Smoke

Part four




Fire. Fire everywhere.

I rushed into what used to be the passageway between dorm blocks 4 and 5 looking for survivors, but all I saw was dust and smoke.

"What the hell happened here?" I muttered to myself. As if to answer my question I saw a hulking figure step out of the rubble of a corridor.

"Roland?" I called out to the figure. It turned and stepped towards me and in that instant my heart stopped as a massive ork with dark cloak stepped out of the cloud of dust billowing around the passageway. His face was worn and one of the two tusk-like canines (which orks develop with age if my memory of my textbook was correct) was broken off. But it was his eyes that scared me. They stood out of his scarred face like two jewels on a cliff face, seeing everything. I could see his power, welling up in his eyes, his hatred and his pain, all gathering to strike me down.

"Move!" I jolted myself out of my trance. I rolled backwards just in time as a heavy wooden staff crashed down cracking the paving stones.

"You're not Roland." I shouted, immediately kicking myself for the stupidity of the statement.
Of course he's not Roland.
"Whoever you are, I'm giving you one last chance to surrender and be taken peacefully by the authorities!"

A deep throaty chuckle erupted for the figure, standing in front of me I realised how pitifully small I was compared to him. He stood up, towering a good half-body's length above me and opened his mouth,

"Don't test me boy. Look around. Your authorities have no power over me."

His voice was bone chilling. A voice of a hardened warrior, ground over the ages and forged in the most heated of battles. A voice as ancient as the land itself.

"Who are you?" I was trembling but I hoped, albeit with little confidence, he wouldn't notice.

"No concern of yours little squire. I suggest you run, too much young blood has been spilled this day. I see no reason to massacre yet another generation."

"Who are you!" I shouted with more force.

"You think you threaten me? You are but a mere trifle boy. Run back to your master lest I lose my patience." He turned. I saw my chance. I grabbed my personal short-sword from my belt and lunged.

What orks gain in muscle they lose in speed. Though being able to lift hundreds of kilos (Thidian and most of the countries under the All-Races Treaty switched to metric units over 5 decades ago), they lacked the agility most human and elves have. Surveys over several countries conducted by the International Medical Research Organisation mostly clocked in Ork reflex times to be about 0.4 second, just slightly more than the average human reflex time.

Either all the textbooks were wrong or I was facing the fastest ork ever created on earth.

Before I even moved a meter, I found myself hurled through the air by a burly fist quickly brought around by my opponent. A crashed to the ground and my short-sword spiraled down to the ground three stories below. My chest hurt and my vision was a blur, all I could make out was a huge figure stepping towards me.

"You are brave boy. I respect you. The others I saw merely cowered in fear and begged for their pitiful lives." The figure knelt down so close I felt his hot breath on my cheek. "I admire you bravery, thus today you shall live. Consider yourself lucky."

As my vision started to adjust to normal, a face appeared in front of my out of the blur of my pain. Thank the Gods it was Sir Andrew.

"Antonidas are you okay?" He shook me. I let out a feeble groan. "Hush boy, save your strength. I will get you help. Stay here, I'll go after the beast."

I feebly begged him to stay, wishing with all my might he wouldn't leave me out here, helpless. I felt a wave of fear flow through me like I'd never felt before. I called out as the figure of my protector vanished into the thick billowing smoke, but speech escaped me and I only managed slight gulping noises as my mouth instinctively fought for hair to fill my deflated lungs. After about 30 seconds of sheer agony, being unable to speak or move, my vision cleared and my chest started to inflate regularly. Finally coming to my senses I looked around, but the fear was still there, warping shapes into the smoke and embers into eyes.

His eyes.
Its eyes. God those eyes, like crimson gems burning with a thousand years of hate. They told stories of kingdoms falling, worlds changing and earths shattering. I was lucky to be alive.

I was alive but I was alone Fire and smoke billowed out of a till-recently well kept dorm. The flames leaped higher and I felt my feet begin to sting from it's heat. I raced to stand up but as I did my legs gave way and I found myself on the ground again, with the flames growing ever more intense.

It was then that I realised...

I couldn't feel my right leg.





Hey guys sorry in not posting in forever. Been a busy holiday season for me with literally no internet until late January (cos I moved) and a tonne of stuff to do. But I'm back and hopefully the writing will go well from now on.