by R. Malak
~ * ~
Mouth quivering with rage at the death of his brothers and sisters, Grul Han’s eyes darkened, gradually becoming a bright red as he fell into the bloodlust. Delirious with rage, the Orcs around him lost their senses, and began attacking the passing goblins, their battleaxes scything through them with ease. Lost in the blood-haze of battle, Han dropped his mighty war axe and used his fists, tusks, and teeth. Pouncing upon the nearest goblin, tusks driving into the creature’s chest while he hammered it with his rock sized fists, breaking bones, and ripping off limbs with ease. Consumed by a savage hunger, the Orcs halted their hunt for the humans and feasted on goblin flesh, their armor becoming slick with the blood of their mindless allies.
~ * ~
Head throbbing with pain, throat parched with dust, Talmen awoke to the sound of gunfire and a powerful explosion that rocked the ground. He anxiously pushed himself up onto his feet and gazed around, trying to remember where he was. The wide-open emerald plain lay before him, grassy fields swaying in the breeze with three small hillocks to the east, their wide green peaks peeking over the grass. Behind him lay the forest with its overgrown trees and great arching branches throwing shadows upon the ground. Whiffing the strong stench of death and decay, he followed the scent and felt his jaw drop open. Strewn about him were six dead Orcs in heavy black plated armor, riddled with bullet wounds that streamed blood to create bright red puddles beneath them. Mouth widening open with shock at the discovery, he stumbled backwards tripping over the corpse of the strange creature that had taken a bite out of his shoulder. Heart beating rapidly, he lurched away trying to understand what had happened here and heard the wild ululating cries of goblins shrieking echoing in the distance, followed by bursts of steady gunfire.
Nerves shot, he jerked backwards at the familiar sound then quickly crouched down in amongst the long green grass. Rubbing his heavy eyelids, he tried to think. He couldn’t have been out that long. At least he hoped he hadn’t been. He had heard stories from his mother of men passing out from wounds and dying as they slept. But this… this was even stranger. Dead Orcs all around him emitting a putrid stench that churned the stomach, human roamers or settlers off in the distance somewhere, battling against what he assumed was a tribe of goblins, and god knows what else that was out there. The earth beneath him grumbled and moaned with the thud of footsteps. Gazing cautiously over the tall green grass, he caught sight of hundreds of barefoot goblins in deep brown robes, racing north east towards the sound of the gunfire. Their pointy green ears twitching as they streamed through the forest like a surging river, their yellow malevolent eyes glowing in the darkness… the darkness… the darkness. Shit! It was night. The pasty white moon stood above him glimmering, surrounded by thousands of bright sparkling stars.
Terrified at the realization, he was out in the open during the time of the beast, he leapt to his feet, and made a mad dash towards the forest. His long gangly legs eating up the ground rapidly, his flame colored eyes drawn to a monstrous cedar tree ahead of him, which seemed like a good spot to wait out the night. Arms swinging, he reached the base of the great tree with its thick octopus arms, when he smashed against something solid. Bouncing back, his eyes fell upon a beanstalk of a goblin with wild eyes and leathery green skin. Yellow eyes lighting up with malicious delight, the creature attacked, swiping at him with its dirty, long claws, to cut his left cheeks and force him backwards. Feet slipping in a puddle of blood, he slammed into the rocky turf hard, skull banging against a rock. Fighting the wave of dizziness he grabbed hold of the goblin’s scrawny neck to keep it from biting him as it leapt atop him. The goblin growled and raked at him with its claws, cutting his face, neck and arms, its mouth opening and closing to reveal its jagged yellow teeth.
