“Then I think I might have a plan.”
* * *
The rest of the evening is spent infusing the areas at the magical barrier with as much defensive power as possible. Every troll is put to use, carrying raw mana from the well to the edge of the forest. It’s slow, laborious work, but it might just make the difference between life and death. For anyone who attacks us, I want it to be a hell of a lot of work just to get past the barriers. There will be more work to be done tomorrow, but once night falls, I do my best to explain my plan to everyone who is available and then have the others tell the plan to the guardians.
By evening, Jira still hasn’t left his hut. I pray that he has a breakthrough soon, because we’re going to need his power if we hope to have a shot.
“I don’t know if there is anything more nerve-wracking than waiting for an attack that you know is coming.” Chief Rizza steps beside me. The toxic ooze from her wyrm catches the moonlight in a beautiful way. It already seems bigger than when I first saw it. “I never had the chance to properly say thank you. We’d fight tooth and nail until there were none of us left if it came to it, but with everything you have done, I feel like we are finally embracing who we are again.”
Proud warriors fighting for their lives.
“I don’t know if I made a mistake going after the wyrms. I was so angry at everything happening here, at the lack of respect. I just wanted you to have something, and I don’t know that I ever really thought about what could happen if we were caught. Or what my actions might bring upon the village.” This is the first time I’ve been truly honest with myself about it. Part of me was channeling my own insecurities through the trolls. I thought that if I could save them, then maybe I could save a small part of myself too.
She pats me on the shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. We were dying out long before you showed up. More likely than not, we would have faded out with a blip. Now, if nothing else, we’ll go out with a bang. Hell, we might just have a shot at winning. Now get some sleep. Tomorrow I’m sending scouts to the edge of the forest.”
37. Healers are Overrated
My mana-infusion increases another level as I focus on the vine in front of me. The goal is for the vine to wrap around the foot of any human that steps on it, lifting them high into the air. When the plant accepts the mana, I give the vine a tug. It feels strong. At worse, it trips the person, and at best, they’ll be dangling in the air, ready for Yashi or another archer to take them out.
We’re making steady progress on the barrier, but it is slow going.
“Someone is approaching,” one of the guardians calls out.
My body immediately tenses as I reach for my staff. Two small, red humanoid figures flutter through the air towards us.
“Limery? Where the hell have you been?” My heart feels a million times lighter now that he is back.
“I had to goes home. Gets Mommy to helps fix Ismora.” He wraps his tiny arms around my neck, giving me a hug.
Right behind Limery, his mother hovers, carrying a bag of what looks like junk parts.
“Limery tells me you had quite the adventure and that one of your party members has been cursed.”
“Yeah, but what are you doing here? And what’s in the bag?”
Limery flashes me a big toothy grin, his eyes bulging even bigger than normal with…excitement?
“I makes it, Mommy helped. Long time ago. Now lets goes. Lets goes.” He pulls me by the arm and I take the bag from his mother as we walk back towards the village.
“You want to fill me in on what’s happening?”
“And ruin the surprise? Never.” She smirks and bats her long eyelashes at me, making her look all the more devilish.
Chief Rizza and Jira are already in the hut when we arrive. She stands next to Ismora, protesting our entrance.
“What is the meaning of this? Jira needs peace to work his magic.”
“We’s here to helps,” offers Limery.
Chief Rizza looks at me questioningly and I nod for her to let them proceed. Limery hasn’t led me wrong yet.
Jira opens his eyes, and they are as red as the heart of a rose. He sets the burning herbs aside and allows Limery to take his place. Limery pulls piece after piece from the bag and carefully begins assembling them together.
“Long times ago, Leo was very sick. He tooks an item from a mans. An items he shouldn’t haves. It was cursed. For three whole days, Leo doesn’t moves. Mommy thinks he’s going to die. Daddy thinks so, too. They pays all our moneys for healer to come see Leo. Healer says Leo needs clean bloods. Healer says needs more moneys to helps Leo. Daddy sells himself to the healer for moneys but the healer doesn’t help Leo. The healer says Leo can die.”
As Limery fits his pieces together, I wonder how I never knew about Limery’s father. Out of all the words he spoke, he never once talked about him. I wonder if he’s still alive or where he might be.
“Mommy gets real sads when Daddy is gone. Says soon Leo will be gone too. But Limmy doesn’t want to lets that happens, so he builds this.”
Limery stands up, proudly displaying the finished product. I honestly have no idea what I’m looking at. It’s all a mess of tubing and coils, a couple of bellows, and a container on the bottom. Two of the coils have needles attached at the ends of them.
“Wait. Is that a blood transfusor?” I ask.
“Limmy doesn’t know what that is. This makes the bloods clean. I just needs the magics. Will you gets some, Chods?”
Limery hands me a small metal cup and I take it to the well and fill it with raw mana. The substance glows brilliantly and I’m careful not to spill any as I walk. When I return, I hand the cup to Limery, and he places it into the container. Limery’s mother takes one of the needles and inserts it into Ismora’s arm. She stretches the second tube out and does the same thing in her other arm. When Limery shuts the door to the container, the machine whirs to life. The bellows start pumping, forming pressure inside the device. The tubes are not transparent, so it is hard to see what is happening, but I can hear suction and blood dripping into one of the beakers. When it sounds like it is filling up, Limery places his hands on the beaker and I can see the heat radiating from its edges. He’s literally boiling the blood to recycle it back through Ismora.
