A Rising Storm (Tainted Blood Book 4)

by Jeff Gunzel

  “Then I suggest you admire it from somewhere else,” Orm’rak growled defiantly. He was more than aware of how dangerous this foe was, but he wasn’t about to back down either. His rising up the laberath ranks had been no accident. Not only was he a natural leader, he was also the most dominant warrior among them. A bladesmaster in his own right, he was as deadly as any of his kind. He would not be intimidated by this half-breed, regardless of his reputation.

  Jarlen glanced back, a tight-lipped smile on his face. “You have it all wrong, my friend. I did not come here simply to admire what you’ve built. I came here to take what is rightfully mine.” He swept a hand back, gesturing around at the frightened lerwicks looking on. “These are my people, not yours. How long did you think they would follow you?”

  “I gave them a home,” Orm’rak snarled, the tension of his sword arm causing his hand to shake with anger against the pommel. “I gave them hope when there was none to be had. They are loyal to me. They respect my command!”

  “Oh?” Jarlen questioned, turning in place with his arms open wide. “Then command them to strike me down here and now. I am an intruder, am I not? Let them prove their loyalty by sacrificing themselves one at a time. I want to see for myself if your name does indeed carry such weight.” His eyes swept the chamber, seeing nothing but frightened faces looking on in confusion. Only a few dared make eye contact, and even then it was only for a split second before their eyes fell to the floor. “Loyalty?” he mocked. “By your definition, a stray dog is also loyal. It will linger around your home as long as you throw it table scraps now and then. But when it is time to defend its surrogate master, it runs away with its tail between its legs.

  “The idea of loyalty means something a bit different to me, I think. True power and strength breed loyalty. Human women swoon at my feet, and even they don’t know why. But I do. My presence fills a room like a flood. I respect no one. Fear no one, and those around me do not need to be reminded. They can see it, feel it. This world dominated by humans has done all it can to break me, yet still I stand. Is that not true power? Is that not dominance by any standard? They will follow me because they can see what I am.” Even knowing most of the lerwicks were within earshot, he made no attempt to lower his voice. Let them listen. Let them know their place as well as who their true commander was. “Step down now and I’ll let you slither away with your life. I will not make this offer twice.”

  “Make your offer a hundred times if you like,” Orm’rak snarled, his blade hissing as he slowly unsheathed it. “You have no power here. A slave dares to threaten me? I ruled over the laberaths for countless years.”

  “Yes, you ruled over a dead race.”

  “Indeed,” Orm’rak replied quickly, his voice cool but his eyes aflame. “And to this day I still represent all their strengths and none of their weakness, a claim you could never make. While I sat on a throne, you sat on a cold damp floor chained like some common beast. No, I do not see power or dominance standing before me. All I see is a slave. The legendary slave of Shadowfen and plaything for the humans. You speak of stray dogs? Even they outrank you.” Jarlen bared his teeth, his fists beginning to shake. “So the half-breed has come to claim what is his? I think you’re a long way from home, dog.”

  Orm’rak twirled his sword above his head, then dropped to one knee, assuming a low stance. “Ulike you, my blood is pure, half-breed. Allow me to show you what that means.”

  The walls shook as their collective roars filled the cavern. Charging like bulls, they were on each other in the blink of an eye. Orm’rak got off first, his steel flashing high before being promptly intercepted by Jarlen’s flesh blades. Face to face, weapons locked, each glared into the eyes of his enemy. Cold, their stares unblinking, neither respected the skills of the other. Neither thought he could lose.

  Jarlen pushed off, his flesh blades screeching as they ground against steel. Surprised by the show of force, Orm’rak’s feet slid back nearly a yard. This creature was strong, shockingly so. He needed to press the attack to try and keep him on the defensive. Orm’rak rushed back in, his steel flashing left then right. Jarlen picked off the hard blows then spun back, his arm extending straight out.

