by A Uscila
With nothing left to do – Wail finally returned his full attention towards the conflict zone. He hastened his steps – in unconscious hopes that Vivian won’t be able to keep up, and continued his magical routine. Making sure to sponge up as much profit from the beaten yellow force as possible.
+40 Health.
You’ve gained a level!
+41 Health.
…
Short was the chase – as the defending force finally pushed all of the attackers into the fortified area and half way in, a meager amount of resistance was finally encountered. Previously, before the invasion took full swing – the attackers left a ranged force at the very outskirts of “fortress Wail”. It was precisely at this point, did the aforementioned force end up being used. As one – they drew their bows and loosed arrows as an attempt to create a buffer-zone. A line that would not be crossed by those pursuing – even though a number of their own were shot down in the process.
It did work – for a time. As if psychic – Wail expected something of the sort already, and a means to counter the rangers was already put in motion.
Drumming up a cloud of dust – numerous horse hoofs beat upon the dry ground in unison. As a mounted force charged into the midst of the yellow rangers from the side. Cutting apart their organized lines and destroying their formation.
Bandits with spears, swords and maces – lightly armored, yet perfect for swift assaults – were mounted upon the steeds. A shock troop, that arrived just in the nick of time. Timely signaled by Wail’s well placed magical flares.
It was over. With a unified shout – the on-foot bandits resumed their chase, quickly catching up to their confused prey. As the pursued hesitated in their retreat – since it was quite obvious that the fastest and safest route of escape was now mostly cut off. Blocked by the sudden appearance of the bandit cavalry.
Wail could only sneer once more, while advancing together with everyone. His eyes taking in all the success of his forces. Of his planning. His, personal, success. Surely, this would serve as quite the ego-boost. As if Wail needed any more of it…
With barely a casualty – the cavalry quickly scattered and killed off their targets, while those retreating were being successfully put to the sword by Wail’s other troops. Things were coming to a wrap. A very pleasant wrap and the crazed warlock could not be happier.
He should have known better.
Suddenly – multiple projectiles flew out of the adjacent forest – ramming into the cavalry unit that met such overwhelming success mere moments ago. Shards of ice, bolts of fire, lances of electricity – you name it. A true magician's dream came to be – as a rainbow of magical projectiles started raining upon the riders. Within mere seconds – at least sixty percent of Wail’s prized shock detachment ended up being obliterated. Ripped apart. Burned alive.
While the rest performed a timely retreat – all thanks to the bandit’s in-born self-preservation instincts. Their ranks further thinned out by a numerous magical projectiles in chase.
Seems like there was more to the assault than Wail expected.
*******
“Commander Princess!” – Flustered and in haste, a soldier wearing familiar yellow, shouted - after exiting an expanse of tall grass, traversing the forest flora in hastened steps. He approached a group of soldiers in the same colors - his gaze locked upon a figure that stood within the very middle of their gathering. Relatively short, luxuriously dressed, with a full head of shaggy golden hair. Yet the soldier soon abruptly froze in place, as his eyes met the addressed officer’s bone-chilling glare. Rivulets of sweat suddenly running down his cheeks.
Sideways, Princess glanced back at the sudden guest, his dark blue eyes almost projecting the inevitable demise of the messenger. Accompanied by most of his entourage - as they looked upon the guest with eyes of pity. As if they were looking upon a dead-man.
Numerous tightly knit lines of well-armed soldiers were stationed behind the commander, together with a few robed figures. All still and in-waiting.
“Continue”- After an excruciatingly prolonged silence, made even worse by that continuous glare of his - Princess allowed the messenger to speak. Without permitting a moment of respite from that unblinking gaze of his.
After receiving permission to speak, the soldier audibly gulped down – a sound which was drowned out by all the noise that echoed throughout the forest. Sounds of battle. Sounds of conflict.
“O-our forces have finally been driven out from within the b-bandit hideout, while an enemy c-cavalry detachment recently left the fort” – With a few nervous stutters, the soldier reported in a stiff fashion, as the tension wasn’t dispelled completely with the previously given permission.
A few moments of silence came to be once again, as the commander displayed a sadistic sense of humor.
“Very well. Commence the second stage of our assault”
“Yes, commander Princess!” – With a salute, the soldier quickly departed, after once again addressing the commanding officer by name. What a name that was.
Once the messenger departed, the luxuriously dressed man withdrew his ice-cold gaze and slightly turned to one of his nearby subordinates. An armed soldier – covered from head to toe with chainmail, while wielding a large two-handed mace.
Commander Princess glanced at the fella, making sure he was paying attention and performed a seemingly innocent action. He raised his hand and made a cut across his neck in a straight line, departing soon after with no further explanation. As Princess moved, so did all the lines of men and women behind him - as both those heavily armed and robed, quickly advance in toe. Their destination seemingly the source of all the clamor and shouts.
Seeing the commander depart, the previously mentioned colleague heavily nodded towards the back of his direct superior. His motion followed by a heavy jingling of the mail coif he wore overhead – the sound coming from excessive movement. Soon after, the jingling mass of metal turned and marched towards the same direction of the departed messenger. Leaving the forest opening in which all of this took place together with the rest, an ominous pressure lingering in the air. An unpleasantness that made one’s hair stand on end.