For a second, I’m reminded of Berserker Rage. When its active, our skin grows hot and steam rises from our bodies. Maybe that’s why we can’t be slowed or poisoned or cursed while its active.
“How long does this take?” I ask Limery’s mom.
“A few hours. She has a lot of blood within her. It will all need to pass through.”
“I’ll leave you to it. There is still work to be done.”
* * *
On the eastern barrier of the forest, I’m forming a fence of thornbushes when trampling feet catch my attention. Several of the scouts Chief Rizza sent out run towards me. When they arrive, they’re out of breath and panting like dogs.
“They’re coming. The undying one has returned.”
“Are there others with him? Other undying ones?”
“Not that we saw. They’ll be here within the hour.”
“Warn the chief. Then I want everyone who can fight out here as soon as possible.”
I cast my first horror and it appears in a puff of smoke. I hope like hell this works.
Within minutes, trolls flock to my location. It’s the most trolls I have seen since the party before I left to clear the mana obstruction. Each face tells a different story. Some, like Gord, are angry. Others are worried, apprehensive, or downright afraid. Not of dying, but of losing everything. Then there are those who simply love the art of battle. Ismora would have been one of those.
Chief Rizza takes center stage, her wyrm rising to full height beside her. Its tongue licks at the air and it sways back and forth like a snake ready to strike.
“A great deal has changed in these past few weeks. Magic has returned to the forest. We have been blessed with three new p
rotectors.” At this, her wyrm spits fire into the air. “And a hero. For the first time in a very long time, it feels like we are on the path to greatness once again.” Several trolls beat their chests at those words. “But there are still those who want nothing more than to destroy everything we have built. The undying one has marched on us many times. Each time, we have defeated him and pushed him back. We have lost many troll lives in the process. Today, we have a chance to defeat him once and for all, and to show the rest of the island that trolls are not to be trifled with. Even now, other armies march on us from the south, aiming not only to take your lives, but the very essence of the forest trolls. Tonight, we will show the world of men that the biggest mistake they ever made was entering this forest!”
Chief Rizza smashes her fist to her chest and every other troll repeats the gesture. A deep, thunderous pound resonates in the air. “Take your positions.”
* * *
I stand alone in the forest, an eerie silence stretching on forever, almost like it knows what’s coming. It’s true what Chief Rizza said before: there is nothing worse than waiting for an attack you know is coming. I’d much rather be on the offensive than waiting. The end of the Forlorn Scepter glows green as I cast another horror. I need its increased cast range for what comes next. As each horror fades away, its health depleted, I summon another in its place. Once Glenn crosses into our lands, I will be able to summon a greater number, but for now, they are capped at sixty before one completely decays.
The fiery tips of our enemies’ torches blink into existence like fireflies. With each step forward, the dots grow bigger. My heart pounds in my chest, a mixture of excitement and nerves.
Glenn has upgraded his armor since I last saw him. The hodgepodge of armor he lost in the first battle has been replaced with golden plate. A yellow aura surrounds him and the men closest to him as he marches. He even has a fancy red cape that billows behind him. Not to mention he’s now level eighteen.
His army is much larger than last time too. I don’t know how he managed to find soldiers, especially after his repeated attempts ended in failure, but nevertheless, here we are.
Several rows of foot soldiers armed with swords and spears follow behind Glenn. They lack the plate armor of their leader, but many are clad in chainmail or boiled leather. Further back, rows of archers follow.
They cross the barrier into the forest and several men are stuck by thorns and sharpened limbs before their eyes adjust to their new surroundings. Many more are tripped or trapped and hang in the air from vines. Glenn’s golden armor leaves him unscathed.
The second row of men quickly assess the situation and chop the wild plants down, but not before we draw first blood.
Glenn’s eyes light up when he sees me from a hundred yards away.
“You.” He smiles. “I’ve been looking forward to you.” He continues to talk as his men regroup and march forward. “You plan to stop me and my army all by yourself?” He laughs a cold, calculating laugh. “They say you’re strong, but I don’t think you’re that strong.”
He’s a talker, but for once, I have nothing to say.
“Where are the others? Are they afraid to fight their own battles?” He pauses. “Never mind it. I’ll kill you, and then I’ll kill the rest of them for good this time. We can hang your head in the town square.”
Glenn’s army comes to a halt and I can sense the internal struggle going on in his mind as I stand here alone. I just hope he takes the bait.
“What do you say we do this old school, just you and me?” I try to goad him, though I know it won’t work. He’s here for blood, not glory.
“As fun as that sounds, I think I’ll just take the village.”
“Don’t say I didn’t give you the chance.”
“Kill him!” Glenn orders. He unsheathes his sword and it glows with lighting that arcs down the blade.
