An axe laid broken. Even from a distance Sha’Raph saw it in horror. “You know…to beat her?” She asked Raimond behind her. He opened his eyes after a prayer and nodded. “Once my sword touches her true form, the spell will break.” He answered and tried to focus. “A weapon wielded by her own kind. The outer sorcerers have always used the same pact.”

  Sha’Raph didn’t understand every human word he said but enough. “Then we kill.” She grunted and guided Dustfang closer and faster through the pink sky.

  In the distance Bruna saw the big desert beast flying for the witch. Even though they couldn’t fight themselves they would show more defiance than to die. While the witch tried to get close and drain them of life, he took his sister’s hand and started running.

  “Coward!!” the witch screamed while laughing and shifted around in clouds of darkness. The dark form she had become wasn’t running but jumping from one shadow to the next and it was fast.

  Bruna dragged his sister while the ancestor’s breeze was pushing them from behind. Yet still the witch came ever closer. From every tiny shadow cloudy tendrils tried to grasp at the darklings. Mara had seen her shift through the shadows before and kicked stones of their path. Less shadow for her to cling on.

  Meanwhile her brother only ran and dragged her behind him. Towards the Mesa’s edge and towards Dustfang and his riders. At least one of his girls would live. He repeated in his head and felt his daughters touch in the wind. They were close.

  Sha’Raph squinted her eyes behind her mask. “Ready.” She didn’t ask but demanded. Sir Raimond nodded and carefully stood up. He wasn’t used to it like the riders of Karn’Arak, but Dustfang was big enough to make it easy. He whispered a prayer once more and looked to the east. The sun was only seconds away from sharing her glory.

  “By the sun and the sea…” He started to whisper with his sword drawn.

  Bruna and Mara were now close to the edge, but so was Dustfang.

  “By the Stars and the deep…”

  The two Darklings reached the edge and looked back at the Witch for a moment.

  “Justice upon you this dawn, witch..”

  Still the darklings wouldn’t give up and were about to jump.

  “For the republic, For justice..” Sir Raimond breathed in one last time before in a single moment of glory they jumped. The hag’s dark tendrils followed her greedy fingers, trying to grasp them.

  While they landed on Dustfang Sir Raimond jumped off and towards the witch. “And for the Lady!!!” He roared and the sun followed his words. Finally she rose behind the mountains and shared her golden glory with the burning savannah. The light reflected from his sword and blinded the witch in fear. He hacked away at her dark tendrils, yet most were cast away by the light before.

  “Look what you have done to her!!” He screamed and swung his sword time and time again while the witch desperately tried to defend herself with tiny tendrils of shadow. “You took her life! Her innocence!!” Anger mixed with tears in his eyes while he pushed her back more and more.

  “Innocence?!” She gagged and made him stop for a second. He slowly circled her with fury in his eyes as she continued. "Aurelian would never send me a girl of purity, dear knight.”

  “Shut it, witch!” He yelled out.

  “You want to know what truly made her so incredibly delicious?” She asked while licking her fat rotten lips. “She was more than one.” A dark giggle escaped her that slowly rose to a laugh.

  Sir Raimond’s eyes widened. He knew who the father might have been and he was long dead as well. An entire bloodline cut by the darkness. He roared in fury “Justice upon thee witch!!” And rushed at her. Her smile widened as a hidden tendril lashed at his hand. He lost his sword, and its reflection of the rising sun.

  While he looked down more tendrils grasped him and dragged him down. He tried to free himself but it was as if the weight of his armour rose with every tendrils touch. “You will pay!!” He roared in a mix of fury and desperation.

  She smiled. “Haven’t we been here before, oh bravest of knights?” She laughed while Sir Raimond saw Dustfang and his now three riders come for the witch again. Yet it gave him no hope. No orc would be able to hurt her, not until the spell was broken. Not with violence alone. He wasn’t sure about the Wyvern but he saw how Sha’Raph stood up to jump at the witch. “No!” He yelped out. “It will be of no use!”

