The Dark Sire Issue 3 (Spring 2020) | Page 58

With his mother asleep, and Rahsik-ba nowhere to be seen, Wank tried again to focus on the shadows, on the strands of darkness that shimmered through the intermittent light of the small firepit and a darkmoss torch, its dim, blue light coloring the air just inside the cavern entrance. He had tried this before, in the Pit, but he knew it would do him no good chained up down there, and he hadn’t wanted this skill to be discovered. The possession of a greater Talent in a half-breed would certainly be a death sentence, offensive to the orc mind, and thus intolerable. The strands of shadow came easily to him this time, a comforting if useless cloak in his chains. And while he did not feel the strange presence of before, his nape tingled nonetheless. Letting go the strands, he lay down to sleep. Nearly a tenday later, rhythmic clacking suddenly sounded outside the cavern. Snapping Wank from his sleep, it continued for several long minutes. It grew in intensity and was then accompanied by what sounded like a hundred thudding footsteps. A processional entered the cavern, Rahsik-ba at the head. He wore a worg skin and his necklace of teeth. Behind him strutted lesser chieftains and shaman, and behind them the warriors. Women 56