The waxen, clawed, and severed six-fingered orc hands continued to quickly scuttle towards me. A part of my mind idly noticed that they had dirt under their claws, which I assume makes a certain amount of sense due to their method of locomotion. Those were the hands of blue collar working orcs, not the pristine, well manicured hands of orcs with desk jobs.
As the first hand got within a few feet of me, I bent my knees and launched a massive underhand blow at it, almost like a single-handed golf swing. If I had been wielding a heavier sword, I assume that the results would have been more impressive. My intent was to smack the damn thing away as far as I could to buy some time to deal with the next creature, which was hot on its trail. Unfortunately, I was swinging a thin rapier. When I made contact, the blade sliced between the thing’s two middle fingers, cutting several inches into the hand.
My follow through was solid, the sword arcing up until I was in a position to bring it down in an overhand chop. The rapier flexed as it carried the weight of the hand through the swing and then suddenly snapped back straight as the creature fell off of the sword, presumably on the rock behind me. So much for limiting my enemies to a single avenue of approach.
Knowing that I had to move before I was attacked from behind, I stepped forward and kicked the next monster as hard as I could with a sweeping soccer-style kick. Its fingers feebly clawed at my boot, trying to latch on to it, but it was unable to find sufficient purchase as it was blasted back from whence it came, tumbling through the air until it crashed back into the forest.
I continued forward towards the severed hand that still had my knife sticking out of it. Swinging my sword down from over my shoulder, I managed to strike the creature but the blow had little effect because it was fouled on the knife before it could do much damage. The strike did buy me enough time to get within a couple of feet so I started stomping on the hand like mad, attempting to crush it with the heel of my right boot like I was crushing grapes to make wine.
I stomped on it once, twice, three times. After the second stomp I started hearing crunching noises, what I assumed to be bones in the severed hand breaking. As the thing was still trying to move, to evade my stomps, I felt a strong grip on the back of my left calf as the creature I left behind me began painfully clawing itself up the back of my leg.
Ignoring it, I continued to stomp on the severed hand that I was grinding beneath my heel. After two or three more blows, it stopped moving, its unnatural life force spent. I quickly bent down and pulled my knife from its corpse, but just as quickly bolted upright when I felt a searing pain envelop my left buttock. Ahead of me, I noticed the creature that I had punted scuttling back out of the forest and into the fight.
I was caught in a dilemma. Which creature should I engage first? I knew the one currently forcing its way up my body was wounded, but I had no idea how I could get it off of my back side without exposing myself to an attack from the other creature charging towards me. And if I engaged the creature in front of me, I would expose myself to an attack from the hand clinging to my rear that was continuing to try to climb up my body to reach something more vital than my left butt cheek. Briefly, I considered throwing myself back into the river but it occurred to me that severed limbs probably did not have to breathe.
Instead, ignoring my passenger for a moment, I charged the creature returning from the forest. As I got within striking range, I felt claws dig into my lower back. The pain was intense, and I wanted to collapse, but I knew if I did I would never get up again. I initially thought about trying to pin the creature in front of me to the ground with my rapier to give me time to deal with the one on my back but I didn’t trust my aim. Instead, I once again planted my right foot and kicked it forcefully back into the forest.
Just as I did, I felt a fiery pain around my left shoulder blade. So, I did what you are supposed to do when you are on fire. Stop, drop and roll. I stopped, threw myself to the ground flat on my back, and began rolling around on the ground like an idiot.
Of course, my weight caused the thing’s claws to penetrate more deeply into my back but I was past the point of caring. I rolled back and forth on the ground, lifting my back up and smashing it back down on the ground over and over again. Anyone watching would have thought I had lost my fool mind. The creature clung tenaciously to my back until finally a chunk of my skin and other tissue had enough and separated from my body. My flesh and the creature went one way and I rolled over the other.
Quickly getting up on to my knees, I dropped my sword and began maniacally slashing and stabbing at the creature with my belt knife. I missed more than I hit but after several successful strikes, it stopped moving. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the last severed hand had made it back out of the forest and was about to rejoin the fight,
Grabbing my sword, I levered myself to my feet just as it arrived. I felt blood sheeting down my back as I hobbled around to face it. I briefly considered booting it away a third time, but it was too close to get much power on a kick. Instead, I lashed out, poking it with my rapier as I tried to step back to put a little distance between us. My one real advantage was my reach with the sword. If I could keep it far enough away, I could hurt it but it could not attack me.
Every time it would attempt to approach me, I would poke at it with my rapier. My strikes had no real power behind them because I was relying on only my shoulder and elbow to generate force. I fell into a rhythm. Stab and step back. Poke at it again and take another step back. Because my strikes were so short, I had decent control over my sword and hit more times than I missed but they didn’t do much damage individually because there was no strength behind them. The deepest of them penetrated half an inch into the creature.
Although no individual strike did much, the damage was starting to add up. I could see numerous places on the hand where I had successfully struck it. As I moved, I didn’t fall back directly in a straight line. Instead, I circled around the creature, trying to stay in the emptier area closer to the river. There were certainly some close calls. The ground was uneven and there were bushes and tree roots all around me. I stumbled more than once but I never fell to the ground.
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I was exhausted, and could tell I was losing my focus. I knew that if the fight went on too long, I would make a mistake and that would end my life. The blood loss was also starting to make me light headed. Finally, I steeled my nerve and after striking I didn’t step back. I rushed forward, and once again began my awkward stomping dance.
