Skirmish (Bitrayuul): Aid
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.
Bitrayuul felt a sharp pain across his forearm. He turned back to regard his foe, silently cursing himself for being too distracted in the middle of a battle. The wound burned against the open air as he lashed out defensively against the troll that had slashed at him. Doing his best to disregard the pain, the half-orc continued to unleash a flurry of blows into his opponent to disable it once more.
The sound of strained cranking clicked slowly far behind him. After what seemed entirely too long, the mechanical weapon let off a loud screech—and with it a blazing orb of fire. The sphere of dried branches had been lit just before launch, igniting the oil that coated the wood and lighting the majority of the cavern. Again the dwarves cheered as their eyes traced that familiar orb, just before watching it crash down into the mass of trolls. Screams of pain echoed through the cavern as nearly a hundred trolls immolated in an instant. As each lit in a burst of fire, every troll spread the flames to those around them in short order.
Bitrayuul watched as the trolls fell to chaos as the inferno quickly jumped from one body to the next like a creeping plague. Another orb quickly flew through the air toward the flank to his left, followed by one to the right. Soon, the entire cavern was illuminated by the sheer number of fires that had spread through the enemy ranks. Even still, Bitrayuul and Tormag were forced to press back against their enemies on the frontline. He was astounded at their fearlessness. Even while their allies died insufferably at their backs, the trolls refused to show any sign of relent. All that mattered was killing the dwarf—or half-orc—in front of them.
“Ah, finally!” Tormag yelled, drawing Bitrayuul’s attention. They each turned their heads to regard a handful of torches being passed through the ranks and toward the frontline. This time, the half-orc did not let his gaze linger for long as he did not wish to suffer another wound for his carelessness. As his body turned frontward, he realized just how right his instincts were as the troll’s desperate swipe cut into his shoulder. Had he not turned around, the blade surely would have sliced through his neck.
Gasping in pain, Bitrayuul’s reflexes pushed his uninjured arm outward to shove away the troll’s trailing attack. As the creature fell back onto its rear, another quickly took its place and lunged forward. However, it did not reach out at the half-orc with its three-fingered hands. Instead, Bitrayuul watched as the troll wrapped its digits around Senator Theiran who was caught unaware. The half-orc tried to grab the troll to aid the old dwarf, but his previous foe was back on its feet and intercepted with another slash of its stone weapon.
Theiran howled in pain as the troll on his back bit down onto his ear, ripping it from his head. When its face came back up, the hunk of flesh sat firmly between its teeth as blood dripped down its chin. The dwarf tried to raise his maul for a swing, but the troll in his front had gripped the weapon tightly.
“Senator!” Bitrayuul called out. Though Tormag and a few other dwarves took notice to Theiran’s entanglement, their was little they could do to help in that moment. Bitrayuul kicked out one of his opponent’s knees and reached out to the troll on Theiran’s back. But he was too late. Five more trolls had already swarmed the dwarf and were pulling him back into their ranks. As if that was their purpose all along, the remainder of the trolls began retreating to the tunnels while keeping the dwarves back. Bitrayuul watched as the senator was dragged toward the tunnel, fighting depserately to stop the vile beasts from gnawing at him.
This is my fault, I have to do something! The half-orc glanced to Tormag but knew his assistance was impossible as he was tied up with a trio of trolls. It seemed no matter which way he turned, every dwarf was engrossed with a foe. Even as over a thousand trolls were made into smoldering carcasses, thrice that number still remained. The shine of steel from fallen dwarves could be seen on the ground, typically sprawled over top of a group trolls.
Gritting his teeth in frustration, Bitrayuul took the torch from the dwarf behind him without hesitation and plunged it flame-first into his opponent’s face. It wailed in agony as the oily substance from its many wounds ignited, burning it both inside and out. Not pausing to ensure the creature was truly dead, the half-orc leapt over it and barreled through another pair of trolls. Only luck and his determined charge stopped their blades from connecting against his skin.
Tormag caught a glimpse of his adoptive son as a dozen trolls took to pursuit behind the towering half-orc. “Bitrayuul, no!” His eyes went wide in fear as he realized where his son was headed—straight toward the tunnel where Theiran was taken.