The Beginning: Breath of War

by R. Malak

  ~ * ~

  Hicks dropped down from the tree and rolled to his feet. Flames dancing all around him, heating his face and bare arms. The pair of Orcs busy chopping down the tree behind him turned to face him, their raven black hair swishing in the hot breeze, and violet-colored eyes regarding him hungrily. Female Orcas, he thought. This would be a challenge. Slightly slimmer than their male counterparts and smarter, Orcas were considered better fighters, although quite a rarity among Orc warbands he’d seen in the past.

  The pair of Orcas circled to either side of him, flashing him their tusks and waving wicked sharp axes to either side. He rushed at the taller of the two, swinging for her unprotected face. She blocked the blow easily with her forearm and swung her axe hard and fast, grunting with effort. He stepped back barely in time to dodge the lethal slice, the axe head grazing his chest to leave a trail of blood. Biting his tongue at the stinging erupting pain in his chest, he barely had time to recover his footing, before the second Orca swept in her axe head, scything towards his feet. He leapt backwards, nearly tripping on a charred goblin corpse, before righting himself quickly and going on the offensive again. The skilled pair of Orcas unfazed by his attacks, worked closely together to drive him backwards towards the bright hot flames.

  Tiring fast, he threw himself at the shorter of the two female Orc warriors, who adjusted her axe swing to meet him. Too slow, he plowed right into her, gaining a couple scrapes and bruises for his trouble on her rigid armor. The second Orca growling angrily at her sister’s fall brought her axe head down hard to cleave him in two. Expecting the blow Hicks rolled off the Orca and watched with delight as her twin sister beheaded her; parting her head clean from her body. Then, before the horrified Orca could react, he grabbed the axe out of the hands of the decapitated Orca, and swung with all his strength at the surviving Orca’s feet.

  The creature, face twisted into a rictus of rage, saw too late the axe coming for her, the sharpened weapon chopping through her unprotected feet to send her tumbling to the earth; blood spurting out all around her. Lifting the axe, he brought it down to behead her. Breathing heavily, he stumbled back a few paces to search for the Orc that had killed his friend. And to his surprise found a half-naked man sprinting along the outskirts of the road, his clothes torn and bloodied; face caked in mud and dirt. Mouth gaping, he watched the crazy roamer, for it could only be a roamer that would be so stupid, dodge and weave his way through the horde of distracted goblins.

  Curious to see what the roamer was fleeing from, he turned and nearly bit through his tongue. Fiends…hundreds of fiends, dreaded night creatures that emerged from within the bowels of the earth each night to cleanse the land were closing in from all sides. Goblins and Orcs alike turned to flee their presence like a tidal wave breaking on rocks. He opened his mouth to scream a warning to his squad, when he felt an intense torment burn into his side. White hot flames seared through his stomach and chest eating the flesh and skin from his bones. Mouth frothing with blood, he cast one last glance up at the creature that had snuck up behind him, and saw the familiar inhuman gaze that had taken so many of his battle brothers and sisters. He closed his eyes, and prayed he would be with Qazin, wherever he was going…

  ~ * ~

  A bewildered Cora watched as the goblins and Orcs massing at the base of trees broke and ran. The goblins wailing in terror, clawing and biting each other in an effort to escape the forest. But with so many goblins pressed in tightly, many were being crushed in the stampede. The Orcs in their blood-smeared armor used their weight and size to push their way through the mass of goblins; their massive war axes clearing a path with powerful scything blows that sent limbs and blood flying. Her ears sore from the goblins wild shrieks, Cora tried to get a sense of what was happening. Her pale blue eyes caught sight of a speck of light growing rapidly in the distance, with hundreds more appearing to join the first. Her mouth went dry…fiends. Thousands upon thousands of fiends were marching through the forest their bright lava colored skin lighting up the darkness. They strode forth with palms upraised releasing fountains of white hot liquid flames to melt everything in their path, leaving in their wake smoke, ash and death. Memories of a school bus surrounded by flames flashed before her eyes children screaming and banging against the bus door that been fused shut. She shuddered and shook her head. Some memories never leave…

