Dragon Riders of Etrea—Chapter 16

It didn’t take the orcs long to close the distance.

Five of them in leather and hide armor sat astride galloping horses, roaring and shouting as they raced toward the rock formation. The orc holding the horn blew a loud, strong note as they raced across the dry ground, scaring the horses. Rasud rushed to them, trying to keep them calm.

The other orcs leaned low over their horses necks, urging speed from them. Some of them shouted curses and threats from their saddles.

“Bastards are really moving,” Tobias growled as he crouched behind a waist-high boulder. He clutched his bow in hand, with an arrow already nocked. As soon as the orcs came close enough he rose to his feet and pulled the string back. He only took a second to aim, then loosed his arrow. It struck one of the orcs in the shoulder. Not a killing blow, but at least it would slow him.

The orc roared in pain and anger, clutching his arm. He immediately began pulling at the arrow, trying to get it out.

“Probably should have had you use this,” Tobias said, glancing at his bow. “No time now.” He dropped it and drew his sword, then grabbed his shield from where it leaned against the boulder.

“Rasud!” Henrik called out. “It’s time!”

“Just trying to get these damn horses to calm down,” the small man said, running up to his companions. He held the short staff in hand and began chanting even before he reached them.

The orcs charged closer, their horses thundering across the dry ground. Henrik held his sword hilt in both hands and waited behind a boulder as tall as him.

“Hand it over!” one of the orcs shouted.

“We’ll rob your corpses!” another one yelled as he steered his horse around the rocks. 

The rock formation ensured they couldn’t get too close. They rode their horses in a circle around it several times, shouting threats. It was enough to scare the horses, which concerned Henrik.

Rasud’s chanting reached a crescendo and he rapped his staff on the ground three times. Two of his ancestral spirits appeared as wispy forms, although this time they held fire in their hands. Rasud pointed his staff at one of the orc riders and the spirits raced forth, nearly matching the horse’s pace.

“Come on, you cowardly sons of whores!” Henrik shouted. He needed them to dismount, and the sooner the better.

Two of the orcs reined their horses in front of the boulders, pointing with their weapons. They leaped from their saddles and landed on the ground, then began advancing with murder in their eyes. The remaining three orcs were only seconds behind them.

“You won’t be shouting coward when I slice your throat,” one of the orcs growled, a hulking brute of a man.

At that moment Rasud’s spirit ancestors caught up with one of the orcs. Their hands reached out, and where they touched flesh they charred it black. The orc screamed and swung his sword at the spirits, who simply ignored it and kept attacking him.

The other four orcs, seeing this, charged.

“Kill the witchman!” one of them shouted.

“You can try,” Rasud said in return. He began chanting again.

Henrik stepped out from behind the boulder and met the first orc head-on. He brought his sword up just in time to block a swipe that would have cost him his life, then retaliated with a swing intended to disembowel the man. For all his bulk, the orc was damn fast, nearly as fast as Henrik.

“Aaahh!” The orc being attacked by the ancestral spirit abandoned all attempts at defending himself and simply sprinted towards the melee, both arms out. 

Tobias brought his shield up and attempted to slam into the next orc. They crashed together, nearly sending the soldier to the ground, but he kept his footing. The orc attacked with wild, powerful swings, beating back at Tobias, who could barely keep up.

As the burning orc ran between them, intent on grabbing Rasud, Henrik took a step back and swung his sword in a circle. He dropped to a knee and used the momentum to hack into the orc’s leg, chopping through it just above his boot. The orc slammed into the ground, screaming in agony as the spirits caught up with him, burning his flesh anew. He beat at the ground and tried to crawl away but the spirits were relentless and burned his face until it was nothing but a charred mass.

Henrik leaped back into his fight, thrusting his sword at the orc’s chest. The massive orc parried and retaliated, scoring a line across Henrik’s cheek. He felt his blood boil with anger as the orc’s blade flashed in front of his eye. He didn’t want to lose his temper. Not here, with his companions close by.

