Fury of Gork by Josh Reynolds

Author:Josh Reynolds
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2016-03-03T10:46:40+00:00

Chapter Seven

Challenges

A cloud of dust flooded the canyon, choking and blinding the orruks in equal measure, and the ground shook violently. Caught amongst them, well away from the dangers of the vanguard, Zazul of the Radiant Veil reeled, coughing. Orruk bodies stumbled against him, bellowing and cursing, the stink of them even more cloying than the bone dust. Annoyed and frustrated, he hissed a single, abhorrent syllable. Green flames swept from his hands as he swung them out, trying to clear himself room to breathe.

Orruks shrieked as the flames consumed them. The rest fought to give him room. Breathing heavily, he looked around. His senses still ached from the force of the power that had, until only moments ago, flooded the creatures around him. Once the Waaagh! got started, there was no telling what it would do. There was no controlling it; one could only ride it out and hope to survive. Now that it was beginning to fade, he was in full control once more.

It would be a good day when at last the Dark Gods turned their attention to eradicating this pestiferous race. The orruks did not deserve even slavery – better to be done with them entirely, to wipe them from the canvas of history once and for all.

Zazul stumbled as the ground shook again, and his illusion flickered. There was still too much raw Waaagh! energy in the air. It was reducing his own carefully woven magics to uselessness. He hunched forwards, clawing at the skeins of sorcery, trying to keep his true face hidden. So intent was he on this that he failed to notice Gordrakk stalking towards him until it was too late. All around him, orruks sidled back. Zazul looked up into Gordrakk’s eyes. Before he could speak, the Fist of Gork had knocked him sprawling with a backhanded blow.

‘Where were you, shaman?’ Gordrakk growled, as Zazul tried to squirm to his feet. ‘Where was your magic? Where was your spirits?’ The Fist of Gork embedded one of his axes in the ground and caught the back of Zazul’s neck with his free hand. It took every ounce of willpower the sorcerer possessed to not simply obliterate the orruk oaf then and there. Gordrakk yanked him easily into the air and pressed the edge of his axe to Zazul’s throat.

Zazul cocked his eye skywards and saw the Ninety-Nine Feathers circling. Watching.

Hoping he’ll kill me, eh? Well, you won’t get out of our bargain that easily, carrion-eaters, he thought.

He pressed the tip of his fingers against the axe, and felt alarm as his spells of illusion wavered and snapped. His head throbbed. Something about the axe was gnawing at the edges of his sorcery. Gordrakk’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Zazul wondered if the megaboss had seen past his veil. Then, with a snort of disgust, Gordrakk tossed him to the ground.

‘When’s Mork going to bring me a proper weirdnob,’ he muttered. ‘Either they pop too many heads or not enough. Morgrum! Where are you, ya git?’ he called out, turning.

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