  Orm’rak ducked the flesh blade, feeling the rush of air whistle past. Orm’rak dipped his shoulder and rolled just as a second flesh blade zipped over his head. Completing his roll, he sprung back up right in front of Jarlen, ripping his sword in an uppercut stroke. His attempt to split this being from crotch to head failed as Jarlen smoothly sidestepped, the blade harmlessly whistling straight up. Not only had Jarlen dodged a perfect strike when he was caught dead to rights, but he made the fluid movement seem effortless, as if he had performed that very evasion thousands of times before.

  Just as fluid, Jarlen’s foot sprang up off the ground. The savage kick caught Orm’rak square in the face. His nose exploding in a mist of red, his head snapped back before he thundered into the stone wall behind him. Frightened lerwicks scattered in all directions, trying to stay clear of these battling titans. Never had they seen such a savage display of force between two foes. It was impossible to believe.

  Stunned by the jarring blow, Orm’rak got his senses back just in time to duck as Jarlen soared in. The punch just missing, the stone behind him crackled under the force, leaving spiderweb-like cracks that spiraled outward. Growing desperate, Orm’rak kicked out with one foot to sweep Jarlen’s leg. He had to create some distance. This creature was too strong to deal with in these tight quarters. Going toe to toe with him was suicide. His skill and technique were almost flawless, so Orm’rak needed to use the only advantage he had: speed.

  Sword in hand, Orm’rak rolled out from underneath the warrior and flashed away, almost seeming to disappear. Jarlen spun around, searching the chamber, scanning every dark corner. He caught a blur of movement from the corner of his eye and quickly spun back, his flesh blade intercepting the flashing steel in a spray of sparks. Orm’rak was moving so fast he could barely be seen. The block was purely instinctual, and he wasn’t sure how many more times he could duplicate the feat. Indeed, Orm’rak was a full-blooded laberath, and his freakish speed was the real difference between them.

  Jarlen stalked his way out into the center of the chamber. Flesh blades at his sides, he closed his eyes as the disorientating blur zipped around the room. The speed difference between them was far too great for him to trust his own eyes. They would only deceive him and probably get him killed. No, this was a foe that required a warrior’s instincts. Sounds were instantaneous. Instinct was primal and intuitive where sight was slow and deceptive. Weapons were useless now, but that didn’t matter. The seasoned warrior was a weapon.

  Eyes closed yet still plenty alert, Jarlen became one with his surroundings. A worried whimper near the wall, the rushing air whirling around the chamber, even the trickle of water dripping down off a hanging stalactite all merged into a single sensation. Each subtle sound and faded movement provided his senses with all the imagery they needed. In his mind, it was all crystal clear.

  Hearing, feeling the rush of wind long before he should have, Jarlen shifted his weight and pulled back just as the blade passed by his midsection. A trickle of red seeped from the fresh scratch, but the minor wound was superficial at worst. By rights his guts should have been spilled across the stone. Orm’rak’s roar of frustration echoed throughout the chamber. How had he dodged that? How could he even have seen it coming?

  Jarlen tapped his heel once, twice, turning a sensitive ear towards the whooshing air rushing in. Invisible to anyone else, Orm’rak might as well have been blowing a horn as he rushed his opponent. Three! Jarlen opened his eyes, hand lashing out like a tiger claw. The heavy impact sounded like thunder as Orm’rak’s speeding body came crashing to a sudden stop. With Jarlen’s hand snapped around his throat like a bear trap, his legs flung out from beneath him. Completely reversing the momentum, Jarlen slammed him down on the stone.

  “How?” Orm’rak gasped as all his air rushed
from his lungs. Such strength!

  Gripping his throat with only one hand, Jarlen hoisted him back up before slamming him onto the stone again. Lifting him yet again, he ran with Orm’rak as if he were a small child, slamming him into the wall. Cracks webbing outward, stone crumbling from the heavy impacts, Jarlen slammed him again, again, and again.

  Orm’rak tried to shift, his lower half beginning to spin with black birds. But Jarlen just squeezed his throat harder, the crushing pressure driving his body back into its original form. Jarlen slammed him again, then held his bloody face up to his own. “You should have left when you had the chance.” Crash. “You would have lived to see another day.” Crash. “But you made your choice.” Crash. “I will assume command and use what you’ve built to defeat the humans myself.”

