The Dark Sire Issue 4 (Summer 2020) | Page 71

he decided it best to retreat. The warrior growled at his hesitation, his seeming challenge, and slapped a backhand across Wank’s face that sent him reeling to the ground. Peals of laughter from his broodmates echoed through his ringing head. An agonizing bead of electricity crawled between his brain and his skull as bolts of blue light shivered across the cavern. The pool glowed, clear water shot through to resemble the sky upside down as albino trout, like small white clouds in a high wind, were chased around the island to disappear once again into the dark. Wank saw clearly this time, a shadowy figure, all shape and no substance, standing alone on the rock formation, its eyeless regard apparent only from its attentive stance. Then the half-orc sagged to the ground, cognizance once again fled. Consciousness slowly seeped back into his aching head, various points of pain dully lighting up inside his skull as memories opened up like gnarled weedlings on the barren landscape of his parched mind. He lay still, silent for long moments as his self-control re-exerted itself, as the points of vivid pain in his brain gave way to the ache and stiffness of his limbs and back. Almost, he rolled over from his current fetal coil, hip and shoulder wailing indignation at their treatment. Leery of what awaited, he stayed still, silent, musing on escape from the raw coruscation of emotions that was being bled from his unwilling mind. 69