Within just a few stomps it was over. The last creature stopped moving. To make certain it was truly dead, I chopped it several more times with my knife. Then, I went back and did the same thing with the other creatures I had defeated. Finally, for good measure, I threw them all into the river, hoping that they would be swept far downstream.
I had won the fight but I was still in danger. I felt blood still trickling down my back and I was becoming fairly dizzy and felt cold. I was obviously going into shock. I quickly plunged into the river, holding on to the bank while letting the rushing water cleanse my wounds. The cold temperature of the water did not help me feel any better. After awkwardly crawling back up onto the bank, I took off my jacket and cut long and wide strips from the bottom of my cloak and wrapped them around my back, tying them tightly before I once again donned my jacket. My jacket had several holes in it, including a large rip along my left shoulder blade where I had taken my most grievous wound.
Digging into my pack, I retrieved some of the antibiotics and ibuprofen from my stash of pharmaceuticals. Swallowing them down, I hoped that they would dull the pain and prevent any infection from those dirty claws. Then I wrapped myself in the still damp bedroll to try to warm up.
The battle felt like it had taken hours, but when I glanced up through the canopy I noticed that little time had passed. I dug out and ate my second to last protein bar, and chased it with a bunch of water. As I placed the drugs back away, my hand brushed against one of the essence crystals that was merrily glowing at the top of my pack. This time, instead of feeling nothing more than cold, hard crystal I felt a small burst of heat and heard a brief thrumming in my ears.
I reached into my pack and started pawing through the crystals, handling them one at a time. Four of them gave me that warm electric feeling when I touched them, but when I handled the other two they felt oily and sickening. Wanting nothing to do with them, I quickly shoved those down to the bottom of my pack.
I studied the other four individually. Their scintillating colors entranced me. I stared deeply into them and somehow felt like their pulsating and swirling colors were trying to send me a message, but if they were it was one I could not yet understand. I must have spent a couple of hours studying them while I sat there, trying to regain my strength. For awhile, I became lost in them and my situation, how absolutely screwed I was, receded from my consciousness.
My respite was brief, however, as all too soon my awareness returned to the world around me. Even with the pain killers, I hurt all over. Though the sun had warmed me, I was still cold and tired and hungry. Deep in an alien forest, I didn’t know where to turn for help. I wasn’t even certain I would be able to start a fire, I didn’t have a good plan for hunting and I was virtually out of food. I would be lying if I told you that I didn’t at least consider just lying down and dying. As I have told you before, however, I like to consider myself a survivor. The hand I was dealt was crap, but I had to play it out.
Deciding that my decision making was impaired by stress and my physical condition, I realized that I needed to rest for a couple of hours before moving on. Heading back towards the thicket, I flinched as I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look I saw what appeared to be an ordinary squirrel sprinting across the forest floor. Crawling back into the thicket, I again curled up for warmth and was soon fast asleep.
Once more, I dreamed. The voices started whispering again. I saw four figures milling around and talking to one another. One appeared to be an elf dressed in the garb of a woodsman. The cloak he was wearing was strikingly similar to the one that I had liberated and then torn up for bandages. The second was a young human male dressed in rich clothing with a rapier hanging at his side. The next humanoid was monstrous. Looming over the others, it had rough green skin, no visible hair and jagged pointy teeth. Its arms were long and ape-like, dangling down its sides until they almost reached its knees. The last figure was also a human, an older female with flowing white hair. She was dressed in a coarse brown robe that was tailored not to constrict her movements, and when she did move she lithely flowed from one place to another with the grace of a much younger person.
The whispers started to get louder and I was finally able to discern a word here and there. The figures did not seem to be trying to communicate with each other, but instead appeared to be talking to others that I couldn’t see.
“Don’t worry, mother, I don’t lose duels,” said the dandy with the rapier.
“If the bear is rabid, it will have to be put down,” interjected the elf.
“I haven’t missed a day of training in thirty years,” the older woman said. “Why would I start today?”
The monstrous green figure was mostly silent, with the exception of humming a strange melancholy tune under his breath.
“Can you hear me?” I asked. “Do you want something from me?” But there was no reply.
Finally, the voices started slipping away as I returned to consciousness. Opening my eyes, I realized it was still light out. Crawling back out of the bushes and then walking towards the river, I glanced at the sky to check the sun’s position. It was late afternoon.
I didn’t feel great at all. I still hurt all over and was famished. I reflected on what I had seen while asleep, and realized that it was not what I would have expected to dream. Instead of being chased by orcs, or running into a cemetery in New Orleans, or being stalked by severed hands, my dream felt like it had some meaning. I suppose my subconscious could have placed the cloak and rapier in my mind but it felt more significant than that.
I opened my pack and looked at the essence crystals again. Their colors were swirling faster and the energy contained within them seemed more agitated. Once again, I selected one and pulled it from the pack. Instead of a small burst of heat, I felt a continuous warmth flowing out of the crystal. The thrumming sound invaded my mind and it ebbed and flowed with the pulses of light.
My breathing slowed until it matched the oscillations of the crystal. Lost to the outside world, all I could see were swirling colors and all I could hear was the deep chord that they produced. Slipping away, I felt myself spiraling down into the bottomless beacon of light.