Ava fell back hard. The wind was knocked from her chest by Malgorn’s last blow. The crowd of builders groaned and cheered in equal measure. It became an amusing pastime these past six months for them to watch Ava get beaten on by the tall orc.

You are not a tree, elf monkey. Do not keep your feet planted too long in one spot. You are quick and tiny, so move just beyond your enemy’s sight and reach.

You will never match a man’s strength. Do not engage him in a duel. Do not block. Watch as he moves. Deflect his blows. Let him tire. Learn where his weak spots are. Look for openings, close in and then cut away.

Month after month he drilled this into her head, showing her that his manner of fighting was unpredictable and that she needed to move at a moment’s notice. That a numb hand cannot grip a sword after blocking a blow. Malgorn’s lessons were harsh and bruising, but she learned fast, right through the snow season that did not come.

Her lungs burned and her chest ached where his pommel made contact. She would not cry. She wanted to, but she would not. Not in front of the workers, not in front of Malgorn, and not in front of Minervin.

“Malgorn! Must you be so rough?” he yelled at the orc.

‘I am fine,’ she wanted to say, but only a pained squeak escaped her lips.

“Gahg! You are too soft, wizard. This is why she finds this exercise difficult. She will fight men twice her size on Blood Rock and none of them will show the level of restraint that I am now. She must learn to take the blow in stride or die.

“Get up, elf monkey. How long do you plan on laying there resting? Terrebelle would have been up and fighting again by now,” he taunted.

It irked her that he insisted on comparing her progress with Terrebelle’s. She rolled onto her feet and leaned on her knees, forcing the cold air into her lungs. She jumped away with a shriek as Malgorn’s heavy war hammer came crashing down, breaking the ground beneath, and sending bits of frozen dirt flying.

“No orc worth his training will stand around and wait until you catch your breath. Hurry up and attack a weakness, you are tiring faster than I am.”

As if it was that easy. Ava found a weakness, if she could slip her sword past the slit in his armour at his side, she could potentially rupture a kidney. But every time she tried to get in close Malgorn found a way to maneuver some part of his war hammer in between them and knock her away with it.

“You have a longer reach than I. I cannot get passed it,” she wheezed.

“Gahg! A true assassin will find no qualms with my reach. Terrebelle could get it done.”

“This is the same Terrebelle that took over your stronghold by drugging and shipping you off here?”

Malgorn roared with laughter at her clumsy attempt to offend him.

“Terrebelle knew that neither she nor anyone in Bloodgore could beat me in a battle for Warlord. So, she used what feminine wiles she had, to do what she thought was necessary for the stronghold. You are not as wily, but you will learn as you grow older that not all your battles will be fought with blades and bows. Sometimes, seduction and poison are enough.”

“That is hardly an appropriate teaching!” Minervin blustered out with embarrassment.

“Gahg! You coddle her too much. Now enough stalling,” he barked, swinging at her.

His attacks were relentless. He blocked his weakness so well that Ava was certain there was no way through. And maybe there was not. Malgorn already knew where his weakness was, and he would keep fending her off to defend it.

Bruised, sore and tiring, Ava made a last-ditch attempt to get close. He worked his war hammer between them as expected, and she turned on her heels, avoiding the blow from his pommel. He was slightly off balance now and she rushed around him, deflecting the oncoming blow from the war hammer’s head, and extending his lack of balance for a moment longer. She used the strap of his leather armour to haul herself onto the Red Orc’s back and pressed the tip of her sword to Malgorn's throat.

A cheer went up and Malgorn chuckled.

“Good, I thought you would never learn how to cover up your intent in battle. You might just be worthy of being an orc assassin.” He reached behind him and, grabbing the back of her collar, threw her onto the ground before him. “Now, try and do that again.”

Ava sighed, she did not think she could, but rolled out of the way before his war hammer came crashing down upon her. She was instantly on her feet and searching for another opening to his weaknesses. If she could get through once, she could do it again.

‘Come to me! Do not tarry here!’

She turned toward the voice. Malgorn’s war hammer found its mark in her chest. She heard a crack as she flew to the ground. Ava winced at the pain that spread through her insides.

Malgorn came to stand over her, a confounded look on his face.

