Path of Dragons

Book 2: Chapter 63: The Looming Threat

Kurik dove aside, rolling away just in time to avoid the orc’s descending axe. The stone blade thudded into the loamy turf, sending an explosion of black soil and dead leaves into the air. The monster roared in frustration as it yanked the massive blade out of the ground, but it had dug into the roots of a nearby oak tree, so the motion wasn’t quite as smooth as it should have been.

That was the only opening Kurik needed.

The dwarf dashed in, drawing his one-handed axe from the loop at his belt. He swung, and, with a sickening thunk, the blade bit deep into the off-balance orc’s knee. It was like hacking at an ancient tree, but Kurik ripped it away, keeping his momentum going as the orc finally retrieved his massive weapon from where it had become embedded in the ground.

Kurik skidded to a stop, twisting back to face his opponent.

The orc was almost twice as tall as him, and broader across the shoulders as well. The heavily muscled creature wore nothing but a loin cloth and the hide of some animal across its shoulders, and its weapon was about as primitive as any Kurik had ever seen. Stone-bladed and with a haft made from the femur of a monstrous animal, it looked too large even for the huge orc.

And it was, often overbalancing the monster.

Though that didn’t mean it wasn’t deadly. If he found himself on the wrong end of that blade, he knew he’d end up bisected. No – he had to fight smart.

Fortunately, he was well-prepared for such a battle. Through his long years, he’d fought so many oversized opponents that he’d lost count. That was the life of a dwarf, after all. Or any of the shorter-statured races. He made up for it with sheer durability and, some would say, stubbornness.

The real advantage was upstairs, though.

So, with that in mind, Kurik slowly retreated, holding his axe in an easy grip he’d learned from his long-dead father. Then, he crooked his finger at the hulking monster and said, “C’mon, you big idjit. I’m right here waitin’ fer ya.”

The orc didn’t need any further invitation, and with an echoing roar that Kurik hoped none of the other orcs in the area had heard, it threw himself forward. So, Kurik did the only sensible thing: he turned on his heel and ran, leaping over a fallen and rotted tree, then sliding down the dew-slick slope on the other side. The monster barreled through the tree, sending decomposing splinters flying before realizing its mistake and tumbling down the slope after Kurik.

That gave the dwarf a few extra seconds to stretch his lead, though he didn’t dare glance back. That would only slow him down, and he knew that the huge creature was possessed of enough Strength to throw itself forward with incredible quickness. Certainly, it couldn’t control that speed, but that wouldn’t do much to help Kurik on a straightaway.

So, he continued to sprint, nimbly avoiding the worst of the area’s thick underbrush. It was like a tropical jungle, it was so dense. But Kurik was an experienced scout, and he knew how to move in all sorts of terrain. He was at home in the forest, so he didn’t have any trouble keeping ahead of the orc.

The chase continued for about thirty more seconds before he saw a small mark on one of the trees as he darted past. Grinning, leaped over a barely noticeable depression, then skidded to a stop.

The orc came only a few seconds later, roaring in bestial fury as it caromed off of trees and ripped its way through the dense foliage. Then, it hit the depression and disappeared. Less than an instant later, a pained yowl filled the air. But Kurik didn’t immediately approach. Instead, he waited for a few more seconds to see if the creature was going to climb out of the trap.

It didn’t, but not for lack of trying. Agonized screams, frustrated growls, and the sound of digging greeted Kurik’s ears, but the monster seemed to have been confined to the pit. In most cases, Kurik would have waited a little longer. Many animals were more than capable of pretending they’d been caught so that they could turn the situation around on a careless hunter. He’d seen it happen, and more than once.

But orcs were too stupid – or perhaps single-minded – for that kind of thing. At their current stage of development, they could barely even use tools, much less think strategically. Yet, they were dangerous monsters, and what’s worse, Kurik knew that Ironshore wasn’t prepared to meet such a threat.

Not with most of their security forces having been killed in an ill-fated attempt to snatch some natural treasure out from under a powerful guardian. Kurik had seen the man for himself, and though he didn’t think much of what he’d seen, he knew well enough to respect his deeds. A full fifty people had gone to that island, and only one had returned. Kurik knew better than to tempt those odds.

Of course, he wouldn’t have gone hunting on that island anyway. Just wasn’t worth it, as far as he was concerned. There were other ways to advance that didn’t involve fighting a guardian on his own turf. Less deadly ways.

