Page 48 of The War God's Woman

GHORZAG

The mountains loom like jagged teeth against the pale sky, their ridges cloaked by a milky haze that stubbornly refuses to disperse. I lead our small caravan along a narrow pass, each step weighed down by the tension we carry from the previous nights. Behind me trails a band of orc warriors, the War God’s priests wearing crimson robes, and Lirienne—her human figure dwarfed by the rugged terrain but shining with a determined light of her own.

Karzug marches at the vanguard, eyes sweeping every outcropping. Our numbers are modest: a dozen warriors plus a handful of priests, each acutely aware that illusions and sabotage still stalk us. A stiff wind rattles the loose stones, flicking grit into our faces. My breath clouds in the cold air.

I pause at a bend in the rocky path, scanning the route ahead. A steep slope descends into a canyon shrouded in thin mist, the road winding downward until it vanishes in swirling gray. The smell of damp earth mingles with a faint tang of decay—a foreboding sign. Something about this canyon sets my nerves on edge.

Karzug joins me, brow furrowed. “Chieftain, the path narrows below. If we’re ambushed, we’ll have little room to maneuver.” His voice is hushed, as though fearing the canyon might overhear.

I set my jaw. “We have no choice. The War God’s temple lies beyond these crags.” A flicker of memory surfaces—an old map from the fortress library describing the path to the War God’s domain. It warned of wildsponts, monstrous beasts. “We’ll proceed with caution. Form a tighter formation. Keep the priests in the center.”

“Understood,” Karzug says, relaying commands to the others.

When I turn, I find Lirienne standing at the edge of the group. She hugs her cloak against a bitter wind, face etched with worry. Despite her exhaustion, a resilient gleam fills her eyes. I give her a brief nod, trying to convey steadiness. We will not falter, not here, on the cusp of the War God’s domain.

We begin the descent into the misty canyon, single file. Rocks clatter beneath boots, echoing in the tight spaces between sheer cliff walls. The priests mumble prayers under their breath, each step seeming heavier than the last. My father’s old stories of these mountain passes come to mind—tales of hidden predators and illusions conjured by vile magic. It strikes me how myth has become reality.

The fog thickens as we go deeper, swirling around our legs in ghostly tendrils. The temperature drops, beads of condensation gather on our armor. I wipe a drizzle of moisture from my brow, glancing back to ensure the caravan remains cohesive. Lirienne trudges behind Karzug, posture tense, one hand resting on the small dagger she carries for protection.

A hush blankets the canyon. No birds, no scuttling critters. Even the wind sounds distant. It is the kind of silence thatspeaks of waiting jaws, a predator’s lair. My tusks grind together. This is a perfect spot for an ambush.

Sure enough, a low rumble breaks the quiet, reverberating through the ground. I throw up a hand, signaling everyone to halt. The orcs freeze in place, weapons half-drawn, scanning the mist. My heart thuds. Something’s here.

The rumble intensifies into a deep, guttural roar. Suddenly, the canyon floor erupts. Massive shapes burst from rocky crevices, sending shards of stone hurtling. I catch a fleeting glimpse of reptilian skin, scaled limbs as thick as tree trunks. A grotesque beast lunges forward—some twisted cross between a lizard and a bull, dripping with slime.

“Form ranks!” Karzug bellows, brandishing his sword. “Defensive circle around the priests!”

Warriors scramble into position, shields rising. The War God’s priests huddle in the middle, chanting frantically to the sky. Lirienne is jostled to one side but manages to slip behind a boulder, knife clutched in white-knuckled fingers.

I roar, unsheathing my battle-ax. The monstrous creature—one of at least three—charges, jaws agape. It reeks of decay, drool hissing on the ground as if coated in acid. My arms brace for impact. They’re not illusions this time. They’re flesh and blood.

The first beast slams into our shields, sending two warriors stumbling. I leap forward, ax cleaving through the thick hide, but the blade only partially sinks in. Its scales are tough, and my arms rattle from the force.

Karzug and Harzug converge on the second creature, a writhing mass of snapping limbs. The third lurks in the mist, skirting the fringes as if searching for a weaker target. Around me, orcs shout, steel clangs, and the priests’ incantations rise in desperate arcs.

“Ghorzag!” Lirienne’s voice, shrill with warning.

I spin in time to see the third beast lunging from the side, elongated jaws snapping at my flank. Without thought, I dive low, rolling across the slick stones. Teeth clash inches above me, the breath of the creature stinking of rot. Too close.

I regain my feet, swinging the ax upward. This time, I find a gap in its scales—a vulnerable patch near the throat. The blade bites deep, hot ichor spurting. The beast shrieks, thrashing. I roar, doubling the force. With a final twist, I sever part of its neck, sending the monstrous form crashing to the ground in a shuddering heap.

Glancing around, I see the second beast tangling with Karzug and Harzug. Blood spatters the canyon floor as the orcs batter its carapace. The creature swings a spined tail, smashing Harzug’s shield, nearly snapping his arm. Then, in a swift surge, it lunges for Karzug’s throat.

“Karzug!” I shout, charging toward them. But the monster’s jaws snap shut, pinning Karzug’s sword arm. He cries out in agony.

I grit my teeth, hurling my ax at the beast’s side. It embeds in the scales, not enough to kill. The creature bellows, releasing Karzug to thrash in my direction. Karzug stumbles away, clutching his injured arm, and Harzug leaps onto the beast’s back, plunging a spear into its eye. With a sickening squelch, the monster spasms, collapses, and stills.

Meanwhile, the first beast has cornered two priests against a rocky wall, acid drool sizzling on the ground. One priest’s robes smoke where a droplet landed, and his screams echo. I roar, sprinting to intercept, but an orc warrior named Gurtha reaches it first, driving a halberd into the creature’s flank. The beast whirls, snapping at Gurtha, but that gives the priests time to scramble away.

Blood thunders in my ears. We’re pinned. We must finish this quickly. I yank my ax from the second beast’s corpse andrush the final monster from behind. With Gurtha’s halberd in its side, it howls in rage, unable to decide which foe to target. I seize the moment, swinging my ax in a two-handed blow at the base of its skull.

Scales part beneath the steel, and the creature roars, twisting violently. My arms jolt from the impact, but I hold on, forcing the ax deeper until bone crunches. Then the beast goes limp, sliding to the canyon floor with a final gurgle.

Silence falls—save for the ragged breathing of battered orcs, the hiss of acid dissolving stone. The creatures lie dead, their hulking forms a testament to the savage forces lurking in these mountains.

Slowly, we regroup. Karzug clutches a bandaged arm, grimacing at the deep punctures. Several other warriors sport gashes or acid burns. One priest nurses a burned patch on his shoulder, robes torn and stained. My own body aches, bruises forming where I rolled on the rocks. Blood not all my own speckles my armor.

“Is anyone… dead?” I rasp, scanning the survivors. A tense hush. Then a halting “No.” Relief wars with exhaustion. We’ve escaped with injuries but no fatalities. By orcish standards, a near-miracle.

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