  The witch turned to his comrades and opened her arms as if she was greeting guests. “Oh my dears do it. Take your swings, break your weapons! And what for? Defiance? Pride? Honour?” She laughed wide and loud into the sky when one of Sha’Raph’s twin axes was thrown right into her chest. A sound like shattering glass echoed from her form. Somewhere far away and beyond their eyes, a mirror was broken and so was the pact.

  The witch gasped and looked at Sha’Raph with eyes of disbelief. The masked watcher breathed for a moment after she had landed from Dustfang’s back. Sir Raimond watched with disbelief of his own.

  The witch fell to her knees and took the axe out of her chest with a grunt of pain. Yellow pus dropped out of her wound. Sha’Raph was about to rush in when the hag pointed at her and spoke in terror. “The Dagger…”

  Sha’Raph stood still and felt her heart pound in horror. Only one man had ever called her a dagger.

  While blood ran from her mouth the witch continued. “Has Kru’Gan send you himself?! Was the old man finally foolish enough to betray me?!”

  “Why do you know his name?..” Sha’Raph asked.

  The witch grinned through her pain. “Oh? Has he never spoken of me?” She wanted to say more but coughed pus and blood. Behind her Sir Raimond rose back to his feet and took his sword once more. “The spell is broken..” He uttered and started to grab his sword again. Next to them Dustfang landed with Bruna and Mara on his back. The sun washed over the Mountains and the Mesa and soon would even reach the arena below.

  Sha’Raph lost her patience. “Answer me!”

  Finally the witch looked around. Bleeding and knowing she was surrounded. She twitched when Sir Raimond laid a sword on her shoulder. Every part of him, every thread of his being wanted to cut her head off. Yet the knight remained calm and his sword started to slowly shine in the sun once more. The reflection started to burn into the witch’s shoulder. He didn’t understand Sha’Raph’s question as it was spoken in orcish. But even with her mask he could see the demand for answers. “Answer her, hag!”

  The witch’s breathing became heavier with the moment and Sha’Raph stepped close enough to hold her remaining twin axe on the witch’s neck. Bruna took Sha’Raph’s other twin axe from the ground and readied himself should she try anything. His shattered hand had its fingers pointed to directions they should never point at, so he needed his left hand to swing.

  “I will ask him for you!” The witch spat out and grabbed Sha’Raph’s leg. Just as she was about to drain the life out of her, Bruna brought the axe down and cut her hand off. The axe didn’t shatter. The spell was broken.

  Sir Raimond swung his sword sideways at her neck but she twitched and deformed. He missed.

  Screaming the witch withered around and finally turned to a beast. On all fours she slithered away like a snake over the Mesa’s ground and to the edge down to the Arena.

  Sir Raimond tried to swing at her and rushed after her. But even this hurt she was fast. “Don’t let her regain her strength!” She left a trail of thick blood and gasped in pain until she reached the edge back down to the Arena. With a final roar she started to slither down the same edge that Mara had climbed before. Sir Raimond looked after her and back to the orcs and Dustfang. “We need to kill her now or she will drain another!”

  Sha’Raph understood and silently saddled Dustfang again. Her mind was running with questions she had asked for her whole life. Yet she made the choice that the battle was more important. She looked at Bruna and her axe in his hand. He handed it back over. She nodded. The orcs didn’t speak a word and Dustfang galloped for the edge. Raimond held on to the beast's leg as they did and they started to rush down into the fight below. Even though the warriors were thinned out more and more, it was still going. But the swings got heavier and the sun was close to cast her light over them.

  Rika, Kazzok and Branak hacked their way from one Ogre caster to another. Yet their eyes always returned to the molded giant. He was their main prey, but they needed to aid their shaman friend above.

  Before they reached the next Ogre chanter a big Ogre with a torn red cloak and a curved sword stood before them. Third-Fist. Rika spat to the side and rolled her shoulder. Third-Fist grinned at them. He was enjoying the fight and the corpses around him told well enough that he had all the reason for it. “Big one.” Kazzok said with a grin next to her. They both echoed the warlord's grin while Branak growled next to them. Just as they wanted to rush at each other, a hissing echoed over the arena and they turned. The entire arena watched what had become of the sorceress slither down the edge. Once she was down she stood up again and quickly stumbled forward. Some of the ogres nearby rushed to her “Mother you are hurt!” She ignored their voices and touched them all. They sank down withering in age while her wound slowly closed and she became ever fatter. Yet it was too much. She stopped and puked out a glob of twitching flesh.

