Ugh, the annoyed beast turned away from the orc on its side to face the nuisance. Stop, mortal. Why do you persist? Its words came out slowly and with growing agitation as the heavy steel continued to collide with its head. Irritated beyond words, Crepusculus roared and charged after the half-orc. This time, I shall not spare you with fire, orcblood! You shall know the fate of the woman who spared you.
At that, Bitrayuul wavered as flashes of his mother’s chewed and lifeless form appeared in his mind, causing the half-orc to trip over a stone. He gasped as the wind was again knocked from his lungs.
Fangdarr noticed as the living mountain he scaled grew more excited at the ill fate of its prey. The orc moved frantically, nearly upon Crepusculus’ skull. His hands shook nervously, knowing Bitrayuul’s fate was held within them. Fangdarr reached to his waist in order to retrieve the dagger. Never before had his hands fumbled so badly. It was as if the digits had never been used until this moment. They seemed to disobey his commands. The orc’s uneasiness only increased by the moment. The beast was nearly upon his kin and he needed to hurry. Cormac and Aesthéa were shouting on the periphery of his vision in an attempt to draw the dragon’s attention, but to no avail. Fangdarr groaned in frustration as he finally managed to extract the blade from his loincloth. However, as his hand swung forward, the blade scraped against the orc’s leg and fell from his grasp.
Clang, cling, tink.
The chieftain watched in terror as the gleaming blade bounced down the scales of the demon he rode before hitting the ground. He screamed in outrage and helplessness at his foolishness. How could he not simply grab the dagger? Fangdarr’s fists pounded against the base of the drake’s skull directly into the fleshy spot. The thick membrane jiggled like a gelatinous blob beneath his fists. His rage increased as he realized just how close to his goal he had failed.
Bitrayuul was able to stand, finally, and began limping away toward the cavern wall. He knew he would not make it. However, at least he could offer Fangdarr a few more precious moments. Crepusculus was only a short distance away.
Cormac and Aesthéa continued to throw stones and shout insults to the proud dragon. Normally, such a beast would never tolerate such disrespect. However, with its prey so close in sight, it cared not.
The shadow dragon bared its terrible teeth as it drew nearer, sending one more mental communication to Bitrayuul and his companions. Now, you will finally know the folly of your task. In what world did you ever ho—
Bitrayuul looked up in shock to see his enemy halt with a curious expression on its face. The dwarf and druid threw one more stone each before realizing the monster was no longer charging toward the prone half-orc.
Crepusculus arched its head up slowly before turning it. It felt odd, as if a bug were chewing on its skin. Indeed, as the dragon turned its head in the opposite direction, the companions noticed that Fangdarr was now face-down in the membranous spot on the drake’s skull, ferociously ripping and gnawing away with fury, using his large fangs as daggers in place of the one he had dropped.
“Go, lad!” Cormac called out in excitement, but it didn’t matter. The orc heard nothing at that moment, too driven by his rage.
Fangdarr’s face was covered in the squishy material and blood as he finally surfaced for air. It seemed he had finally broken through the outer layer and was now digging deeper. The orc slid down into the hole he had made, clawing and pummeling the next layer of flesh out of the way. He had no idea how far the monster’s brain would be, but he didn’t care. The orc planned to rake, bite, and tear until the demon fell dead.
What are you doing?! Crepusculus called out in horror. Its eyes widened and twitched as it felt the tiny gnawing of the orc’s hands and teeth inside its head. No, no! Get out! it roared in outrage and fear. Quickly, the dragon began slamming its head into the stone walls in the hope of ejecting the orcish parasite within. Instead, the chieftain remained safely tucked inside, protected by the monster’s own scales. He felt nothing. Crepusculus wiggled and rolled in discomfort, disgust and terror. Out, mortal! My body will not be tainted by your filth! Again and again it wailed and smashed itself into the cavern walls.
