Rocks Fall Everyone Dies

by Eddie Skelson

  Dorian considered the Orc Guards. It would be difficult to take them all but if he could perhaps release Felicity from her trance or whatever it was that held her, maybe she could assist.

  It was a long shot, but then so had been trusting the Rogue, and also the Wizard, and the Warrior as well and… well, he supposed that Daisy and the Cleric had at least some degree of trustworthiness. He brought his bow around again. He couldn’t get a normal arrow through the plate armour the guards were wearing but he could put a few into the face of at least one of them. That should get their attention.

  He looked up. Scout was there. Circling the battlefield. She called to him. Her cry was one of urgency. She wanted him to get a move on.

  ‘Ok Dorian. This is it.’ He said as he notched his first arrow. He took aim. And fired.

  ***

  ‘Corbett. Do something.’ Donalt shouted. ‘Don’t just stand there.’

  ‘Actually, I’m not just standing here you ignorant prick.’ Corbett snapped back, genuinely angry. ‘My particular style of spellcasting is most effective through area of effect. I don’t pick off the odd bad guy with some fancy, but pointless bit of sword work. I’m a numbers man. Efficiency mate.’

  ‘Whatever man! Do something!’ Donalt yelled.

  Corbett puffed out his cheeks and shook his head.

  ‘Short-arsed wanker.’ He muttered, then raised his hands, uttered his spell and brought a rain of fire down onto the battlefield.

  Once again Orcs and Wargs found their armour and fur set alight. They began to turn and run in a frenzy, vigorously patting at their heads and arms. Corbett looked to his left and saw a group of Orcs that hadn’t been caught under his burning rain and pushed his arms and hands forwards, as though shooing away a dog. The earth rippled away from him and then, as it reached the Orcs, erupted into blinding fragments of rock and soil.

  ‘Corbett. I think we may be able to work together on this.’ Valeran said.

  ‘Fine by me Doc.’ Corbett replied. ‘What have you got in mind?’

  ‘They are still massed, still in our way. I think we can send them running, not just from your fire, from everywhere.’

  ‘Consider me interested.’ Corbett said.

  Valeran called upon his Gift from Stormstra.

  A wind began to pick up about them and the Cleric moved his hands slowly, turning the wind and directing it towards where the largest body of Orcs were still assembled, directly in front of Moloch. He then began to twirl his fingers in opposite directions to each other and as he did so the wind began to spin more quickly, and split, and condense. Twelve swirling vortexes began to form.

  ‘Oh… yes. Very nice.’ Corbett said nodding with approval.

  The twisting winds gained more speed with each twirl of Valeran’s fingers and within seconds became tornadoes as their tips touched the ground.

  Corbett looked on with delight as the powerful funnels caught Orcs and Wargs alike and tossed them across the battle field.

  ‘Right. Time to add some sparkle.’ He said, rolling up his sleeves.

  He raised his scrawny hands and twitched his bony fingers. Eloquent and beautifully phrased words issued from him as he playfully pointed to each twister. At each indication a tornado burst into flames becoming a superheated vortex of burning death. Now Orcs and Wargs were not only plucked from the ground and flung in every direction. They were on fire. The smell of singed fur and burnt armour quickly began to fill the air.

  ‘Oh! Bravo Corbett.’ Valeran said with unconditional admiration in his voice. ‘That is very nice.’

  ‘Yes, it is isn’t it?’ Corbett replied. ‘But you know, if I could do it with sharks that would absolutely killer.’

  ***

  Dorian managed to plant three arrows through the visor of the nearest Orc’s helmet. It fell to its knees and then crashed to the floor. The others puzzled over their friends collapse until they saw the lithe Ranger moving towards them, notching another arrow.

  ‘Rarrrrrrggh… ugghhguglugle…’ One of them roared and then gargled as the arrow found its place in his throat.

  Dorian continued moving towards them at a modest pace, once more notching an arrow. The Orcs caught on quickly and began to move while keeping their heads lowered a little. The human would not have such a target again.