  Palms sweating from the painful memory, she glanced down and saw that most of goblins surrounding her tree had vanished. With no time to lose, she detached the torch from the rifle’s muzzle, slung the rifle on her shoulder, sheathed her machete, before dropping down to the forest floor. Her wound breaking opening instantly the moment she landed on the rugged surface; releasing a warm stream of blood down her side. Gritting her teeth at the discomfort, she clutched the spearhead still jutting out of her side, turned off the torch, and waited for a moment in the shadows of the wide cedar tree.

  Seeing no signs of goblin stragglers, she clicked the torchlight back on and headed north. Walking north-east for several clicks before spotting Soren ahead of her, his shoulders slouched over, limping eastward. Lips half-curled into a snarl, she sped up her pace to try and catch up to him.

  Nerves on edge, Soren crouched down and instinctively swung his machete in a wide arc, forcing Cora to hurriedly step aside. “Easy there Sor, it’s me.”

  Soren grunted, “Sorry.”

  His hard-bitten face appearing very grave in the moonlight and without another word continued limping forward.

  She tagged along beside him, her eyes gazing around her for any signs of danger. “Have you seen Hicks?”

  Soren didn’t break stride, slightly turning his head to look at her. “Dead.”

  Cora’s heart sank, she had hoped he at least would survive the night. With Hicks dead, she was next in the chain of command, which meant saving the rest of the squad was up to her. God! She wished she hadn’t put her hand up now.

  They were nearing their initial staging point, an old rundown police station that had later served as army headquarters and now as an outpost for army rangers, when Tommy decided to make his appearance.

  “There you are! Thought you guys had gotten lost!” crowed Tommy with a wide grin on his golden face, as he peeled himself away from a nearby tree where he had been hiding. “I was lookin for you guys everywhere.”

  Without even thinking, she spun on her heels, unslung her rifle and raised it to her cheek, pointing it at Tommy’s chest. Soren shared a confused look, but didn’t move.

  “Whoa! There Cora, it’s me Tommy,” he said raising his hands as he spoke.

  She advanced towards him, hands shaking. “You nearly got me killed! You bastard!”

  Tommy’s emerald green eyes flared. “I was doing you a favor Cora.”

  “Doing me a favor?” she laughed bitterly, “How the fuck were you doing me a favor?”

  He shrugged and brushed his fingers through his long jet-black hair. “Only the strong survive,” he replied simply.

  Cora could not believe what she was hearing. Every instinct told her to blow this bastard’s brains out

  Seeing her eyes hardening, Tommy appealed to Soren with a pleading expression. “You’re not going to just stand there and let her shoot me, are you?”

  Soren shrugged and replied softly, “Not my business.”

  Seeing no intervention was coming, Tommy turned his attention back to Cora, his expression switching from annoyance to fear. “Is now really the best time to be doing this?”

  Cora forced a wicked smile. “Now is the perfect time.”

  She aimed her rifle and pulled the trigger.

  FOUR

  “This is an emergency message from the United Nations Military. Please stay within your homes, for your own safety. If you are in distress and require aid, please proceed to the nearest military checkpoints. Military checkpoints will be stationed at all nearby schools and hospitals. For your own safety stay calm and orderly. This message will repeat.”

 
“This is an emergency message from the United Nations Military. Please stay within your homes, for your own safety. If you are in distress and require aid, please proceed to the nearest military checkpoints. Military checkpoints will be stationed at all nearby schools and hospitals. For your own safety stay calm and orderly. This message will repeat.”

  “T.is is an em…ency message fr.. the Un…. Nat…s Mili.ary. Pl…e .tay w…in y.ur homes, fo. your … safety. If you are in …tress and require aid, p.e..e pro…. to the nearest m….tary checkpoints. Military c………s will be …tioned at all near.. ..hools and ..spit..s. For …. … safety stay cal. … order... This mess… will re……..”

