Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35 by Galvin, Aaron (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📕

Warden Zane, then . . .” He said, pointing his own weapon at Brutus. “And the torment I’ll give you and yours in his stead once this is over, Master Selkie.” Commander Pohl clapped his visor down with his free hand, shouting out orders. “Seawolves! Advance!”

The Orc shield wall came on then, marching in practiced fashion as they approached the platform steps in unified step.

With no point in pretending further, Lenny shirked off his handcuffs and drew his twin blades. Flanked by Vasili and Tom Weaver, Lenny held his ground and raised his daggers in a show of force.

Brutus retreated to join the Selkie lines, even as he taunted the Orcs to join them on the platform. “Come on then, you bastards! Come on and give us a go!”

Lenny grimaced when the Orcs marched up the steps and entered the Selkie lure he had helped to devise.

With the Orcs’ united focus holding on Brutus and the prisoners braced for the charge, what the oncoming soldiers did not see was the other group of Selkies led by Jemmy T who revealed themselves atop the train cars. Each carried bolt-action crossbows, harpoons, and spears they had procured from the fallen Orcs in Røyrkval.

“Fire!” Jemmy T bellowed to his crew, unleashing a flurried attack from above to rain down on the unwitting soldiers.

Caught off guard by the sudden aerial wave, the shield wall broke when the first line of Orcs stumbled upon the steps, or else fell off the platform altogether. In moments, holes were formed in the front and secondary lines. And where Commander Pohl rightly believed himself protected from the Selkies upon the platform, the confidence of he and those with him collapsed when Henry Boucher and his group of Lepers slipped quietly up among the Orcish rear guard to flank them unawares.

Caught in the design of the Selkie ambush, the Orc shield wall broke in full when Brutus led the charge for those upon the platform. Lenny followed him onward, running alongside Vasili, both little men hurtling themselves into the brink of battle. Both stuck close to their taller companions, working in tandem to bring down their enemies. While Brutus and Tom Weaver drew the Orcs’ focus at an eye-to-eye level, Lenny and Vasili swept in to swipe and stab at the larger foes’ legs and knees, each finding chinks in the Painted Guard armor to help wound and bring their enemies down for the taller folk to trample and finish.

Lenny added his screams and war cry to all the others in the battle for Bouvetøya, then. With every swipe against the Orcs, Lenny Dolan remembered his father’s fall in Røyrkval and moved to the memory of his father’s teachings.

Keep moving, Len . . . Hacking and clawing, Lenny Dolan never ceased to bob and weave as he advanced through the chaos. Move or die!

Lenny obeyed, over and again, not stopping in his advance. Breaking through the shattered Orc lines, he wheeled to a stop when the last of the soldiers collapsed in front of him, stabbed in the back by Henry Boucher. His former crewmate’s face and suit were stained with the blood of others, but Henry Boucher looked none the worse for his battling of the Orcs. And though Henry took a moment to catch his breath, Lenny saw only stillness in the Frenchman’s eyes as the ragtag army of Selkies brought down the last of their foes.

Near as suddenly as the onslaught began, Lenny Dolan saw no more Orc soldiers to stand against the Selkies. His heart thundering against his chest, his face covered in blood and sweat, Lenny relinquished his forward momentum. As Henry and Vasili moved on to stalk among the fallen victims and silence the Orcs who cried out for mercy, Lenny Dolan took a knee to catch his breath. His lips quivering, hands shaking, Lenny closed his eyes and imagined his father’s body lain upon the ice in the Lost City of Song. We did it, Pop. He thought to himself, strengthening his hold on the twin daggers he had used to avenge his father. We got them. These ones, at least.

These here didn’t know me, son . . . he imagined Declan Dolan might say in such a moment as Lenny found himself in now. And there will be more to come hunting you all after what happened here today.

Trembling, Lenny used the sleeve of his Selkie suit to wipe away the blood upon his face and out of the corner of his eyes. Blinking back the glazing in his eyes at the constant thought of his father gone, Lenny knew the Selkie victory for another hollow loss the moment he opened his eyes to the cold reality of Bouvetøya once more.

So many . . .

He blinked at the prisoner masses huddled some one hundred yards further into the cavern. Trapped inside the frost-covered cages, some of the Selkies prisoners were calling out for help from those who had claimed victory upon the train platform. In most of the Bouvetøya prisoners though, even from afar, Lenny recognized acceptance of defeat and hopelessness. A few yet held to spirit and life. His eyes stung at one in particular; a caged boy, perched atop his father’s shoulders – the only place for the son to sit and wave his arms for someone to notice and hopefully come to free them.

Lenny was off and running then, sprinting toward the boy’s cage without the thought there might be still more Orcs awaiting further into the cavern. Fortune favored him, for the moment, and Lenny Dolan found no sign of more soldiers before he reached the prisoner cages. Once there, he threw himself at the lock, driving the tip of his dagger into the key-hold, working it back and forth to free the pin inside. He scarcely heard the prisoners inside calling out to him in foreign languages, their voices a collective cry of tears and thanks. The ones nearest to him reached through the bars, clutching