Chapter 9

“Oh is it dead?” grunted an unfamiliar voice.

“Oh I don’t know, it has a pulse,” said another.

“Where am I?” said Thalorian, shaking off a coat of sand. He looked up to a sight he’d never think he’d see, orcs. One was tall with tan skin and long blood-stained tusks the other one was a little shorter with pale green skin and a stumpy tusk. They both had crimson eyes with sharp snake-like pupils and war paint on their forehead down to their toes. One had a giant axe, the one with green skin had a scimitar with fabulous gems on the blade and hilt.

“Oh you’re outside the gates to Gorn,” said one.

“Oh what is ye business in Gorn?” asked the other.

“Oh we don’t get many outsiders here, Redblood,” said one.

“ Oh no we don’t Sharpteeth,” said the other. The one named Redblood offered his hand.

“Did two other humans come this way, one of them had black hair and the other one had white hair, they may have said their names were Haverian and Limiria?” asked Thalorian, ignoring Redblood’s hand Thalorian got up.

“Oh white hair and sword girl, yeah they came through here, I think they're in the bar right now,” said Sharpteeth.

“Oh yeah sword girl was quite the fierce one, always asking for someone named Thornian or something like that,” said Redblood.

“Oh yep thats sword girl she was definitely looking for Tornhead,”

“Thalorian,” replied Thalorian, “my name is Thalorian.”

“Oh yeah Thalorian that was it,” said Redblood.

“Real worried about Tornhead those two,” Sharpteeth added in.

“Thank you, Redblood, Sharpteeth,” finished Thalorian.

Thalorian walked through the village of Gorn. Stalls and stores lined the streets orcs of many kinds called out deals and sales. Thalorian identified the bar quite easily. Even though the writing was different he could tell the building that had constant shouting and bear bottles flying through the window was the bar.

An orc whizzed past Thalorain when he opened the door.

“You challenge me! Ha what a fool!” screamed an orc at the other side of the bar with blood on his teeth, faceless bodies on the ground. “You're lucky I let you live! Ha!” the orc walked toward Thalorian, “A new challenger approaches Ha! What is your name challenger!” the orc said boastfully.

“I’m just looking for my friends,” replied Thalorian brushing the orc aside.

“Oh but entering this bar means you challenge me Ha!” boasted the orc. “I am Bigteeth the great and that is Bigtoes the my brother, he keeps track of my challengers currently I have ninety-seven wins, Ha!” he quietly added later,“and one loss.”

“I’m not looking for trouble,” said Thalorian, “just passing through.” The orc slammed his fist against the floor, causing splinters to fly everywhere. Thalorian dodged right and drew his sword in response.

“Ha! This is fist fight, no sword aloud! Ha!” boasted Bigteeth.

“Fine,” said Thalorian, sheathing his sword. “What an idiot,” murmured Thalorian.

Bigteeth zoomed towards Thalorian and slammed his head down, Thalorian jumped up, his cloak flapping. He dived down with a kick to the neck. Bigteeth fired off a bicycle kick to pary.

“Zephra!” chanted Thalorian firing air out of his feet and dodging the kick. Remembering his scuffle on the boat Thalorian said, “Ornerian!” Bigteeth froze, unable to move, Thalorian laid out a combo on Bigteeth’s chest. “Aress!” yelled Thalorian. Bigteeth flew backwards. He slammed his hands into the wooden floor and charged forward like a bull. Thalorian slid underneath him and kicked upward. Bigteeth swung his tree trunk arms and slammed down on Thalorian. He spat out blood as he smashed into the ground. Thalorian got up with a red face and battered hands. Blood dripped from his mouth and he had a black eye. All this in a single punch. I guess I’ll pull out my trump card. Thalorian read The Eternal Balance every chance he got, learning as many spells as he could would help but not fix. “Ankst,” whispered Thalorian. A great veil of force blasted out of his pal and sent Bigteeth flying. From this one spell Bigteeth was missing skin and one of his arms was bending in a way it shouldn’t.

“Ha…You are a worthy foe,” Bigteeth coughed out in the last few seconds of consciousness he had.

Gasps of shock arose from the bar patrons. The man at the counter looked like he was a baby experiencing food for the first time. An orc woman with a grey shirt was so shocked her face wouldn’t move. Thalorian felt a hard stick, or maybe a chair leg he didn’t know hit the back of his head and he fainted. Damn, fainting two times in one day, a new rec-.

Thalorian awoke in a dank cell. Rats scurried along on the ground. His chains clanked as he awoke.

“The great bar fighter has awakened,” said a familiar voice. “Welcome to our humble cell, great bar fighter.”

“Haverian? Is that you?” Thalorian asked, drowsy.

“I am honoured that the great bar fighter knows my name,” exclaimed Haverian.

Thalorian sat up, “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Haverian replied.

“Stop calling me the great bar fighter,” replied Thalorian. “Where are we?”

“A cell in Gorn,” replied Haverian.

“Where's Limiria?” questioned Thalorian.

“She’s in a cell a few blocks down,” said Haverian, “right over there.”

“You think we can get out of here?” asked Thalorian.

“They took our weapons but you still have The Eternal Balance, which is a good thing,” answered Haverian.

