Never Shall I Fail (Forgotten Ruin Book 7) by Jason Anspach & Nick Cole

Author:Jason Anspach & Nick Cole [Anspach, Jason & Cole, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: WarGate Books
Published: 2022-11-30T15:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

The aftermath of the death of the god of the orcs, or the serial killer from ten thousand years ago that had stayed too long and made himself their god, was like someone had set up a slaughterhouse on the cracked rocks, broken stones, and drifting sand of the desert Observatory on the walls of Sûstagul. Big Baby D had his pound of Shagbag’s flesh and began to waddle-wander across the X, chewing up and swallowing in great disgusting gulps what remained of the dead orc god.

You’ve probably already guessed this… but the Rangers love that part. Of course they would. A giant eight-foot-long landshark they’d made their dog, waddling around on its stubby legs and snapping up more pieces of Shagbag the Now Torn in Half that they tossed to it.

Tanner lit a smoke and stood back to watch the pageantry… as it were.

At the last of the battle, Shagbag had tried to animate the recent dead to take the objective, but now those corpses of shadow panther and shredded dire bat had just gone back to being dead. And in some cases, where chimeric corpses had formed golems of the flesh of orc and legionnaire… they had simply stopped moving and were now dead again.

That was probably for the best.

“Hey… why Nunzio got a orc arm now!” shouted one of the legionnaires as their formations moved in to secure the area. Other Rangers were arriving on scene and had come in to assist what was clearly a very bad situation just minutes ago.

I was too tired, and working a new problem, to make a crack like, “See this mess… this is my mess. I made this all by myself. Pro-level leadership work here, folks.”

So I didn’t.

At that point my bell had seriously been rung, and I was convinced Sergeant Monroe was dead. I even asked Tanner if that was the case and he ran off to check, after handing me one of the thermite grenades I asked for.

When he came back, I didn’t even hear the answer that, “Sergeant Monroe made it, Talk. He’s great, man. All good to go and ready to roll. Ain’t nothin’ gonna stop that stud.”

I didn’t hear that.

Instead, I watched the popped thermite grenade flare brightly in the dark and begin to immolate what remained of Shagbag, mumbling to myself, “That’s for the best,” as it melted what remained of Lemoore’s Ruin-revealed fractured head and twisted face and the upper torso. Or what remained. What Big Baby hadn’t torn in half and swallowed.

The smell was awful. But here in Sûstagul… that’s just Tuesday.

Tanner handed me a smoke and muttered, “Only way to be sure, man.”

Like it was a line from a movie and I should know it, or something pop culture. I didn’t know the line. I had something else on my mind and I was trying to see if I could pull it off. If I could “carpe diem that stuff,” as Sergeant Chris says, and get it done. Long shot. Dangerous.

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