Wolf Blade: A Sword and Sorcery Fantasy Harem

by Marco Frazetta

  “Come on Kyra… you have to pull back now,” I muttered to myself. Anvir at least, began retreating, leading his left flank back, the flank I was nearest. Scurrying Orc bodies began blocking my view of the fighting, but I could still see the banner fluttering in the center. Kyra and Tovir were probably too caught up in the initial surprise and the massive casualties they were dealing, but they had to know the advantage would fade. “Come on, pull back, follow orders you two…”

  I breathed hard, clutching my ax. I felt my jaws squeeze so hard my whole body shook. Come on, pull back.

  “Fall back!” I heard Kyra’s voice call out and another one echo it, and finally the banner began moving back, away from the river. Yes, thank the gods. The banner kept on retreating, the Orc horde following it like a flock of enraged devil ants. Nothing enticed an Orc horde like a surge in battle leading to a slaughter. For an instant I managed to see Tovir swinging his two axes, cleaving a green arm off then splitting a goblin skull. But more greenskins took their place, and he began losing balance in his strikes as he tried to keep himself from being overwhelmed.

  “Archers!” I shouted up at them at the top of the rise. “The flank!” I waved them to come down and engage.

  The archers scurried down the rise now, drawing swords to aid Tovir. Good, protect the flank. The main body of men kept retreating, the Orc horde crawling along trying to swallow it. My eyes flickered between the mass of bodies clashing and the stones where I knew my fire breathers and Thrawn cleric were waiting. The banner kept moving back. Go, just a bit more. Keep retreating. Keep moving.

  Suddenly a burst of golden light shot out from the stones, and it was quickly followed by jets of fire spewing out from between the stones, arching as if they were flaming catapult shots. The shining hammer struck into a mass of goblins, sending a handful flying into the air, limbs broken, voices in shaking wails. The fireballs followed, exploding into a cluster of Orcs, their limbs catching fire, their screams rending the air. Yes! I knew I could count on them: Quistainn, Bellabel, even those toad creatures. Fire kept raining down, and the hammer kept streaking gold through the air, haunting the Orc horde with death. The sudden chaos shook the horde’s morale, and this gave the main force a chance to push further in, pressing the attack once more. Orcs began to pull back, falling one after another to spears, to swords to axes.

  On the other side of the river, I saw the horrid silhouette of a giant spider diving back in the water, along with more Orcs and goblins following behind. Ghazrak must have seen how his forces were failing now, and he could not let this continue. Hurry, hurry, and come to your death. Ghazrak, Thousand Fangs, Tisik Tesak, whatever you call yourself, you will die this day. The river was only some 400 feet across, and so it would not be long before that creature and its master made its way to me.

  I readied myself. As the spider drew closer, scuttling across the water, I could see that it was about thirty feet tall, its underbelly a sickly green, the rest of its insect carapace a midnight black with a streak of crimson dividing the top and bottom. Its legs were carapaced, with sharp barbs jutting out from them and faded from black to crimson as they thinned at the ends. Its many eyes glowed a haunting green, and atop the spider was a palanquin that was fastened to its midsection. Riding atop this palanquin was Ghazrak, a massive Orc who was armored from head to foot, his helmet that of a grinning demon, with a red fur pelt of some fell creature on his shoulders, a massive black scimitar in one hand, an ornate scepter with a skull at its head in the other.

  The spider emerged from the water at a speed that was uncanny for a creature its size.

  “Now I have you!” I roared as I charged out from my hiding spot. My legs pumped as I crossed the body-littered field toward the spider that had emerged tossing up a spray of river water, glistening wet still as it scuttled onto land. My grip tightened as I readied to strike.

  But suddenly something was upon me.

  A body leapt out from the river and struck at me. My reflexes were just fast enough to raise my weapon. Steel rang against steel. It was some kind of alligator, yet it stood on two feet, and wielded weapons as a man did, better even. Its scales were a dark green with spots of purple and it donned a green armor that seemed nearly unnecessary for how tough its reptilian hide looked. The weapon it wielded was similar to what was called a cartha in the south, a weapon which had long curved blades on both ends which were joined by a haft in the center. It could be wielded one handed or two, and was more a slashing weapon, but could certainly stab if necessary.