Struggling to wrestle the creature off him, he punched and kicked recklessly at the creature, but the beast’s only reply was to dig its claws into his arms, refusing to budge. Gasping in pain, its fetid breath blowing into his face, he could feel the strength in his arms weakening. Seeing the fear in his eyes, the goblin gave a baleful smile. Too weak to do anything, he began to despair; his mind going numb at the image of the goblins teeth sinking into his neck. I am going to die, I am going to die, I am going to die replayed over and over in his head. But he didn’t want to die here, not yet. Shuddering with effort, he used all his remaining strength to shove the goblin aside to smack into a tree. The goblin back on its feet in an instant its mouth twisted in a snarl rushed at him, when suddenly, its skull was cleaved in two like an overly ripe melon. Jaws wide open in horror, he shifted his gaze to the blood crazed Orc standing over the goblin wielding a hefty battle axe. The Orc ripped the axe out of goblin’s skull, dripping pieces of gray matter and threw itself upon the carcass its hungry teeth seeking flesh.
Pale with shock at the appalling sight of the Orc tearing away chunks of meat from the goblins body and shoveling it into its bloody maw he keeled over, emptying everything in his stomach. Mind numb with horror and throat aching he stumbled away, stopping short to sluggishly duck back down into the grass, as more goblins in grass stained brown robes stormed out of the forest past a large pack of well armored Orcs. Rubbing his eyes in confusion at the strangely surreal scene of Orcs killing goblins, he stared off into the distance at the flashes of light sparking off here and there, along with gunfire. Slapping his face to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, while hoping against hope that this was all some kind of awful nightmare. He winced immediately and clutched his cheek as his hand connected with the cut on his face. Cheek stinging, he swallowed his growing fear, scanned the forest ahead to make sure there weren’t any more goblins, before dashing inside. All the while praying to whatever gods were listening to watch out for him.
~ * ~
Head down, arms swinging, Qazin ran through the forest dodging and weaving, heading towards the sound of gunfire, with more than half a dozen goblins closing in rapidly behind him. Their lips peeled back to reveal sharpened elongated teeth. But despite the danger, all he could think about was the look of surprise on the young recruit’s face, staring at him with blank vacant eyes. He shouldn’t have left the kid on his own to fend for himself like that. A young man like that deserved to at least live another fifty to sixty years. Needing a breather, he swung around on his heels, leveled his rifle, and fired six rapid shots, killing the four nearest goblins with bullets to the head and chest. The goblins startled by the attack paused for a second, allowing Qazin time to continue sprinting. Spears flew past him to thunk into the trees. Panting for breath, he wiped the sweat that dripped down his forehead into his eyes and hoped the re-grouping point was close. He didn’t think he had it in him to run another mile.
The slow methodical ring of gunfire grew louder and louder. He wasn’t far now, one more push and he should be there. Catching his second wind, he scrambled over tree trunks and brushed past large branches. Realizing the human was escaping, the goblins launched another volley of spears. Most fell short, except for one that struck him in the side of neck, leaving a deep bloody wound. He stumbled forward a couple of paces blood spilling from his neck to soak his green army fatigues. Ignoring the fiery pain, he kept running one arm gripping his neck to stem the flow of blood and the other clutching his rifle. Finally, he broke free of the forest, and gave a tired smile at the sight of his bloodied men lined up on the opposite side of the road with rifles at the ready. Bullets flew in all around him, driving the goblins that had trailed after him onto the road.
~ * ~
Hick’s his eyes focused on the growing line of goblins across from his position was considering their remaining options, when Qazin appeared. Stumbling out of the forest the left side of his body sheeted in blood, rifle loosely grasped in his right hand.
Face creasing in worry he called out to Soren his most able-bodied veteran, “Go retrieve the Commander! Snap to it soldier!”
Soren nodded and raced over to the commander with the practiced ease of an athlete. Wrapping his arms around the command
er’s thin shoulders, he half carried, half dragged him towards the defensive perimeter. He swiftly laid the commander out to rest against a tree trunk, and rejoined the firing line. Hicks, his eyes still focused on the other side of the road where the goblins were massing, wished again that he had more men on hand.
“What’s the plan commander?”