Fangdarr’s fury only grew as he delved deeper. Purple blood now covered his entire body as he slid through the inner tissue. Suddenly his hand hit against a spongey material. This was it! With vigor, the orc went into a frenzy, ripping his way through until he reached the brain.
The dragon’s eyes began blinking impossibly fast and rolling in random directions as the orc in its skull began clawing away at its brain. In a last effort, Crepusculus inhaled to prepare for another torrent of flame. Whether it was an attempt to eliminate the companions on the cavern floor or burn out Fangdarr, none could be certain. The torrent came, though, a pitiful beam compared to those it had managed previously. It sprayed in every direction, though mercifully nowhere near Bitrayuul or his allies.
From within the monster’s skull, Fangdarr’s body started to feel the drastic heat. His body sweated profusely as the flames passed a short distance below him through the drake’s throat and mouth, nearly cooking him. Still, he managed to continue.
Reeling in agony, the dragon put its face directly into a small opening in the wall. It was a simple concave indentation, nothing more. With its head fully in the cave, Crepusculus launched another beam of acidic flames. This time, the flames filled the entire small opening, enshrouding the beast’s entire head.
Bitrayuul looked to his friends in concern as they heard painful yells, though faint, from within the dragon.
Fangdarr screamed in agony as the liquid acid poured through the hole he had created before reaching his legs. He clawed more and more in rage as the acid continued to pour down to his torso, melting his skin. The orc struggled to remove Driktarr from his back to avoid it being eaten away by the devastating viscous liquid. Slowly, he pushed away enough mass to get a small amount of room to push the weapon forward into the monster’s brain. He felt the echo of the dragon roaring in pain beneath his strikes as he unleashed another assault. His body slowly started to heal, only to be eaten away again due to the pool he lay in. But Fangdarr’s rage was relentless. He struck again, and the dragon’s blood poured freely into his mouth, reinvigorating him.
No, you cannot! Crepusculus cried out in pain. But it was hopeless. There was no way to get Fangdarr free from inside its head. The dragon knew its fate was sealed. However, the spiteful demon of death would not allow the deed to go unpunished. It was not certain how the orc had survived its breath. Certainly, the acid was eating away at its own flesh now that it had poured into the opening, causing the dragon to wail in pain and fear. But now that it had accepted its fate, its only goal was to bring the orc with it. None would ever hear this low beast’s claim to culling the great Crepusculus.
Most of the drake’s limbs would no longer move from the brain damage it had suffered. Almost all of its body had lost function. Crepusculus did the only thing it could. Within the small confines of the cave, it bashed its head upward into the low ceiling. Again. Again. Finally, the stone broke free and plummeted down onto its head. In its final act and with its dying breath, Crepusculus had interred its head in a rocky tomb.
As well as sealing Fangdarr inside.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
BLOOD
Bitrayuul was the first to rush toward the trapped dragon, yelling Fangdarr’s name all the while. Shortly after, Cormac and Aesthéa appeared by his side to join in calling out for their ally. They took care to steer clear of Crepusculus, fearing it may still be able to kick at them or flick its deadly tail. However, their caution was soon dismissed as the vibrant purple scales began to dull. The half-orc watched as the black smoke that had previously emitted from the drake’s marvelous body wafted away. Just as Aurum had deteriorated to a faded husk of its former self, so too did their enemy.
“Fangdarr!” the elf druid continued, terrified for her beloved. Tears had already filled her eyes as she feared the worst.
&nbs
p; Cormac groaned in effort as he attempted to use his powerful arms to shove a boulder free but to no avail. The dragon had performed its final act expertly.
“Aesthéa, see to Elethain. Perhaps he has the strength left to help us,” Bitrayuul suggested. Her eyes brightened with the idea as she took off running toward the cubby, where the necromancer had been hidden. After watching her go, the half-orc turned to Cormac. “How does it look?” he whispered.
The dwarf shook his head somberly. “Not good, lad. There be a chance. But half a mountain fell on him, don’t ye doubt.”
“The stones cannot be moved?”