“You let yourself get distracted in the middle of a fight?” he asked. He fully expected her to dodge the blow.

“Get back, you savage! I told you that you were being too rough!” Minervin stormed between them waving the orc back with harmless swishes of his arms.

“Gahg! She will survive, wizard,” Malgorn shrugged. He heaved his war hammer onto his shoulder and stomped off toward The Outpost.

“That’s enough amusement for the day, the lot of you!” Finklhaan bellowed. “Get back to work or get lost!”

“I swear that orc is trying to murder you, there is no other reason why he needs to use such force in his swings,” Minervin muttered, helping her into a sitting position.

“I – I will be fine,” Ava assured him breathlessly, flinching from the painful effort it took to talk.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Why did you become distracted? It is unlike you,” Minervin whispered beyond the wandering workers hearing nearby.

“I heard its voice again, Minervin. The Whirlwind called to me.”

----------------------------------------

It took a few weeks for Ava's bones to heal with Minervin’s constant fussing. Malgorn visited her once during that time, his hand bound terribly with a bloody rag. He stubbornly refused to let her tend to the wound and was tight-lipped about how he acquired the injury. She nearly hit him upside his big, fool head that day.

Once she was up and about, he came again to resume his teachings. He was slower on his feet, tiring far too quickly, leaving openings where there should have been none, and suffered all day from a slight fever. Ava worried for him, but still, he refused any aid from her or Minervin. And now, he had not shown up at all in two weeks.

Ava tightened her sword belt more securely on her waist, watching the men on the coast scurry along the ship’s deck. It took shape quickly these past few months and the dwarf assured them the two-masted sailing vessel would be seaworthy enough to brace the Dark Ocean at its worst. It would only be a month or so before they set sail. She was both thrilled and frightened at the prospect.

She turned from the sight and made her way to The Outpost. Beast fell in line beside her. He got so big that he reached below her shoulder, a great mass of patterned grey fur and long terrifying fangs. He kept his wandering of the forest to a minimum now, wary of it. But could not explain why, only that he felt he was being hunted by death on the wind. Ava knew it frustrated him. It was in his nature to wander. The sooner they left Spectermere, the better it would be for all of them.

“Your red orc’s been in a foul mood lately,” Jaefrey told her, sober and alone. “Took Aindel’s head off with his bare hands two days back.”

“Why?” It was the only reply she could think of after hearing that.

“I don’t know meself! Suppose he had head pain and Aindel laughed too loud or spoke of you too fr… Anyways, he’s been looking – sickly. I’d steer clear of him if I was you.”

Ava nodded and left him to his post. Gods, what was happening? She tried to stifle the dread in her heart and convince herself that Malgorn would be fine. He was strong, healthy, and stubborn. This sickness would pass with proper treatment. She would drag him by the ear to Minervin if she needed to.

‘I don’t like this place, mother. The air smells of rot,’ Beast told her as they walked towards Malgorn’s hut.

“When does it not?” she answered, trying to make light of his observation, despite the persistent knot in her stomach. She could feel something was not right here.

‘This rot is different. It is sick and hungry, burning at my nose like the wizard’s magic...’

A shriek echoed through The Outpost, the sound almost a relief to hear in the tense silence. Ava moved against the wall of a shack as two men ran past her, glancing back in a panic. They were followed by a half-naked woman, one of Crastius’. She stopped the aging blonde by her arm.

“What is it?” she hissed quietly.

“The red orc! He’s gone mad! Let go of me, you creature! You’re going to get me killed!” she yelled, ripping her hand from Ava’s grip, and disappearing into the fog.

‘I smell blood on the wind,’ Beast told her.

Ava unsheathed her bow and drew an arrow; she moved slowly in the direction the men and woman fled from. The rapid speed of her cloudy breaths echoed the beatings of her heart. They contrasted with how slowly the world moved around her with each terrifying step forward. Blood rushed loudly in her ears as she turned the corner.

Malgorn was kneeling on the ground, eating the innards of a dead woman before him. His chewing was slow and lacklustre. He stared unseeing toward the clouds above. Ava was sickened at the sight. Beast growled beside her, the noise drawing the orc’s attention. He stood from the body and Ava’s heart fluttered fearfully in her chest.