“Come on, you bastard!” Tobias shouted through clenched teeth. “Show me what you’re made of!” But he was the lesser skilled man in his fight. The orc he faced attacked with a viciousness that was quickly wearing him down.

The other two orcs arrived, and a bad situation immediately grew worse. They split their attacks, one going for Tobias and the other for Henrik. 

Rasud’s chanting peaked again and he thrust his short staff at one of the orcs attacking Tobias. The orc suddenly wheezed and took a step back as red mist sprayed from every pore of his body. He shouted and swung his sword at the air, trying to attack Rasud’s ancestors, but it was no use. A red cloud formed around him and he dropped to his knees. With a roar, he drew his arm back and hurled his short sword before collapsing onto the ground.

Two orcs stood in front of Henrik, trying their best to decapitate him. He was fast enough to hold his ground against both of them, but only just.

That was when the dying orc’s short sword flew through the air and caught Henrik right on the ribs.

He roared in anger as the sword hacked into him. It wasn’t a killing blow but he staggered back a step, hunching slightly at the searing pain in his side. Seeing him wounded, the other two orcs redoubled their efforts. Henrik turned aside blow after blow, but wasn’t able to land anything of his own, not against two of these brutes. He felt fire building in his veins with each swing of his sword.

Tobias staggered as an orc sword struck him on the side of his helmet. He rushed forward, attempting to slam his shield into the orc, but the orc was simply too strong. It was like crashing into a brick wall, and Tobias nearly fell.

“Come on, I need you!” Rasud said to his ancestors. He began chanting again, calling them off of the burned man. “I’ll be damned if you bastards think you can take me down!”

One of the orcs rushed Henrik, slamming a shoulder into him and slicing his sword across Henrik’s arm. It wasn’t a deep gash, but he crashed onto his back from the impact. Immediately after, he rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a stomping orc boot. He wasn’t able to avoid the sword blade that suddenly thrust into his gut, however.

Henrik grit his teeth and stumbled back, pulling himself off of the blade when the orc tried to impale him. These monsters were every bit his equal in terms of speed and strength, a rare thing indeed. Fighting two of them at the same time was a death sentence. Having to back away from them was against everything Henrik believed in. Never yield. Never surrender. 

“I’m coming for you next, witchman!” said the orc that was steadily beating Tobias down.

They were seconds away from being overrun by this small group of wild barbarians.

Raw fury surged in Henrik’s veins, like an otherworldly force taking over. Strength rushed into his limbs and his pain faded, as if it were someone else’s pain entirely. The sensation was completely overwhelming, and the only thing he could focus on was the kill.

The orcs noticed the change, but didn’t have time to react.

Henrik swung his blade wide, knocking both of theirs aside. He went for a thrust to the heart but was turned aside. Roaring in anger, he redoubled his efforts, charging the orc right as the other chopped into his side.

A sword blade hacking three inches into his side should have been a devastating wound, but he ignored it completely and rammed the point of his sword into the orc’s throat. The orc staggered back, clutching his neck with one hand in an attempt to stop the spray of blood.

“Shit,” Rasud said. “Tobias, we need to move away from Henrik!”

“Easier said than done,” Tobias said as the orc beat against his shield.

With blood pouring down his side, Henrik turned to the orc that had wounded him. He brought his blade up in time to block a killing blow, but the force of the impact tore his sword from his hands. Without missing a step he reached out and grabbed the orc’s wrists in a crushing grip.

The orc snarled as they grappled, trying to kick Henrik between the legs and bite him with his vicious tusks. Henrik let out a wordless roar and pushed the massive orc until his back was against a boulder. Ignoring the sword in the orc’s hands, he slammed his forehead into the orc’s face, which split both the orc’s lip and Henrik’s forehead.

The orc tried to bring his sword blade between them, but the weapon was too large for close combat. Henrik’s hands moved like lightning, grabbing onto the orc’s face. He slammed his forehead into the orc’s flat nose, crushing it and stunning the orc. Henrik snatched his knife from his belt and rammed it beneath the orc’s chin, straight into his brain.

