Shades of Death

by Ramy Vance

  Sarah looked at Terra. “Against my better judgment, for the sake of her health and soul, I believe she shouldn’t be disturbed. On a practical level, Grok is stronger than any of us. Anabelle would be an extra body, but nothing else. It would be best for her to rest.”

  With that, Sarah and Terra left the room. Once the door shut, Anabelle opened her eyes and stared into the darkness. “Grok…”

  The sun was finally up, the orcs well-fed and ready for war. They stood atop a hill a few miles from the grand hall. Terra, Abby, Persephone, Sarah, Blackwell, and Naota headed the line, flanked by the former tribal leaders.

  The orcs were garbed in their traditional war armor, a thing unseen in the nine realms for many years now. Their bodies were covered in paint and bone, their faces horrid masks of violence and war. When Terra saw them assembled, she understood why the horde had been a thing to fear.

  Across from them on another hill stood Grok. She had no army but stood alone, gripping the lich’s detached finger. “We assemble this day for battle, one to finally put to rest this bitterness. Orcs will choose either strength or death.”

  Terra looked from Cire to the other former tribal leaders, each nodding toward her, encouraging her to be their voice at this moment. “We have only ever chosen strength!” Terra shouted. “Today, you will taste that strength!”

  “So be it.”

  Grok raised her hand, the finger of the lich clutched tightly. The lich’s finger released a blast of green light that spread over the land, and once it faded, the earth began to tremble.

  Bony hands shot out of the ground, grabbing soil and rocks. Soon the hands were ripping up the earth, dragging themselves out. Half-rotten mostly-bone orcs pulled themselves up, resurrected, their eyes pale and dead.

  Grok looked over her shoulder, watched her army bring itself to life for the purpose of extolling death. When the undead orcs had risen, Grok let out a mighty roar that echoed through the hills.

  Terra returned her own roar, slamming her fist to her chest, repeating this action over and over as the orcs behind her joined in, pounding their own breasts. Even Abby and the other humans drummed their chests, matching the beat of the horde.

  Grok charged, her horde behind her, and Terra did the same.

  Their hordes crashed into each other, sending bone and body flying as steel and flesh met on the field of glory.

  Terra tackled Grok, knocking the orc to the ground as Sarah joined her, leaping into the air, slamming her hands together, and breathing a plume of fire.

  Grok dodged, avoiding the flames. Her eyes flashed and she sped forward, elbowing Sarah in the chest and sending the assassin flying over the ranks of orcs behind her, effectively removing her from the fight.

  Grok circled Terra. “You think you have what it takes to best me?” the orc growled. “You and Anabelle combined could not.”

  Terra unsheathed her battle-ax. “Things have changed. You’re going to be the first one to find out.” She ran at Grok, moving faster than she had expected. She swung her ax and Grok stepped to the side, barely avoiding the attack.

  Grok flexed, energy pulsing around her, then dashed toward Terra and let loose a flurry of jabs. The human stepped back, deflecting the orc’s attacks with her ax. Nothing landed.

  Grok was mystified, then she smiled. “Yes, well, it would seem that things have changed. Perhaps you’ll be worth killing after all.”

  Terra swung her ax over her head. “I better fucking be worth it.”

  Across the battlefield, Blackwell and Naota led the charge at the right flank of the undead army. They were backed by a good chunk of the free orcs.

  Blackwell fired with both plasma pistols, taking the time to line up his shots while dodging the attacks of the undead near him. He made as many headshots as he could before needing to reload.

  An undead orc swung its ax at Blackwell blindly and he backed away, barely managing to avoid having his head taken off. Out of nowhere flew two axes attached to chains. They sank into the orc’s chest only to be tugged out again, spraying blood all around them.

  Naota, a few feet away from Blackwell, withdrew his blades, swinging them around his head. He then dropped to his knees, slicing through anything that made the mistake of getting too close. As he stood, an orc tackled him, sending him back to the ground.

  The undead orc screeched its unholy call as Naota tried to squirm away.

