Dalia, hearing Smitty’s cry, turned her head long enough to cast a heal on him. That action cost her, as an orc with a sword used the momentary distraction to move around to her side and strike a wicked slice across her back. The force of the blow also knocked her forward to fall atop her shield.
Max, still slightly dazed but no longer stunned, lurched to his feet and tackled the orc before it could finish Dalia. She rolled onto her back, bringing her shield around on top of her like a blanket even as another orc with a massive war hammer chopped down at her. The hammer clanged against the shield, and Dalia cried out from underneath.
Max drove the orc with the sword to the ground, his shoulder knocking the breath out of it as they both impacted. He turned his head just long enough to cast a heal of his own on Smitty, who was still on one knee, but gamely firing more arrows at the orcs. Keeping the orc pinned beneath him, Max swung his axe wildly at the one with the hammer, who had just delivered a second blow that dented Dalia’s shield. The heavy axe blade sliced into the back of the orc’s knee, nearly severing the leg. As it fell, Max reversed his grip on the axe and drove its end spike through the neck of the orc beneath him. Getting to his feet, he took that orc’s sword in his free hand, and began hacking at anything that moved.
His rage got the better of him, and he drove into the remaining orcs with abandon. Slashing, stabbing, kicking, even biting down on the forearm of an orc that had grabbed hold of his shoulder as it drove a dagger into his abdomen.
Max felt two heals hit him in rapid succession as he kneed the orc in the groin, still gripping its arm in his teeth. He tasted the coppery blood in his mouth, and the rage only heightened. With his right hand he drove the axe spike through the orc’s torso, while the sword in his left hand chopped downward inches from his own face, severing the arm.
With the severed appendage still gripped in his teeth, and the knife in his gut, he kicked away the dying orc who’d stabbed him. Two more approached, and Max spat the arm toward the nearest. The action caused it to pause for a moment, and Max leapt at the other one, swinging both axe and sword at once in an awkward crossing pattern. The orc blocked one blade, but the other sliced into his face, leaving a nasty diagonal cut across its nose and forehead. Blood streamed down its face, half-blinding it as it screamed.
The second orc, the one that had been creeped out by the flying arm, stabbed Max with a short sword. The blade went deep into the outside of his thigh, and Max lost his balance. Letting go of both his weapons, he grabbed that orc’s shoulders to support himself, then leaned in and bit down hard on its neck. The orc struggled, but Max was stronger. He held it tight even as he thrashed his head and ripped free a large chunk of its flesh with his fangs. An artery began spurting blood in a fountain over Max, the dwarves, and the remaining orcs.
The crowd were on their feet, stomping and roaring their excitement over the savage display.
Dalia, back on her feet but with a broken shield arm, cast another Nature’s Boon on Max. She shouted, “Pull out the damned dagger!” at him twice, but in his rage, Max didn’t hear. The taste of raw flesh in his mouth, the smell of hot blood, and the gurgling of the dying orc were his entire world. The rhythmic stomping of the orcs in the stands seemed to match his heartbeat.
He continued in his rage, spotting his halberd sticking up from the chest of a downed orc. Ripping the weapon free, he savagely whipped it around in a wide arc, chopping at anything that got within range. The axe blade bit into a leg here, then the spiked side smashed through some ribs there on the backswing. An arrow zipped past Max’s face to embed itself in the chest of an orc behind him, its sword raised. Max roared, baring his teeth and jamming the butt end of the haft into the orc’s chest just inches from the embedded arrow, the steel cap shattering bone. He kicked the orc in the knee, sending it to the ground even as he spun around seeking the next foe.
The blade of the halberd slammed into Dalia’s shield, knocking her backward as she cried out in pain from her recently broken arm. The sound registered with something inside Max’s enraged brain, and he held back his following strike.
“Max!” Battleaxe was shouting at him over the roars of the crowd, his shield raised and hand axe dripping with brain matter from finishing the last orc. “Max! It be done! We won!”