  The molded giant whispered through the weakening winds again. “We. Must. Leave..”

  Rika and Kazzok shot their eyes at the giant. They wouldn’t let it slip away. The pack rushed into the shadows of battle while the witch continued to force every eye onto her.

  She looked back towards the giant and shook her head. “NO!” She shouted with what could barely be heard as a word. She stumbled ahead and tried to get more Ogres to drain. As she came close to First-Cast the once shaman pushed a Legionnaire to her instead. He was drained of life in an instant and the once shaman’s eyes carried more than concern in them. Slowly he started to take a few steps backwards. Back behind other ogres and close to the cliff from where they came.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Above Dustfang flew into the Arena and a creature those below didn’t know as a Human shouted words in a tongue they didn’t know. Only the ogres and the molded giant did. Only Third-Fist listened. “The spell is broken! Kill her! Kill her now!!” The knight shouted and the Warlord's eyes widened. Without even noticing anybody but their self declared mother he wandered through the battlefield. His blade just lazily next to him.

  Rika and Kazzok took their way to the giant. They looked around. She found a spear, and he a way up the cliff. Half a beast he quickly climbed as she concentrated. It needed to be one strike. One attack with the strength of the pack.

  To Third-Fist it was all but a shadow in his eyes. While he walked the centuries of slavery went by. The early years when they still were orcs. When they sold their souls to the witch for the promise of conquest. When she started to take their women and daughters. When she used their stolen bodies to influence their hearts. And then when she started to deform them to the fat bastards they were now. He had felt the weight of their mistake for centuries. Even though their bodies would be safe from age their souls were rotten and he had felt how his own was slipping away for so long now. If there was ever a day to die, ever a reason to swing his blade by his own choice again. It was this.

  He arrived through the battle at their still stumbling mother. She didn’t even realise who of her sons stood before her anymore and attempted to bring her hand onto his face. He grunted and swung his blade. Her other hand was cut off. In disbelief she stumbled backwards. He heard his brothers scream but didn’t care. This was not their freedom, but his vengeance. With snarling teeth and the lost glory of his clan he brought his blade right into her chest where the wound had just closed. Still she was gasping. Still she was breathing. Still she was coursing the very air with her rot. While his sword kept stuck in her chest he brought his hands around her head and turned it by force. A crack was heard, similar to a tree falling. Yet still she tried to speak and finally the warlord of Krognar and once Chieftain of the Sun-Lions roared and ripped her head off. As he screamed into the air the sun shone into the arena. Her lifeless body fell down to the side and her ripped off head still tried to speak in panic. Yet every attempted word she spoke was drowned by his roar as it echoed through the arena. Like the lion he once had been, he roared to the sun, his prey in his hand. Held by the remains of her hair he roared until all in the arena saw the pride of Krognar once again.

  The cold eyes of the giant looked on in panic. “No..” he whispered and took a few steps back towards the cliffs.

  Rika glanced at him with a hunter’s gaze. “That weakling is trying to escape..” She was about to throw her spear when the strange human words echoed from above.

  “His curse! Break it too! A touch by his own kind and he can be hurt!!”

  Third-Fist looked up at the knight he had helped to imprison. He wasn’t sure if the knight knew that they once had been orcs, he didn’t knew if it would work if he would try and break the course, yet he would show even the last sorcerer the might of Krognar. With another roar he threw their mothers head towards the giant. It was but a weak hit on its legs. After the head fell down the giant took it into his hand. His eyes went soft. “Centuries..wasted..” it whispered and somewhere, far away in lands unknown, a mirror broke.

  Rika didn’t hear the mirror, she only saw that Kazzok was ready. She trained for this, she made her hands soar for this and her shoulder burn for this. With all the might she could offer she threw a spear up to the giant’s head. She brought so much force into the throw that she fell down. Even with her training she still couldn’t balance her one armed footing.

