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

it threw him off balance. Luckily, his back foot slid outwards to catch him enough to divert the hammer forward—straight into the first approaching troll. Its skull blew apart in an explosion of blood and bone shards as it met the thick steel.

Even with four of the creatures currently disabled, the last two continued their charge toward the half-orc. Bitrayuul strained to pull the heavy maul back into the air in time, but he was too slow. His eyes clenched in pain as the stone blade in his opponent’s grip sliced through the side of his lifted shoulder, barely avoiding his neck. Luckily, as the other dagger came in, he managed to intercept it with his left-hand, blocking the sharp edge with the bones along his knuckles.

In the moment that the troll began reversing its momentum to swipe at Bitrayuul again, the young warrior had managed to bash outward with the hammer, driving the troll back into its ally. From behind the backpedaling beasts, Theiran leapt onto the back of the furthest creature. He had cut himself free with the dropped dagger from the troll he had disabled and cut the throat of the rear troll.

“Me hammer, lad!” the dwarf called out while tossing Bitrayuul the dagger.

On instinct alone the half-orc hoisted the maul toward the senator, forgetting about the troll between them. As the weapon lobbed forward, the poor creature tried to catch it, but the item proved too heavy. Beneath the hefty steel, the troll fell to the ground at Theiran’s feet. The dwarf didn’t miss a beat. He bent to grab the hammer from the troll and immediately pulled an odd stone from his belt and struck it against the head of his weapon as hard as he could.

Bitrayuul had to cover his eyes as the stone produced a hundred bright sparks in the cave, igniting the troll nearest the senator. In a burst of fire, the troll wailed in agony and rolled on the ground in a feeble attempt to extinguish itself. The half-orc still stood defensively with the dagger in hand, though the remaining five trolls all scrambled in fear of their flaming kin.

Amid the chaos, Theiran walked confidently over to Bitrayuul, completely disregarding the frantic trolls. As if on cue, the single flaming troll bumped into one of its allies in its desperation, igniting the next. Then the next. Within moments, five of the group were engulfed in flames and screeching in the cave. The last, unwounded, ran down the tunnel in the opposite direction in fear for its life.

Staring blankly at the dwarf, Bitrayuul could only blink at how quickly the scale had tipped in their favor. He opened his mouth multiple times to speak but couldn’t find the words.

Thankfully, Theiran held no such lack. “Time to go home, son.”

BREATHE

“Whoa, son. I’ve got ye,” Theiran said as he caught Bitrayuul. It was obvious from the half-orc’s wobbled movements and the slow trail of blood that he had been severely wounded. The dwarf slid his arm around Bitrayuul’s waist to steady him as they continued to make their way through the winding tunnels toward Tarabar.

With each painful step, the half-orc grew more and more weary, floating in and out of consciousness. The multiple wounds he had suffered refused to clot, leaving him with little time.

“Hold on. Ye just keep holdin’ on, lad. We’re almost there.”

After a long while of slow progress, Theiran could hear trolls ahead. “Oh, Bothain ye be crude!” He looked around for somewhere to hide Bitrayuul. Nothing, just bare stone in a tight tunnel. Resuming his progress, the councilman decided the half-orc would be safer with him. Holding Bitrayuul in one arm and his hammer in the other, Theiran prayed that only one troll lay in their path and not a dozen.

Cautiously, the pair stepped closer to the noise. The senator tightened his grip on his weapon and reconsidered his decision to keep his nearly unconscious companion with him. “Bah, we made it this far!”

Theiran turned the last corner ready to face whatever awaited him. His expression turned to confusion, then suppressed laughter as he witnessed the source of the sounds. A handful of trolls were trapped in agony beneath collapsed stones, unable to die. “Son, is this yer doin’?” he turned to Bitrayuul, only to see the half-orc was completely unconscious—or dead. The dwarf gave him a shake, but no response came. Then another. “Bothain’s beard . . .. Wake up, lad!”

Nothing.

Disregarding his own safety, Theiran tenderly laid Bitrayuul down on the ground. He looked at the wounds on his savior’s shoulder and forearm. Luckily, the gash on the half-orc’s forearm had finally started to staunch the flow, but the same couldn’t be said for the grievous wound near his neck.

“Bothain, help him!” the dwarf prayed. Never did he expect to beg his god to save the life of one with orcish blood. But Theiran knew that Bitrayuul had gotten the wounds in his rescue. A rescue for a dwarf.

Theiran let out a string of curses as he inspected the half-orc’s shoulder more closely. It was already starting to fester, and the senator held no supplies that could offer aid. He put his hands helplessly on Bitrayuul, uncertain of how to proceed.

The dwarf was starting to grow frantic. He had seen dozens die before. Friends, allies, enemies. Some in his grasp, some from afar. But this one tugged at his heartstrings relentlessly. The calm and collected senator found himself nearly in tears as he pounded his fists on Bitrayuul’s torso.

“Breathe, ye damned fool!”

CLERIC

The eerie silence in the cave only worried Theiran more as his ear hovered above Bitrayuul’s lips, listening intently for any sign of life.

“C’mon! Fight, lad!” Shaking the half-orc frantically, the senator failed to notice the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. By the time the scuffling steps were upon him, Theiran had barely managed to turn around, his weapon loose in his grip from despair. If trolls had wished to seal his fate as