Before he has a chance to attack, I raise my fist high into the air, signaling the camouflaged guardian trolls in the trees high above the archers to attack. They fall from the canopy like meteors, smashing archers and ripping them to pieces before they even have time to nock their arrows.
With the momentary distraction, I cast Kamikaze, exploding the wyrm tunnels filled with horrors beneath Glenn and his army, creating a crater big enough for a small pond. Soldiers are buried in the rubble and many die from the explosion. Glenn stares up at me, his face contorted with rage.
“You will pay for this!” he shouts.
“No, it is you who will finally pay for all you’ve done.”
The wyrms emerge from their tunnels on the outer edge and blue flames ignite the battlefield. Chief Rizza and the rest of the female trolls rush from their hiding places to join the wyrms on the rocky terrain. Their job is to handle the soldiers. Jira’s punches land with the power of the phoenix, and Limery soars through the air, raining fireballs from above.
Glenn struggles to his feet, his heavy armor making it hard for him to move. I can’t risk anyone else dying to him, and I made sure everyone knew that before the battle began. His reign of terror ends with me.
I cast Berserker Rage as he climbs up from the rubble. I attack with Claw, my nails scratching against his golden chest and shrieking across the battle. He counters with a slash to my arm that’s fueled by lightning. The electricity flows through me, but it does nothing to calm my rage. I pry back his pauldron, snapping the leather that holds it in place and exposing his shoulder. My tusks sink into his skin and warm blood floods my mouth. He screams in pain, but I don’t release. Instead, I cast a Horror of Power with my free hand and the lion-like demon rips off Glenn’s armor, prying it from his body with razor-sharp talons. I cast two more horrors, and they help me pin him to the ground. With his helmet removed, my claws rake across his face until he looks more demon than man.
He tries to say something, but it comes out a broken mumble. With my horrors pinning him to the ground, I stand up and let their explosion send him to his next life.
All around me, the trolls finish up the battle. Tormara stands over a man pinned in the rubble, dagger raised, when I call to her.
“Wait! I need to ask him something.”
The man’s jaw shakes violently as I approach.
“If you tell me where he will be reborn, then I will show you mercy.”
“L—lynchton,” the man stutters. “Now, p—please, help me out of here.”
“Make it a clean death,” I tell Tormara. That is the only mercy he deserves.
“No, wait! You said you would show merc—” His words trail off as I search out the chief.
I find her back by the fallen archers as they pull armor and weapons from the bodies. She smiles at me as I approach.
“We did it. Without losing a single troll. We did it!” She embraces me in a firm hug, her excitement palpable.
“It’s not over yet. We need to finish this once and for all.”
My reputation has plummeted even further since the battle, almost doubling, but I did gain a new level, putting me at seventeen and giving me another ability point. I spend it on Sacrifice.
Sacrifice. Sacrifice X amount of horrors to receive a temporary buff. Horror of Power: +1 Strength. Horror of Vitality: +1 Constitution. Horror of Finesse: +1 Dexterity.
“Limery, stay behind and burn the dead. The rest of you, we’re going to Lynchton.”
38. Politics of War
From the forest’s edge, Lynchton looks almost peaceful. A soft glow radiates from the lanterns that light the gate and just by looking at it, you would never know that they just marched on a troll village intent on exterminating an entire race. I’m hesitant for the precedent I’m setting, but what comes next must be done for not only the good of the village, but for trolls everywhere.
The half-asleep soldier on gate duty almost shits himself when an army of over one hundred trolls, sixty horrors, an imp, and three wyrms casually strolls up.
“You have two options. Either you open this gate and allow us to f
ind the man we are looking for, or we tear the whole thing to the ground.”
“Fuck me,” he mutters before unlatching the gate. “I knew I should have called in sick today.”
The gate swings open, revealing the first town I’ve seen since entering the game. Even at night, it’s everything I love about fantasy worlds. Several buildings line the road as soon as we enter the town. There’s a blacksmith, a tailor, and an apothecary all on one side. On the other are the stables, an inn, and a market. Several other buildings line the street farther down that sell everything from pottery to spices. In the center of town is the church, its steeple rising high into the sky. All of the houses are on the other side of the town.
“Where is Glenn?” I set my mind on what must be done next.
We need to end this as quickly as possible.
“He stays at The Dancing Donkey.” The guard points to the inn down the street. “Please, don’t kill us. I have a family.”
“Give us what we want and no one will be hurt. Now follow me, you’re going to convince Glenn to join us outside.”
The streets are mostly empty, but the vagabonds and night owls that roam at this hour quickly scurry away from our approach. The guard tells them that everything is okay, that there is no need to worry. I’m certain he is scared out of his mind right now, but people will go to great lengths to protect the ones they love.
We come to a stop in front of the inn. A donkey wearing a dress and standing on its hindquarters is carved overhead of the entrance.
“What’s your name?” I ask the guard.
“Jameson.”
“Well, Jameson, it’s your time to shine.”
He wipes the sweat from his head and opens the door to the inn.
“Are you sure we can trust him?” asks Chief Rizza.
“I trust that he wants to protect his family,” I tell her. This man has a life he wants to protect, and I’m sure he wants us out of town as soon as possible.
Sentenced to Troll Page 25
