“The cook had planned to make Behemoth Pot-au-Feu, but we’re out of meat. I need you to head down to the market and get more,” Ziri said.
“Fine. If they don’t have it, I’m not searching the whole market,” Keldras replied.
Ziri sighed.
“That’s fine. Just be back before dinner.”
Keldras nodded.
“You should be more respectful to your mother, idiot,” Saphira scolded.
Keldras wandered through the market, most of the stalls already preparing to close for the evening.
Despite what he’d told his mother, he searched diligently for the ingredient.
Eventually, he reached a mostly deserted corner of the market.
At the last stall, the vendor was beginning to pack away his wares when Keldras stopped him.
“I’ll take two pounds of Behemoth meat.”
The orc looked him up and down before unpacking the requested cut.
“You should shop earlier in the day instead of just before closing,” the vendor scolded.
Keldras nodded, but a loud commotion pulled his attention away.
A rowdy group of orcs approached.
Then he remembered.
There was a tavern with a terrible reputation in this part of the market.
He locked eyes with one of the approaching figures.
Hells.
It was Bolg.
Keldras quickly paid the vendor and hurried away.
“Hey!”
The shout came from behind him.
Sure enough, the group gave chase.
Keldras wasn’t gaining any ground, but neither were they.
He darted through the narrow, twisting backstreets, hoping to lose them.
“Idiot. If you’d stayed in the open, there would’ve been witnesses eventually,” Saphira scolded.
Wishful thinking, Keldras thought.
Few orcs in Blackspire would stand up for someone they considered an outsider.
If he looked more orc than elf—like Garrok—that might have been another matter entirely.
He rounded another corner.
Dead end.
Keldras cursed his luck.
The pounding footsteps of his pursuers rapidly closed in behind him.
He sprinted back toward the last intersection, hoping to reach it before they boxed him in.
No such luck.
As he rounded the corner, he came face-to-face with the lead pair.
They immediately shouted to alert the others.
Hells.
If only I’d brought my halberd.
Keldras instinctively reached for a weapon that wasn’t there.
His hand closed around empty air.
Magic surged through the alley.
A familiar weight slammed into his palm.
His halberd.
He had no time to question it.
He charged.
The first two orcs raised their clubs and rushed him.
Keldras feinted high before driving the butt of his weapon between the first orc’s legs.
The strike landed.
The orc howled in agony.
The second approached more cautiously.
Keldras rotated the spearhead in slow circles at eye level while backing away.
Suddenly, he lunged.
The thrust missed.
The orc grinned.
Keldras yanked the weapon back, hooking the lower edge of the axe blade around the orc’s neck and wrenching him violently to the ground.
Before the orc could recover, Keldras rushed forward and drove his boot onto the back of the man’s head, smashing his face into the cobblestones.
Without waiting to see if he got back up, Keldras sprinted past him.
He reached the intersection—
A fraction too late.
The remaining two orcs and Bolg stood in the center, blocking every escape.
“Get that maggot!” Bolg barked, shoving his followers forward.
They advanced carefully.
Keldras immediately recognized that these two were far more skilled than the others.
The one wielding a falchion sneered.
“Gonna see what color your blood is, freak.”
Keldras still held the advantage in reach.
He worked his halberd expertly, keeping both opponents at bay, but they continued to inch closer.
“Thrust,” Saphira ordered.
Keldras hesitated before obeying.
The falchion wielder knocked the attack aside.
A brilliant flash erupted.
Then came a scream.
The orc’s body convulsed violently before collapsing lifelessly onto the street.
Now it was one-on-one.
The remaining orc glanced nervously back at Bolg.
Bolg snarled.
The hesitation vanished.
The orc charged again.
Several exchanges followed, neither combatant gaining the upper hand.
Bolg roared at his subordinate.
The orc rushed recklessly.
A fatal mistake.
Keldras’s spearhead darted forward, carving a deep gash across the orc’s bicep.
The axe clattered to the ground as the wounded orc grabbed his arm in pain.
“Useless,” Bolg growled.
Keldras tried to slip past and reclaim the intersection.
Bolg stepped directly into his path.
An evil grin spread across the massive orc’s face.
Keldras knew he was hopelessly outmatched.
Still, he refused to surrender.
Every ounce of Garrok’s training flowed through him.
He attacked with feints, flourishes, and deceptive footwork, trying to create a single opening.
It wasn’t enough.
As Garrok’s longtime rival, Bolg was accustomed to fighting polearms.
Each brutal swing of his great club smashed Keldras aside regardless of where he tried to guard.
Keldras knew he was running out of options.
Bolg steadily forced him back toward the dead end.
The narrow alley left no room to circle around him.
A desperate plan formed in Keldras’s mind.
You’re crazy!
Saphira shouted.
Keldras charged with sudden ferocity.
For the first time, Bolg hesitated.
At the last instant, Keldras drove the spearpoint of his halberd into the ground, flooding the street with magical energy before attempting to vault over his opponent.
“Arrogance!” Bolg roared.
He caught the haft of the halberd with one hand.
Still airborne, Keldras was yanked sideways and slammed into the wall.
The impact drove the air from his lungs.
He collapsed, coughing violently.
Before he could recover, Bolg kicked him hard in the ribs.
Then he planted a heavy boot squarely on Keldras’s back.
“Crawl! Crawl for me, maggot!”
Stop!
Saphira shouted in a panic
He laughed like a madman.
Grabbing Keldras by the hair, Bolg smashed his face into the cobblestones.
Once.
Keldras!
Twice.
Enough!
Three times.
Please stop!
Then he seized the front of Keldras’s shirt and hauled him upright.
Blood streamed from cuts and scrapes across Keldras’s face.
She could do nothing but watch.
Bolg slammed him into the wall.
“Hells-cursed son of a succubus!”
Another slam.
“You are nothing but a disgusting mutant!”
A third slam.
Terror burned into fury.
Then Bolg pinned him there.
“These tiny little tusks disgust me.”
A cruel smile spread across his scarred face.
“Let’s do something about that.”
Keldras felt the pressure as Bolg began wrenching downward.
She roared with fury inside Keldras’s mind.
Something inside Keldras answered her rage.
Something inside Keldras answered her rage.
Brilliant light erupted from within his mouth.
Bolg barely had time to register the change before his face turned pale.
A forked blast of radiant energy exploded from Keldras’s mouth, striking Bolg across the face, chest, and arms.
For the first time, fear crossed Bolg’s face.
The blast hurled him into the wall.
For a heartbeat, it held him there.
His skin blackened and smoked as violent convulsions wracked his body.
Then the energy faded.
Bolg crashed to the ground.
Keldras slowly sank to his knees.
His vision blurred.
His consciousness slipped away.
The last thing he heard was Saphira calling his name.