Page 44 of Mountain Orc Daddy

“Earth and stone,” Rogar and the Broken Maws orcs repeat.

“Earth and stone, fire and bone!” I roar.

“Earth and stone, fire and bone!” Rogar and the Broken Maws orcs repeat. This time many witch allies, Blair and Phineas and Remus chime in.

“Earth and stone, fire and bone!” I roar again, stomping my feet with each syllable.

The Broken Maws orcs, and the witch allies all repeat, stomping their feet with each syllable. The ground shakes. I can feel static electricity in the air. It feels like the universe has paused after a heavy and full inhale, which means an exhale that is really something is about to follow. I know my orcs and allies need one more boost.

“Earth and stone, fire and bone,” I yell again, louder this time and stomping. The ground shakes. The trees shake. I am shaking. “Swords and hammers sending enemies home!”

The orcs and our witch allies do not hesitate to repeat in beautiful unison. “Earth and stone, fire and bone. Swords and hammers sending enemies home!”

I can feel the waves of tremors from the stomps and the chants up into my jawbone. I know Blair and our witch allies will strike first, as planned, then Broken Maws orcs will hammer down while the allied witches recharge.

Hearing Blair’s voice chanting reminds me of how Gideon tried to harm her in his service to Aisling. I can feel rage flow up through the soil and stone and into my bones. In the distance I watch a large flock of starlings abandon their cottonwood roost.

The pending clash is one mother-of-an-exhale away.

Aisling starts waving her hands in a slight circle as she did right before the first pillar of fire.

Will Aisling send the pillar of magic and fire into the air or into me?

This is when screams that could be the screeches of a thousand banshees sail past my ears and into the matron Aisling’s line of witches, followed by a hot wind. The hot wind carries sheets of electricity, bolts, and beams of green, red, and ice-blue light blasting out of the hands and arms, wands and brooms of Blair and our witch allies.

I can see the matron Aisling and her line of witches flinch. Some stumble and some are unphased.

One or two enemy witches drop.

I can see the enemy screaming in pain and surprise and venomous rage, but I cannot hear it.

“Stand ready!” I yell in Rogar’s direction.

“Stand ready!” Rogar screams at our line of orcs.

A second whoosh of heat and electricity roars past my ears. In the periphery of my vision, I can see streams and streams of color and fire and bolts of electricity flowing out from Blair and Phineas and the witch allies.

The matron Aisling, her line of witches, their minions, wobble slightly. Some fall and stand back-up.

I watch with awe at the power and coordination of our allied witch friends. Aisling’s witches and their minions boggle my mind with their durability.

Any second now the stream of magic from the allied witches will begin to wane. This will be our turn, just as Blair instructed. Witches will pause to recharge, orcs hammer forward.

The stream begins to wane.

“Swords and hammers,” I scream and lunge forward. I can hear Rogar answer this, and I can see Rogar and our entire line of orcs lunge forward in unison with me.

“Sending enemies home,” the Broken Maws orcs bellow while lunging.

I want Aisling to experience my version of blunt-force trauma before anyone else. What stops me are two or three minions who appear in front of me and then vanish in puffs of smoke when I swing. To my right and left I can hear orcs connecting with witches and other orcs whiffing at phantoms as I have. There are several flashes of light and banshee-like screams. I can feel burns and stabs of electricity hitting my arms and legs.

To my right and left I can hear orcs wincing with pain and growling with rage. I see some fall. Some orcs stand back and up and some don’t.

The torrent of fire and magic from our allied witches completely ceases. They are recharging and will strike again. Orc rage and violence fills that pause just as planned.

What terrorizes me is that I can’t get to Aisling. I rush forward and minions or witches appear. I bat at them with iron and steel, and they either vanish, turn to smoke, or barely take a glancing blow. This deathly maelstrom reminds me of a wretched game that Blair tried to show me. The game was called Whack-A-Mole.

To my rear I can hear and feel our allied witches move forward. They are recharged and ready to hurl another barrage.

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