  A bloodied mess, face swelling, Orm’rak began laughing as he hung limply from Jarlen’s iron grip. “I can’t beat you,” he admitted softly, spittle and blood dripping from his mouth with every word. “I’ve never seen anything like you.”

  “I’m glad you find that amusing,” Jarlen growled, halting the savage pummeling at least for the moment. “At least you will die with a smile.”

  “That’s not what amuses me,” Orm’rak rasped, his voice so weak that Jarlen could barely hear him. “You seem to think I care about my command or what I’ve built out here in the middle of nowhere. My people are long gone. My time of being a leader has come and gone. This...” He pointed around before spitting more blood on the ground. “None of this was about power or glory. I care nothing for power anymore.” He steeled himself, his eyes going hard. “All that drives me now is revenge! Go on, kill me and take it all if you want. Just promise me the humans will pay with their lives. Succeed where I have failed and it will all be worth it.”

  Jarlen regarded the beaten warrior, still holding him up with one hand. The battle had been thoroughly decisive, as all his battles were. Orm’rak was no more a threat to him than anyone else. Perhaps this broken creature could still serve a purpose. He released his grip, allowing Orm’rak to fall to the ground. “Maybe, just maybe, I might still have a use for you,” he said, glaring down at the beaten man. With the only exception being a scratch on his stomach, he didn’t even look he had been in a battle. “You mentioned a plan? I think you should start talking.”

  Chapter 11

  One of the lerwicks approached cautiously, hoping the fighting was over. Strangely, it was the stone walls that had received the brunt of the damage during the fight, not so much the delicate furniture which was still mostly intact. With the stone cracked and crumbling, it was hard to imagine that flesh and bone had done that. “Please, take this,” she said, handing Orm’rak a bowl full of blood. But when his trembling hands reached for the offering, Jarlen snatched it away and drained it in one gulp.

  “Now you bring one for the fallen,” Jarlen ordered, throwing the empty wooden bowl, watching it bounce near her feet. Orm’rak nodded, dismissing her with a subtle hand gesture. After watching her scurry away, Jarlen turned his attention back to Orm’rak. “Another mistake like that and I’ll have her skinned alive. Now start talking before I change my mind.”

  “Certainly,” Orm’rak replied, leaning back, his head pressed against the stone. “But if I may, I would like to start by asking you a question.” Jarlen drew in a sharp breath. He didn’t appreciate such a casual tone from the man he had just beaten so soundly. “Is that how you intend to win them over? By force backed with constant threats of violence?” He gestured in the direction of the girl he had just chased off. “Did the humans not treat you in a similar fashion when you were a slave in Shadowfen?”

  Jarlen dropped down to one knee so he could look the fallen man right in the eyes. “I am starting to think that sparing you may have been a mistake. Perhaps I should just finish what I started.”

  “But you won’t,” Orm’rak said, twirling one hand in the air dismissively as he looked away. His condescending tone was bold indeed. “You need me,” he added casually. “The same way I need you. You are a dangerous brute, no doubt. And I believe that you will prove to be a most dangerous foe to the humans.”

  “Sir,” said the same girl, running up with another bowl.

  “Just as you will prove to be a powerful ally to me,” Orm’rak said, accepting the bowl and raising it up as if toasting his new friend. He drank it down with a satisfying groan, then handed the empty bowl back to the girl. “Thank you, my dear,” he said, his smooth voice soft and musical. The delicate tone seemed at odds with the beaten face of a warrior. She smiled back as if nothing were wrong. “No go back and join your friends. Let them know that everything is just fine. The disagreement is over and my new friend and I are simply sharing some ideas. Can you do that for me, my dear?” She nodded vigorously, eager to please. But when she glanced at Jarlen, her smile vanished and she quickly hurried away.

  “You see?” Orm’rak said, his smooth voice now sounding more like he was taunting Jarlen. “You are dangerous in your own right, but you are no leader. Manipulation of lesser minds without drawing suspicion takes years to master. Once they trust and believe in you, they will follow you right into the ocean if asked. You have a long way to go, and have very little time to master this skill.”

