Page 156 of Halfling
Kaldar hissed in pain, anger mottling his features.
“Why did he bring you, Kaldar?” Orek demanded. “To keep you away. He fears you, fears that he won’t win if you challenge him.”
“Enough!”
Orek only had time to turn away from the brunt of Krul’s attack, but the chieftain’s axe still caught his flank, splitting skin along his ribs. He retreated back, giving himself room as he drew another knife. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind, allowing himself only to think on the sting, for it kept him sharp.
Krul advanced with his battle axe, Kaldar coming up on his right with a dagger. They herded Orek back, around the trees—
Toward camp.
Fuck!
With one swing of his arm, Orek flung his knife at Kaldar and then rushed Krul.
The chieftain was fast, faster than a male his age and size should be, blocking Orek’s strike. The fist he threw into Orek’s chest made bones shudder and groan, and he wheezed with the air punched from his lungs.
Having blocked the knife, Kaldar thundered into the fray, striking as Krul wound back his axe. Hemmed on both sides, Orek could do nothing but block the blows that came, one after the other, as pounding as a hurricane.
He retreated when he could but knew they maneuvered him in the direction of camp. With every step back, he approached only more orcs.
A camp of orcs at his back, the two strongest, most brutal of the clan at his front.
Fates, I’ve failed her.
Krul hit Orek’s fist, sending his knife sailing and his finger snapping. He didn’t have time to be in pain, and he didn’t have anything else to block Kaldar’s next strike with other than his own arm. The blade sank into the meat of his forearm, catching on bone.
Fangs bared in agony, Orek gained two more steps back, taking Kaldar’s knife with him, still lodged in his arm. He pulled it out himself, meeting the next blows with weapons in either hand.
They beat at him, blocking his escape, herding him toward camp. Krul’s battle axe flashed in the darkness, its song heavy as it cut through the air. Orek knew one blow from that would be the end.
A faster end, at least. For he already saw that this would be his end.
But not for nothing,he promised the beast inside him, the one already prepared to die for their mate.Take what you can with you.
If he couldn’t see his mate again, neither would they.
Heart hammering, Orek dodged Krul’s next strike by crashing into Kaldar. The bigger male stumbled back, unprepared to grapple in close. He tried to fill a fist with Orek’s leathers, leaving him no defense when Orek slashed his face.
Kaldar screamed as blood spattered Orek. The blade sliced across Kaldar’s face, splitting his brow and eye and lip. He reared back, hand slapping across his brow to try keeping his eye in its socket.
Kaldar’s hands scrabbled at Orek as he went down, keeping him from getting positioned for Krul. The chieftain crashed upon him with all the force of a landslide, a flurry of blows and fists and slashing tusks.
Orek blocked the axe when it swung for his head, but couldn’t spare himself the pummeling of Krul’s great fist and tusks. They lashed and beat at his sides and shoulders, raining down bruises and split skin. Orek’s lungs burned, at least one rib already cracked, and his nose dripped blood.
The axe swung for him again, and Orek could do nothing but catch the handle with his own hand, stopping the blade inches from his face. Krul bared his tusks, slashing Orek’s arm.
Orek took the goring, and his knees threatened to buckle.
Not yet,growled his beast.Not yet.
He struck with all he had left, his hatchet, turned the wrong direction. He caught Krul across his face with the back, the chieftain’s nose crunching and blood spurting from his nostrils.
Orek staggered back as Krul hissed.
He struggled to get his arm to work and the hatchet turned the right way, but Krul was faster. His foot struck Orek in the center of his chest, with bone-breaking force. Ribs cracked as Orek went flying from the trees, sprawled across the edge of the orc camp.
Silence rang almost as loud as the pounding pulse in his ear.