Max stood still, panting, blood streaming out of his gut around the dagger still stuck there. It had penetrated his chain shirt, and the armor’s tightly woven links were actually serving to hold it in place. Each time he’d moved, the blade shifted inside him, doing more damage. While he stared down at it, his pulse thumping in his ears and the pain beginning to register, the scout’s hand shot forward, took hold of the hilt, and yanked it free.
Max screamed as the hooked blade ripped its way out of him, dropping to his knees. He had the presence of mind to cast a heal on himself, as did all three of his friends. The wound closed quickly, and his health bar began to rise. He looked up at his companions, reassuring himself that each of them was okay, then his gaze rose farther to take in the crowd.
The orcs in the stand were going insane! Stomping their feet, waving their arms, heads thrown back and roaring at the rising sun. Some had begun to push and shove each other, the battle lust affecting them as well. Max and the others bent down and looted the orc corpses, then Max slowly and deliberately took hold of the nearest orc’s head, drew his belt knife, and removed its ear. The crowd noise paused for a moment, the orcs surprised by the action, and trying to decide whether to be offended. He was butchering orcs, after all. Then almost as one, they made their decision, roaring their approval. As Smitty and the dwarves collected arrows, Max took his time, trying to calm himself as he took ear after ear. When the last one was in his inventory, he tilted his head back and roared, fangs displayed. The answering roar from the thousands of orc voices in the stands shook the arena.
As Max and the others were escorted out, a chant began, accompanied by the stomping of thousands of feet. “Chimera! Chimera!”
*****
Back in their cage, Max checked in with the others. “Everyone okay? That was a little closer than I’d like.”
Both dwarves nodded their heads. No strangers to battle, they took it in stride. Smitty shook his head, sitting on a bench and putting a hand over his lower back. “My kidney. I’m gonna be pissin’ blood for a week. I friggin hate rogues.” Dalia took a seat next to him and patted him on the knee.
Getting down on one knee in front of her, Max bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Dalia. I nearly killed you in my rage.”
She reached up and ruffled his long white hair. “Ye didn’t know it were me. It happens in battle. It be partly me own fault, I should no’ have gotten so close when I could see ye weren’t yerself. I was only thinkin’ o’ getting that knife outta yer belly.”
Max sighed. “I’ll try to control the rage better next time. Can’t have you guys taking hits from me.”
“No, lad.” Battleaxe hopped up on the next bench, facing Smitty. “Yer ability to get all scary stabby monster be the reason we won that fight. Smitty here, and our lovely lass, were both out o’ the fight, and I would no’ have lasted much longer. Ye distracted them orcs, took down several, and gave us time to get back on our feet. It be a useful skill, and one that ye should no’ forsake.”
“And the crowd was diggin’ it.” Smitty added with a grin.
“Aye, we’ll adjust to keep out o’ yer way from now on.” Dalia nodded.
Max was getting to his feet and about to check notifications when Gr’tok appeared. The orc’s grin was so wide the party could see every single one of his teeth back to the molars. “You fought well!” He raised a fist into the air, then slammed it against his chest in salute to the warriors. “Your name will be shouted through the city the rest of this day!”
Max returned the orc commander’s grin. “I told you we would win. And how did our little enterprise go?”
“Ten to one, as I predicted!” Gr’tok held up a heavy looking leather satchel b
ulging with coins, then displayed a single shiny coin between his thumb and forefinger. “Never in my life have I held a platinum coin, let alone owned one.” Max had learned that the monetary system worked off a base ten. Ten coppers equaled a silver, ten silvers were one gold, and a platinum was one hundred gold. At ten to one, Max’s bet of one thousand gold had returned ten thousand, and Gr’tok’s share equaled twenty five platinum coins just like the one he held up.
“There will be more to come, commander. What are the odds on our next fight?”
