The Road East (Epic LitRPG Adventure - Book 2) (Fayroll)

by Andrey Vasilyev

  “Fine, when we get to our castle, I’m going to—”

  “Oh, your goon at the storehouse won’t give me anything, believe me,” I informed her.

  “I was going to say that I’m going to kill you, you fool,” Elina said, both sadly and threateningly. “Whatever, let’s go see the dwarf.”

  “Are there a lot of our guys here?”

  “About seventy,” said Elina. “We’re covering the left flank, so head over there. And stay in the back if you don’t want to be killed.”

  “Okay, Madam Clan Leader.” I saluted her and left the pavilion. This is all fine and dandy, but I need to keep my distance from the demigods around here.

  I headed over to the smithy and saw Fiosi there. He was holding a nice-looking breastplate in his hands, though it was more than just a breastplate. There was even some kind of cuirasses, and it had a reinforced plackart and bevor.

  “You’re incredible!” I effused sincerely. “That looks amazing.”

  “Put it on,” the dwarf said, all business. “It may need to be altered somewhere.”

  Light Steel Cuirass

  Light armor

  Protection: 340

  +7 to strength

  +8 to stamina

  +11% protection from piercing and cutting weapons

  +7% protection from fire

  Durability: 310/310

  Minimum level for use: 30

  Class limitation: only warriors

  “It fits like a glove!” I spun around again and broke into a satisfied smile. “That’s fantastic armor—and I got it for free!”

  “May it serve you well,” the dwarf said with a smile of his own. “Craftsmen enjoy it when people like their work.”

  The sound of trumpets suddenly rang out.

  “Whoops, here we go,” said the dwarf, who I noticed was staring at the main pavilion. He followed my gaze.

  Out walked everyone I’d seen inside, several of whom ran off in the direction of their detachments.

  “Hey, do you know where the left flank is?” I asked the dwarf.

  He looked back at me, apparently wondering at my thick-headedness. “On the left.”

  “Oh, right,” I said before running toward the left half of the plain.

  Before I got there, the trumpets blared again. I heard the voice of the Gray Witch, only amplified many times over.

  “Atta-a-ack!”

  Chapter Four

  In which the citadel is stormed.

  I wonder, I thought—not for the first time at the completely wrong moment—how the hell is she amplifying her voice? Maybe a spell? “Sonorous” or something like that?

  “All archers, with the exception of the assault group, stay behind shields and wait for my command,” boomed the Gray Witch’s voice. “Fram, prepare the trebuchets. Mages, protect the battering rams and hit the walls with fireballs from time to time to keep the Hearts on their toes. Swordsmen, assault group, head over to the Mice and Dixon on the left flank. Flekis, head there with three teams of archers from the assault group as well.”

  What mice? I was impressed by the full-scale siege, complete with trebuchets and battering rams. My musings were interrupted, however, by the swordsmen rushing past in what I assumed was the direction of the left flank. Our Thunderbirds were supposed to be there, too.

  I joined the crowd of a hundred or so swordsmen and about sixty archers, tramping off hurriedly behind them.

  I’ll get to my guys, and we’ll get this thing started, I thought as we moved along. I can stay in the back and wait everything out.

  We ran along for about three minutes before coming to a halt.

  “Warriors!” A voice bellowed out.

  I looked up to see that it belonged to a barbarian named Dixon. He was covered in an interesting tattoo pattern and held a war hammer in his hands.

  “You head into the Mouse on the left. Let’s go, let’s go, move it!”

  It turned out we were running into a trench that split into three bays. The barbarian was standing at the fork, and the bays led to…Sweet mother of all that is holy! They led to siege towers. So that’s what everyone keeps calling Mice. Who came up with that name?

  “But they weren’t there last I saw?” I spluttered in surprise.

  “Of course not,” said a panting dwarf who was running along next to me on my left. “‘Curtains of Invisibility.’ Why did you think we have mages here?”

  We kept moving forward.

