companions. Her son. Malice owed Bitrayuul her life. Even more, without the party, how long would it be before Chakal simply collected on the debt? A day? A tenday?

  Bitrayuul stood, the plans completed. He watched as his mother walked back toward them, clearly disheveled. “Are you alright?” he asked. She smiled nonchalantly and gave a nod. The half-orc doubted the sincerity of her response, but this was neither the time nor place.

  “Let’s move,” Elethain stated, already walking into the cavern. Fangdarr and Aesthéa followed closely behind, tailed by Cormac—after dropping the excess supplies. There would be little need for his cooking sheet or rolled blanket where they were headed.

  Bitrayuul followed suit. He listened intently as Malice paused in hesitation for a moment, confirming his suspicions. To his surprise, the sound of light footfalls picked up to his rear. As they passed the threshold of the cave and continued deeper, the woman struck the torch, illuminating the area around them with flickering light. The light was limited, granting her only a short field of vision, though anything was superior to nothing.

  The cavern was vast. Tunnel entrances that more than likely housed other creatures of the dark were everywhere—and not just on the ground but placed along the rock wall and high into the air. The party all looked on in unison as the large path they took opened into an expansive arena, where hundreds more openings lined the walls. Bitrayuul glanced around. He expected there to be trolls. Anything, really. Yet, the cavern seemed empty.

  Ahh, you are here. I was beginning to wonder . . .

  Immediately the group was on the defensive, all except Elethain who simply strode forward to the ledge. He peered below to where the shadow dragon lay. It resembled a cat who had just stirred from its nap. The drake raised a curious head up toward the lingering elf.

  Won’t you come down, Elethain?

  A small shiver shook through the necromancer at the mention of his name. In truth, he had expected such a thing. Dragons were terrible creatures capable of mysterious power. The elf rubbed a pendant that hung at his neck. Inside the small orb appeared the image of another dragon. In a moment’s notice, Elethain turned to the group and asked, “Well, what are we waiting for?”

  The group gasped as the elf jumped off the ledge. They rushed to see him hurtling downward, followed by the three servant ghouls. To their surprise, wings of black magic sprung from the back of the warlock, slowing his fall. Elethain hovered toward the ground before landing lightly on his feet with a smug smile. Breaking the moment’s glory, the abominable minions crashed heavily next to him. With an annoyed sigh, he willfully commanded them to rise, reanimating them as if nothing had happened.

  “D-did ye know he could do that?” Cormac asked Aesthéa in awe, though she was already shaking her head. Bitrayuul, on the other hand, could only be irritated at the elf’s complete disregard for their planned assault. Their complex plan had been completely altered by the necromancer’s plunge into the pit. Fangdarr looked around for a path down. Unfortunately, it was unlikely the orc would sprout wings any time soon. The chieftain took off running along a path that lined the wall of the giant amphitheater. Soon, all his companions were in pursuit, rushing to catch up to the foolish elf.

  It seems you may be part dragon as well, elf, Crepusculus chuckled. It will be a shame th—

  Immediately, Elethain launched a barrage of magical, boulder-like masses at the drake’s head, interrupting its comment. “Oh, you talk too much.”

  The dragon roared in outrage at the blatant disrespect. Such an awesome beast should be looked at in fear and devotion by the peasants beneath! How dare this elf elect to disregard its power? I shall enjoy ending the ego of Elethain! It opened its maw and spat its bright purple flames of burning acid toward the elf. Elethain simply waved a hand in a slicing motion, bringing an angled wall of magic directly in front of him. The breath diverted harmlessly to each side as it struck the barrier.

  Unbeknownst to Crepusculus, as the necromancer was launching masses at its face, he was also conjuring a massive spear-like pyramid above its body. More and more blackness coagulated into form, adding to its size. Elethain’s eyes smiled wider as the strength of the mass grew. His manic mind began to show as the trait of the black magic started to take its toll. The elf began laughing hysterically as his hands continued to move, faster and faster. The dragon was keenly familiar with the magics of the world. Black magic temporarily cursed the mind of the wielder when stronger magic was utilized. The small masses that were colliding with its face were not enough to bring such an aggressive response from the necromancer.

  Crepusculus narrowed its eyes as it looked up at the pyramid above it, cursing its own foolishness. Just as the dragon noticed the danger, a loud gleeful scream came from the elf. His whole body extended as far as it could reach into the air. Elethain’s eyes were impossibly wide as it seemed his hands gripped an enormous imaginary object. “HYUUUUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” His arms pulled down with such force that his body crumbled to the ground. With the motion came the reciprocated movement of the pyramid, driving downward toward the drake’s spine.

  Fangdarr and Aesthéa ran ahead, not noticing that the others behind them had halted to watch the spectacle. They were completely immobilized; awestruck by the sight before them. Cormac could not help but mumble, “Bothain’s beard . . .” as the mass hurtled downward with incredible force.

  Nonchalantly, Crepusculus opened its maw as the physical form reached it. A risky endeavor, to say the least, though the godlike beast saw no risk. Catching the weapon directly in its gaping jaws, the dragon stopped the massive shape before the point could pierce its throat. Elethain screamed ever louder as he pulled with all his might toward the cavern floor. To his credit, the pyramid pushed slightly deeper into the drake’s mouth, though not enough. Time seemed to freeze. Only th
e sound of Elethain’s grunts, Fangdarr and Aesthéa’s sprinting footsteps, and the low groan of pressure being transferred into the shape could be heard. Then, came the boom.

  Every companion was blown from their feet and crashed into the walls behind them from the sheer force of Crepusculus shattering the mass between its jaws. The amount of compacted magical energy within that weapon released in a shockwave along with thousands of shard-like pieces of magic crystal. Their ears rang and bled from the painful shriek of the blast. Through the muffled noises, Bitrayuul peered down to see the dragon roaring, but he could hardly hear anything.

  The dragon looked to Elethain’s collapsed form across the cavern. With a prideful exclamation at conquering the largest threat, Crepusculus charged forward toward the prone elf. What is the matter, elf? Can you not muster the strength? Did you not consider that your feeble form could never hope to defeat the god of death and sorrow!? The elf shifted weakly as the drake came closer. Now is the end of Elethain the Fool! Crepusculus mentally yelled as it opened its mouth to swallow him.

  A blinding light pierced the cavern, along with the sound of something small shattering. The rushing beast halted its charge as the light grew fiercer. What trick is this? Why prolong the inevitable? From the illuminating pillar came the jaws of another monster, clamping down on Crepusculus’ exposed neck. The disarming light faded to reveal a glowing, golden dragon. The Shadow One shrieked in pain as its new opponent pierced through the plated scales covering its body. With a powerful kick, Crepusculus raked at the golden torso, causing enough pain to break its hold.