  Dorian had expected this adaption to his assault and so dived to the left, rolled out of the sudden manoeuvre in a crouched position and let his arrow fly into the unarmoured side of another Orcs knee. It wailed with pain, gripped the arrow and yanked it out. Unfortunately, this caused it to howl with agony, as Dorian had expected, the arrow had vicious barbs etched into its head, the creature could only stare at its kneecap attached to the arrowhead, and so yet another Orc throat became home to one of his arrows.

  They were too close for him to continue with this tactic however, and other lesser Orcs had spotted him. He had to get in close now. He shouldered his bow and unsheathed his sword.

  An Orc, seeing that the human’s cursed bow was now away became emboldened and broke from the others. He charged at Dorian and its attack was a truly terrifying sight. It was easily two feet taller than him, on a par with Andreton in shoulder and arm. Its armour was plate, unllike that of its brothers, and festooned about it were the tiny skulls of lesser creatures. Saliva dripped from its fangs and its eyes burned with hatred. Its strength was far beyond that of Dorian and one blow with the massive sword, with its serrated teeth would see the end of him.

  Dorian charged at the creature, sprinting as hard as he could to close the distance before the other Orcs could see what was happening.

  As they neared, almost to within striking distance of each other, with the reach of the Orc having the advantage, Dorian

  dropped into a slide, positioning himself to pass between the bowed legs of the thing.

  The Orc almost toppled over as it tried to follow Dorian as he slid beneath and past the monster.

  ‘Huh?’ It grunted.

  Dorian emerged at the Orcs rear, twisted and spun on his knees. Then stopped, leapt, and as the Ork was looking down was able to drive his sword directly into its neck, severing its spinal column. There was no time to admire his work however, a blade swept at him from behind, which he avoided by performing a backflip. The Orc was not impressed by the agile evasion, and immediately followed up its initial strike with a barrage of blows.

  Dorian weaved in and out of the Orcs attack, not only anticipating the next strike but also looking out for where the others might come for him as they surely would.

  He spied two approaching on his left side, feinted to the right, spoiling yet another swing by his current attacker and brought himself around to face all three.

  ‘Gods they really are big.’ He thought and wondered if perhaps he might have miscalculated this one. He would have very little room to manoeuvre. Then the middle Orc dropped to the floor. Donalt was stood behind it.

  ‘Rogues.’ Dorian thought, shaking his head and smiling.

  Wasting none of the time created for him by Donalt he ran at the two remaining Orcs, both too focused on the Ranger to notice that their comrade was now twitching on the ground. Then they too felt the sharp edge of Donalt’s dagger and the mortifying effect of the poison upon it.

  Then Orcs began to rain from the sky.

  It could only be the work of the party, they had to be drawing near but Dorian didn’t dare look behind him, he had to hope that enough magic and murder was being done to the Orcs to keep them occupied. For now, his focus was Felicity.

  He had begun to think he hadn’t actually saved her life the last time. She had probably engineered that whole scenario. For good or for evil he still wasn’t sure. But this time he knew she needed rescuing for real, and he would not fail.

  ‘I’ve got the rest of these dickheads.’ Donalt said. ‘Get the girl before the Big Bad gets to her.’

  Dorian nodded and raced to where Felicity seemed to float. In a few strides, combined with more lethal strikes
against any creature in his way he was almost to her, almost able to grasp her arm and pull her into his arms. And then he wasn’t.

  The blow from Moloch’s fist was incredible. Dorian felt the bones in his chest crack like eggshells, and a sensation of drowning quickly followed as his lungs burst from the pressure. He was sent flying through the air as he did so his body began to cease functioning. With no air to push his blood around, his brain began to shut down, his heart, pushed against his spine by his devastated lungs ceased to beat. His limp body landed at the feet of an Orc who, despite knowing a dead human when it saw one, lifted its sword. The humans head would be a good trophy.

  The Orcs throat was ripped away in a single bite by Spyra. Its sword fell harmlessly to the floor as it brought both of its hands to the savage rent in its neck. Then it toppled backwards.

  ‘Oh fuck.’ Donalt said. Having witnessed Moloch’s attack. ‘Oh fuck. He’s gotta be dead.’