  Tentacles wrapped around the undead orc, ripping it off Naota and throwing it into the air.

  Across the field, Persephone withdrew her tentacles, only to turn and send them out again, barreling through a small group of orcs racing toward her. She lifted her tentacles, now nearly twenty feet long, and brought them down onto the orcs. They crushed the orcs beneath their weight, splattering the combatants with shards of bone and rotten organs.

  Blackwell and Naota continued making their push through the collection of undead orcs as the free orcs fought by their side with a viciousness never before seen in the nine realms. The orcs fought as if they lived only for battle, their roars of pain mixed with joyous and righteous laughter.

  The orcs were faster than the undead, easily cleaving through the sternums and spines of their ancestors. If there was any sadness in this cruel irony, the free orcs seemed not to mind. They were in the throes of battle. The horde had arrived, and it was alive and well.

  Roy, who was not too far from Blackwell and Naota, shouted, “We need to cut that finger from Grok. As long as she has that, she can keep bringing more of these things to life.”

  Blackwell turned to Naota. “Do you think you can handle that?”

  Naota’s eyes widened and glistened. “Senpai? You think I’m ready for my own mission?”

  Blackwell fired a shot that whizzed past Naota’s head, hitting an undead orc in between the eyes. “I’m not going to tell you again. The next time you call me that, I’m going to kill you. Now, do you think you can handle that?”

  Naota saluted quickly. “Senpai, yes, Senpai!” before swinging his chained axes to make a path to Grok.

  Roy was firing his way through the undead in front of him, making sure not to hit any of the living orcs. He was now back to back with Blackwell. “Hell of a fucking day, huh?”

  Blackwell knelt to reload as Roy covered him with suppressing fire. “We need to diversify the battlefield. Just because Grok’s okay sending wave after wave of fodder after us, it doesn’t mean we should be doing the same thing.”

  Roy nodded as Blackwell stood, taking this chance to reload his own weapons. While on his knees, he commed Cire. “Hey, you think you can change up the battlefield a little bit for us?”

  Cire, who was on the other side of the field, was busy cleaving his way through the undead with two hand axes. Nib-Nib was by his side, furiously slashing the knees of the orcs around her. “That can be done,” Cire replied. “Give me a moment.”

  An undead orc leapt at Cire, knocking him to the ground.

  Nib-Nib climbed atop the undead orc and drove her claws into it, cutting through its shoulders.

  Once Cire returned to his feet, he started chanting, then rose into the air, his eyes flickering with power. He raised his hands, and the ground around him trembled. Suddenly, jagged chunks of earth shot up, some forming columns that stretched up twenty feet or so. Others created platforms of stone that floated in the air around the battlefield.

  “How’s that?” Cire commed.

  Blackwell and Roy took a quick look at how the battlefield had been rearranged. “That works perfectly,” Blackwell replied. Then he turned to Roy. “You want to take one, and I’ll take the other?”

  “Sounds perfect to me.”

  Roy and Blackwell made their way to the two columns closest to them, firing at the undead in their path.

  As the two humans found a sniping position, Sarah mowed through any undead she could, shooting blasts of fire from her mouth as she tried to return to Grok. There was no telling how long Terra would be able to survive on her ow
n. If she were close enough, she could at least give Terra a chance. Maybe even manage to take Grok down.

  An unbearable screech rang out that sounded as though it had come from the bowels of hell. Sarah’s eyes tracked the origin of the sound.

  Amidst the undead, a pair of leathery black wings stretched out. A sickly black quasi-liquid was spread over them. They flapped once, sending the creature into the air—an undead dragon, one modified with the Black Melody. The dragon released a plume of jet-black flame.

  “What is up with these people and dragons?” Sarah grumbled.

  Before Sarah could head toward the dragon, a figure blasted past her, leaving behind the smell of plasma. It was Abby, rocketing into the sky, ready to fight the dragon.

  Abby flew up to its head, stopped on a dime, slammed her hands together to form a cannon, and fired a blast that tore through the creature’s shoulder blade.