The orc stopped smiling. “You might have fought too well. The odds against you are dropping fast. By morning, maybe three to one. And only because your opponents will be much stronger than the filth you just executed.”
Max was disappointed. He had been dreaming of filling his treasury with orc gold won in the arena. Still, he could build his fortune a bit more. “I’d like you to bet it all on us.” When Max saw the look of concern on Gr’tok’s face and the way he unconsciously clutched the satchel closer to his chest, he added, “Minus your twenty five hundred, if you wish. I make no claims on your share.” Even at just three to one, a wager of seventy five hundred gold would bring him more than twenty thousand. “Though, this time your share will be ten percent. You’re welcome to risk your platinum if you wish to increase that return.”
Gr’Tok barely took a moment to think it over. He nodded once. “Ten percent is enough, I agree. With this much gold, I will need to make many wagers. Even the gambling houses won’t cover a single bet of this size. I will go now and get started.” He waved at the company, the satchel disappearing into his inventory as he turned and left.
Sitting down, Max was distracted by thoughts of spending tens of thousands of gold to improve his new city. All he had to do was win two more fights, and…
“Shit. He jumped up, thinking to call the commander back. But the orc was gone. “He said our next opponent will be stronger, and I forgot to ask him who or what that would be.”
“That last group were more than three times our number.” Dalia observed. “We won, but it were a close thing. We’ll be needin’ to plan fer an even larger group.”
“What we need is crowd control.” Smitty chimed in. When they all looked at him with questions on their faces, he snorted. “Right, I forgot. Not gamers. Crowd control is just what it sounds like. A spell or ability that allows you to control the movements of multiple enemies. Like, freezing them so they hold still for a little while. Or knocking them down. A way to make them do what you want so that you can either keep them off you, or kill them as a group.”
“Me vines will slow down any who cross them.” Dalia volunteered.
“How large of an area do they cover?” Smitty held out his arms to either side. “And how long do they last?”
“The spell covers a circle ten paces wide. And lasts fer thirty seconds. Though orcs can break the hold o’ the vines more quickly than most.”
Battleaxe spoke up. “I can make em’ all attack me, and ignore the rest o’ ye. But I won’t last long with a bunch o’ those big bastards on me.”
Smitty grinned, a memory of an old raid surfacing. “I have an idea…” They spent the balance of the morning resting, planning, and eating. When their lunch was delivered, Max asked Lo’tang about their next opponent, and held up two gold coins this time. The orc shook his head, refusing the coins. “I tried to find out, but the arena master is keeping quiet. I did hear that the war chief called him to a meeting right after your fight this morning. Whatever instructions he gave, the arena master is keeping to himself.”
Max handed the guard the two gold coins anyway. “Thank you for that information. And please, if you do manage to hear anything more, let us know.”
Back on their benches, the group was glum. Finally, Battleaxe spoke the words they were all thinking. “The war chief be tryin’ to ensure we lose. Might be that we face a small army in the mornin’.”
Max, who’d already moved past that fact, shook his head. “I don’t think so. At least, not an army of orcs. The war chief can’t have us continue to slaughter his own people. Especially not real orc warriors. He would lose face. Because he has to be thinking that even if we die, we’ll take a large number of his warriors with us.” Max rubbed his chin, speaking his thoughts aloud as they came. “No, I think it’ll be some kind of high level monster. Or group of monsters. Like a goblin horde, or spidorcs, a herd of armored bears with lasers on their heads, or something.” Smitty chuckled at that.
They spent the rest of the day doing their best to plan for every contingency. There was more sparring, as Battleaxe was determined to raise both of the Battleborne’s skills as much as possible. And when they stopped to rest after their evening meal, Max addressed his notifications. All but Battleaxe had leveled up, Smitty several times. Max got just one level himself, making him level eighteen. He took a few minutes to assign his nine available points, four each to Wisdom and Intelligence, and one to Luck. He figured they were going to need it.