Qazin stared up into the night sky his face void of all emotion. “Position Cora and Tommy our best shooters up in the trees, give them my cartridges.”
Hick’s frowned. “Chief?”
Qazin pulled his hand away to expose the ugly wound in his neck. “This is the end for me,” he whispered.
Veins and arteries torn, this was a mortal wound. His friend needed a doctor right now or a medic. Unfortunately, those two professions were a rarity now.
Hick’s hard face with its harsh edges and flat planes softened, his blue eyes moistening. His friend was dying. He had grown used to losing friends and battle brothers in the new world. But this somehow was different, he had known Qazin a long time, they had been together when all this had begun, they had fought side by side for years. His friend had been there at the birth of his child and had always been there to watch his back. He felt a lump welling up in his throat. He tried to speak, but couldn’t. His mouth refused to open. Qazin, as if understanding his thoughts, patted him on the shoulder and gave him a sad smile. He then opened the pockets in his cargo pants and pulled out his two remaining cartridges. Nodding his head, he took the proffered cartridges and stood up. Now was not the time for mourning.
He gestured for Cora and Tommy to join him. “How many rounds do you have each?”
Cora licked her dry lips, wiping the sweat on her brow. “Using my last mag Sarg, have around 17 rounds left.”
Tommy, a short squat man with golden skin and pale green eyes spat in the ground and help up nine fingers.
“Here,” he said and handed out one cartridge to each of them. “Now, get your asses up those trees and give us some sniper fire.”
The pair saluted, slung their rifles on their backs, and began climbing up the nearest trees, leaving him with Soren and Qazin on the ground. Eyes red with weariness, he squatted down beside the old veteran to await the end. He raised the M16 rifle back up to his cheek and clicked on the torch attached to rifle barrel. A small pool of light encircled the group of humans.
More goblins filtered in from the forest with a few surviving Orcs who hadn’t lost their senses in the bloodlust. The grey-skinned giant its hunger sated by goblin flesh, marched to the front of the line coated head to toe in blood. The creature lifted its massive war axe to the sky and gave a deep-throated growl that reverberated in the air, sending shivers down his spine. Giving them a taste of what was to come.
~ * ~
Floerke his hunger sated stood up, his eyes returning to their normal shade of orange. Black armor coated in flecks of blood, he bent down and grabbed hold of his war axe and smiled wolfishly at the feel of the heavy piece of metal in his hands. Hearing the deep-throated growls of his brothers and sisters, he wheeled about ignoring the dead goblin at his feet with its stomach torn and saw a puny human running into the forest. Licking his wet lips at the prospect of more fresh meat, he hastened after it.
~ * ~
Entering the forest, Talmen headed east away from the fighting. Not exactly sure where he was going, he trekked carefully, ducking under tree branches and stepping over wide tree trunks, all the while making no noise. Walking alone in the darkness, memories surged forth from the furthest recesses of his mind... He saw his father in a cave, with bright red flames all around him, writhing in agony, his hands reaching out for him. While his mother a short woman with dark brown eyes and graying black hair stood a couple of paces behind his father weeping and shouting for him to run... His eyes watered at the painful memory, tears sliding down his mud encrusted cheeks. He brushed a hand across his face to wipe away the tears and pushed back the memory. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on the past, he had to focus.
He forayed further into the vast forest, seeking shelter amongst the broad cedar trees, and took a long deep breath. The pleasant scent of the trees calmed his mind and strengthened his resolve. There he paused to think for a moment, when he heard the unmistakable crunch of footfalls coming from behind him. Whirling around, he saw the Orc that had killed the Goblin earlier, standing right in front of him. The huge green skinned beast in blood splattered plate armor smiled at him, exposing its short blood-stained tusks and brought up its battle axe. Terror stricken, he spun on his heels and fled headlong into branches, tripping over rocks and tree trunks in his haste to get away. The Orc bellowed with excitement and gave chase, its long strides eating up the gap quickly.
