Iron Blooded

This time my speed wasn’t enough to save me. The blow of the axe struck me in the shoulder knocking me sideways and into the dirt. The pain came moments later, leaving me breathless as I scrambled to find my fallen Dagger.

Four Orks stood over me, and the one that had struck raised his axe over his head.

“No,” the voice was calm, low, but unmistakably human. I looked up and saw him standing among them. He was tall, bald, and inside his dark hood I could see the curve of pointed ears. August? No, this creature was different. His skin was pale, his eyes narrowed to catlike slits.

At the sight of me, his lip curled in distaste.

“If you kill him now any information dies with him.”

A gleam of metal in the firelight caught my attention and I spotted Iron Fang in the dust by the boots of one of the Orks. I needed to get to it. I resisted the urge to look around for Astrid and instead focused on the Orks in front of me. One leveled a spear at my neck, another two stood behind me. A fourth had his arms folded, standing by the side of the cloaked elven figure.

I couldn’t afford to make a show of looking for Astrid, I just had to hope that she was somewhere nearby. A sharp blow to the side of my head made my vision dance. One of the Orks behind me had struck me with the butt of his staff.

A pair of dark boots came into my vision, followed by the smell of smoke as the elf, or whatever he was, knelt beside me.

“What is your name?” He asked. His voice was like ice but I knew better than to underestimate him. I defended my mind the way Lord Blackthorne had taught me, heart pounding as I waited. No mental barbs came. So, he wasn’t a mind mage.

The elf lifted his head and said something in Orkish. It was strange to hear the words from his lips but I had no time to ponder it. I was stuck again by the but of a staff catching myself on my hands in the dust.

“we’ll try again,” he said calmly. “What is your name, human?”

I mumbled something. He tilted his head, pale eyebrows drawing together.

“Speak up, vermin.”

I lunged. It was a poor attempt, but it was all I had. I knocked aside the spear pointed at my chest, lunging forward with my hand outstretched. Several Orks were caught off guard and for a moment I thought I might succeed. But then, faster than the eye could see, the cloaked figure moved.

Shadows seemed to pool around him and he seemed to distort, flowing forward faster than should have been possible. In an instant his dark boot had slammed down pinning my arm to the dirt only inches from the hilt of Iron Fang. Moments later I felt a rib crack under the heavy kicks of Orks from either side. I curled into a ball, unable to free my trapped hand. I could hear the snarls of Orks above me, hear the sigh of the elf as he reluctantly ordered them to stop.

I was panting, my lip split, and one eye quickly swelled shut under the beating. Pale fingers wrapped around my chin, wrenching it upwards so hard my neck creaked. His hands were as cold as ice, as were his eyes, that now watched me like a snake.

I glared at him through my one good eye and he laughed.

“Such spirit,” he said, amused. “It’s a shame you serve Enais. Such a waste of a vessel such as yourself. You could be… so much more.”

I tried to spit at him but only succeeded in spitting on the ground between us. He arched an eyebrow, lips curving.

“I do so wish to break you,” he said. One of the Orks said something and his eyes glinted with a momentary flash of irritation as he glanced up and away. He said something in Orkish and made a gesture, to which the Ork nearest him responded with a grunt.

That seemed to irritate him.

“That can’t be,” he hissed. “I have a spy amongst those at Ceris. He would have told me if…” he glanced at me and his eyes narrowed. Then he continued speaking in Orkish.

While he talked I moved my free hand from beneath me and began to inch it forward, towards my knife. I let my head droop toward the ground, and let the tension in my shoulders loosen. Just a little farther. My fingers encountered the leather edge of my boot.

I groped further, fingers closing around the hilt of my hunting knife. I lay still, waiting as my mouth filled with the copper tang of blood. Then my HUD flashed. Ṟ𝔞ℕǑ𝖇ÊŜ

Iron-Blooded: Active

I wrenched my knife from its sheath. The blade glowed red as I punched it through the knee of the elf. I expected a spray of blood. A scream of pain. But none came. Instead, shadows pooled from the wound and when he looked down at me, his eyes went completely black.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

The very sky around us seemed to darken and I got the impression I had made a terrible mistake. There was no time to double-think. I wrenched my hand from under his boot, feeling the sharp sting of pain as one of my fingers dislocated.

Then I was snatching up Iron Fang and scrambling away on hands and knees. I had lost my hunting knife in the frey, the Ork who I had stabbed was fumbling with it, hands slick with blood.

“Now!” I said, hoping and praying that my guess had been right. “Now, Astrid!”

There was a whipping sound and the air around me stirred. An Arrow with a glowing blue tip whistled by me, lancing straight for the shadowy figure. He stepped aside with that same flowing speed but the arrow struck the Ork behind him, killing the creature instantly.

Astrid stepped out of the shadows, drawing another bow from her quiver. One of her archers ran forward, grabbing my arm and helping me to my feet. There was the snap of more bows, and another Ork went down.

“Ser William,” said the Archer nearest me, uncertainty casting his features.

“Do we call the alarm?”

“We don’t have a choice.” Astrid let fly another arrow and dropped her hand to her hip where her brother's horn was buckled to her belt. I caught her hand.