  ~ * ~

  Location: Forest of Glokeen, Year 2061

  Pale white clouds vanished like mist, replaced by the moon and stars once more. The intense darkness that had gripped the land slowly released its deathly hold. The deafening noise of gunfire and battle, gradually faded away, leaving behind a quiet crackling sound as the leaves, grass and trees are devoured by bright red flames which illuminate the forest. While columns of ash and smoke swirl up into the night sky.

  Furock, sensing the return of the moon, groaned with bitter disappointment. The hunt would soon be over, and he would be forced to return to the tediously boring world beneath. Balls of fire jetted out from between his dry cracked lips in frustration at the thought of so many bags of meat still left alive. He combed the forest one last time, hoping take catch sight of one last bag of meat to cook alive, when he felt an invisible hand caress his mind. A stern motherly voice sang out to him from within the depths of the earth, full of wisdom and power, “Return to me, my precious imps, return…” Her hypnotic voice engulfed his every sense, urging him home and warning him of the rising sun.

  His brethren coated in layers of steaming hot magma and lava that dripped to the earth to sizzle and spark on the earth, froze for a brief instant at the beckoning call, their heads tilted to side. Bright yellow eyes dimmed and died out as they reluctantly withdrew, retreating from the moonlight. Furock his body at war with his mind, fought to break free of the seductive call and continue his hunt for meat bags. It was too soon to leave; he wanted more…a lot more. He wanted to take in the rich aroma of burning meat one more time. He wanted to see the looks of despair and frustration in their eyes as they realized there was nothing they could do. But most of all, he wanted to hear their sweet screams of agony again, and again, and again.

  Tendrils of moonlight touched the outer carapace of his body darkening the molten lava and hardening it to stone. Pain tingled in his chest and arms shaking him out of his contented stupor. Unable to resist the sweet song of fire that called to him, he turned to follow his kin. But vowed he would return. And next time he would not leave until he had his fill of this wondrous world above.

  For all must die in the flames of purity.

  With that parting thought, he stopped battling the voice urging him home and let the sweet music guide him.

  ~ * ~

  Talmen, his body taxed past its breaking point, collapsed to the ground, lungs on fire. Gasping for breath, he lay there planted in the sodden wet earth, trying to control his breathing. Belly aching with hunger and tongue swollen with thirst, Talmen knew he was inches away from death. Infection or the cold would see to that. He tried to push himself up using his hands, but didn’t have any strength left in his arms. Shaking his head angrily in despair, he tried to remember why he was still alive and fighting. And the answer was simple…vengeance… He lived for vengeance and bathed himself within its fiery glow. He could not leave this world, yet…

  He pictured his little brother playing in a shallow river trying to catch fish with his bare hands, his golden eyes sparkling with excitement. He could almost hear the giggles and squeals of joy as the fish slipped between tiny fingers… A single wet tear drop slid down his mud-caked cheeks at the vivid memory. This was the only moment in his life that held any meaning for him anymore. His whole life before the war felt like a mirage fading into the distance. Gritting his teeth with renewed determination, he levered himself up onto his feet using the tree behind help him. He almost screamed in agony as the wound in his chest broke open. Dizzy and shivering uncontrollably from the cold, he rested against the rough tree trunk. Then biting down on his tongue so he wouldn’t scream, he stumbled forward. The metallic taste of blood washed his mouth as he moved from tree to tree bracing himself against the heavily ridged tree trunks.

  He steadily made his way past violet-colored wild berry bushes, grabbing a few to gobble down along the way. The plump, juicy berries tasted sweet in his parched throat like a balm on an open wound. He was tempted to stop and collect more, but feared if he stopped moving, he wouldn’t be able to start again. So, he continued moving north, the forest growing colder with no signs of the night creatures. The trees he passed by now were much thinner, with no leaves on their bare branches. The ground beneath his feet became muddy, his worn-out boots sinking deep. The sky lightened as the sun began its return, casting bright rays of sunlight giving the clouds a beautiful red sheen. Birds of every color and shape took to the skies, chirping and twittering. The night it seemed was finally over.