There was madness about his dim brown eyes and the veins beneath his red-tinted skin were as dark as night. He was struck by the illness Ava saw over a year ago in the forest. He stepped towards her, dragging his war hammer on the ground behind him. She backed away and he charged. Left with no choice, she aimed her bow and loosed.

The arrow flew past his shoulder as he ducked beneath it. She jumped from the path of his Warhammer’s swing. He turned and swung again and again, barely allowing her enough time to lunge out of the way. She saw Beast stalk behind him just before the sabre cat pounced.

“Back, Beast!” she screamed in panic.

The sabre cat twisted mid-air and landed with a thud near Malgorn, scurrying out of reach only seconds before his Warhammer crashed to the ground. She was not sure enough of the illness to allow Beast physical contact.

His strange backhand swing caught her in the chest, and she flew back against the wall of a shack in a crumpled heap, her breath knocked from her lungs. The old pain tightened around her chest as she rolled back onto her feet and jumped away from Malgorn’s reckless swing.

The Warhammer broke a plank in the shack’s wall and got stuck. Ava reached back for an arrow from her quiver and found it empty. Curse the Reaper. They were scattered on the ground just behind the red orc’s hulking form. It would be a risk to try and retrieve one, but she knew she would die in a melee battle with him. Malgorn was no longer the orc who trained her, now he was a wrathful creature who only wanted her dead.

He saw her intention, ripped his Warhammer from the wall and charged at her. Ava ran for the closest arrow, leaping to the ground before it, and turned to him as she nocked it. He was on top of her before she could fully draw her bowstring.

His swing went wide, and they fell onto a heap of muddy snow. His weight above her was crushing. Something close to a pained moan escaped his lips and the madness from his eyes cleared. He looked down between them, shifting his weight from her.

Dark blood dripped from the arrow impaling his chest and the blades of her bow cut into his shoulder and side.

“Ava? You’re so bright. I can barely stand to look at you,” he said. His brows furrowed as he held her face in his hand. “Oh, I will never again see Blood Rock. Or feel the warmth of your body lying next to me.”

“Minervin can help. He will find the cause of this disease and he will cure you,” she assured him, blinking back the tears that came to her eyes at the sorrow in his tone.

“Ne, I feel the darkness eating away at my spirit. For the longest time, I felt myself lost to it, consumed by an insatiable hunger to murder and feed. I followed the will of a lord whose words I did not understand.” He drew up her hand that still held the bow and placed the blade at his neck. “You must end it.”

“No, I – I cannot.”

“You must. I will help you. I would rather die free than live as a slave to a faceless master whose worth has not been tested. Anarchaen Mulgrath would leave my soul to wander the oceans for eternity if that happens.”

Ava blinked, at a loss for solutions to help and nodded, hesitantly. Malgorn wiped away the tear that fell from her eye with a large finger.

“You cry for me? Terrebelle would have never shown such weakness. How strange that such useless emotion would gladden my heart,” Malgorn said, before helping her slide the bow’s blade across his throat.

His body fell lifelessly on top of her, and Ava let his weight crush her as she struggled to stifle a wail. She pushed him off her carefully and sat there. As she tried to think of what to do next, she was roughly pulled to her feet and pinned against a shack’s wall.

“How far is your wizard with the ship?” Crastius barked at her, his sour breath pelting her face.

“What?” Ava asked, dazed by the sudden question.

“Wake up, girl!” he muttered, shaking her roughly by the collar. “How much will it cost me to buy passage on your ship? I know there’s something evil roaming this land. That it’s got your wizard running. It’s that sorcerer’s doing, I know it. I heard him talking to no one in a tongue I’d never heard before, and then I heard no one answer him. ‘Twas the Reaper’s voice, I tell you. I’ve experience sailing ships. You will need a captain now that the orc is dead.”

“Let go of me!” Ava pushed him from her. “Get away from him, you scavengers!” she yelled, pushing one of the Outpost denizens away from Malgorn’s body and scattering the rest. Already, his great Warhammer was nowhere to be seen. Ava collected her remaining arrows and sat at his chest, putting a protective hand over his chilling body and warning everyone away.

“Fern’s breath, girl. Don’t tell me you loved that savage!” Crastius exclaimed behind her.