  The spear flew over the arena and through the golden light of the sun right into the giant’s neck. It roared and the winds rose. The beasts that still lingered, those that had offered their blood to the menhir before, all roared with the giant and all of their eyes came to Rika. She was sitting on her back after her fall and looked up where Kazzok was waiting. He was fighting the urge of the hunt and for a moment she was afraid he would turn to her. As did the remaining beasts. Branak withered and winced in pain. She embraced her wolf with an arm and comfort and looked up.

  Kazzok wanted to jump for the giant, wanted to slash through its neck and his shackles, but his whispers were strong while he fought for his life. The spear had the effect they had planned, it took all of the giant’s attention but that meant he had to bite through the pain and the whispers no matter their grip on him. He looked down to Rika and saw the life they had shared so far and the life they still wanted to build.

  A song echoed from Dustfang through the arena and with it the cold touch of the ancestors. Rika smiled at the song while the beasts were but a second away from her. She looked up to Kazzok and saw him jumping from the cliff at the giant. His axe high and the fury of the boar inside his eyes. She wouldn’t just accept her fate, she wouldn’t before and she wouldn’t now. And she knew this wouldn’t be the day she had to. Just before the beasts bit and clawed her and Branak, the druid of the burned oak landed his axe into the giant’s head. In pain the beasts twitched away while the giant fell to his knees. The tree and its dangling corpses fell from his hand and Kazzok continued. He hacked himself deeper and deeper into the giant’s head until his axe was deeply buried into it.

  With a tree’s winter groan, the giant fell and silence went over the arena.

  The remaining menhir beasts twitched but didn’t turn to orcs again. Rika’s eyes found the half wyvern their chieftain had become. They spoke of sorrow before he flew off. Branak next to her looked on. He was fine and pressed himself against her in their victory. He licked her face and she used his support to get back to her feet.

  In the centre of the Arena Third-Fist laughed at the violence they had unleashed and the dead sorcerers it had brought. His brothers stood in silence. Many of them unsure what had happened, few to echo his laughter. First-Cast to slid away into the shadows.

  Kazzok jumped from the giant and looked around. Just as his eyes found Rika she fell into his arms. He held her close. She held him closer. They felt each other's warmth in the sunlight because the night was over and they were alive. They dreamed of the days ahead, of the life they were meant to have since their hunt for the wyvern. And it was all the victory they ever needed. Their eyes locked with each other for the longest time and they knew their hearts would drum on, in unison. As a family. As a pack.

  Dustfang landed close and Mara jumped off. She reached her pack and they laughed. She ruffled Branaks hair and looked at the two with the greatest smile of gratitude. She brought an arm around each while both of the greenskins laughter echoed over the arena. Their hearts were free. The horrors of the night over and victory theirs.

  Still on Dustfang, Bruna watched his sister smile. He wanted to echo her feelings, yet his daughter's touch still lingered on his cheek. He was meant to be angry at her. If not at her then to who else? All the fury he had felt after Kara’s death, where to unleash it if not in battle? But there was no fury. There was nothing. The tiniest spark in his heart was glad for his sister. No matter if it was greenskins or not, she had found her place. Maybe he would protect it and her. Like he always had. But if she would want that he didn’t know. If he could do that, he didn’t know either. He had lost both his woman and his daughter. Who was he to say he could protect?

  A horn stopped the laughter and forced Bruna out of his thoughts.

  The earth was shaking and the dragon landed at the mesa’s edge. Before it, on a poisonous wyvern, the Khan blew his horn. The riders answered and landed around at the edges of the Arena to look down at the greenskins and the ogres. Sha’Raph looked at Bruna for a moment before she asked. “Do you want to stay down here?”

  He looked at her mask for quite some time and back to the concerned look on his sister’s face. As he saw how the two greenskins stood next to her weapons ready, he shook his head. “My place is in Karn’Arak.” He grunted. She said nothing and Sir Raimond didn’t understand. The old knight only saw the face of a warrior who was empty after battle. He had seen it more than once. Sha’Raph guided Dustfang up to land next to the Khan and pressed her fist against her chest. “The battle is over.” She stated. Ur’Back was on the other side and the two watchers looked down with their Khan.

  Bruna remained distant and hidden at Dustfangs back.