  Then the Rogue felt a sharp, burning pain in his shoulder that numbed his entire arm, and was then lifted from the ground. He screamed in pain and he realised that what had got him was a snout. A Warg had clamped its jaws on him and was dragging him backwards.

  Thinking quickly, he reached into a pocket with his working hand and withdrew a pinch of powder. He closed his eyes, held his breath and threw the powder backwards over his damaged shoulder. Almost immediately the jaws loosened and its was the Warg’s turn to howl in agony.

  Donalt crawled forwards as fast as he could. If he breathed the powder or it got into his eyes we would be just as screwed as the animal.

  He felt a boot impact in his chest. Adrenalin was still surging through his system and despite the shock and pain he managed to roll to the side and then bring himself back to standing. He opened his eyes. The Orc that had kicked him waved its sword towards him.

  Donalt had lost both his daggers. The Wargs attack had completely numbed his left arm and he had dropped his other dagger to get at the powder. He looked about for either weapon but could see neither.

  The Orc came forwards to thrust at him. Donalt easily dodged the attack but felt his shoulder burn with pain.

  ‘Cleric!’ He shouted. ‘I’m wounded.’

  He looked about. The Orcs had thinned out. The fiery tornadoes, the butchery of Andreton and Daisy, Dorian picking off their biggest fighters, it had destroyed their morale. It appeared that fear of their Demonic master was not greater than the fear of being turned into dog meat by Andreton or barbequed by Corbett.

  He looked at his wound. It was bad. Very bad. Blood was pumping out of it at an alarming rate.

  There was a crack of thunder. Donalt looked up and saw black clouds racing over them. Boling with energy brought on by the magical powers being thrown around.

  ‘Great. All this and bad weather too.’ He said.

  A lance of searing hot flame erupted from Corbett and washed over the Demon. Moloch staggered back, waving his hands about his face but then took a step forward and presented his palm to the party. From it a pulse of dark energy flowed over them. Donalt watched in horror as Daisy and Corbett writhed in pain as a black miasma flowed around them. The Cleric appeared unaffected. Either a mystical defence he already had in place or some talisman protected him. Andreton was entirely immune to magic it seemed.

  The huge warrior didn’t flinch, instead he charged at Moloch, swinging Dennis as he ran. The blow Andreton delivered with the axe was incredible. Donalt thought that had it struck a steel

  wall it would have sliced through it as though it were made of cheese. The Demon’s calf, as supernaturally reinforced as it was, succumbed in the same way.

  Moloch roared with pain and the pulsing energy flow stopped. The miasma lifted from Daisy and Corbett and Valeran quickly cast a spell upon them both to lift the terrible black curse. Donalt wondered if Valeran had seen what had happened to Dorian, but he doubted it. He began to stagger forwards. The blood loss was working on him far more quickly than he had thought it could. He was getting dizzy.

  ‘We’re screwed.’ He thought. ‘We’ve lost the Ranger, and I’m fucked.’

  He could see that Daisy, despite the Clerics ministrations had not recovered from the Demons attack. She was on her knees. One hand holding her sword, the other palm down on the floor, keeping her steady. Her head was bowed.

  ‘Gods no. Daisy too!’

  Corbett unleased another massive gout of flame at the Demon. This time its heat so intense it was almost entirely white. Holding up and arm against the Wizards fire lance, the Demon kicked at Andreton sending him tumbling away and the stepped forwards again. It made a gesture with its hands and spoke a dark language. Something like a toxic sludge burst from its mouth and poured over Corbet and Valeran, but again the Cleric had been prepared and shimmering dome appeared around them. The evil sludge cascaded onto it and slid ineffectively to the floor.

  ‘This can’t go on much longer. The Orcs are going to rally. That big bastard is going to down another, and then it’s all over. We’re all dead.’

  Spyra appeared at his feet.

  ‘You better run mate.’ Donalt said.

  The Blink-Dog didn’t run, but it did shuffle forwards. Then look back at Donalt.

  Donalt frowned.

  The Blink-Dog gave issued a harsh bark. Then scampered ahead a little and looked back to Donalt.