  Jarlen eyed him suspiciously. For a beaten man whose life was now in someone else’s hands, he certainly seemed rather sure of himself. He didn’t like that one bit. Jarlen wasn’t used to his beaten opponents making deals or acting like they still had a trick or two up their sleeve. They were supposed to beg for their lives before he killed them anyway. Still, Orm’rak had made a strong point that couldn’t be denied. Jarlen couldn’t always rely on force to make those around him do his bidding. Nor could he just assume they would obey out of fear. Kindness and compassion were common tools used to breed loyalty, and by his own admission, both were traits he sourly lacked.

  “I already told you I care nothing for power,” Orm’rak continued, reading the doubt in those cold, judging eyes.

  “You lie. Every man craves power.”

  “Do I, now?” Orm’rak replied, working hard to get himself up off the ground. He stood before Jarlen on unsteady legs. “Not once have I resisted or begged for my life, yet you still seem to think I have some ulterior motive you can’t see. Where do you draw the line, Jarlen? You have beaten me in front of my loyal subjects. That alone now makes them your loyal subjects. What more could you possibly take from me?”

  “How do I know you won’t try to regain your position at a later time?” Jarlen reasoned. “Why should I trust you?”

  “Why would be the point?” Orm’rak asked. “To take back something I only built out of necessity in the first place? We share the same objectives, you and I. Why would I jeopardize that over something as trivial as a power shift? In the end, it is the humans than run this world, not you or I.”

  Jarlen just stood there glaring, not sure what to make of this man. Was it foolish to keep him alive, he wondered? Cunning, a competent warrior to say the least, he also possessed solid leadership skills. He could certainly prove to be useful if he could be trusted.

  “Actions speak louder than words,” Jarlen said at length. “Over time I might—”

  “Indeed they do,” Orm’rak cut him off. “But time is not something we have in abundance. I’m afraid I’ll have to make my point another way.” He turned away and approached the lerwicks gathered near the wall. There were so many now, Jarlen noticed for the first time. Far more than before, the line of them nearly led up to the mouth of the cave. There had to be hundreds of them!

  Jarlen watched from behind as Orm’rak began speaking to a small circle. Animated, his hands flailed around wildly as he spoke. At first Jarlen suspected that he might be being paranoid, but no, eyes were definitely shifting his direction with frequent regularity. They didn’t look all that pleased either. Some shook their heads in defiance, but a sharp word or two from Orm’rak settled them down quickly.

  The sheer number of the
m was unsettling. And all those within earshot were listening to Orm’rak intently. Had he made a mistake? Perhaps he should have killed the laberath when he had the chance. If Orm’rak was rallying them all against him, he couldn’t possibly win. Seeing the significance of his possible error in judgment, Jarlen began to grow uneasy.

  As Orm’rak’s message moved down the line in both directions, one lerwick whispering to the next, the ones near the mouth of the cave began closing in. With the exit now cut off due to the sheer number of bodies, escape was no longer possible. Fool! Jarlen thought to himself. How had he let Orm’rak lull him into this state of passiveness? With all eyes on him now, they began closing in from all sides. There was nowhere to run.

  Orm’rak moved in first, a countless number of lerwicks at his back. “Is this what you wanted?” he whispered, close enough now so that only Jarlen could hear him. He bowed his head and sank down to one knee, both fists planted down on the stone. Like a wave of falling dominoes, the lerwicks at his back began dropping down to mimic his pose. The minute that passed by felt more like an hour as hundreds of beings knelt, heads down in complete silence.

  “On your feet,” Jarlen ordered, hoping to sound more confident than he felt. He had been the center of attention many times before, but never quite like this.

  “As you wish,” Orm’rak said, rising to his feet. Even with his face beaten and swollen, his knowing grin was one of confidence. This man was a true leader with countless years of experience. The prestigious role was second nature to him, so it was easy to read Jarlen’s discomfort no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Jarlen craved power, but didn’t seem to understand any of the intricacies behind being a leader. A work in progress indeed. “Did you fear I had betrayed you?”