Page 74 of Orc's Pride
“To your left!”
I drop to the ground, rolling back onto my feet a split second before a club strikes the earth next to me. My sword is brought up close to my chest, fending off the coming attacks from the other orc parring his blade at me.
I counter it with a quick flick of my wrist, the sound of metal clashing with metal like music to my ears. It has me grinning when I shove my shoulder forward, knocking one of my opponents to the ground.
“Arg!”
Behind me, the noise of a club whisking through the air has me ducking again.
“You’re a fast fucker, aren’t ya?”
I grin at my other companion. “I seem to remember you were the one eager for a spare today. Anslif was merely dragged along for the ride.”
The fallen orc at my feet groans in response.
Charik holds his club out to me, swinging it at my head the second my eyes dart away. Too bad for him that I’d beenexpecting it. It’s my one move that is foolproof in tricking my opponent into striking at me.
If only any of them realized it beforehand.
Pulling my sword back up, I check it against the base of the club, slicing it cleanly above Charik’s hand. He lets out a scoff, watching the rest of the ¾’s of his club fall onto the dirty training ground—completely useless now.
“You play horribly.”
I roll my shoulders a few times, stretching my muscles. “It isn’t ‘playing’. I’m here to practice, not fool around.”
Anslif pushes himself up off the ground, shoving me with his shoulder. “You take life too seriously, you know that?”
Just as I’m about to shut him down with a rebuttal, a few of the guards from the north side of the wall run past us.
“What in the hell is happening?” Charik mutters, turning to watch them head down towards the opposite side of the base.
“Not sure,” I push past them, hooking my sword back into its hilt before hopping the small fence lining around the training field.
A few more guards run past me, catching me by surprise. What is going on?
Following after them, they lead me to a commotion up along the outer wall leading to the forest outside. A few guards are crowded around something—or rather, someone now that I’ve gotten a closer look. It’s another orc, one who I don’t find familiar at all nor do I remember their name, is being held up by two other guards.
His body sags between them, his face barely recognizable from how severely it’s been beaten. His clothes are shredded along with gaping wounds bloodied and crusted over from whatever horrible fight he’s been in.
Where did he come from?
To the left of me, more of a crowd gathers only to be pushed aside by Old Malik getting to the front of the scene to see what is going on. He’s followed closely by our Chieftain, Pitha.
“What is going on?” Pitha demands, his voice intimidating the grown crowd.
“W-We don’t know.” One of the guards holding up the fallen orc speaks. “We found him trying to drag himself back here while we were patrolling the forest.”
“Who is he?” Old Malik steps forward, seemingly to get a better look.
Both guards shrug.
Just then, the orc slowly lifts his head. “I…”
He coughs horribly, blood leaking out of his mouth and coloring his ruined shirt more.
“Mal..ik…”
Pitha gets closer to him too, trying to hear him.