  “Okay,” ordered the barbarian, who by that point was right above me, “this group into the middle Mouse. Go, go!”

  “Mr. Barbarian,” I said hesitantly. “I wasn’t supposed to…”

  He screamed back at me. “Warrior, keep your mouth shut and don’t hold up the flow!”

  “Let’s go, slowpokes!” The people behind me weren’t thrilled with me either.

  “Damn it,” I hissed and sprinted after the dwarf.

  It was my colossally bad luck to find myself at the beginning of the column for the Mouse. That put me on the third and topmost level in the middle of a company of swordsmen and archers. It looked very likely that I would be caught up in the first wave—a great honor, but one that would probably cost me my life.

  The saving grace of the situation was that I got to see the whole battlefield laid out right in front of me.

  It wasn’t that far to the citadel from our siege tower—about a kilometer. The level we were on looked right onto the fortress walls, so it was easy to see the Wild Heart soldiers running around and the archers crouched behind the battlements. They couldn’t see us, however, as it appeared Curtains of Invisibility was still working.

  From the sounds I heard behind me, our tower filled and troops began loading onto the third tower, which was right next to us.

  I looked down.

  Everyone was hustling and bustling around the camp. The archers were crouched behind enormous wooden shields the size of gates that were covered in what I hoped was animal skin. The shields had small windows cut out of them, presumably to give the archers an opening for unexpectedly shooting at enemy targets. There were about ten of those openings in each shield, guaranteeing the defenders a hard time of things.

  Further on, were a cluster of big-headed monsters fussing over an enormous battering ram. They were half-naked and knotted with muscles, while the unbelievably large ram was slung on a wheeled carriage by four huge chains. There was a roof over the carriage to protect the monsters from arrows, and the iron-clad tip of the ram was a fist giving the middle finger. Next to it, were five mages who stopped at regular intervals to cast spells on the ram and the monsters around it…probably to protect them from arrows, swords, boiling tar, and other unpleasantries.

  The swordsmen were the least worried of all. They had already split into units and were now just lying on the grass relaxing. Some were checking their weapons, others were smoking pipes, and still others were counting daisy petals to see if they’d be raping and pillaging their way through the Wild Hearts’ citadel or not.

  The area around the high commander’s pavilion was deserted. From what I could tell, all she had with her were a dozen bodyguards and, I thought, a gray scout—her head of intelligence.

  I looked around for my own leaders and found them, but not right away. They weren’t far off, and I could see them getting my clanmates in line and craning their necks in all directions. Probably looking for me.

  I really need to tell them I’m here getting ready for my great feat of valor, I thought. Later, I’ll never be able to prove that I was a heroic warrior and brave Thunderbird, and not a deserter.

  I opened my mailbox to send them a message, but it was locked during ongoing military actions, as the message read. The developers thought of everything.

  Around me, there wasn’t a single stone or anything else I could throw…although…

  “Hey, bro,” I said to an elf named Kelossa who was sitting next to me. “Would you mind shooting an arrow for me?”

  “At who
? We haven’t even started yet!” His face betrayed his surprise.

  “No, not that way,” I said, shaking my head. “At her.” I pointed at Elina, who was waving her arms in what looked to be a foul-mouthed rage. My clanmates were stubbornly refusing to form up into a column.

  “What’s your problem with her? Yeah, she’s a strange kind of woman, and with her shaking around like that, I’d say she might have a touch of epilepsy. But still, she’s with us. If she’s such a problem, let’s take care of her after the battle. For now, we need every sword, not to mention every staff. She’s a mage, right?”

  “No, no, no,” I gestured with my hands. “That’s my clan leader! I’m supposed to be there, but I got sent here completely by accident. I just need you to shoot near her so she’ll look up and I can wave to her.”

  “You’re kidding.” He shook his head, apparently having just noticed my level. “How did that happen?”

  The elf picked up his bow and let fly an arrow. It landed next to Elina’s feet, causing her to jump back a few steps and jerk her head up toward us. I leaned out from behind the side of the tower and waved.

