37. Dum spiro
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“We are being ambushed!” Beldrak was shaking me and whispering into my ear with an urging voice.

“What?” I asked. “Jim? Where is...”

“Outside, he was on watch, remember? He woke me,” Trueanvil rubbed his ribs with a grimace. “He kicked into the tent. Now hurry!” He took his hammer and started to crawl out of the tent.

I was left alone. We are being attacked? Oh right, it's probably orks. Where is my mail now? But suddenly there was another inner voice howling in my head. No time for that, idiot! Grab your shield and go! Do you want to die?

Do I? I told Jim that I wanted to. It would be so easy. Just lie down, let the orks kill my comrades, and wait until they find me. Then I will get what I want.

Why put on my sword-belt then? Why slid my hand into the strap of my shield? Lie down, and wait. If that's what you want.

There was no time to don armour. I drew aside the curtain at the entrance. There were six shadows stealing through the night, but even my human eyes could discern their forms in the light of the moon. For Jim, they must have been glaringly obvious for a while now.

I got up. Gaius, always calm and composed, stood by the entrance, shivering under his blankets. I kept most of my javelins strapped onto him. Now I took one into my hand, and took aim. Then all hell broke loose.

Our attackers hurled their own spears at Jim with a bloodcurdling cry, and started to run to close the little remaining distance between them and our camp.

The tiefling was in proper mail, though, and he also had his magic. Before the steel points could pierce him, his contours flashed with blue light, and the javelins fell onto the ground harmlessly.

The orks were not flustered. They came with flailing axes. Suddenly one was on me.

I took a blow with my shield and looked into the purple eyes of the beast. It roared at me, hate dripping from its voice, glimmering from its eyes. Then another shout. Glinting steel on every side.

My sword tearing through flesh, my shield-hand burning. My sword, Shatterspike flying from my hand, my shield bashing into a head, fire flashing from Beldrak's direction, the ork lying on its back, bones cracking under my boot, a dagger in my thigh, I was on the ground, stars flared up as a fist smashed into my head, my flailing hand closed around a handle. And suddenly, there was a knife stuck into the throat of the ork, and I roared, drunk with victory.

I lied to Jim. I lied to Beldrak, lied to the world, and lied to myself even. I still wanted to live after all.

           

We had three prisoners. Half of our attackers were put to sleep, and they were now bound tight so they couldn't even stand up - the other half laid around our camp frozen in their own blood.

They understood Common well enough even if they barely spoke it, and Beldrak, after casting one of his rituals, understood their language. He was translating us the answers of the orks.

“We were told that the fortress you dwell in is called Stone Tooth. Is that how you call it?” Beldrak asked.

“Stone Tooth is our fortress. We took it from your kind in battle, a long time ago.”

“Will you lead us there?”

One of the orks laughed.

“Dwarf, you are mad to wish that. You will only find your death at the Stone Tooth. Cower in fear and run, before our comrades start to hunt you.”

“We have beaten you. We will beat your friends too.”

“We were but six. There are dozens of others in the fort.”

“An ork prisoner told us there were twenty raiders altogether.”

“He was wrong or lied.”

“Will you lead us there regardless?”

“Never.”

The air around Jim started to tremble, his pitch-black eyes began to glow, and his teeth glimmered in the moonlight. There were voices too, faint, soft voices, but they made the hair on my back stand. Those were muffled human screams. The tiefling walked closer and closer to the orks, and suddenly his tail struck like a viper, the dagger bound to it drawing blood.

“You will talk,” he whispered.

Then he hit with his fist. And hit again.

The first ork let Jim beat him into unconsciousness rather than talk, but the second one sang like a little bird. He told us about Old Lucas and Great Jules, but he couldn't tell us anything we didn't know already. Nevertheless, he also agreed to lead us to the mountain that held their fort.

In the meantime, the light started to grow, and the sun peeked at us from behind the Misty Hills. It was time we got going.

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