“Down in the histories, ” says Darok from behind me, “if we survive to tell the tale of it.”
I don’t have to see Darok’s face to know he’s wearing a thin-lipped grimace. He throws his half-eaten meat into the ground and stands, his Orb-Blade drawn. Darok’s Orb-Sword shimmers in the night; manifested from a blackness darker than the deepest cave, yet emitting an eerie, blueish aurora. Our Orb-weapons seem to hunger for a fresh kill; as if the somehow sentient weapons are more eager than even we are to do battle.
If this portal is taking us to our mate – if she is somewhere in this hellscape – then I’ll find her. I’ll kill for her. I’ll even die for her if needed – but no matter what, I’ll feel her before I am claimed by blood and violence.
That’s all an Aurelian can ask - to feel our mate before we’re killed in battle. One touch of her skin, one gaze of her eyes, and I’ll die satisfied. What is life worth, otherwise? I’ve been hungry my whole life for my chance to meet my fated mate. If this is a trap by some Void-Demon to lure us into death, I’ll accept it. In fact, the only reason I still allow myself to live is the thought that she may be out there – and that my mate might finally have an end to my pain.
I don’t know what she looks like, but I know she’s through the portal. I instinctively know that the greatest battle of my life waits for me there. In the life or death tangle of blood and blade, I forget myself for a moment.
“Formation!” Forn barks, and I move instinctually – taking my place to his right. Darok stands grimly to his left, haunches up and his trap muscles flexed. Suddenly we hear a woman’s voice – a high-pitched scream – traveling through the portal. Her desperation forces me to act.
I rush forward, and the three of us leap together through the portal.
Instantly, cool air hits me. I breathe it in as the portal blinks shuts behind us, leaving my blood-brothers and I stranded in this strange hellscape of a world.
The air here is acrid – like breathing in when wind blows smoke from the fire into your face.
The first hint of doubt hits me as soon as I breathe in this poison air. If this is a trap laid for us by a Void-Demon, then we truly are in hell.
My feet have landed firmly on top of a tall structure. There are many like it, with windows carved into the flat surfaces. Humans lurk within. I watch as a man points at us through a window, his face screwed with hatred. He slams the cover shut.
The streets below this towering structure teem with life as men, women and children scream and point up at the falling Scorp egg sacs.
The men should be grabbing weapons and preparing their defense. Instead, they run in terror, like children.
There is clearly no leader on this planet – no warrior-elite. Against the teeming descent of these Scorp egg sacs, these humans will have no chance of defending themselves.
I brace myself as a Scorp egg sac, the size of a small cloud, smashes down a stones throw from where we stand. The structure itself shudders, and my head pounds as powerful projectiles shoot up into the air from all around us; noise and thunder rumbling in the sky, as though we’re caught in a raging storm.
Across the way, we watch as razor-sharp pincer claws rake against the surface of the egg sac that’s just landed. The blade-like appendages rend the organic material, and like some gigantic cockroach giving birth, Scorp Warriors flood from the gaping holes and pour out into the streets below.
I grip the handle of my war-hammer and heft it.
This truly will be a battle worthy of the histories.
4
Darok
Fear hits me in a wave as I witness the mass of Scorp pouring into the streets.
I was not blessed with the mindless bravery of my two battle-brothers. Their auras are strong as I sense their courage through our Bond – burning in my mind like twin, raging suns. The shame of my cowardice flourishes in darkness, so it’s some consolation that the powerful auras of Hadone and Forn buoy me up.
Ignoring my fear, I join the formation and we move as one – our feet pounding on the roof of the structure in unison as we leap forward without hesitation.
My stomach drops as I fly through the air. Together, we thud down on hard ground twenty-feet below. These streets are constructed from packed stone – some kind of hard rock that gives me sure footing. I judge the landscape. It will be tight quarters in these narrow confines, with barely room for all three of us to stand abreast. That’s not a bad thing. The tight confines might be our only salvation against the horde of Scorp Warriors.
This is a trap, I’m sure of it – but I chose my fate. Where my blood-brothers go, I follow.
Women and children scream, and my anger surges – overpowering my fear. I have no way of helping the sick members of my tribe, but I will not allow the helpless to suffer on this world as well.
I glance around. The wall of the structure to my right is cracked at the bottom – with a hole big enough for a small animal to hide inside. Two tiny children are shuddering there, hiding in the nook. I marvel at them. I’ve only seen Aurelian children before – all male – and these tiny creatures look so helpless and scared compared to the strapping children of my race. They’re smaller even than a human female.
I can help these small humans.
A mass of Scorp Warriors pour down the street towards us. I position myself in front of the crack in the wall, keeping my body between
