Chapter 11 – Retreat

  The hulking orc assumed a combat stance, his axe-bearing arm thrust forward while his free hand fanned open, ready to seize. With a tacit accord, we lunged simultaneously—his brutal axe surging toward my midsection as my bde sought the vulnerable space over his heart. In that split second, our weapons arced gracefully; my cross-guard caught his wicked edge, and the resulting shockwave pushed his compatriots back as we locked in a brief, titanic contest of strength.

  I was held at bay with a single hand, while his other hand darted in for a savage grab. With a measure thrust, I advanced, forcing my sword inside his guard and redirecting the axe aside. The orc retreated, not allowing me to use my small stature, his weapon retreating into a defensive posture.

  We cshed anew, and once more the collision of our arms unleashed a concussive force. From my fnks, a sphere-thrust and a ferocious axe swing converged. I sidestepped toward the oncoming axe; the master orc’s weapon descended with lethal intent to deflect the spear, while my aura-reinforced greave intercepted the brutal axe. In a heartbeat, a swift decapitation—albeit incomplete—ignited a wild frenzy in my opponent, sending him into a berserk attack.

  That frenzied attack shifted the tide. I ducked beneath his furious strike, pirouetting to nd a stinging blow on his shin. Had he been a rank lower, I might’ve severed his leg; yet as a battle-hardened master, his sinew proved too robust, though the wound was enough.

  “Forgot your armor?” I jeered, my voice dripping with cynical mirth, as I reengaged him while vigintly scanning for reinforcements.

  A guttural curse—something unintelligible yet unmistakably commanding—escaped his lips, and with it the other orcs began to withdraw. A smug grin tugged at the corner of my mouth as I disengaged and darted toward the mass of foes.

  In his overzealous attempt to keep me tethered, the orc overextended; I seized the opening for another strike, though his defense held just long enough. Swiftly, I shifted my focus back to the remaining brutes, weaving between them like a jester of death. In a ruthless ballet, I gathered the spoils—crystals—at a pace I had never before experienced.

  Another crude order echoed—followed by a fresh surge of orcs charging forth. The narrow gap between my current opponent and the master orc was the only respite, yet I pressed the attack on the lesser combatants.

  “Bul’tar!” A roar, electrified with raw aura, compelled me to gnce behind. There, amidst a furious inferno of emerald fmes, the orc’s already monstrous frame swelled to a veritable colossus. With no time to squander, I dispatched my immediate quarry and leapt into the open to confront this new, more perilous adversary.

  “Tier 2, is it?” I mused darkly, “No—merely a resonance.” An aura master might elevate his strength by evolving his aura, yet sometimes, his innate prowess resonates with his aura’s properties, producing an effect akin to a higher tier. My adversary’s aura, imbued with the property of brute strength, had conspired with his natural power to create this phenomenon.

  Bounding on a single leg, the behemoth faced me with renewed, unbridled vigor. His wounds had deepened, crimson rivulets marking his skin, yet he appeared indifferent—as if the sughter of his kin mattered more than his own survival.

  “Bring it on, you roided-up greenhead!” I bellowed, gauging my own wearied state. My eyelids had grown progressively heavier; the once-vibrant aura that had sustained me now faltered. My sword tip trembled as I pressed it forward, every bored breath a testament to the high-speed fray that was drawing to its inevitable close.

  In one savage leap, the orc descended upon me. Even as I angled my defense, his strike bore enough force to shatter my guard. I recalled the adage—that a well-structured defense is near impossible to break—though, such wisdom applies only to human foes. Anticipating his next move, I bent backward, evading the splitting axe. Exploiting the orc’s compromised mobility, I rolled low along the ground, targeting his lower extremities.

  As, my gambit proved only partially effective. The once-devastating blow now left naught but superficial cuts and scratches, its severing intent diminished. Yet, hindered by his own clumsy movements, the orc could not nd a decisive strike as I danced about with my three free limbs. Rolling, leaping, and contorting in bizarre configurations, I clung to life—albeit at the steep cost of my dwindling stamina.

