Page 111 of Vasmora

The sword still lying on the floor behind him caught Kazhimyr’s attention. “No weapon?”

“Couldn’t use it, if I wanted to.” His tone was bitter, his lips forming a hard line.

Kazhimyr snatched the dead soldier’s dagger from one of the gaps in his armor and handed it to Dravien. “Use the other hand.” Twisting away from him, he led the way down the long corridor toward the staircase but paused midstride when he caught a shimmer of light from one of the cells. He peered inside the cracked door and stared up at an intricate web that spanned the ceiling and back wall, shimmering like a star shower. Running his hand along a strand of it left a cold, numbing streak across his fingertips. Completely made of ice.

A white mound in the corner caught his attention, and Kazhimyr focused on a split down its center, from where tiny spiders scampered out and across the floor. A cocoon, like those they’d seen in that rotted tree back in the mortal lands.

“What do you suppose broke out of that?” Dravien asked from behind.

A dull reverberating thud dragged Kazhimyr’s gaze to the right, where a hulking figure lingered at the intersection of both corridors. Thick, segmented legs protruded from its massive form, its body covered in black carapace. From where his eyes should’ve been stared two black orbs, lifeless and cold. Pale blue, almost white, skin and tusks confirmed Kazhimyr’s fears.

An infected Orgoth.

“Fucking hell,” Dravien rasped, backing away.

The beastly creature let out a roar that bounced off the walls and charged forward, its eight legs carrying it quickly toward them.

Kazhimyr strode forward, drawing his blade at the same time he threw out his palm and sent forth a white mist that dissipated as the angry Orgoth passed through it.

Kazhimyr froze, only then realizing it seemed to be resistant to his magic.

Fuck.

The relentless thing lurched forward, and Kazhimyr swung out, his blade hacking off one segment of the front leg. The beast teetered forward, arms crossing each other as it reached out for him.

Kazhimyr jumped back, just out of reach, and jabbed his blade forward, failing to cut through the dense, unyielding exoskeleton. His feet flew out from under him, the beast’s meaty hands swiping up his ankles, and the world flipped upside down as Kazhimyr dangled in the air, dropping his sword.

Dravien lurched for it, but the orgoth jerked forward, forcing him to back off.

Blood rushed to Kazhimyr’s sinuses, the pressure in his head mounting.

Chin tipped high, the Orgoth sniffed and crinkled his nose.

Air and stony walls whipped past him as his body flew backward, over the creature’s shoulder, and the floor slammed into his back on impact, pain exploding across his lungs. Kazhimyr let out a cough, turning to his side for a single sip of air.

The Orgoth crept forward after Dravien, its legs moving in tandem.

Kazhimyr shot to his feet and charged toward the beast, swiping up his sword along the way. He darted up the creature’s angled back, boots slipping on the smooth texture of its outer shell.

Dravien ducked low as the Orgoth’s hands swept above him. The movement jerked Kazhimyr’s body forward, and he nearly dropped his damned sword again when his hands flew out to steady himself.

“You have to sever his vein!” the Elvyniran yelled, somehow managing to dodge every sweep of the Orgoth’s hands.

“Would you like to try?” Kazhimyr raised his blade to strike the beast at the back of his neck, but the Orgoth lurched forward again, and the hard, unforgiving shell smacked into his face. Pain flashed across his nose and forehead, and Kazhimyr let out a frustrated growl. His blurred vision sharpened on Dravien pivoting for the stairwell, but the Orgoth caught his busted arm, lifting him up into the air, just as he had Kazhimyr.

An agonized cry of pain tore out of Dravien, his mangled arm crushed in the Orgoth’s grasp. “Ah, fuck!”

Godsblood, why wouldn’t the relentless bastard die already?

Kazhimyr drove his sword downward, and the chitin split and crackled away like shattering ice, exposing his neck. In one fast strike, Kazhimyr jabbed the tip of his blade into the vein and leaned into the thrust, slicing through thick skin. A spray of hot, black fluids spurted upward onto his armor and helmet, hissing into curls of white smoke.

The Orgoth thrashed and bucked beneath him, its thick hand releasing Dravien for a futile attempt to staunch the blood pouring out of its neck.

The corridor around him spun in and out of focus, as Kazhimyr held tight, his body jerking with every rough shake.

Until, at last, it collapsed into itself, crumpling around Kazhimyr. Leg pinned between chitin and the spider’s bent limb, he let out a growl and pushed at one of its contracted joints, attempting to free himself.

A hissing sound drew his attention to a growing pool of black, tarry blood on the ground just below him, where smoke rose up from the corrosive substance.