Chapter 136: Striking Twice
When the orcs saw their opponents delay, they roared with bloodlust and charged instead. That was the way they were; they smelled weakness and fear the way that a shark might smell blood, and after what had just happened, there was definitely blood in the water.
Simon was less concerned about the line of green eight-foot-tall warriors than he was about the talisman-bedecked warlock who was grinning behind them. Still, he waited, just for the right moment, and as soon as the monster raised its hand skyward and opened its mouth to channel the lightning again, he acted.
“Gervuul Vrazig,” he muttered. Greater lighting. He hated the idea of using a greater word in a life where he planned on sticking around for a while, but he needed what came next to be more than a little showy, and the other way to do that was with more power.
The lightning came down for the orc almost instantly. He didn’t fling it at his enemies, though. Instead, he stood there convulsing with his hand held skyward as the energy radiated through his body and the warlock’s clothing burst into flames.
None of that dissipated the energy enough to stop it from arcing outward through most of the rest of the group, though. Purple lightning sprayed in a wide arc that bounced and rebounded several times before coming to ground. It was enough of a fireworks show that half of the group was reduced almost instantly into twitching meat, and the other half paused to look around in confusion. It probably would have been enough to reach more of Simon’s own men and turn their swords into lightning rods if the lingering effects of his protection spell hadn’t dissuaded it.
Still, this was what he wanted, and he ordered his men to charge and reclaim the momentum. No one disobeyed, and they moved forward as an armored wave while he paused to catch his breath. A greater word took more out of him than it used to. Does that put me in my forties or my fifties? He wondered. I can’t be that old yet, can I?
It didn’t matter. By the time he reached the fight, most of the fighting was done. One man was maimed, and Simon doubted he’d be able to save the arm, but everyone else was fine, and the green blood of the enemy soaked the ground. If there weren’t two men already dead from the dark magic the shaman unleashed, he would have called it an ideal scenario. As it was, though, the loss of three warriors was just enough to dampen his mood.
“In the name of the pits below, what was that?” one man said once the fighting was done.
“It was witchcraft, is what it was, but where would a monster like that learn such a thing? It had no soul to trade to the devils for their power!” another answered.