  Elina froze when she saw me, then jumped up and down and shook her fists at me. Her language was obviously enraged and profane to the point that three dwarves walking by stopped to listen and shake their heads in enjoyment.

  “Now, she’s really mad,” said Kelossa in surprise. “What’s her issue?”

  “She’s worried about me,” I guessed. “She gives her heart and soul for us.”

  “A real leader,” said Kelossa with respect. He waved to her as well. “You’re lucky.”

  Kelossa’s wave was the last straw for Elina, who stopped gesturing at me as if to leave me to my fate and went back to getting her column in order.

  “The third tower is all set,” said a dwarf named Zherrar happily. He was the one I’d been running along the trench with. “We’ll probably move out soon. First, they’ll shell the walls with some fireballs, then we’ll get going.”

  “Guys, by the way, how are they going to get us to the wall? Is somebody going to be pushing us?” I asked.

  “We’ll have some mages working their chemistry down below. There’s a pulley, a belt connecting it to the axle, you know, the usual. They’ll work their magic with the pulley so it gets the wheels moving,” explained the dwarf.

  “Sounds complicated,” I said.

  “Seriously. They should just catch a couple trolls,” said the elf in agreement.

  The dwarf disagreed. “Nah, technology is power. Oh, here we go. They’ll start the bombardment, and we’ll push out on the flank.”

  Zherrar was right. He hadn’t even finished speaking before the citadel’s right wall was shaken by a heavy volley of fireballs. Blue flames licked out from behind the battlements, and someone hurtled down from them with a cry.

  A dull roar filled the air as the trebuchets began to work. They rained boulders down on the left part of the citadel, doing their best to take out the battlement and clear the field of vision. That’ll make it easier for us to unload onto the wall and clear shooting lanes for the archers.

  Gigantic stone blocks whistled through the air and smashed into the fortress walls, chunks of which broke off and thumped down onto the grass beneath. The defending mages did their best to shoot the boulders down, but they were largely unsuccessful. And there didn’t even appear to be many of them left judging by the fiery strokes leaping up from the besieged citadel.

  A discordant “O-o-oh” wafted up to us, and I carefully peeked over the edge of the tower. The shields and the archers behind them were moving toward the citadel gates.

  The Wild Hearts didn’t seem to take much care to protect their citadel. Having apparently relied on their strength and reputation, they built neither a drawbridge nor a deep moat filled with cold, dirty water. It was just an even field leading up to the gates. Sure, the gates looked to be tall and hefty, but our battering ram was more than a match.

  The archers marched forward behind their shields in two columns until they were about three hundred meters from the gate, at which point they split off toward either side to enclose the road to the gate in a pincer movement. They stopped a hundred meters from the wall.

  “All right,” commented the dwarf, who obviously had quite a bit of experience in similar attacks. “Time for the battering ram.”

  The bearded fellow was exactly right.

  The carriage and ram, its middle finger glinting in the sun, rolled toward the citadel. The beasts responsible for it had hidden their muscles under chainmail and were sheltering under the roof as they pushed the whole contraption forward at a surprisingly brisk pace. They were surrounded on every side by warriors with tall shields reminiscent of the old Roman legions—the whole thing looked like one big turtle.

  As they got closer to the gate, arrows began rattling against the roof and shields, though they failed to do any damage. The shields were strong, the roof was stronger, and there was no stopping the battering ram’s relentless forward progress. Someone thought to shoot burning arrows, though they were shrugged off by the covering warriors. Even the roof was none the worse for wear, as it must have been doused in water or protected by some kind of spell. In a word, nothing caught fire.

  The enemy mages had no more success against the wiles of our five mages by the battering ram.

  Meanwhile, our archers were returning fire by randomly popping out of the aforementioned windows in the shields and sending waves of arrows upward. They didn’t seem to be taking much aim, shooting more in the hopes of landing a lucky strike.