Maximilian StormHealth: 2,400/2,400
Race: Chimera, Level 18 Mana: 750/750
BattleborneExperience: 180,490/1,000,000
Endurance: 25Intelligence: 33
Strength: 36Wisdom: 33
Constitution: 45Dexterity: 15 (17)
Agility: 20 (22)Luck: 16 (19)
Chapter 23
Morning’s breakfast was a pleasant surprise for Max and his party. Thick, juicy steaks with a mushroom gravy, small potatoes, and a leafy vegetable sautéed in a light cream sauce. It wasn’t what one would normally consider breakfast fare, but as a potential last meal, it hit the spot. They were offered ale as well, and the dwarves each poured a mug of it. But Max and Smitty stuck to water.
Lo’tang looked grim as he collected their plates and placed them back on the cart. “I have learned that you will be facing riders, but nothing more.”
Breakfast over, they were once again escorted through the tunnel. Lo’tang walked beside Max, and spoke quietly. “There are those who would see you fail, Chimera King, no matter the cost. You have become popular with the people, and that is not good for those in power. They would sacrifice their honor to ensure your death.” He growled to himself. “Those of us who value our honor do not approve.”
“Thank you, Lo’tang. You are a credit to your race.” Max nodded at the orc just as they approached the end of the tunnel. Max turned to the others, “Mounted opponents. Don’t know what race yet.”
As the crowd roared for Max and company’s entrance, the dwarves and Smitty nodded grimly, prepared for that eventuality. Though it was one they had hoped not to face. While Smitty and Mace could pick off riders from a distance, dwarves were not so good against cavalry. Their plan was to dismount the fighters as soon as possible and make them close to melee distance with the dwarves.
Stopping at their usual spot in the sand, they all raised their weapons toward the crowd, which redoubled the cheers for the popular party. Max did not see a vacant seat anywhere in the stadium, and there were orcs standing up and down the stairways.
The far gate began to rise, and everyone turned their attention to it as the enemy of the day emerged. Max actually smiled as he cast Identify on the first to hit the sand.
Grey Dwarf Lancer
Level: 18
Health: 1,600/1,600
Mount: Vulg
Level: 10
Health: 1,200/1,200
The grey dwarf rode a beast that was half lizard, half dog. It had short, powerful legs and a wide body attached to a short neck that supported a thick head with a canine snout. Max immediately thought ‘bulldog’ except that its entire body was covered in scaled lizard skin. Atop the beast, the grey sat holding a five-foot long wooden lance with a barbed steel tip. Each of the greys wore their standard chain shirts and metal greaves.
The grey dwarves bellowed a challenge at Max, his reputation with them being hated after killing so many of their kin and stealing their city. Max, in turn, happily called out, �
�Cover!” as they sent their mounts charging forward. There were twelve of them in all, and Max pointed at the leader, closing his eyes and casting his Blind spell.
In the previous fights, they had agreed that Max would avoid certain spells if possible. Namely those like Boom! and Blind that might backfire and affect his friends. But with the greys and their mounts still far enough away, he decided to risk it. His command sent his friends to the dirt, the dwarves behind their shields and Smitty right behind the dwarves. When the super bright light went off, the greys and their vulgs were all blinded, as were some of the orcs in the crowd. There were shouts of anger and confusion from up in the stands, and down on the sand.
Max immediately opened his eyes, pointed at the lead vulg, and shouted, “Boom!” He was far enough away from the now blind and halted creature that he wasn’t concerned about shrapnel. In fact, even as the first vulg exploded, he cast Boom! again on the rearmost mount as well.
The explosions, combined with blindness, were devastating to the greys. Two of their number were killed outright when their mounts exploded underneath them, and several others were peppered with fragments of bone and armor. One of the dead grey’s lances shot outward with the force of the explosion and embedded itself into the side of a vulg. That one stumbled, rolling onto its rider.
Battleborne Page 36