  I parried three more of the creature’s strikes, giving ground each time to keep my limbs from being severed. What was this creature, and why was it serving Ghazrak, an Orc? My mind raced—were there not a race of dragon men that were said to live in Skald long ago? I could not think long as I blocked its last blow. It spun and a barbed tail came twisting at me. It struck my side with a force I would not have imagined. I felt my side tear open and I was thrust rolling on the ground. Blood splattered out from my ribs. I immediately rolled as I felt a blade strike down at me. It stabbed into the ground where I had been. I glanced back at the fighting and saw that Ghazrack and his spider had joined the main combat. The plan was falling apart. The men were being pushed back, red blood flowing, bodies falling. Finally, the Wolf Rein banner came tumbling down, rippling through the air until it was lost in the chaos of hacking limbs.

  “No!” I could not let this happen. The dragon man’s weapon came down on me but I caught it with my haft. Haft on haft, I pushed him back, driving my legs with all my strength. As he reeled for balance I shoved him off. He stutter-stepped back. My legs coiled. “Raaargh!” I shouted out as I swung a blow that took all my force, the ax blade becoming a blur as it sliced through the air. It crashed into his weapon, and while he was quick enough to guard, my ax blade broke right through his haft, snapping it. My ax head carried through and bit into his shoulder, digging through his scales. Green blood gushed. He recoiled and reeled back still more. Just as I was about to pounce on him and finish him, his mouth craned open wide as a snake swallowing prey whole, and the darkness of his throat glowed bright orange. Gods. I rolled out of the way as a plume of fire came barreling out of him. As I rolled and came to a crouching stop, I saw that he was standing once more, smoke rising out from his jaws.

  Then suddenly there was another that ran toward us. I thought it an Orc but then saw that it was not an Orc at all. It was another dragon man—where in the six hells had they come from? This one was a bright blue, with tinges of white on its glistening center. It also had a two bladed weapon and it stood next to its fellow dragon man, their two serpent faces staring at me like I was a mouse they were entrancing. I breathed hard, and before I could blink the blue one’s mouth snapped open. Out came a jet of white coldness, a hundred times colder than even the winters in Jarkandur. I dove away, my leg feeling the cold’s frostbite.

  “Gragh!” I cried out as I landed, my leg numb, a cold fire all over it. I had no rest when the green one was hissing, spewing fire at me. I stupidly raised my ax for a split moment, as if this would do anything, then my senses came to me and I dove once again, but this time the fire caught me and I felt my shoulder and neck burning. I rolled furiously but smelled the scent of my own burned flesh.

  They were still upon me, staring me down, their mouths ready, cold mist and hot smoke rising out from each. Their mouths craned open and I was not sure if I had it in me to dodge this, when suddenly a figure was in front of me, its whole back shadowed as it was lit by the cold and fiery torrents blasting against it from the front. “Quistainn!” His cloak billowed out as the force of the two breath weapons blasted air all around him, his shield taking the brunt of both.

  “Thrawn!” Quistainn called out to his god, his shield emanating some gold light that protected the both of us. The two dragon men seemed almost insulted, and they poured even more of their strength into their breaths, their two gusts of energy becoming even wider, brighter so that they emitted two streams o
f light, one white, one red, meeting at a swirling blaze on Quistainn’s shield.

  “Raaagh!” I yelled out in rage as I coiled my legs and leapt. I soared through the air, right over Quistainn, tall enough that I would have straddled an Elephantis in one leap. As I hung in the air for what seemed like eternity, I braced my ax over my head, and came down, landing behind both dragon men, twisting in one lash of sheer rage, burying my ax in the green one’s neck, swiping his head clean off.

  As his head flew, liquid fire gushed from his pulsing neck. His body began falling toward me in a kind of death seizure, about to spill the liquid fire on me as if his body were a goblet of fire. With a great stomp, I hurled his reptilian corpse away, and toward his brother dragon man. His corpse was heavier even than that of an Orc, but I had the strength of Fenris upon me, and so his corpse went crashing into the ice dragon man. The liquid fire spewing from his neck sprayed onto his blue brother. A wretched hissing scream rang out. Smoke rose out from his icy blue scales. His cold white breath billowed out in utter chaos. I ducked and swerved around it as I rushed forward.

