Skirmish (Bitrayuul): Life
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.
I suppose this is it. There are too many.
Each of Bitrayuul’s foes rushed toward him with their mouths wide open. Their imposing, sharpened teeth minor in comparison to the pair of tusks extending a hand’s length past their faces, capable of tearing through flesh with ease. All twelve of the savage creatures tightly gripped the stone blades in their hands—not that it would matter.
The half-orc raised his arms defensively, though for what purpose he knew not. Against so many, the young warrior would serve as little more than a minor obstacle. No flame to aid him, his spiked gauntlets were as useful as wet cloths against the monstrous trolls and their magical healing. All Bitrayuul could do was wait for his time to die.
I’m sorry, Fangdarr. I should never have left.
In the final moments, staring down the oncoming assailants, Bitrayuul was filled with more self-doubt and guilt than ever before. Guilt for abandoning his brother, only to perish within a few days. He wondered if he had survived so far only due to Fangdarr’s protection of him. Bitrayuul had always thought he could hold his own, but there he stood, awaiting his own annihilation.
I’m sorry, Father. I should have stayed out of the tunnels as you cautioned.
The trolls were only a few paces away. All the memories of his childhood seemed to flood back in a single wave. The cherished kindness of his mother. The selfless tutelage of his mentor. And the unshakeable loyalty of his brother. In part, Bitrayuul reflected upon the scenes of his past and realized that perhaps his passing was not the worst. He had lived a good life full of love and compassion. Did he really need to continue? Wasn’t that short time of happiness enough?
No.
That was the thought that resonated within him with undeniable command.
NO.
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. There had to be more. Adventure. Love. Loss. Life.
There is more.
Planting his heel, Bitrayuul spun toward the wall and launched a balled fist as hard as he could into the stone. Beneath the force, his makeshift gauntlet of bone fragmented and fell from his hand. At first, the half-orc thought his desperate effort had failed. The stone wall stood resolute in its defiance. Then the cracks came. First a trickle of debris, then a fracture. Next came the fissure, rending apart the rocks as if they were naught but clay. Beneath its own weight, the stone began collapsing on itself and groaning in protest.
Realizing the severity of what he may have done, Bitrayuul turned away and sprinted in the opposite direction of the trolls. Their confusion had frozen them in place as they watched the fissure crease along the tunnel around them until finally the stones above could no longer handle the pressure. Following the trail of nearly dried blood droplets, Bitrayuul shivered at the sound of bones crunching and trolls screaming in agony. The pit of his stomach sank as he realized that the beasts would not die beneath those stones. Their bodies would heal and they would be forced to live in constant agony for many moons, begging for relief.
Bitrayuul disregarded the guilt-ridden thoughts and kept his head low, eyeing the trail of blood that was growing more fresh with each stride.