Kurik wasn’t a coward. He’d fight when necessary, and if he thought the odds were in his favor. But trying to take more than a dwarf’s share was what had gotten his clan banished in the first place. It was why he’d spent his formative years without a father, and ultimately, it was why he’d ended up in Ironshore looking for a fresh start.

He crept forward, keeping on his toes as he approached the pit. And when he looked down, he saw precisely what he’d expected. The pit itself was almost ten feet deep and lined with sharpened sticks. But it was more than just a hole in the ground. It was augmented by two of his abilities.

The first was Conceal Trap, which was why the orc had never detected it.

Conceal Trap

Create an illusion to hide a trap. Lasts thirty (30) minutes. Potency of the illusion is based on Dexterity.

Kurik’s Dexterity was fairly high for his level, which meant that, when he used the technique, his traps were almost entirely undetectable for someone near his level. The orc had him by three levels, but it clearly hadn’t the wits to see through Conceal Trap.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The second ability was the one that really gave the trap some punch, though:

Venom Trap (augment)

Augment an existing trap with potent venom. Choose type: Paralysis Neurotoxin Necrotic (CURRENT)

The ability was an incredible boon for any hunter. Normally, he used the Paralysis type of venom – after all, he didn’t want to ruin the meat of his prey. However, now that he was hunting orcs, he knew he needed to use the most powerful venom available to him. When he’d originally received the ability, it had been nearly useless. But over time, he’d discovered that he could add potential types to the ability; the only caveat was that he had to experience it himself.

The Necrotic Venom had come from a scorpion native to his home world called a lava dredger. Normally, they were fairly peaceful creatures, but when agitated, they would strike. But it only took one hit, and their victims were goners. To endure it, Kurik had been forced to commission an expensive healing potion, but in the years since, it had proven invaluable.

“Hurts, don’t it? I still remember that sting,” he said, looking down at the orc. Already, the venom had infected it, and because it’d been stabbed by the stakes in multiple places, the venomous skill had worked extremely quickly. The thing would be dead in less than a minute, unless it possessed some sort of healing ability.

Which it almost certainly didn’t.

Kurik had killed enough orcs over the past few weeks to be as sure about that as he was about anything else in his new world.

Ever since he’d reported the orc invasion to the mayor as well as Ironshore’s ruling council, he’d been tasked with keeping an eye on the horde while killing as many as he could. The rest of his scouting team was doing the same, and to date, they’d slaughtered almost a hundred of the monsters. Yet, there were still plenty left.

Their primary purpose wasn’t fighting a war, though. Instead, they were meant to watch for signs that the orcs had detected Ironshore. The boundary field they’d set up upon arrival kept the worst of the monster population away, but it could only do so much against semi-sentient creatures like orcs. The moment the orcs got a whiff of such a juicy target – even if it was rendered faint by the boundary field – they’d come running, and in full force.

And that eventuality, which they’d hoped they could avoid, had clearly come. The orcish horde had shifted, and begun their march toward Ironshore. By Kurik’s estimation, they were no more than two or three weeks away, which meant that he needed to hightail it back to the city and warn them.

But what that would accomplish, he didn’t know. They couldn’t stand up to the oncoming horde. Not even if the security forces were still intact. He knew that the city’s leaders had pooled all their ethereum in order to hire more, but they could scarcely afford the teleportation fee for any force that would make a difference, much less enough to actually get them to come.

No. Ironshore was doomed.

Kurik knew it, and if he was a smart dwarf, he would have already fled into the wilderness. Yet, he hadn’t because, if he was honest, he was tired of running away. That was what he’d done when his people were exiled. And he’d done it again when the opportunity to come to a new world had crossed his path. That wasn’t how he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

So, Kurik waited until the orc had succumbed to the venom of his trap, then headed back towards Ironshore. Along the way, he met up with his squad. Most of them had greatly benefited from the ongoing hunt – so had Kurik – which in normal circumstances, would have been cause for celebration. But now? None of them were thinking of anything but the coming fight.

As a result, it was a somber group that headed back to Ironshore.

* * *

Ramik glanced up at the grey sky and watched the roiling clouds that heralded a coming storm. He let out a sigh, then glanced at his closest friend and said, “Storm’s coming.”

