The Chronicles of Kenrick

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven





The gnome chief leapt forward, cane pointed straight into the sky, threatening to puncture the black fog.


“How dare you!”


“How dare I?” A new swell of wind rushed into the bowl, sending whirlwinds of sand in every direction. The fog flickered once again.


Raising his arms to protect his eyes, Kenrick could just see the rough image of the chief struggling against the wind.


“How dare I?


“Omerean was but an infection on this retched land.


“Behold, a disease!”


With the final words, a roar cascaded down into the bowl, shaking the marrow in the gnomes’ bones, the last vestige of strength and hope. The mix of wind and orcs cries overwhelmed the clearing and suddenly, as the orcs rushed down the face of the dune, a riot broke out amongst the gnomes.


Several were pushed to the ground and trampled as some of the gnomes ran for the tunnel opening, fighting the surging wind. Just as one reached the tunnel, a torrent of sand fell, burying the gnome and swallowing the tribes only escape. The remainder stood their ground, facing the army of frenzied orcs.


As the orcs reached the first line of gnomes, the black fog flickered once, then twice and paused for several seconds. The rushing orcs fell to the ground, thrashing in pain as smoke poured from their bodies as sunlight once again filled the dune-bowl. Without command, the gnomes took the moment to slaughter some of the writhing beasts.


Once the fog returned, a surge of power flooded the bowl. It could be felt along the wind, in the blowing sand and seen across the faces of the charred orcs. In less than a moment, the orcs that had survived were back on their feet, and slashing whomever came close.


Kenrick could feel the power, the omnipresent force that performed its own desires and shuddered at the thought of the owner. He watched as the orcs pushed in on the tribe, encircling it and devouring the fallen. With his hands tied and legs bound, he was helpless to the battle. He keenly searched for a fallen weapon, a splintered crate, anything to sheer his bindings.


And then the fog flickered twice more and paused once again. Wasting no time, the already diminished gnomes attacked and Kenrick spotted what he searched for. A blade, a dagger in comparison to the claymore he would normally have carried. In two constricted strides Kenrick reached the dagger and in one motion dove into the sand, cut his wrist bindings, lifted the blade and landed on his feet. Only a step separated him from a struggling orc. He plunged the dagger deep into the beast’s throat, ripped it free and watched for a split second the black blood empty from the slowing orc.


Kenrick was making his way to another orc as the fog returned, but this time, the wind and the ever-present power was absent. The orc before Kenrick rolled to its feet and out of the corner of its eye saw the human coming its way. It turned as Kenrick attempted to jump into the air, but his leg bindings ruined the kill, causing him to trip and fall to the sand. Even before Kenrick could right himself, the orc was over top of him.


And as the orc thrust its claws down at the exposed flesh, the fog flickered and went out. Turning off his side, Kenrick quickly stabbed the dagger into the falling orcs thigh. Plumes of smoke drifted off the wiggling body; across the dune-bowl as orcs fell to the sand. The black fog flickered back, and just as soon as it returned it disappeared.


Retrieving the blade, Kenrick thrust the point through the bottom of the orc’s chin and twisted. He pulled it clear, and moved to the next closest orc, repeating the procedure. It was several moments later that the threat of the orcs disappeared as their bodies crumbled to dust from the sun’s burning rays, mixing with the sallow sand.


When Kenrick was satisfied, he bent down to cut the fabric binding his legs. As soon as the bloodied blade touched the white cloth, the dagger shattered into tiny pieces of metal. The white cloth remained.


Kenrick looked up, and saw several gnome warriors staring at him.








A. “Do not move human, or you will be slain like the beasts before your feet!”


B. “Thank you, human.”











Brock Sansome


Author of The Spheres of Caddock series and the interactive web-based novel The Chronicles of Kenrick.


www.brocksansome.com