Thalorian flipped through the pages of The Eternal Balance, looking for some sort of spell that could get them out of there. Teleportation might have worked but when he tried teleporting one of the rats, it disappeared but returned almost instantly without a head.

“So I guess teleportation is off the table,” said Haverian, gazing at the dead rat.

“Yeah, definitely,” Thalorian added. “I could use a messaging spell to talk to Limiria, and we could make a plan.”

Haverian shifted in his seat, “That might work.”

“Koriania,” chanted Thalorian, a wisp of blue smoke appeared in his hand, I guess I just tell it the message. Have any ideas on how to escape? “It’s done.”

“Now I guess we just wait,” said Haverian, sitting down.

And they waited, and waited, and waited some more. Two days passed of just them waiting. They were barely fed, and when they were it was a loaf of rotten bread.

“So we’ve waited, new plan: we squeeze out of the bars, get our stuff, free Limiria and leave,” Haverian stated, sitting up and pulling his hair back.

“And when we get caught?” stated Thalorian, “then what?”

“Then we… wait good point,” said Haverian.

“Thalorian Hibakku, Haverian Reks you're on the podium,” said an orc guard.

“The podium?” asked Thalorian.

“You’ll have your heads removed, I remember my first chopping, so fun, so fun,” replied the orc guard.

Thalorian laid his head on the chopping block. “Thalorian Hibakku, for the crime of attacking a citizen unprovoked, you are to be killed by severed head, Haverian Reks, for the crime of attacking a citizen unprovoked, you are to be killed by severed head,” said the orc executioner. Unprovoked, my ass! He attacked me!

The axe soared into the sky riding the wind, it crashed down a thundering storm. Thalorian kicked the executioner backward. The executioner staggered backward, his axe cut against the wooden floor, splinters shot out of the wood.

Thalorian slid off the chopping block. He kicked the executioner in their face. The executioner raised their axe in the air and brought it back down, Thalorian dodged, by sliding on the ground. Thalorian kicked straight into the air. Blood pooled from the executioner's mouth. With a quick kick to the chest the executioner fell to the ground.

Thalorian cut his chains on the executioner's axe. He picked the weapon up and removed Haverians as well. Guards ran at them.

“Come on! Let's go!” Thalorian told Haverian. They bolted for the prison. “Braris Elia!” chanted Thalorian, blowing the door to the storage facility.

“Found your sword!” yelled Haverian, passing Thalorian's sword to him.

“Got Limiria’s stuff too!” Thalorian replied. They ran down the hallway checking each sign for Limiria’s name. “Right here!” said Thalorian. “Braris.” The bars melted and twisted. Limiria sat inside, her eyes lit up when she saw the two of them standing there.

“Well? What are you waiting for?!” yelled Limiria, grabbing her stuff and bolting. They ran out of the prison, chopping up any guards they passed. They slid out in sync, like a boyband coming on stage. They ran through the streets arrows and magic flying passed them. One of the skin sacks they met before at the exit.

“We meet again, young targets,” said a familiar voice, that could only be Garret Smith. “I just knew you’d be here,” said Gerret, “the boat wreck, the tide changes, and all of those together lead to the wonderful city of Gorn.”

“Kragara!” chanted Thalorian, shooting up into the sky and bringing his sword down. Garret snapped his fingers and disappeared.

“Crya,” chanted Garret, quietly, walking on the air. Thalorian dodged. Limiria cut into Garret, who parried with a dagger. Haverian jump-kicked Garret, but missed. The three comrades continued to barrage Garret but none of their attacks hit him. Demons and devils attacked them as well and they had to counter that.

“Everyone get out of the way!” yelled Thalorian, in response Haverian and Limiria stepped back. “Fornen e’xsen!” chanted Thalorian. Gerret dodged under where he thought the blow would land, but he was still hit. His skin twisted and warped, until it snapped. Garret snapped his fingers with the last bit of life he had and disappeared, with a familiar letter floating down from where he was.

It read: Dearest Target

If you are reading this, that means you have killed me. Please take these as a token of my gratitude. After reading the final words, the letter disappeared in place of three masks. A dragon mask, a demon mask, and a devil mask.

Thalorian picked one up, “Be careful it might be cursed,” warned Haverian.

“It's fine, they’re just masks, no runes or the glow of an enchantment, they can’t be cursed,” Thalorian replied. He placed the dragon mask on his face, the wood curled and bended to fit his head perfectly. Without any strap the mask stayed on perfectly.

“If you get one, I want one too,” said Haverian, putting the devil mask on. Haverian’s right arm bubbled and fizzed, shrinking and growing, becoming but a shell of itself. It was skeletal, the arm of a skeleton was his, an indestructible bone arm. “What the hells?!” yelled Haverian, “it's made of bone! What happened?”

“It's an upgrade from your old arm, the raw power a skeletal arm can dish out is insane,” commented Limiria, putting on the demon mask.

The three of them jumped down from the building and ran out of the city. Other convicts had also escaped and were ramped through the city. The demons and devils no longer had orders and destroyed buildings.

An old woman sat in the middle of the street chanting the same thing over and over again, “A Dragon, a Demon and a Devil will rise and burn all of the land, the Dove will no longer sing.” When the lady saw the three of them, she gasped and fell to the ground, her blind eyes seeing only what lies beyond. Shocked, but not stunned, the trio continued out of the city, escaping.