  My ax flashed.

  His torso came splitting off from his hips in a clean cut. Billowing plumes of frost spilled out and I took a giant leap back away from his body, now in two pieces writhing on the ground.

  My lungs burned. I gasped from the exertion.

  “Quistainn,” I choked out, “you left Bellabel!”

  “You needed me more.”

  I looked to the rampaging spider, saw two of my men’s broken bodies soar into the air as it flicked its barbed insect legs. “Kyra!” I knew she was in the thick of combat, and had seen her banner fall. “Come, there’s no time,” I said to Quistainn as I charged. Instinct took over and I half ran half trotted, taking my ax in my jaws and using my arms as a wolf would its legs now and then as I ducked under swinging weapons. Orcs tried to hack at me with their jagged iron weapons, but I was too fast, and my claws too sharp as I tore knees and throats. It was difficult in the madness of clashing steel, falling bodies, spilling blood, to come upon Kyra’s scent. But somehow I scurried through the battle, and then spotted the blue of our Wolf Rein banner, fallen on the ground amidst the debris of weapons and bleeding bodies. Where was Kyra? A quick flicker of my eyes took me to her golden hair, her body lying on the ground. “Kyra!” She seemed to be barely conscious as I ran toward her, and worse an Orc was standing over her. He raised a heavy barbed mace over his head, arching his back to put all his strength into it. “No!”

  Slash! I heard as Kyra’s arm lunged out from her, a longsword in her hand. It pierced right through his navel, and came jutting out covered in violet blood from his back. The Orc screamed, but somehow still managed to swing his blow down, though his movement was ragged and more a death throe. Kyra kicked him right where her sword was still imbedded before he could land. The sword drove deeper into him, slashing through bone and organs, and he fell over in a death shudder. She stood, blood trickling from her mouth. Her steel blade was covered in gore as she slid it out of the Orc. She spotted me.

  “I’m harder to kill than that!” she gasped out as she tried to catch her breath.

  “But that thing’s even harder.” I nodded toward the great spider wrecking havoc. I saw Quistainn’s golden hammer soar and crash into the spider. It shuddered, but seemed to be more enraged than hurt.

  I motioned to run toward it, when two Orcs and a gaggle of goblins came barreling toward me, armor jangling, weapons raised like they were one big steel trap trying to clutch me.

  I raised my ax but then saw the Orcs and goblins hacked down. Tovir’s two axes cleaved goblin heads off in two quick swipes while Anvir’s spear flicked into the weak points in Orc armor, and came out drenched in violet blood. One brother wounded armored Orcs enough to make them stagger and weaken, the other finished them off with swipes of his two axes.

  “You make too much off these green bastards!” Anvir yelled at me as he finished an Orc off, a kind of madness in his eyes. Violet blood tinged his beard, even his blond eyebrows.

  I saw Ghazrak’s riders now joining the combat. They were red Orcs in their full plate armor. “I need you three to keep those riders off me and Quistainn,” I said to the three siblings. “We have to end this now, before the rest of his horde joins the fight. Killing him is the only way.”

  “Go then!” Kyra said, gripping her sword tight, and charging after a rider.

  “I’m tellin’ ya Rothan, yer the only man who can handle her,” Tovir said as he chased after.

  “For Fenris,” Anvir said, nodding to me and following his siblings into the fray.

  As they cut their way through the mass of bodies, I ran into the opening, straight ahead to the giant spider. “Die!” I roared out as I narrowed my grip on my massive weapon, then unleashed a great arching blow on one of its legs. My ax struck at it with a resounding clang.

  “By the gods,” I muttered to myself. The last section of its legs, that which touched the ground, was hard as steel. In that moment of confusion, it flicked its leg at me, striking me across the chest, the barbs along the curving end of its leg catching me, tearing into me like I was a soft skinned babe shoved through a thorn bush.