  The battering ram got to the gate, at which point, a scene I’d witnessed a hundred times in the movies began to play out. It pulled back on its chains and, with a prolonged roar, smashed into the doors. The latter creaked, groaned, and spluttered, but held.

  I was so busy watching everything play out in front of me that I jumped when the floor we were standing on jerked forward.

  “Yup, this is it,” said Zherrar drily. “Well, boys, get ready. Time to spill some Wild Heart blood.”

  The bloodthirsty dwarf slapped a one-horned helmet on his head.

  “Where’s the other horn?” I asked.

  “Who knows?” he answered. “This is how I got it. It’s legendary, though.”

  “Well, if it’s legendary, then it’s a keeper,” I agreed. “And it looks cool with one horn!”

  The tower shuddered and started moving toward the fortress wall. The speed surprised me, given how big it was.

  A short warrior wearing a black mantle emblazoned with the Hounds of Death emblem climbed up onto our platform.

  “How’s everyone?” he asked.

  “We’re good,” answered the dwarf. “Just waiting to get started. That’s when it’ll get fun.”

  “That’s for sure,” smiled the warrior. He glanced quickly over the group and stopped when he got to me.

  “And who are you?”

  “Hagen, from the Thunderbirds, your allies,” I answered frankly. “That’s my group leader waving her fist around over there.”

  Elina was looking at the tower as it moved away, and just then she stomped her foot and threatened me with her fist.

  “Is she threatening us for taking you or you for getting involved?” The warrior was a bit confused. “And how are you even here? I mean, look at your level. Everyone else is clan elite, the best of the best.”

  “That fist is for me, of course,” I assured him. “And I just happened to get here. I was trying to get to her when I got caught up in the crowd, and then that barbarian in the trench didn’t listen to me and sent me along with everyone else. So, now it looks like I’m fighting with you. And about my level, well, it happens.”

  “Not really,” answered Kelossa philosophically. “Still, you get a ride in the Mouse, and you can see what it’s like on the walls. You won’t be there for long, of course, but you’ll get a taste.”

  “The only Thunderbird to get a taste, as a matter of
fact,” said Zherrar.

  “I’m just afraid you won’t even have time to catch your breath,” the warrior, whose name was Valent, said reassuringly. “Stay back, keep an eye out, and maybe you’ll get lucky. Maybe, they won’t kill you right away.”

  The wall was getting closer, but we obviously were still invisible.

  “Okay, listen up. Our shield is going to drop soon—definitely once we get a hundred meters from the wall. Archers, as soon as it does, shoot at anything that moves. We have to jump onto the wall and attach the assault platforms,” Valent said, patting a wall of the tower that was hanging on two hooks and would be used as a bridge. “They’ll still be able to take quite a few of us out before we get across that last distance to the wall.”

  “Got it, Master Valent,” answered an older archer who was apparently in charge. “We won’t let you down.”

  “Excellent. And now the warriors. As soon as we drop the assault platforms, your job is to make sure they can’t destroy them until the main group unloads. Do what you have to do, but don’t let them set fire to them or knock them off. That will be about two minutes. Then, if there are any of you left over there, hold the position.”

  “Understood, master,” said my one-horned dwarf friend with a nod.

  I also nodded, figuring that I didn’t have much to be worried about. They’d take me out in the first clash, and I could go back to Mettan, find the hotel and mailbox that day, and set off by boat along the river the next.

  “That’s it, troops. I’ll be down below leading the last group.”

  Valent disappeared through a trapdoor.

  Zherrar took charge.

  “Listen up, you dead men walking. They haven’t given us orders, so we’ll do it like this: I and…you, Ftorin, will take care of the platform latches.” The dwarf across from him nodded.

  “Then you five,” he continued, pointing at who he wanted, “and I will be the first defense group. The remaining four are the second line and support for the archers. The archers are the last line. Questions?”

  “Of course not. This isn’t our first time,” said Kelossa dismissively.