Cormac pondered for a moment. “Mm, they might, if the Necromancer is up to it. But . . .”
“It may bring down the rest of the cave or crush him even more,” the half-orc finished, drawing a nod from the captain.
The pair of elves returned, but Elethain looked no more improved than his previous state. His golden hair was matted to his face and neck from sweat. The magical tattoos covering his body moved dreadfully slow, if at all. It was obvious the warlock was exhausted, though the moment Elethain’s eyes made contact with Crepusculus’ hulking corpse, they grew wide with excitement.
“You did it! Cerenos be praised, the dragon has fallen!” The elf’s smile was wide and genuine, though his eyes were nearly manic. He pushed free of Aesthéa and stumbled forward before crawling toward the faded drake. “Now. Now I can . . .”
Aesthéa pushed him to the ground quickly, catching Bitrayuul and Cormac off guard. “Elethain, no! Not yet.”
“What’s going on?” Bitrayuul asked curiously.
“He aims to enslave Crepusculus as he did Aurum—with Fangdarr trapped inside!” She could hardly contain the excited necromancer as he clawed forward fervently.
Elethain began mumbling a chant under his breath, tapping into the last of his strength to begin sealing the shadow dragon into the magical realm. Luckily, Cormac fell on top of him, disrupting the spell. The elf stared daggers at the dwarf in response, showing naught but pure hatred in that moment.
The captain showed no concern as he tore a piece of cloth from the elf’s robe and stuffed it into the necromancer’s mouth. “Listen, ye can have yer damned drake. After Fangdarr is free. Deal?”
The pinned elf frowned in outrage at being commanded so by a dwarf. However, he knew he did not have the strength in that moment to fight back. In addition, he believed the captain would honor his word. All Elethain wished for was the dragon. He nodded his agreement before settling.
“Can ye hold him, lass?” Cormac asked of the druid.
She nodded firmly. Aesthéa had no intention of allowing Elethain to rid her of Fangdarr.
* * * * *
Fangdarr groaned in pain. After cutting deep into the dragon’s brain, he had felt the powerful vibrations and crashing sounds surrounding him that could only be falling rocks. The shock of their impact had shaken him violently and put a lot of pressure on the already tight space he was in. The orc now could hardly breathe. Dead flesh squeezed his body from all angles, restricting his movement. Luckily, most of the acid that had pooled in the small opening where he lay had carved its way through the dragon’s muscles and no longer burned his skin.
The chieftain contemplated what to do next. His entryway was now sealed tightly by a massive boulder that he could not hope to remove. He let out a heavy sigh to steady his breathing. It seemed his best option would be to try to cut his way to the dragon’s mouth and go down its throat. At least then he could navigate a passage rather than be forced to cut through endless amounts of flesh and sinew. With the decision made, Fangdarr began cutting downward until he reached what he assumed was the roof of the monster’s mouth. The palate was exceedingly durable, however, and it took a great many strikes to cut through with Driktarr. Luckily, despite perishing into the afterlife, the dragon’s body retained enough vital energy to be stolen by the enchanted weapon. With each minor cut, Fangdarr’s energy remained topped off.
After what seemed to be an eternity, the orc finally broke through the palate and fell into the beast’s mouth. He nearly gasped in terror as he truly realized where he was. The serpent-like tongue under his rear stank of rotten flesh and blood, and perfectly in his view were the tall ivory blades that served as the dragon’s teeth. Fangdarr wished he could extract one to use as a trophy and dagger. However, none were smaller than a dwarf’s height and all looked firmly rooted deep into the jaw bone. The orc turned toward the opening at the back of the mouth, knowing he could never break through those razor jaws. Never in his life did he expect to purposely enter the throat of a dragon, dead or alive.
