Dawn of War Read Free

of the clearing. The collar at his neck trembled, its symbols suffused with a muted, emerald green glow. He could feel its energy coursing mercurial through his body. His smile broadened at the reassuring presence of its power.
    Though the Grol outnumbered him easily, they had never faced anyone like Arrin.
    Furious at their destruction of Fhenahr, and what he imagined would come next, Arrin felt caution slip to the wayside. He eyed the hunched back of the closest Grol that sat on the stump of a fallen oak. He leapt at the creature before he could rein himself in.
    The Grol heard him at the last moment, jumping to its feet as it fumbled for its weapon still in its sheath. Arrin’s blade was a silvered blur, almost invisible in its quickness. He slipped sideways and stepped over the log, past the Grol, heading for the next as the first creature’s neck exploded in a geyser of blackened claret.
    He heard the first’s throat sucking air as he buried his blade in the belly of its shrieking compatriot. A twist of his wrist and a sideways tug tore the blade from the second Grol’s gut. Its intestines unraveled with a hissing sigh and put an end to its pitiful screams. Arrin, once again on the move, heard the two Grol crumple to the ground behind him.
    The third fared only slightly better. It lurched toward him, black stained claws leading the charge. Arrin feinted with his upper body, as though he would come forward but instead took a half step back, sweeping his weapon in an arc across the creature’s path. The Grol stumbled back with stricken eyes, the squirting stumps of its arms held out before it. Its severed hands, cleaved clean through at its forearms, fell to the mossy earth in spasms.
    His rage a palpable heat upon his face, Arrin thrust his sword into the Grol’s eye. It exploded with a muffled pop as the blade slid into the creature’s skull. A gush of blood and pus spewed from the ruined socket and splashed warm across Arrin’s lips and cheek.
    He could taste its coppery thickness as he yanked his sword clear and spun about to face yet another of the creatures. It closed on him without confidence, using a blade instead of its claws. Its sword flashed once, twice, Arrin batting it away with contempt both times. As it readied a third attempt, Arrin let his own blade drop low to draw the beast’s attention before scything upward to catch it below its protruding snout.
    As if through water, Arrin’s sword cleaved clean through its head. The Grol went rigid as the entirety of its face slid from its skull. It landed on the ground with a wet splash. Its red eyes still projected its rage, not yet realizing it was dead.
    The mass of its oozing gray brain squeezed from the opening as though from the gallows trap. It swung upon its stem as the body gave a final, violent twitch and toppled alongside its face.
    At that, the rest of the Grol kept their distance, circling Arrin with nervous growls. None looked eager to close the distance. Arrin beamed a goading smile, matched by the eerie glimmer of his collar, and waved them on with a flick of his sword. Drops of blood fluttered through the air, a crimson rain. Still, the Grol stood their ground.
    “Cowards! I am but one Lathahn. Have you no heart so far from your lines?” he roared. “Fight me.”
    Arrin cursed as he advanced, no longer leaving the choice to them. He swung left toward the sheltering tree line to keep from being flanked and hunted the Grol closest. As he prepared to pounce, he heard a howl erupt in the woods behind him. The Grol in the clearing barked in eager response. Relief flooded their worried eyes. A dozen or more howls erupted in quick succession a short distance away, and Arrin could hear movement through the clustered foliage.
    More than willing to stand against a scouting party, surprise on his side, Arrin understood his limitations and what he must do. Though he would take his toll upon the Grol reinforcements that barreled through the woods,