Chapter 49
A storm of elemental fury brewed all around and to Wail, it looked as if he was at the very center of it – eyes frantically darting about, trying to take in the sight. Just as his cavalry, his infantry suffered severe losses within moments of the engagement – the magic proving to be an effective means to turn the tide of battle, forcing the bandits to turn into a panicked rout. What a sudden turn of events. Dumbfounded - Wail could only stare upon the lightshow, gaping in utter surprise. A victory so close he could taste it - taken away just as easily as it was given.
Wail was used to unfavorable circumstance though. He was used to loss - thus the sinister warlock spent but a moment in confusion and disappointment. With practiced ease, he flicked his fingers - a familiar spark appearing from the friction. Turning into a twisting disk of fury once it descended low enough. From it? A familiar dark mane peeked out, a poker visor shielding eyes of swirling fury from whatever it might be that affected them.
“You didn’t die?” - Were the first words that left Sorro’s sharp-toothed mouth, as the devil climbed out of the portal.
“No thanks to you, traitor” - Wail complained, as he continued to stare upon the hell that continued to rain upon his forces. Getting dangerously close to his position with each passing moment.
Vivian looked upon the little fiery critter with interest, eyes glittered with excitement - that possessive nature of human-kind that was so common and visible within children, shining through.
“We’ll need to bombard the bastards responsible for this display as soon they get in range…” - As the one in charge, Wail started giving out orders, choosing not to delay any longer - recreation time was a commodity in low supply, after all.
Before any plan could come to be though, something or someone performed a series of light pulls
upon Wail’s robe.
“What?” - He barked after suddenly turning towards Vivian - the supposed perpetrator of the interruption.
Innocently, unaffected by the uncalled for outburst - Vivian simply pointed towards the back lines, finger pointed at a familiar little critter skittering away in haste. As if in disbelief, Wail quickly turned towards the previous position of Sorro, only to find it empty - glancing back at the fleeing “comrade” soon after.
“Great…” - Wide-eyed, the warlock could only deflate from the sudden realization.
“Well, at least I still have one meat-shield…” - With a desperate attempt at consolation, the warlock looked upon minion number one with a sparkle of hope within his eyes.
Or tried to, since the un-dying follower was no longer in his previous position either. Just like the little demon – minion number one was busy dashing away in awkward movement. Displaying quite the swiftness, considering the state of the damaged body.
A slap echoed, as Wail slammed a palm against his forehead. A gesture long overdue its appearance.
As if that wasn’t enough, the whole scene quieted down. Followed by the abrupt stop of the thundering magic display. Soon enough, a high-pitched voice echoed throughout the field.
“Hey, you fiend! Stop hiding behind that little girl and face us like a man!” - A sudden shout ripped through the uncomfortable silence, forcing Wail to turn around. Face twisted in a peculiar mixture of surprise and outrange. One brow slightly raised above the other.
From within the tree line - a large force was emerging. Formations of heavily armed soldiers in bright, familiar colors. Armed in much better equipment - heavier armor, weaponry polished to a sheen. A luxuriously dressed male goldilocks walking at the forefront, arrogance practically forming an aureole around his visage.
And serving as the vanguard for the invading forces stood eight robed figures. Clothed in a number of different colors, covered in various jewels, hats and coronets – wielding staffs and wands – the group stood proudly in front of their spectacular work. Fields ripped apart by magic, littered with bodies in various states and forms of mutilation.
By the sound of it, it seems like these rainbow-colored fellows were the source of the demand. Since they were the only ones glaring with anticipation at the misunderstood psychotic magician.
Dumbfounded, Wail stared at the force in contemplation, only to look back down in his near vicinity - meeting the innocent eyes of Vivian, who was still clutching his robes tightly. Unmoving from his side.
He looked up at the probable magician’s troupe once again, looking back towards the child after. A series of similar moves followed for a few more moments, until Wail finally turned to the enemy force one last time and shrugged.
“What do you mean “stop hiding behind the child”?!” - He shouted suddenly, flaring up as the gears within his mind finally figured out the circumstance - “She’s hiding behind me, you idiots!” - He finished, while extending both hands towards the kid, as if attempting to help guide the vision of those present. A desperate attempt to help the robed clowns understand.
Visible shaken by the unexpected reply, the group of mages huddled together and started discussing something, one or the other occasionally glancing at the warlock’s position suspiciously. Words like “fiend”, “despicable” and “ugly” echoing from their heated discussion. Certainly – the last part was quite unnecessary. They just had to go and attack Wail’s outer-appearance. How petty.
After noticing what was going on, the golden-haired man, who was supposedly the commander of the force, approached the mages in a casual tempo. Cold, piercing eyes darting between the gathered magicians, while occasionally falling upon the warlock. With hands crossed behind his back – the over-dressed commander approached the group within hearing distance.
“Might I inquire towards the issue that your group encountered?”- Almost emotionlessly did he ask, not a drop of change within that disinterested expression of his. Eyes still icy. Still looking upon all in sight as if they were prey.
