Skirmish (Cormac): Fall

Skirmish (Cormac): Fall

Follow along each week for Skirmishes of characters of the Orcblood Legacy Series. These are real events that take place during the story’s timeline but are not detailed in the book.

Cormac looked up at the blade descending toward his temple. He knew it was over. His mind seemed to pause while simultaneously playing through a thousand memories in an instant. Memories of his youth, his parents, his wife, and most prevalent—Ori. 

What had started as pleasant recollections of his son’s smiles and joy were replaced by the haunting images of the boy being cut apart by the raiders Cormac stood against. I’m sorry, Ori. I got as many as I could . . ., he lamented. As if in response, the scenes in his mind faded to a black emptiness as quick as they had come. 

As the orc’s sword plunged toward the dwarf’s skull, Cormac simply went limp. Whether on instinct or due to the profound loss of his family striking his will, he could not know. All he knew was that he was falling to the ground.

Despite his drop, the raider’s blade still sliced through skin, cutting through Cormac’s left eye. The pain shocked him back to his senses as his back hit the ground. For a moment, he had forgotten where he was—until he saw the four orcs standing around and above him. Each of his opponents had their weapons raised once more, ready to plunge them into the dwarf.

Cormac’s will snapped back. His perspective had changed; it was no longer acceptable to end merely a few of the orcs. They all needed to die, for Ori.

Tucking his feet and pulling in his head, the guard lay beneath both of his large shields, entirely covered by the thick steel as four blades crashed down. Cormac waited for the booming thud to ring four times in rapid succession, waiting for the right moment to retaliate. Once the fourth strike landed, he rolled left into one of his opponent’s shin’s. 

The orc looked down at its victim in confusion as it rolled. Then, all it could remember was a blinding pain and see blood pouring from its groin. By the time it realized what had happened, the orc watched as Cormac rolled into the opposite direction toward another raider.

Within his shielded roll, Cormac would listen for the harsh inhale of the orc’s as they launched attacks. Each time, he would roll to his back so that his shields would intercept the blow, then continue his approach. It had to be the most odd tactic he had ever enacted, but he could not deny its efficacy. The orcs slashed as him with abandon—especially after watching him successfully dispatch of yet another of their dwindling group.

Down to two, Ori. Just two more.