  I grunted as I came crashing onto the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust as the impact carried me like stone across a lake. Bodies fell as my tumbling weight crashed into them. The beast in me stirred in fury as I rose, feeling my chest burning as blood poured. “If I don’t slay you this day… then I am no northman, and you can all strip me of my name and manhood!” I shouted out at no one in particular, only possessed by fury. I charged headlong at the creature. Its legs flickered at me. But I weaved. Quick as a wolf. Quicker even. I leapt and swung at its body, but it skittered back so that I only hit its side, which was as chitinous as its legs.

  It must have a weakness. My eyes roamed across it as we danced, ax and barbed legs striking at one another. Its underside and head seemed to be of a different skin, not hard and chitinous like the rest of it, but more a moist, leathery, hairy skin. It was also this skin at the joints of its legs, the wet skin there seemed unprotected.

  I reached for all my Fenrir speed as I dodged its slashing legs.

  Now. My legs left the ground as I leapt. My ax blurred. I felt it bite into the narrow joint between the carapace of its legs. Green blood gushed as its leg was slashed apart. It reeled back. Its shriek was so loud and piercing it might have driven men mad by this alone. I had wounded it. Now, to take its head. As I hit the ground, I aimed.

  But suddenly a gush of some strange white liquid spurted from its mouth. It wrapped itself all over me. A web. As I tried to move I couldn’t believe how strong it was, like the damn stringy substance was steel rather than the gossamer it appeared to be. It raised its front legs, aimed the scythe-like ends to hack puncture a hole in me the size of a house beam, but suddenly it shuddered, shrieking in pain once more. My eyes flickered. It was Anvir. He had run under the creature and dug his spear into its belly. As it reeled away, Anvir’s weapon stayed lodged in its green flesh. He drew his side arm, a cavalry sabre like those in the south. Before he could draw it completely, the sharp end of the spider’s legs tore into him, piercing right into his chest.

  “Ungh!” he shuddered out as the leg pierced right through him then withdrew and let him slump to the ground. The spider scuttled back, still a spear in its belly.

  “No!” Kyra screamed as she came running to her fallen brother. I could barely move, still wrapped in the spider creature’s steel-hard silk.

  I trembled under the exertion as I tried breaking the web.

  “Die!” I saw Kyra scream out as she took her sword in her hands and ran after the spider. She took two flickering steps then leapt into the air, higher and farther than any woman, or any man should be able to. The sword was clasped by both her hands, blade aimed downward. And as she reached the top of her leap, she drove the sword blade down on the spider’s head. Green blood gushed. The spider reeled, screaming out so mania
cally it felt like the ground around it would shatter.

  As it spasmed, Kyra couldn’t hang on to her blade, which was still stuck in the center of the fell creature’s head. She was tossed off.

  “Commander Rothan,” I heard one of our soldiers shout as he came running to me. “I’ll loose you.” I saw him take out his dagger and begin cutting into the web entangling me. As some of the strands snapped, one of my arms was loosened. My claws tore through the white web as I released myself. The last strands of web fell away from me like a dead husk.

  My vision cleared now, I took in the situation. The spider had collapsed, three of its legs on one side still shuddering, its others completely still so that it made its body lopsided. The palanquin was empty. I searched for Ghazrak, but spotted Kyra, struggling to stand.

  I ran to her, dropped an Orc with a quick ax blow to the chest.

  “Kyra! Come!” I reached down and stood her up.

  “I can… I can still fight,” she tried to protest, her voice faint.

  “You’ve done enough, you… avenged your brother. Now go! I have to catch Ghazrak before he flees.”

  She nodded, somewhat reluctantly, but even she realized she was bleeding, exhausted. I snatched a one handed battle ax from a fallen soldier and handed it to her. She hurried away from the thick of battle.

  I focused back on finding Ghazrak, spotted him not far from the fallen spider. He and Quistainn were trading strikes. Quistainn launched his hammer at him, but Ghazrak would deflect with his glowing scimitar, take aim with his scepter and a gray bolt of energy would come writhing out, striking at Quistainn. My cleric friend put up his shield just in time. As Quistainn was battling, flinging his hammer, guarding from the strange gray bolts, a rider came upon him. It was one of the red Orcs on a reptilian mount.