Black Metal: The Orc Wars Read Online Free PDF Page A

weapons to meet his charge, their faces masks of determination tinged with a fear of not only Ma-Gur, but also the abomination that swept along just behind the muscular young orc.
    As the distance between Ma-Gur and the sharp points of the human’s pikes shortened the Gor-Angir was beginning to stretch out its massive taloned hands. At the last instant Ma-Gur lowered his sword and ducked into a roll, his body careening across the ground in a somersault and through the legs of the center pikeman. The orc’s momentum carried him through the pikemen’s line, knocking the luckless human to the ground. Ma-Gur rose from his tumble at a dead run, making for the raised edge of the town square. If he could just clear the wall he would be able to escape the monster, perhaps even survive to join his blood brothers in battle elsewhere.
    The fallen pikeman rose to his knees just in time to see the taloned hand that swooped down to rend his throat. The other two humans made a valiant attempt to save their comrade. One took a step forward and plunged his weapon’s point deep into the creature’s thigh. While he was attacking the other warrior made a jab at the Gor-Angir’s misshapen skull.
    The enraged killing spirit lashed out with its talons, and the warrior striking at its head disappeared in a spray of blood and bone. The warrior who had managed to wound it found himself lifted up brutally by the jaw. He was unconscious from the pressure of the creature’s grip almost instantly, so did not notice as his neck snapped as his body was flung through the air.
    Ma-Gur reached the wall in a panic. He knew the thing was behind him, and it did not sound like the spearmen had stalled it for very long. He dared not look back however, preferring to keep his eyes on the wall that would help him survive this mess. The young orc barely paused to check what was on the other side or how far the drop was as he vaulted the high wall.
    In midair he was struck with the corpse of a human warrior, the blow knocking him nearly senseless. He crumpled to the ground after a short fall, which hurt only because he failed to land his feet.
    The Gor-Angir was preparing to leap off the wall after the young orc when several arrows thudded into its back. It turned quickly to meet the new threat, and found itself faced with half a dozen human warriors, battered but not broken, and charged.
    Ma-Gur quickly climbed to his feet. The blow from the corpse had winded him, but not enough to cool the fires of fear. He snatched up his sword and fled deeper into the village.
    For many long hours the town burned. The cold night was warmed by the blazing of fire and the steam of spilt blood. Many dramas and tragedies were played out under the unblinking gaze of the stars. It was a long time before the clash of steel ceased or the keening of the wounded and grieving grew silent.
    As the first light of dawn crept over the mountains the kiss of the sun fell upon a burned husk of a town, a shadow of what it once was. Where there were once longhouses and meadhalls there were smoldering ruins and piles of ash. Where there were once people conducting their morning business now there were only orcs.
    They moved silently about the dead city, plundering the area for what booty could be salvaged. Most of them had been to intent upon battle and murder to concern themselves with wealth. So it was with their kind, setting fire to the corpses of both man and orc, even the mutilated corpse of the Gor-Angir after it had finally fallen to the desperate might of the defenders. As dawn became morning the orcs waded back to their boats and set off for home. The older warriors were stoic and proud, Ghalik had once again delivered the enemy into their hands, another victory for the living legend. The younger warriors acted as if in a daze, still intoxicated by the rush of battle and pain.
    Ma-Gur sat apart from the others, his newfound insights still smoldering within him. Ghalik watched the younger