(Morcster Chef Book 2) - Chapter 26 (Patreon)

The young orc stared in disbelief. He’d known death in combat was the inevitable end for every orc. He’d seen orcs die before, but never like this. There was no competition. There was no fight. It was just an execution.

Unfortunately, time didn’t slow down and the battle didn’t stop. The wooden construct tossed the Leader’s corpse to the side. Another orc in the raid party – the young orc couldn’t tell who – charged towards the sentry with a scream.

A fist erupted through the orc’s head, silencing him with a sickening squelch. The young orc scrambled backwards, his hands slipping and searching for purpose on the blood soaked ground. His breath came in heavy gasps.

He turned over and staggered to his feet to see another orc crumple beneath the puppet’s blood soaked hands. Out of the corner of his eye, the young orc spotted a large armored man step out from within a tent.

There were no signs of sleep on his face. This had been an ambush all right – but the victim was the orc raid party, not the humans. They’d been ready for the attack. Two more men emerged from the tent beside the first one.

“You were right, Vell,” the armored man said. “Well done.”

The second largest man inclined his head, apparently uninterested in the slaughter that was unfolding before him.

“I usually am,” Vell said. “Make sure you don’t kill one of them. I’ve got research to do.”

“They’re orcs, Vell,” the third man said. His face was covered by a heavy hood that concealed his features, but his voice was raspy and wizened. “What could a mage possibly have to learn from them?”

“This is why I am the mage, and you are not,” Vell replied. He turned back to the field, watching impassively as the construct bounded across the soaked dirt and thrust its arm into the back of an orc. Then his gaze flicked to the side, landing on the young orc. “Keep that one.”

The man in the hood vanished. The young orc turned and ran, fleeing the campsite of blood and slaughter. If he could reach the main army, there was a chance–

A boot slammed into his back. The young orc tumbled forward with a snarling cry, twisting as he fell to land on his back. He pushed against the ground and thrust his legs upwards into the hooded man’s stomach.

He let out a grunt of pain and staggered back. The young orc leapt to his feet and dashed away again. The thoughts of honorable combat had long since left his mind. There was no honorable combat with that… creature.

A force slammed into the young orc and sent him tumbling back to the ground. Something popped in his foot and he let out a cry of pain. Spears of white hot pain tore up from his ankle.

“Why’d he have to choose the feisty one,” the rough voiced man snarled, grabbing the young orc by the scruff of his neck and raising him into the air. For an instant, the orc caught a glimpse of two sky blue eyes within the man’s hood. Then a something slammed into his head and the world went dark.

When the orc awoke once more, he found himself pressed against something flat. Hard metal restraints had been wrapped around just about every part of his torso, rendering him completely immobile. There was even a band over his forehead to keep him from turning.

The young orc snarled and struggled with all his might. He ignored the metal biting into his flesh and bared his fangs in fury, but it was to no avail. He wasn’t sure how long he struggled, but it must have been at least an hour.

As the energy started to leave his body, the young orc slowly came to realize that the smell of blood and fire was still low in the air. He couldn’t see anything but the dark sky above him, but hints of pale light had started to creep into the horizon.

“Finally all tired out?” The man that the orc recognized as Vell asked.

The orc snarled, slamming against his restraints. Of course, nothing happened. Vell let out a chuckle and stepped into view above the orc.

“That orc battle rage is nothing to joke about,” Vell said. “I wonder. Can you understand me?”

The young orc glared up at him.

“Tribes rip you up,” the orc swore. His words came out muddy and garbled, both from the bruise forming on his head and his lack of familiarity with the common tongue.

“Ah! You speak the human language! Fascinating,” Vell said.

The orc howled, thrashing against his restraints again. When that didn’t work, he spat up at Vell’s face. The mage flinched backwards and grimaced, wiping the spittle away and ignoring the orc’s smug grin.

“Don’t you worry. We’ll have that rage taken care of soon enough,” Vell said. “And maybe we’ll make you a bit more polite while we’re at it.”

The restraints shuddered once more as the young orc tensed his muscles and fought against them. Vell watched him with an impassive expression.

“Tired yet?” Vell asked.

The orc’s response was to spit at him again. It fell short. Vell cocked an eyebrow and the orc snarled at him, desperately drawing on the dwindling reserves of his strength. However, no matter what he tried, the restraints held firm.

“Looks like it,” Vell said, rubbing his hands together. He reached into his belt and pulled out a small metal implement. It was thin, with a tiny, pointed tip and a long neck. Vell tapped it on the orc’s chest.

“If you could stop moving, that would make my job a lot easier. This is important research, you know,” Vell said.

The young orc wanted nothing more than to rip the smug man’s throat out with his teeth. Vell observed him for a few moments, then nodded. The strange metal implement lit up with a pale grey light.

Vell lowered it out of the orc’s sight. Then he felt something press against a claw on his left hand. White hot pain screamed through his body as every muscle in the orc’s body tensed up. He let out a scream of pain.