Heart pounding and body quivering with fear, he ran and kept running; all the while tormented by a throbbing pain in his legs and shoulder. The heavy footfalls growing ever closer. Fear swelled up inside of him, as well as anger. Anger at his cowardice, anger at the world for taking his family away from him, and anger at himself for always running away. Belly warm with anger he stopped running. He had enough of running. He faced the Orc, his orange-colored eyes lit with anger and mouth curled up in a snarl. The Orc surprised by the move, slowed down and swung its axe upright ready to attack. It’s hot breath misting in the cold air and flame-colored eyes staring back at him. The Orc hefted its war axe and prepared to strike.
Talmen, anger fueling his tired body, strode forward to meet the Orc, hands balled up into fists. The creature hesitated for a brief second before swinging its axe overhead, aiming for his head. Ducking instinctively, he threw himself against the beast, hoping to knock it off balance. He slammed hard against the Orc’s black plated armor, cutting his hands on its ridges and bouncing off the solid metal to hit the ground. He scrambled to his feet as the Orc attacked again, sweeping the axe towards his feet. Forcing him to leap backwards, losing his footing and falling to the earth again. The Orc walked forward, its orange colored eyes turning crimson as the bloodlust returned.
Heart fluttering, he hastily tried to stand back up, only to slip and fall on something squishy beneath his feet. Almost in tears, he scurried backwards, the fear returning. The Orc loomed over him, its ruby red eyes hypnotizing him with dread, and watched as the axe head came swinging down towards him. Left cheek twitching uncontrollably, he rolled out of the way, the axe head planting itself in the ground, inches away from his face. He scrabbled around for anything to use as a weapon, his fingers scraping against rocks and leaves, when he felt something hard and cold. Not waiting to see what it was, he pulled the piece of metal out from the ground and swung it at the Orc’s head, smashing one of its tusks and forcing it backwards.
It was only then that he realized he had picked up a rifle. Hope coursing through his veins, praying that the blow to the Orc’s head hadn’t damaged the weapon. He shouldered the weapon and aimed it at the Orc’s big, fat ugly face, and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. The Orc chuckled, blood dribbling out from its mouth and reached for him. Cursing himself for a fool, he pulled the trigger again and again and again, each time hearing a soft click. The Orc grabbed hold of his neck with its rough, powerful hands and squeezed. His grip on the rifle weakened. Desperately he pulled the trigger one… last… time…His lungs aching to breathe, and watched the front half of the rifle barrel explode in his hands, spraying shards of metal into the Orc’s face, neck and arms. Squealing with pain the Orc leapt backwards blood spurting from half a dozen wounds.
Getting to his feet gingerly, he shuffled over towards the squealing Orc, the broken rifle still in his blood-stained hands. And with a grunt of fury he shoved the jagged edge of the rifle barrel deep into the Orc’s throat. The Orc, blood pouring out from his throat, collapsed to the ground, choking to death on its own blood. Mentally and physically drained, Talmen settled down beside the dying Orc and noticed several fragments of metal lodged in his chest and arms. Too weak to do anything about that for now, he lay there panting taking mou
thfuls of fresh air, relieved to still be alive.
THREE
“Tally, this is your father, you need stay calm and prepare for the worst. And whatever you do, don’t go outside. Try and gather any food and water, and find a good place to hide, Okay.”
“Sorry, the person you are calling right now is unavailable, please call back later or leave a ten second message after the beep……beeeep
…..One hour later…..
“The army has finally arrived, I can see them patrolling the streets, stay put and we will try to come and get you, be safe son, we love you.”
“Sorry, the person you are calling right now is unavailable, please call back later or leave a ten second message after the beep……beeeep”
…..Half an hour later…..
“Bastards are too scared to leave their posts, but don’t you worry Tally, I’m coming, just need to find a way around their damn barricade?”
“Sorry, the person you are calling right now is unavailable, please call back later or leave a ten second message after the beep……beeeep”