  And Aru’Gal smiled. “We may see.” he answered Sha’Raph before he glanced back at the Dragon. “You should fly back.” The Dragon's eyes remained on the corpses of its old enemies. They were distant and slowly closed for but a moment. It grunted. It was hurt and it showed. As its eyes opened again they were but half lid. The same eyes Aru’Gal had seen for years. “You had your vengeance now~” Before the Khan could even finish the Dragon flew off again. Aru’Gal’s eyes followed its direction. It seemed unsure if it was to go to Karn’Arak or back to the Frostsong. It chose its own home. Back to its hoard. In silence and alone.

  And Aru’gal smiled.

  His gaze went back down to those that remained. Greenskins of many distant tribes. Ogres that remained clueless and even one Darkling. His eyes widened. “The traitor..” he whispered almost more to himself before he looked over to Bruna. “Have you seen her?” he asked.

  Bruna just nodded.

  “Then why does she still live?” He demanded to know and earned Bruna’s angry gaze.

  “We had a battle to win.” the Orc they called the beast answered.

  Aru’Gal just smiled and shook his head. “You will get your chance.” He said and was about to take word at those below. Just before he did he looked back over to Bruna again. “Has your Wyvern fallen?”

  Again, Bruna nodded. “I fear she was taken by sorcery.”

  “A shame.” Aru’Gal said. “You need to be more protective, brother.”

  His words fueled Bruna’s anger yet he gave him no time to speak.

  “How long have you fought?!” He yelled down below.

  Some ogres started to count with their fingers while some Greenskins proudly declared that it had been the entire night. Others roared that the darklings would be next and Thick-Skin watched Mara from a distance.

  “Strong!” Aru’Gal declared. “Do you wish to fight on? If so I am more than willing to fulfill that wish!”

  Many sighed but all held their weapons tight and ready.

  Mara next to her pack gazed up at Aru’Gal with nothing but hatred in her eyes. Yet she couldn’t fight on either.

  “You will follow.” He declared and got a raised brow of Ur’Back next to him.

  Aru’Gal looked over to him and smiled. “Do the riders have the spare reins with them?”

  “Of course” The watcher answered. “Why wouldn’t they.”

  Aru’Gal nodded and took his own from his wyverns saddle. He threw the chains down and pointed directly at Mara. “And you!” Their eyes met and both burned with hatred and Dragonfire. “You! Will be the first!”

  Rika and Kazzok were about to protest when Thick-Skin came from the crowd. He was battered and broken, yet stood as tall as he ever did. “No one here will be put into any chains, darkling!” He pointed at Mara. “Neither her, nor anybody else!”

  Aru’Gal dashed down on his Wyvern. Yet Mara’s eyes went back up and to her brother. She saw the anger and sorrow in his eyes and for a moment their gazes locked. She raised a brow and nodded at him. A question without words. It made his heart pound but he couldn’t help himself but answer the same. Silently he nodded.

  Just as Aru’Gal was about to speak or do worse at Thick-Skin, Mara took word. “If you take us today we will fight tomorrow.” She declared and looked around the arena, both to the greenskins as well as Third-Fist in the ogres centre. “I know it is hard. I know many of you long for death in battle after the losses of the night…but trust me.”

  Aru’Gal frowned at her, yet he looked around. Before he could speak again she approached him and took the chains he had thrown down. A heavy breath of shame escaped her as she brought the chains around herself. They were made for Wyverns not orcs and there was no way to actually chain her with them. “You will need ropes.” She told him in anger.

  He smiled and pointed at her while he addressed the Arena. “Trust in a shaman’s wisdom! For once the traitor speaks it!”

  Mara looked back to Kazzok and Rika who stared at her in shock. She knew that every fiber of every orc would be against the chains. Never would they give up. But she also knew it would mean the death of the few that remained and so one last time she pleaded. “Trust me.” With an angry grunt Kazzok threw his weapon away. Rika followed and after a moment longer Thick-Skin and the rest.

  The Khan smiled and ordered the Riders to bring rope and chains but it was all distant to Mara. Her eyes went back to her Brother. “I trust you.” She thought and knew the battle for ascension was still ahead of them.