“No,” I said. “We can’t fight that thing. He’ll kill us and then he’ll kill most of the men. He’s some kind of Magus.”

“Then we run?” she asked, her tone incredulous.

“We retreat,” I amended. “And we live to fight another day.”

“What of the Kahn?”

“Dead.”

Astrid hesitated but a lance of shadow spun out of the darkness and struck a tent beside us, spraying us in dirt. Orks were beginning to rouse in the camp. I could hear the sound of raised voices. It was time to go.

The archers and I turned and ran. We darted back the way we had come, vaulting cookfires and scattering embers. Some of the coals rolled towards the blankets and tents of groggy Orks. Smoke began to fill the air.

We had only moments before the alarm was truly raised and I knew we had to make it count. An Ork warrior threw aside the flap to his tent and stubbled out, blade half drawn. I kicked him in the knee and drew Iron Fang across his throat as we passed.

We were pelting for the edge of the camp, heedless of our surroundings. I saw one of the archers go down, a lance of shadow sticking from his back. We couldn’t afford to stop now. We were nearing the edge of the firelight where the darkness and the safety of numbers waited.

A deep guttural below echoed in the night.

It was the Khan’s son rallying his troops. And he sounded angry.

We made it out of the ring of light only to nearly run head-long into a bristling wall of spears.

“Whoa, Don’t skewer the boss man,” said Kato, throwing out an arm. He stepped from the tall grasses, Looking me up and down.

“What happened?” he asked “Is the Khan dead?”

“He’s dead,” I confirmed. “But his son isn’t. Listen there is no time for explanation. We’re going to have to rally the men and beat a retreat, double time. We stop for nothing.”

“What about the ambush?”

“Forget the ambush.” Those words came not from me but from Draxus who now stood staring in horror over my shoulder.

“They have a fucking Magus,” he breathed. “An elven Magus.”

Kato needed no further prompting. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled, shouting at the men to get moving. Hade nodded to me and rallied my squad to form up around me as we prepared to run.

There was confusion in the ranks of men, I could see the uncertainty in the sea of eyes now watching me. That uncertainty didn’t last long. A long tendril of shadow raced across the ground becoming solid as it sheered off the heads of several men.

“Fall back!” shouted Kato from behind as I reached into my inventory. The men needed no further prompting. I found my shield and pulled it onto my arm, wincing at the pain of my dislocated finger. I had bigger problems right now – like leading my men out of this death trap with the least amount of casualties possible.

“Archers in the front. Shield men, with me.” I called, and the soldiers responded with practiced efficiency.

The men flowed around me, some falling back while others stepped forward to take their place. We retreated quickly using the grass for whatever cover it provided as we trekked back the way we had come. I hailed a young level 15 soldier with eager eyes.

“Find the others,” I said. “Rally them and have them meet us at the crossroads. Tell them to delay the ambush and not attack. You hear me? Do not engage.”

The soldier nodded, an oversized helmet flopping on his head. He was just a boy, so much like Eric only days ago. But I couldn’t afford to spare him.

“Good lad. Go.”

I released his shoulder and watched as he retreated into the night, short sword in hand. I couldn’t help but wonder if I hadn’t just sent him to his death.

A roar sounded in the distance, one that sent a ripple of fear through the men. Tall grass stalks swayed around us as we double-timed forward.

“Sand Drakes?” Said Draxus, his eyes wide. “They’re sending Outriders after us.”

A laugh sounded somewhere from behind. I kept my own expression neutral as I directed my men. Draxus frowned around at Astrid, a dark eyebrow raised.

“Something funny?”

“You have nothing to fear from Outriders,” she said. “At least not tonight. One of Ser William’s first orders was that we cut the saddles, harnesses and equipment of any rider we found. Then we had only to cut the rope on their cages.. and well…”

Draxus’s eyes widened and he listened more intently. The Sand Drakes were shrieking, but there were shouts in the distance. Shouts not of men, but of Orks. Kato grinned, teeth flashing white in the darkness.

“You cheeky bastard, you set their own dogs on them. Bold.”

I didn’t return his smile. My stunt might buy us some time, but I had no illusions that we were in deep water here. And the fate of my men may hinge on how I handled this situation. Beating a retreat might work for now, but if the Khan’s son pursued us in earnest, and I had no doubt he would after he discovered the corpse of his father, we would be pressed hard.

I could only hope that the event of his father's death was enough to further rattle the tribes and upset the balance of power within the Host itself.

Then there was the matter of the Magus himself.

Once again I was left with more questions than answers.. but one thing was certain.

Lord Blackthorne had been correct in his assumption. The Ork Host had marched upon Ceris for a reason, and that purpose was one that had been demanded of them by some other force. These Gods that the Khan had referenced.

What did that mean for humanity? And the insinuations that the God King himself was something other than human… the thought was heavy with implication.

“Ser William!” I turned my head and saw Hade jogging alongside me.

“Soldier?”

But Hade’s eyes were beyond me, beyond the row of soldiers now moving about us. I followed his gaze and what I saw made my heart drop. Behind us, shadows rose in dark tendrils, staining the sky the of blackest night. The magus was coming for us.