Shadespire_The Mirrored City by Josh Reynolds

Author:Josh Reynolds [Reynolds, Josh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-08-09T07:20:46+00:00

Chapter thirteen

IRONJAWS

The orruk is nothing more than a battle in search of a field.

– Gellert du Flay

Five Days at Sawback

The cries redoubled in volume and fury, filling the air.

Reynar felt his insides clench. He’d fought orruks once, in his time with the Faithful Blades, which was one time too many. The hulking greenskins were a terrifying foe for anyone not armoured in sigmarite.

Khord spat and lifted his maul. ‘Just some greenskin filth come to see what all the noise was.’ He grinned. ‘Probably shouldn’t have destroyed that construct – it might have come in handy right about now.’

‘Fall back,’ Severin roared. ‘Form a battle line to the east.’ Angharad and the other surviving Stormcasts were swift to obey. The mortals moved more slowly. Some were still in shock. Others were on the verge of flight.

Reynar cursed and caught hold of Dolmen’s cloak. He needed to get them moving, or they were all as good as dead. ‘Form up, Azyrite,’ he snarled, shoving Dolmen back. He turned. ‘Form up, you sluggards, or by Sigmar’s brazen hammer I’ll spill your guts myself!’ He swatted Bolas with the flat of his blade. ‘On your feet, fire-blood. We’ve got orruks to kill.’

Bolas heaved himself up from beside Tirax’s remains, a snarl on his face. Reynar matched him. ‘Fall back and form up behind Sigmar’s own, you ash-belly.’ He looked past Bolas. ‘All of you!’ He swept his sword back, gesturing to the Stormcasts. ‘If you run, you’ll only die tired.’ Safety in numbers was the first rule of survival. If you aren’t alone, the enemy can’t focus on you. There were only a dozen or so of them left, but that was enough to make a halfway decent battle line. If the Stormcasts could blunt the first wave…

The first orruk appeared, the heavily armoured greenskin ploughing through the smoke with a spiked club clutched in one meaty paw. Roaring, he brought the club down on a man, pulping his skull. Dolmen cursed and raised his rifle. His shot punched the orruk around, but the greenskin barely paused. The orruk whirled back and charged towards them, still roaring despite the gaping wound where one of his eyes had been.

More orruks burst from the smoke a moment later, their crude war-plate painted a dizzying array of colours. Most of them raced towards the Stormcasts, sensing a worthy fight. But a few veered towards Reynar and the others, looking for easier prey. The one Dolmen had shot reached them first, and the Azyrite was sent flying by the greenskin’s blow. He crashed down limply some distance away, his rifle spinning from his grip. Reynar heard bones snap wetly, and knew the Azyrite was dead, or as good as.

The orruk turned, and faltered as Khord’s maul smashed down against his skull. Khord struck again, and again. The greenskin slumped with a querulous groan and collapsed. Khord turned, ripping a throwing axe from his bandolier and sending it spinning into another orruk moments before he reached Bolas. The orruk fell, skull cleft open.

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