Orcblood Legacy: Skirmishes: Orcs by Bernard Bertram (good inspirational books .TXT) 📕

I’m getting closer! Slipping on the stone beneath his feet, Bitrayuul scraped the skin from his knee. He growled in pain and frustration at his foolishness as a trickle of blood traveled down his shin. There was no time to pay attention. He could only keep moving.

It was not the dwarf’s angry insults that the half-orc heard next, but screams of agony. Bitrayuul could only imagine what horrors the sinister cretins may be doing to the dwarf—and soon to him.

Ahead, Bitrayuul saw the mine shaft growing smaller and smaller, forcing him to a crouch. Then on his knees. Then to crawl along the floor as only a small opening could be seen. He didn’t think he would fit at first, but if the trolls could have dragged the fully armored, thrashing dwarf through then he knew he could squeeze by.

As he pulled himself through the suffocatingly tight path, the young half-orc began to panic. He could feel the stones around his shoulders and legs with their jagged embrace. There was no way he could back out of the hole. He would either need to move forward or die there. His heart was pounding in fear. His chest huffed relentlessly, only adding to his terror as his lungs grasped desperately for air.

Tears streaked down Bitrayuul’s face. I may die here . . .. Wiggling frantically, the half-orc only made his situation worse. He held his mouth closed to silence himself; the worst he could do in that moment was summon the trolls. With his lips pursed taut, his air was consumed twice as fast.

Stop! Stop panicking! It was no use. He felt trapped. He tried to pull himself forward even a finger-length but stopped as he felt the sharp stone digging into his abdomen. Even worse was the path that remained—covered in even more jagged edges. His eyes fell upon those stone thorns in the constricting tunnel and witnessed the glaze of blue and crimson they had been painted with recently. Blood!

The knowledge that Theiran had traversed this same path and come out alive served as little warmth to Bitrayuul. Though, it was enough to convince him to keep pulling. Gritting his teeth as the rock beneath his torso tore through his flesh, the half-orc steeled himself and slid onward.

Just keep pulling. Go. You can do this.

The pain was immense as he reached the final squeeze of the tunnel and its set of sharpened stone teeth. He could feel the warmth of his blood gliding across his skin as the rocks cut into him. His shoulders, his arms, his legs. Everywhere his flesh was ripped, leaving a smear of blood in his wake.

Finally, his hands reached the outside of the tunnel and felt it open. Bitrayuul whimpered as he dragged his large body through the remainder of the hole before rolling out onto the stone in relief.

As his lungs filled with air, the half-orc opened his eyes. He immediately gasped and placed a hand over his mouth. There they were, naught a dozen paces ahead. Six vile trolls were huddled around the dwarf, prodding him with their stone blades and laughing in glee at his torment.

MAUL

Thankfully, the vicious trolls hadn’t noticed him yet. Bitrayuul slowly rose to his feet, careful not to make even the slightest noise. The beasts continued to cackle in delight as every time they slid their blade across Theiran’s skin a new line of blood followed.

The dwarf, no novice to pain, simply stared at them with a face hardened and grim. His captors must have grown tired of his insults, for the senator had been bound and gagged. Though a dozen fresh wounds could be seen, the worst was where his left ear had been ripped off before being pulled into the mines. Blood continued to slowly pour down his neck in a thick ooze.

To the left, Bitrayuul watched as a pair of the creatures carefully inspected the dwarf’s artfully crafted maul. Even together they could hardly lift the dense hammer, but he could tell by the sinister look on their faces that they were considering using it for their own devious purposes.

Bitrayuul took a slow breath. His body ached from exhaustion and wounds alike. He had no weapons other than a single bone-spiked fist—a useless tool against such enemies. The half-orc pondered his next move. After such great efforts to reach the senator, he found himself at a loss.

Now what? I can’t fight them all, not without fire.

Staring around the small opening, the half-orc prayed he would find a small torch. But it was useless. These creatures feared fire more than anything else, there was no chance they’d carry something with them that could provide it.

What’s the point? We’re going to die here anyway. 

As if nothing else mattered, Bitrayuul crept forward as silently as possible to the pair holding the maul. Stabbing one troll through the neck with his remaining gauntlet, it’s wail of pain was muffled by gargling blood in its throat. He paid it no mind, knowing it would soon heal and be back in the fray. The half-orc’s attention immediately turned to the next troll. Luckily, as the first he had struck grasped its neck in agony, the heavy maul dropped from its arms and crushed the foot of the remaining creature. This time, unfortunately, its howls of pain were not stifled, and the rest of their group turned in curiosity.

Once their gazes met the intruder, they were up in a heartbeat with daggers in hand. Theiran managed to kick out at one as it passed, tripping it to the stone. Before it could react, the bound dwarf lifted his boot and brought his heel down hard onto the beast’s skull. A squelching noise came, but the dwarf didn’t stop. His boot raised again and again, slamming into the troll’s skull repetitively until it shattered bone.

Bitrayuul took the maul from the temporarily incapacitated duo and lifted it in the air. He was amazed at just how heavy the weapon was as