  I attempted to lure the hulking brute into the midst of his retreating kin, but they merely adjusted their formation to maintain the encirclement. I vaulted back, rising to sprint towards them. The orc, undeterred, moved to me with a single jump, closing the slight gap with the relentless fury of a berserker.

  Again, I lowered my stance and vaulted in another direction. The macabre dance continued—each leap drawing me nearer to the tightening circle, while my adversary followed, the encircling orcs shuffling like a living tide. At long st, I executed a final, desperate jump in the opposite direction, closing in on the only sanctuary: the rim of the encirclement.

  The startled orcs stumbled, affording me just enough time to use their craniums as crude stepping stones. I vaulted across their disordered mass and began a full sprint toward Jericho. A few unsteady steps soon gave way to a determined run, the orcs’ cmour fading behind me.

  Then—a roar that reverberated through the chaos. I dared not slow; a gnce behind revealed a towering figure, its immense arms toppling lesser foes as it hopped on one leg with an agility that belied its size. Its pace, nearly matching my own, was nonetheless hampered by the awkwardness of a single-leg bound.

  I had carved out a respectable lead, yet a menacing whistling soon heralded an incoming volley. Without pausing, I veered aside, narrowly evading an axe that struck the spot I had just vacated. Soon followed the dreadful symphony of a spear, a hammer, and even arrows—a cacophony of whispers that strained my acrobatic limits.

  I did not have to worry about melee weapons, I would soon be out of throwing range. Butthe arrows, swift and unyielding, presented an altogether different peril. Midair, I twisted to survey the onsught—only a scant few orcs brandished bows, yet their salvo threatened to overwhelm me.

  The instant I nded, a roaring sword of aura struck the ground at an angle, sending dirt and stones skyward with enough force to deflect a handful of the airborne projectiles. The unhindered arrows, I dodged with desperate precision.

  Thus resumed the deadly game of cat and mouse. The ft valley loomed ahead, for the orcs had barred my ascent. I might have been angry at my inability to push against the meat tide, but it worked out in my favor right now. I burst into the valley in moments, sprinting towards Jericho.

  “Jericho!” A shout split the din, drawing my gaze to a figure leaping forth from swirling smoke. In his bicorn guise he had emerged, yet a gnce behind me provoked an immediate, demonic transformation. “Turn back!” I cried as we neared. His form hesitated briefly before pivoting, allowing me to unch myself onto his back—his tails deftly intercepting the lethal arrows whizzing past.

  The impact on my stomach was as severe as it was brutal; his broad, muscur back bore down upon me with the force of a seasoned orc as he picked up speed. My eyes locked onto the storage cube abandoned on the ground. “There!” I pointed, and Jericho neared it, allowing me to pick it up. I attached it to my waist with some effort and corrected myself. Even as the orc tribe fell away into the distance, my exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me.

  “It’s about time, don’t you think?” I rasped to my inner self, weariness dripping from every sylble.

  Time indeed. But I’m thinking about something. You can keep the body for a while.

  I snorted, “For a while? It won’t be more than a few damned hours. Jericho, we need to get back quick,” I ordered, feeling the muscur back ripple and grow fur beneath me. My view lowered a bit, the heavy thumps changed to sharp gallops as the rapid cadence sped up even more.

  It will take you at least morning to get back, and that is if Jericho keeps moving.

  “You’ll have to endure, buddy,” I patted my companion, resigned, “I’m far too spent to fight now.” My head dropped before I reigned myself. Jericho slowed his gallop to a measured canter, my breaths ragged and my will the only force keeping me upright.

  Sleep. Lay on his back, if something happens I’ll take over.

  I did not want to follow this advice, not until we had reached Niege at least, but I was in no condition to keep going. I y face-down on Jericho’s back, each thundering step punishing, knocking the wind out of me, yet tolerable as his pace had eased. Sleep cwed at me, my grip on consciousness loosening with every bored breath.

  “Be careful, buddy … and sorry,” I managed to croon before my eyes surrendered to darkness. Unconsciousness cimed me, and in that final moment, a fre of waning aura signaled my retreat back into the recesses of the left hand.

  Brago130sf