Steeling his resolve, Fangdarr dove head-first into the entry. The passage was much slicker than he anticipated. He slid quickly down the throat despite his feeble attempts to slow his movement. The smell only worsened the deeper Fangdarr traveled. It was almost enough to knock him unconscious. The orc could see the tunnel end and a pit of bubbling fluid below. He frantically tried to catch on to something, but there was nothing. Finally, in the last moment, he pushed the hook-end of Driktarr deep into the throat’s lining. It continued to rip for a short distance before bringing him to a halt just before the opening.
Fangdarr breathed a sigh of relief. His eyes were drawn to the disgusting pool below. It was hard to see between the water in his eyes from the heat and stench and the heated liquid releasing its light layer of steam. However, the orc caught a glimpse of something out of place. As much as possible, Fangdarr leaned forward and squinted his eyes to see. Once recognized, the chieftain nearly lost his grip in shock. He could not avert his gaze, no matter how much the orc wished it. Below, floating in the fetid pool of stomach acid, Malice’s shredded face stared back at him—a lifeless stare with one eye dangling freely at the end of its fibrous tendon. Fangdarr was not aware that she had been consumed by their enemy, and he hardly recognized her from the damage that had been done by the stomach acid. Reddened and boiled, her skin was nearly falling apart. Staring directly into her torn apart form, his thoughts could only shift to guilt for bringing such a fate upon the woman.
Finally, the orc managed to pull his vision away and his thoughts turned to his discussions with Bitrayuul regarding the half-orc’s nightmares that plagued him every day—visions that played over and over in his mind when his body floated in the dream realm. Fangdarr knew he would soon know that experience from seeing Malice’s face, here, of all places. The orc shook free the distracting thoughts. He had to continue.
He pushed a long arm through the hole in the lining, reaching for anything he could latch onto. With luck, thick muscles were lined along one side, allowing Fangdarr to secure a hold and pull his body through the gap to safety. Once again, he was trapped inside the small confines of flesh and muscle. Yet, anything was better than falling into that disgusting pool to rot beside his kin’s mother. The orc took a moment to breath and ponder his location. He was near the stomach, which had to be somewhere in the center of the drake, though he couldn’t be sure exactly where. Fangdarr now had no idea how he could escape. The armor-like scales could not be pierced, even from the inside. For a moment he pondered going out the dragon’s waste trail before laughing at the ridiculousness of such a notion. He was much too proud for that. Death seemed a better fate than climbing out the sphincter of a dead dragon.
In any case, Fangdarr could not simply dawdle. The beast was enormous. He could spend days traversing the disgusting flesh before dying slowly. The direction did not matter. What was important was that he needed to keep moving until an escape route presented itself.
Fangdarr cut his way through more and more. Flesh, muscles, veins, arteries, anything and everything. His body was ever more covered in the purple-tinted blood of the fallen creature, but such a thing did not bother Fangdarr. He enjoyed being painted in the lifeblood of his enemy.
After a long time, the orc felt warmth up ahead. He paused for a moment in caution. The heat could be coming from the sac of acidic fire stor
ed within the dragon’s body. If it was, and he punctured the sac, his body would be immediately overrun with the liquid and he would be melted alive. With dreadful slowness, Fangdarr cut tiny slits through the last bit of sinew. No purple light came through. It was not the flame sac. He breathed heavily in relief. Once he had finished cutting a gap, Fangdarr felt the surge of warmth increase. The orc pushed himself through, falling into a sort of chamber large enough for him to stand.
His eyes widened immediately.
* * * * *
Bitrayuul and Cormac sat with the elves. By now Elethain had calmed to his former self, though they still had him gagged and bound. A large amount of time had passed since the dragon had fallen. Almost too long, they all thought. However, they clung to hope.
“What do we want to do, Bit?” the dwarf asked.
The half-orc remained silent. He was not ready to put words to his thoughts yet. It seemed obvious; either they would continue to wait for a miracle or they would not. Bitrayuul searched his mind for alternatives until his eyes lit up with a random thought. “Elethain, can your ghouls traverse the inside of the dragon?”
Orcblood Legacy - Honor Page 35