Carisa let out a snort. “Storms’re always comin’,” she said in her characteristic brogue. “Be a lot more interestin’ if you said it wasn’t ‘bout to rain.”

The goblin shook his head, then removed his glasses. With a handkerchief he took from his pocket, he wiped the priceless lenses. They weren’t intended to correct his vision – he’d had that fixed long ago – but rather, to give him some insight into the flow of ambient ethera. For instance, when he looked across the strait at the guardian’s island, he could see just how special of a place it really was. Through the lenses, the island practically glowed with potential. It was nearly enough to awaken the avarice in his heart, but he only had to remember Eason Cabbot’s fate to recognize just how bad of an idea it was to pursue that line of thought.

“It was meant to be a metaphor,” he explained. “But I suppose it was a terrible one.”

“What do ye want to do?” she asked.

“Do we have any choice?” was his responding question. “The guardian said –”

“He said he might help. Not that he would.”

“But might is better than we’ve gotten from anyone else,” Ramik stated. “There are ten thousand bloodthirsty orcs coming this way, Carisa. Do you know what an orc horde can do?”

“I’ve read the same stories as you.”

“Then no. I’ve seen it. On my home world. I was only a child, but I remember it so keenly. They swept across the countryside, conquering and devouring everything they could find. Some people say they are descended from the great Ravener himself.” He shook his head, continuing, “But they’re just monsters, Carisa. Deadly, dreadful monsters that only know aggression,” he explained. “We stopped them. Barely. But a lot of good goblins lost their lives in that fight.”

Indeed, his own family, once prominent members of a successful merchant guild, had been devastated. From there, they’d experienced a precipitous fall from grace, ending with Ramik leading what was left of his family into the new world. They weren’t even part of the guild anymore.

But Ramik had vowed to return the Lendar’i family back to prominence if it was the last thing he did. The Green Mountain Mining Guild had given them the opportunity to do just that, and though they weren’t members, that could change soon enough. He just had to defend the town from an orcish invasion.

A tall task, especially given that his entire security force had been killed. Certainly, everyone in town had at least some ability in combat. Nobody came to a new world without that. However, those meager abilities wouldn’t count for much against a ravening horde of orcs.

Because of that, he’d used the Branch’s limited communication capability to ask for support, but the guild’s hub had only told him that they would take it into consideration. That was code for, “Fend for yourself.”

The reality was that Ironshore was operating on a razor thin budget as it was, and because they’d yet to find anything truly valuable, it was probably easier for the Green Mountain Mining Guild to cut ties and leave them to their own devices. If they managed to survive, then that was great. But if not, then they wouldn’t have sunk any more ethereum into the venture.

It was just good business.

Terrible from a compassion standpoint, of course, but that was normal. Guilds weren’t charities, after all.

“You think he can stop ‘em?”

Ramik shrugged his shoulders, then replaced his glasses. “I don’t know. He’s strong. I felt it.”

“He also killed Cabbot and his folks.”

“Cabbot was an idiot who was convinced he was far more powerful than he actually was,” Ramik spat. “When I saw who he was, I thought that we had lucked out. An Eason. Here. Yet, I quickly discovered why he’d ended up on a frontier world with all the rest of us desperate people.”

“I ain’t desperate. I just felt the call of adventure,” Carisa insisted.

That was blatantly untrue. Cabbot had seen her file. She was a competent enough miner and engineer, but the dwarven woman was anything but reliable. She’d left a string of misdeeds in her past, the same as almost everyone in Ironshore. The same as anyone who chose to come to a newly touched world.

They were wild, lawless places that catered to the desperate and depraved, and more often than not the dangers outweighed the potential rewards. But still, like Ramik, they came because they had no other options. For him, it was either take his chances on Earth, or spend the rest of his life wallowing in mediocrity.

And that latter was the best-case scenario if he’d stayed on his home world.

“I think we have to try,” he said, still gazing across the strait at the island. “He may not help us, but our backs are against the wall, Carisa. We need him.”

“Aight,” she said. “I’ll fetch us a boat, and we’ll go for a little visit. Let’s just hope he don’t kill us on sight.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” she asked, raising one bushy eyebrow.

“I’m…not,” he admitted. But then, he straightened his coat, pushed his shoulders back, and said, “But we can’t let that dissuade us.”

“Aight,” she said again. “Sounds good to me. He didn’t kill us last time, so here’s hopin’ he’ll keep to that.”