  The dragon screeched, rolled in the air, and unleashed a torrent of flames Abby had to weave between to avoid. The Dark Melody pulsed from the wound, sending thousands of tentacles into the sky. Eyes covered the tentacles as another dragon’s head forced itself through the wound. Half a dragon’s body emerged, holding an obsidian sword.

  The dragon slashed at Abby, who sped backward, firing shots off her shoulder as she tried to evade the fire rushing at her from the other dragon’s head.

  Naota was sprinting toward Grok, careful to watch himself and the orcs fighting alongside him. He swung his chain-axes but they stopped in midair, caught on something. He looked over his shoulder for the problem.

  An undead troll held both of Naota’s chains. “Oh, no,” Naota muttered. “This is not good.”

  The troll yanked Naota into the air, the human screaming as he lost all understanding of gravity. Then he stopped flying, his sides constricted. He looked down to see black tentacles wrapped around his body.

  Persephone landed at Naota’s side. “Where are you trying to go?”

  “Grok!”

  “All right.”

  Persephone released Naota and leapt toward the undead troll. She shot her tentacles at the creature, piling them on until it released Naota. Her tentacles wrapped around the troll, growing larger and thicker still until the troll wasn’t visible. Then she screamed and flexed and the tentacles constricted, causing the troll to explode.

  The tentacles retracted and then wrapped around Naota. “Don’t forget to roll when you land,” Persephone advised.

  Naota saluted and nodded grimly as Persephone tossed him. He hit the ground and rolled not too far from Grok and Terra, who were duking it out. Terra was being knocked back by Grok’s attacks.

  The finger hung from the back of Grok’s waist.

  Naota lined up his shot and flung his ax with immense accuracy. The ax hit the lich’s fingertip, embedding far enough to hold. Naota pulled back his ax as Grok turned to see what had touched her, but the ax slipped from the lich’s flesh.

  Terra took the opening and slugged the orc in the face.

  Grok turned to face Terra, her nose bleeding. “You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Grok squared up against Terra and the air pulsed with her energy. She shot forward, ready to strike Terra in the face. A moment before the attack could connect, Sarah landed in her path, blasting a wall of flame in front of them all.

  The orc stumbled back, nearly tripping over her feet.

  Sarah landed in a plume of smoke and leaned toward Terra. “We hit her together. You understand? That’s the only way we’re going to live through this.”

  Terra, whose face was already battered and bruised, managed to smile. “Good plan. Let’s fuck her up.”

  “I’ll go first. You back me up.”

  Sarah leapt into the air a moment before connecting with Grok. She slammed her hands together, and her body split into three.

  Grok stared at the different versions of Sarah. “Huh. This is all you have to offer?”

  Sarah exhaled a blast of fire as another Sarah screamed in rage and ran after Grok. The third Sarah flipped over Grok as Terra barreled toward the orc.

  Terra hit Grok in the face and one of the clones kicked the orc in the stomach as the fireball engulfed Grok. The third Sarah kept Grok from escaping by grabbing the orc by the neck and holding her still.

  Grok released a roar and the air pulsed around her, sending Terra and the three Sarahs back. The two clones exploding in plumes of smoke.

  “Obviously, it wasn’t enough.” Grok chuckled.

  Anabelle watched the battle from her window. Her body was still trashed, bones aching and muscles begging to be relaxed, but she could see what was happening: pure chaos.

  She knew Grok was out there.

  Then Anabelle heard it as if it had been whispered into her ear: “You’re mine.”

  The room exploded outward, rock and debris flying everywhere. Anabelle was gone.

  The dragon chased Abby as she wove between the columns Cire had erected across the battlefield. Occasionally she would fire over her shoulder at the creature, but she was very aware of how little energy she had to spare.

  Flying was one thing. Flying and firing were another, but it was enough to keep the dragons off the orcs below.

  Persephone’s tentacles reached up and snagged the dragon. It only took a few moments for her to pull herself up onto the undead creature’s back. Once on top, she tried to scramble to the dragon’s throat, but it began to shake, its entire body trembling as it barrel-rolled.