  ‘Am I going mad or are you asking me to follow you?’ He said, convinced that the blood loss was causing him to hallucinate. But, with nothing more to lose Donalt walked after Spyra as fast as he was able. He quickly realised where he was being led. The Blink-Dog was taking him to Felicity. Perhaps this was his chance to actually be the hero. Could this really be it? Were pens ready to be dipped in ink and great songs to be written about him and sung by blind-drunk illiterate rapists before they went on to battle?

  It wasn’t. In his desire to believe that fate wasn’t the fickle bitch he had always thought she was he forgot the basic fact that she in fact, was. He was smashed on the head and stabbed in the back by an entirely random and disoriented Orc, who was dead seconds later by an equally terrified and confused colleague who ran him through with a sabre.

  ‘Typical.’ Donalt thought as a black vignette surrounded his thoughts. ‘Bloody typical.

  Corbett looked to his right and saw that the Fighter wasn’t getting up.

  ‘Daisy!’ Get up! Get up, you lazy cow.’ He shouted. ‘Valeran, do your fucking job.’

  ‘I can’t help her any further Corbett. Not while we are holding him back. I have to sit with her to minister my....’

  A spear flew past Corbett’s ear.

  ‘Fuck me!’ He shouted, startled. ‘Brilliant. Those Orcs are getting brave again. Brave enough to throw stuff at us anyway.’

  Valeran risked a look back and saw the Orcs were beginning to reform their ranks and edge nearer to the fight.

  ‘I can’t hold more than one front Corbett. If I turn from Moloch his attacks will obliterate us.’ Valeran shouted. He produced another dome to shield them from a further blast of dark energy. Corbett conjured a fire wall to push the Demon back.

  He shouted back. The roar of energies was making it difficult to communicate.

  ‘Yeah, but a lucky shot from one of those bastards will do exactly the same. And mate, I’m running out of sauce. I’ve used up all my stores and between me and that enormous racist bastard we’ve sucked up almost every particle of Essence from this place.’

  Valeran reinforced his magical shield and then bowed his head. He sighed. This had all been mostly awful. Daisy was nice. He looked at her, she was crawling forwards, hopelessly brave, as though she might be able to attack the mighty Demon from the floor. The Ranger, although a little bit dull and up his own arse had been refreshingly honest and certainly brave. Donalt was fun, if a little shady and Andreton… He looked up to watch as the Warrior raged and chopped at the Demon, forcing it to keep breaking off its spell casting, lest Dennis slice through its leg. Yes, the Warrior was odd, but a lot of
fun to be around. The Wizard was an absolute arsehole. He wasn’t sure that Corbett had a single redeeming feature, other than that…

  ‘Actually, come to think about it, the Wizard had been right about quite a lot of things and we all ignored him. No wonder he’s so sour-faced all the time.’

  And then there was poor Felicity. Duped by this master of deception, a Prince of Hell no less. A mighty creature worthy of any Quest really.

  ‘And I suppose even with all of that it’s still been better than staring at pox-ridden dicks all the live long day.’

  Corbett’s huge wall of fire began to fade and Valeran braced himself for another direct attack from Moloch.

  He offered a quick prayer to Boldoff, God of Interesting Conversation, because he hoped that at the end of it all he might at least get a decent chat with his primary God for all of the good service he had put in.

  ‘He’s coming!’ Corbett shouted. ‘Get ready.’

  Valeran tapped into his arsenal of spells to see if he had anything that might aid them. There were lots to choose from, not there was nothing that would be of any real use.

  He could defend them against attacks, but the point of that was to allow others to move in and do the dirty work of killing so he didn’t have too. They couldn’t do that now so…

  ‘Corbett.’ He said.

  ‘What?’ Corbett replied. Hoping the Cleric was about to share some flash of strategic inspiration.

  ‘You should leave.’ Valeran said, his jaw was grimly set. ‘Teleport out while you still have the energy.’

  Corbett blinked. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Yes. There’s no point us all dying here. Whatever this thing is going to do, it would be better if there were at least one survivor to warn the others. No one can run off as well as you can.’