6. Gorthak

6

GORTHAK

" A re you fucking kidding me?" Gruk spits furiously.

I grip the railing of the boat, my knuckles turning white as I try to keep my cool. "Listen, you lot," I growl, "I know it sounds mad, but we have to turn back."

Burguk crosses his arms, his face twisted in disbelief. "We've already fished those waters, Gorthak. There was hardly anything there to begin with."

I can feel the frustration building inside me, but I take a deep breath and try to explain. "I know, Burguk. But something's changed. I can feel it."

Kogan steps forward, his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'something's changed'? Is it something that seer told you to do?"

I hesitate for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. But then I decide to just come out with it. "It's about a woman," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Gruk lets out a loud, sarcastic laugh. "You and a woman? What woman? We've been on this damn boat for years, Gorthak!"

I glare at him, my anger boiling over. "It's not like that, Gruk. I've been having these...dreams. About a woman who's in trouble. And I think she's in those waters."

Gruk rolls his eyes. "Oh, great. So now we're playing the hero? What's next, Gorthak? You gonna start singing love songs to this mystery woman?"

I ignore his jibe and turn to the crew. "We're going back."

"No, we're not," Gruk snaps. "You're no longer fit to captain this boat. You're unreasonable and delusional."

"You wouldn't understand," I say, my voice low and dangerous. "You've never had a dream like this before."

Gruk scoffs. "And you have? Since when are you some kind of seer, Gorthak?"

I clench my fists, trying to hold back my anger. "I don't need to be a seer to know that something's wrong. And I'm not going to let your ignorance get in my way."

Burguk steps forward, his eyes blazing. "You're not thinking straight, Gorthak. We can't just turn back because of some dream."

I glare at him. "It's not just a dream, Burguk. It's a warning. And if you don't want to listen to me, then you can stay here in this nowhere village and rot for all I care."

Gruk lets out a roar of anger and charges at me, his fists raised. I'm ready for him, though, and I dodge his blow easily. The rest of the crew joins in, and soon we're all fighting, curses and insults flying through the air.

My battle-axe slices through the air, a deadly dance I know all too well. It's been ages since I've fought like this, but the rhythm of mercenary work never truly leaves you. The crew, a motley bunch of ex-mercenaries like myself, are no pushovers. Each swing, parry, and dodge is met with equal force.

But I was made captain for a reason.

Sweat drips down my brow as I fight with a ferocity born from years of surviving in the worst places imaginable. Every muscle in my body strains as I put my back into each swing, my axe a natural extension of myself. I'm in my element, and I don't care about the camaraderie we've shared. Right now, they're just in my way.

The clang of metal on metal rings in my ears, punctuated by grunts and curses. I duck and spin, narrowly avoiding a blow from Gruk. My second-in-command is a formidable opponent, but I've fought him enough times to anticipate his moves.

"You're a fool," he spits viciously. "Is some bitch worth destroying your crew?"

With a growl, I send my axe whistling through the air, catching him off guard. He stumbles, and I press my advantage.

But the others aren't just standing by. They're a blur of motion, attacking me from all sides. I grunt as a fist connects with my ribs, but I don't let it slow me down. This fight is about more than just proving who's in charge – it's about the warning I received, and the future of my crew.

"His arms!" one of them cries out. "Get his arms!"

I see Gruk charging towards me, his eyes wild with rage. I brace myself for the impact, but at the last second, I sidestep and bring my axe down in a vicious arc. The blade slices through his leather armor like butter, and he falls to the ground with a gurgling scream.

Blood sprays across my face and I spit on the floor, rolling my shoulders. "Who's next?"

Orgoth steps up, his twin daggers flashing in the moonlight. He's fast, but I'm faster. I parry his blows with ease, my axe a blur of motion. With a roar, I bring the weapon down on his skull, splitting it in two.

Three or four orcs charge me at once, trying to use their numbers against me. Someone shoves a knife into my side, scraping the bone no doubt. I grab him by the back of the neck, crushing his spine before tossing him aside like a limp fish.

When I turn back to them, I let out an animalistic roar and claim my dominance, watching as the remaining crew members surrender. Kogan and Burguk are among them, their faces bruised and bloodied. They look at me with a mixture of fear and respect, the way they used to before we became fishermen.

I stand there, panting heavily, my axe dripping with blood. The fight is over, but the cost has been high.

Looking around at the carnage, my heart pumping with adrenaline and yet heavy with regret. What a shame to waste such good arms. They should have seen the truth.

I wipe the sweat from my brow and turn towards the helm. "We're turning the boat around," I say, my voice hoarse. "And if anyone tries to stop me, they can join their friends."

"We're with you, Gorthak," Burguk says, fisting his hand over his chest.

"Good. Toss the bodies overboard," I instruct, dismissing the murdered crewmates with a wave of my hand. "We're turning back."

And no one will stop me.