  He was trudging in the mud for what felt like an hour, when he came across a cliff face blocking his path. Sighing, he gripped the thin stalk like trees that sprouted out in all directions and began the arduous climb upwards. Grunting with the effort, he tried to ignore the stabbing pain in his shoulder, belly and arms that tugged at him with each step. Half way up the cliff face, he heard the distinctive sound of gunfire off to his left. Licking his dry lips, he tried to calculate the distance; the gunshot sounded fairly close. Rubbing his droopy eyes, he decided to ignore it, for if it was a threat, there was nothing he could do about it anyway.

  He pushed himself off the thin tree and kept lurching forward. He finally reached the top and sank to his knees in the mud, gasping for breath. Still breathing heavily, he looked around him. He had decent vantage point from up here. To the north and west, the forest stretched as far as he could see. To the south spanned the wide open grassy plains and to the north-east… a town? He couldn’t quite make it out at this distance. But there seemed to be half a dozen or so crumpled buildings ravaged by time. Maybe his luck was finally changing and he would find some antibiotics. Either way, it seemed like a good place to scavenge for supplies.

  ~ * ~

  In a clearing three miles away, a sprawling encampment bustled with activity. The camp surrounded by sharpened stakes stood on a flat hill top with a single winding dirt road leading up to the top. Decorating the sides of the path were a multitude of cracked white bones picked clean of flesh, along with ten feet tall statues depicting a half-naked Orc wrestling a gigantic snake. Further into the camp, thousands of Orcs in full battle regalia prepared for war, wielding a mixture of assault rifles taken from the dead and traditional war axes. Five hundred Orcs in polished obsidian plate armor stood guard at the entrance to the encampment, behind a stone barricade. Their war axes held at the ready. Parked not far from the guard post, a large convoy of military transport vehicles painted green sat surrounded by small clusters of humans with their arms and feet bound together with rusty chains. These pitiful creatures wore ragged clothes stained with blood, their emaciated bodies quivering in the cold and dead eyes staring off into the distance, with Orc overseers standing watch over them with whips.

  At the center of the camp, hundreds of bonfires billowed smoke and ash into the sky, encircled by shamans cloaked in dark green robes that were drenched in blood. Strewn about their feet were the bodies of children, their chests torn asunder and hearts missing. The shaman’s wailed, shrieked and cried out to Sezrath Lord of Death to accept their gift. The clanging of hammers beat down on metal and screeching noise of war axes being sharpened filled the air. In wide circular pits dug into the earth, Orcs in full battle armor fought each in mock Duerza battles (Pride battles). With ten banners fluttering in the wind above the immense encampm
ent, the Blood Drinkers with drops of blood splashed on a field of white, the Bone Splitters, Axe Brothers, Stone Crushers, Heart Eaters, Night Hunters, Death Stalkers, Hammer and axe, the Wolves, and high above all the other flags, flying proudly, was the banner of the Stone Skins on it an Orc face contorted with rage; blood covering one side of its face on a field of dark green.

  A brutish looking Orc with long sleek tusks and a heavily muscled body stalked through the Orc encampment, his malevolent red eyes seeking imperfection. The Orcs, seeing their proud, ferocious WarLord, straightened and growled their oaths of blood. Each time Togran Ka would place his fingertips to his lips, reminding him of his promise to shower them in blood, in exchange for their loyalty. It was one of the few traditions they held onto after the war had begun, that and-- Seeing his son busy loading ammunition crates onto a truck, he couldn’t help but sneer at his display of weakness. Would his son never learn the responsibilities of being a WarLord’s son?

  Anger barely held in check, he called out to the young Orcling, “Ka-gan! Come here!”

  The Orcling caught sight of his livid father and immediately winced. The young Orc with wide shoulders and a slim waist bowed his head in shame and made his way towards his grim-faced father.