  Her tentacles wrapped around one of its wings, forcing it to veer to the right and head into one of the columns. Persephone managed to detach at the last minute, flying through the air as the undead dragon smashed into the column.

  Blackwell, who was on top of the column, leapt off when he saw the dragon coming for him. He closed his eyes tight, no doubt expecting to hit the ground, yet he was floating in the air. When he opened his eyes, Abby was holding him in her arms. “Just take me to the next one,” he said.

  Abby sped toward another column while Persephone climbed the dragon again, fighting to get back on top.

  On the column, Blackwell looked out at the battle. “Our forces are doing well, but this is an orc battle. Until Grok drops, these fuckers are just going to keep coming.”

  Abby stared at Persephone, who had finally managed to wrangle the dragon’s neck with her tentacles. “Then we should be there.”

  “Yeah, so fucking get there.”

  Abby blasted off, scanning the battlefield for Grok and found her easy enough. Terra and Sarah were fighting with her, Terra swinging her ax madly as Sarah leapt and dashed, trying to find an opening to strike the orc.

  Grok seemed nonplussed by the attacks. Focused, but not stressed.

  Abby wondered if she would be able to make a difference. Maybe the best plan was to try to hit Grok with one of the artillery satellites from above. If it could take out a ship, Grok would not be able to survive. The only problem was making sure no one else was hurt.

  She already knew the answer to that question. If she tracked the signal to herself, all she had to do was get a good hold on Grok. Then she could end all this.

  There wasn’t any need for deliberation. Abby knew what she had to do. She sped off, increasing her speed, preparing to grab Grok as she dialed in the satellite to her coordinates.

  Abby tackled Grok at a high speed, holding onto the orc with all of her strength as the satellite charged.

  Grok grabbed her around the neck and dug her feet into the ground, creating a furrow and stopping Abby in her tracks. As everything proceeded in slow motion, Abby watched Grok reach up and grab her by the throat and slam her into the ground.

  Abby lay there, unable to move, her body wracked with pain. Grok stood over her. “Shame the lich isn’t here. She’d love to finish this herself.”

  A blast of fire hit Grok and she stumbled back, giving Terra enough time to run over and help Abby to her feet. Sarah joined the t
wo and they faced off against the orc, who had recovered.

  Grok beat her chest and roared. “Do you think the addition of a child is enough to stop me? I walk the true Path of the Lost. I am the last true orc! I am the dream of the elves, of the Travelers realized. Nothing can stop me. I will have Anabelle. She is mine.”

  The ground shook from a seismic impact. All four combatants stared in the direction of the force.

  Dozens of undead orc bodies were floating through the air, suspended as if frozen for a moment before falling. “What the hell was that?” Sarah asked aloud.

  Abby’s eyes zoomed in. She couldn’t believe it. “Anabelle. It’s Anabelle.”

  Anabelle hit the ground running, leaving behind the undead orcs. Her body was pulsing, and she felt like she was coming out of her skin. Grok was out there. She could feel the orc in her bones and hear Grok’s words in her head.

  Between the horde and the undead orcs the elf wove, slicing through anything that gave her a look as she made her way toward Grok.

  A troll lumbered in front of Anabelle and roared.

  Anabelle didn’t think, she simply reacted. Her body radiated mana and she slashed through the troll, cutting it in half as she continued racing through the mass of bodies. She mindlessly grabbed undead creatures as she passed and reduced them to ash with the slightest touch.

  And then she was behind Terra, Sarah, and Abby, the last obstacle between her and Grok.

  From behind the DGAs, Grok laughed. “Finally, you’ve arrived.”

  Terra turned to Anabelle. “What are you doing here?”

  Anabelle took a step forward, her eyes bright with energy, and the ground beneath her erupted. “Grok…” she muttered.

  Grok laughed. “She’s too far gone. That isn’t Anabelle anymore. She is my creation. Mine.”

  At the word “mine,” Anabelle let loose an animalistic screech and ran at Terra, her hand cocked, ready to attack.