Henrik didn’t wait to see the orc die. He turned and grabbed his sword from the ground, then charged the one remaining orc, the one trying to the soldier Tobias. 

“Damn it!” the short witchman shouted. “It’s too busy, the spirits can’t work in a mass of bodies like this!”

Henrik barely heard him. The orc’s eyes narrowed when he saw Henrik approach, knowing he was fast enough to face down two humans. 

But not when one of them was Henrik.

Henrik’s blade reached out, drawing blood from the orc’s arm. Tobias took a step back to avoid Henrik’s sword.

The orc was a fast one, the fastest person Henrik had ever fought. In only a few seconds he managed to slice Henrik’s leg open and jam the very tip of his sword into Henrik’s shoulder. That only served to stoke the fires of Henrik’s anger. A lust for blood built within him. He needed to tear this orc apart.

With a shout of rage, Henrik beat the orc’s sword to the side, then dropped his own. Moving shockingly fast for such a large man, Henrik reached out and grabbed the orc by both sides of his head, then lifted him into the air as if he were a child.

The orc didn’t have time to react.

Henrik slammed the back of the orc’s head against a nearby boulder, sending the man into convulsions. He beat his head against the rock again and again, dark blood spraying across the stone. With one final hit, the orc’s head split into a wet mass of blood and bone.

“Henrik, my friend,” the witchman said as he reached out for the soldier. He pulled him back. “I need you to take a deep breath, Henrik.”

Henrik turned to the short man talking to him, wondering if he were friend or foe. The man seemed familiar, but Henrik’s rage and lust for battle overwhelmed all thought. At that moment, he needed to kill.

“We are your friends, Henrik,” the short man said. He pulled the shielded man with him. “I am Rasud. We grew up together. We fight together. Take a deep breath.”

“What’s going on?” the armored man said, sounding confused.

“This is Tobias,” the short man said. “He is your friend as well. We fight on the same side. Take a deep breath, Henrik.”

Something about them tickled at Henrik’s memories, but it was hard to think through the fog in his mind. His hands flexed, eager for a throat. Anger still filled him like a bubbling cauldron, but he listened to the short man. He took a deep breath.

“Good, good,” the short man said. “We are calm. The battle is done, and there is no one left. You won. We will fight again another day.”

Henrik took another deep breath and suddenly became aware of pain all over his body. It was still distant, but it burned. He blinked several times and took another breath. 

“Fuck, that hurts,” he said. 

“Yes it does, my friend,” the short man said. “And I will heal your wounds in just a moment.”

The armored man looked from Henrik to the short man, still confused. “What is this?”

“Please just stay quiet,” the short man said. 

Henrik took another deep breath and his mind started to clear. He looked around him, seeing bodies. His friend Rasud stood there, right behind Tobias. He looked down at his hands, which shook. An overwhelming exhaustion began to set in, and the pain in his side suddenly grew, replacing his earlier anger.

He clutched at his side and leaned against the nearby rock, the one covered with the orc’s blood. “Gods be damned, but that hurts. I hate it when that happens,” he said, hunching over. He pulled his hand away from his side. It was completely covered in blood.

“Just sit down and I’ll heal you,” Rasud said, finally relaxing. Tobias still looked confused.

“I was hoping that wouldn’t happen,” Henrik said as he sat. He winced as pain lanced through his side. “Haven’t taken one like that in a while.”

“And hopefully you won’t for a long time,” Rasud said, looking down at the blood flowing from Henrik’s side. “That would have killed any other man, you know. You have to be careful.”

He began chanting, and moments later his ancestral spirits appeared, their hands moving along Henrik’s body. The bleeding stopped and his wounds slowly closed. The healing would take time to finish, but the bulk of it was done.

Tiredness from the healing and from losing his temper set in, and he sat with his back against the rock for a moment, just breathing. That had been a close one.