“We can’t attack him! Do you have any idea how much negative reputation you get for killing a child? I didn’t sign up for this!” - One of the mages quickly replied in a panicky manner, swinging his arms about in unison with the words.
“Yeah, me neither!” - Another joined in, with the rest adding a mumbling confirmation of how valid the previous statement was.
“I understand” – Was all the golden-haired leader said in reply, while still displaying a beyond-human stoicism.
For some reason, Wail did not like the look goldilocks gave his underlings or himself for that matter. He did not seem like a person a self-preserving individual such as Wail should mess with. Thus with a steady, yet cautious shuffle – the warlock started backing off, dragging a curious, yet quite compliant Vivian together. What a smart kid.
“You do?”- One of the mages inquired, visibly surprised with how easily the notion of disobedience was accepted by their leader. His surprise shared by many of his peers – every single one oblivious of the escaping Wail.
“Indeed. I understand that your usefulness has reached its date of expiration. I relieve you from your duty” – The golden haired stoic replied casually, as he simply turned-around and slowly walked back towards the still ranks of heavy infantry. A familiar gesture performed during the journey - as he guided his hand across his own neck in a cutting motion.
“Wait…did he just...?”- One of the more observant mages asked his colleagues, an uncomfortable premonition materializing within his facial features.
“Shit”- Was the only reply given, as the rest tried to quickly scurry away to different sides without even putting up a fight.
None of them made it far – as a flurry of various projectiles soon rained upon their position. Each one released by their own supposed allies – ranged men clothed in familiar yellow.
Seeing the sudden turn of events, Wail decided a change in pace was in order – as he picked up his miniature follower without deigning to ask for permission. Vivian’s uncharacteristic giggle echoing in the dust that was left in their hasty retreat. Drowned out by the cacophony of sounds that soon followed.
A jeering filled the expanse - summoned by the motion of three large groups of soldiers shuffling in motion. Three perfect yellow rectangles. Their steps drumming the ground like a giant instrument, while a whistling followed in support – created by a myriad of arrows raining in hot pursuit of the fleeing warlock. Like an ominous shadow cast by a predatory beast – they peppered the ground with feathery ends, loosed by multiple neat rows of archers. Their ranks placed safely behind the vanguard of heavy infantry. Strips of leather peeking out from under the familiar yellow tabards that each one wore.
In reply to the overwhelming onslaught of the renewed offensive – a lonely ball of light floated out. Cast by a small, scrawny silhouette with a plentiful mane of black hair. Fiery sparks falling towards the ground from its ends.
Almost unnoticeable – it flew over the curtain of projectiles, only to abruptly drop straight towards the middle rectangle of yellow invaders. Moments away from contact – the ball of fury fractured into multiple fragments, bursting into blasts of scorching tongues. Yet no matter how magnificent the spectacle seemed, its effects were less than satisfying. Fire glanced of shields and armor plates – leaving naught but minor burns upon the troops with barely a few catching on fire. A miniature blaze lingering upon protruding cloth for a moment or two.
Eventually, Wail reached safety as he jumped off an encountered ledge – hiding under it together with a few familiar fellows. Both Sorro and minion number one already present.
“What took you so long?”- A sharp toothed sneer met Wail’s descent, as the fiery critter conjured another ball of fire to be launched at the oncoming force.
In reply, Wail released a reflexive scoff, as he glanced at the traitorous devil from beneath furrowed brows. Gaze sweeping past his reanimated minion – idly shuffling once in relative
safety again, while the warlock himself lowered Vivian down. With childlike excitement – the child’s eyes darted in between the multiple figures taking shelter beneath their earthly refuge. Not a hint of anxiety visible – Wail’s annoying burden did not seem to even consider the grim outcome that loomed over. Youthful ignorance is to be envied.
While Sorro continuously released projectiles of questionable effect – Wail peeked out from behind his hiding place. A glare glued to the ever approaching danger – as if in wait of something. Being an efficiency loving individual – the warlock did not spend his waiting moments idly, as he occasionally froze up in stupor. A familiarly extended hand aimed at one group or the other. Each gesture followed by a gust of black dust materializing out of thin air – settling upon each yellow rectangle.
Soul Syphon.
An overwhelming flow of health slowly flowed towards the ever greedy warlock, reinforcing his illusion of supremacy to an unimaginable degree. With a satisfied glee – transparent shadows consumed his form, followed by the release of his own barrage of fireballs. Making sure each one fractured into multiple projectiles with the help of overly dramatic hand gestures.
So overflowing with mana did Wail feel – that even sharing didn’t seem like something unthinkable. Moments away from the thought – a transparent purple line blinked into existence for a mere moment. Binding the generous warlock and Sorro with Soul Link.
In reply to the sudden burst of generosity – Sorro boldly climbed out of their safe haven. Standing atop the ledge under which Wail hid with cocky overconfidence.
Fires roared in his extended palms – only to be connected into a single orb from which a ray of fury shot out. Slamming into the enemy lines in a wonderful display of carnage. Finally – visible results could be observed, as the beam of flame disintegrated its first victim within moments. Melting through metal and flesh before the poor soldier even had the time to run, causing visible disorganization to the approaching formation.
